#and al was at work so they were stuck there for a bit

[skunkes]

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

The Invisible String Theory

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either. (Based on König's in-game backstory).

WORDCOUNT: 9.2k

WARNINGS: Human trafficking, mentions of unwanted touching, trauma, blood, gore, guns, bullets, protective!König, soft!König, nightmares, mentions of bullying, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

'DATE: 25, NOVEMBER, 2021

LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY

TIME OF EVENT: 0230

MISSION REPORT: PENDING….'

You don’t remember much from the day that could be called out of the ordinary. Ever since you’d been moved here with the other girls, everything was predictable down to the time the men would come over, to the point where the screams had to be muffled by pillows. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be part of the nearly fifty million people stuck in this situation, and neither did you think you’d be the one in one hundred who got out. But before you can think about November twenty-fifth and those pale gray eyes, you have to go back to the beginning. To Al-Qatala. 

You hadn’t been with this cell initially—you’d been moved around and bartered off more times than you could count; the initial founder of your predicament was long gone at this point. North and South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Oceania…you’d been practically everywhere and on every continent barring the obvious last. In Europe, you couldn’t name the countries, but you knew this for a fact: you’d never been to Germany before. 

They had you with five other women in a large SUV in the beginning, this international ring of human traffickers. You had watched from the window, face blank and eyes unblinking, at the men who met near the docks. They had brought you in through Hamburg, first—not only the largest seaport in Germany but the third largest in Europe; you think you read that on a flier at some point. One of those flimsy ones that you find in gas stations with bright lettering to attract the tourists with their interesting facts. 

You wished you were only a tourist. 

You’d watched the men shake hands, and that was when you knew your fate, as well as that of the five other women, was sealed. You were going to all be here for a long time. 

This Al-Qatala cell was ruthless, but you supposed with being around terrorists, ruthlessness was better than being executed. 

For days you’d be exploited with the false promises of moments of freedom, breaks, food, and water. For some of the women it was drugs or money, but when your stomach was empty and your eyes blurring from lack of sleep, even addictions seemed to pale for brief hours. But above it all was the threat of death at every corner. These men would kill you. 

It was only a matter of time unless you could give them what they wanted. 

You yourself had developed a system, and it was probably the only reason you were still alive. Pick one of the handlers, gain his favor, and pray that he treats you specially while you keep up the act of a mindless, weak, woman. 

Ivon was the man’s name this time around. Born and raised here in Berlin before the clutches of his fanatical ideations brought him to Al-Qatala. You hated him.

Hated his touch—hated his scent and how he talked; every bit of him was corrupted like a black dog at a crossroads, always leading people down the wrong path. Your only saving grace was that he was stupid. The other girls called you Cat—said you managed to nuzzle up to someone and soon after got them to give you what you wanted. Everything you wanted except freedom, that was.

You didn’t deny that Ivon did give you privileges, but that was the point. About a week into your stay in Berlin, he allowed you to go into public with him. Arm-candy.

A doll. 

The townhouse you’d been stuck in had disappeared into a spec behind the rearview mirror, the chilled air from outside making you shiver at the lack of heat and the thin shawl you’d been thrown. No jacket. 

The care of your health only extended to how well you were able to work—at the moment you were relatively healthy despite the bulge of bruises and constantly shell-shocked look behind your eyes.

But the trip—the trip. You supposed that was when it had fully started, and you didn’t even realize it before you saw those gray eyes again. 

“Come,” Ivon orders, holding tightly to your arm and dragging you along from the corner shop without making a scene. Your hands loosely brush the wrack of clothes, fabric soft under your fingertips as it sways. 

Fixing your shawl, you try to burrow your neck into it, gaining what little heat is available to you. It was cold out—you were shivering. People send looks, eyes tight as they shift up and down your form, but no one ever says anything. To be this bold, this cell had to have been at this for a long, long time. The realization didn’t make you feel any better. 

That was when you first saw him. 

You were standing outside a coffee shop, quivering like a newly hatched butterfly, Ivon making a call only a few feet away with fast motions of his arms. It was hard not to make a run for it right then and there; hard not to take those few seconds of open air and dash away—start screaming and yelling until the authorities came. 

It would save yourself, but what about the others? They wouldn’t be so fortunate, you’d be sentencing them to death. None of this was simple—it needed to be thought out. Two games of chess being played at the same time.

The irony of it was that König had been off-duty that day. It had been a shot in the dark. 

“Are you alright?” A thick Austrian accent makes you flinch as it appears beside your right ear, grating.

Your eyes snap to the side, moving one foot back as you blink wildly up at the blue-gray orbs that would become a staple. You liked to call it as everyone else did—the invisible string theory. A theory that stated that the universe connected people who were destined to meet one day. Through thick or thin waters, it was inevitable. He was inevitable. 

“Yes,” you say quickly, holding your hands tightly around you. The man ahead of you was tall, almost startlingly so, with muscles more bulky than a boulder and his buzz-cut head open to the chilled breeze. He wore a surgical mask over his lower visage, his hoodie under the thick material of a canvas jacket. “Yes,” you say again, hearing Ivon’s voice behind you still on the phone. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Gray eyes furrow slightly, gaze darting over your head. 

“Are you…sure, Ma’am?” 

“Thank you for your concern,” you fake laugh, eyes pained, backing up farther. That invisible string snaps into place, pulling tight at only those few simple words. 

His stature made you slightly nervous—large, intimidating; those hands could do quite the damage if given the chance. Your eyes had hit and bounced off the identity discs at his chest with little thought, too preoccupied to notice the fact that he was in the Service.

König’s eyes had narrowed softly, dark brows minutely moving in.

Ivon hangs up his phone. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, coming up and sliding a hand around your waist. The man had stared at him for a long minute, and you had felt Ivon tense slowly at the unblinking eye contact. 

This stranger had commented in German a long string of frim words, hands going to his jacket and grabbing at the arms—he slips out of it while still uttering. 

Before you can react, the large coat swallows you whole and you snatch at the heat that’s still inside instinctually, now only realizing how much you were shivering. Your body sags into the weight of the fabric, the scent of sweat and coffee. 

You don’t even pay attention to the growing tones, shocked. People look over to the two fast words being tossed.

Yet it could only last so long. 

Ivon’s hand latches onto the side of your arm, beginning to drag you back and away from this kind stranger like a lap dog while throwing curses behind him. Gray eyes meet yours as old shoes skid and stumble. 

König had taken a firm step towards you that day, his body tense and his hands clenched at his side—ready to do anything on a moment's notice should you ask for it. But all you do is stare, jaw loose, and the given coat still on your shoulders. You just couldn’t understand why he would do that. 

The stranger gets swallowed by the crowd, and just like that, he’s gone. 

That was all it had been; a moment—a few mere seconds in the large plot that was this almost impossible tale. You were glad it had been him, or else the events of the future could have been very different. 

Of course, they hadn’t let you keep the jacket, but the memory was enough to warm you for days even as old pains faded and new ones took their place. 

But those gray eyes would help you in the future, like a guardian; a protector in your dreams as you watched the snow fall from the sliver of outside light in your room with the others. Your mattress was on the floor like the rest, thin blankets and clouds of cold breath wafting up from sleeping forms. 

This was the time it happened, and you’d just woken up to find the curtains shifting as one of the women near it moved in her sleep. Shadows slip past, the light interrupted as it shifts over your tired face with broken fractures. 

You were always kept on the ground floor. 

'CLEARANCE: APPROVED 

TRANSLATING MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’…

STAND BY…

Operation Red Freedom took place on November twenty-fifth, 2021, at approximately 0230 in the neighborhood of [REDACTED], at the residence of [REDACTED], Berlin, Germany. A squad of ten highly trained [REDACTED] personnel covertly entered the residence in two teams of five. Fireteam One advanced from the back entrance while Fireteam Two entered the residence from the balcony at the top floor, accessed via ladder.

Squad Leader [REDACTED], part of Fireteam One, set foot in the residence of [REDACTED] at approximately 0238 and began sweeping the ground floor as Fireteam Two cleared three of twelve known individuals belonging to the terrorist organization, Al-Qatala, on the top floor….'

You shift and shiver, your body trying to warm itself as the world blurs at the sides of your vision. Fingers twitch as your hand goes to wrap your waist, curled into the fetal position, creaking emanates from above you. Blinking softly, you frown and take a quivering breath, head nuzzling the thin mattress. 

“Cold,” you say, the following low exhale of air out of your lips only making it all worse as everything seems to drop another degree. The darkness didn’t help either, only that one line of light trying desperately to fill the room like a bucket descending into a dry well. 

You’re only clothed in the dirty and tattered remains of a large shirt, your legs feeling like they don’t hold any blood in them as they quiver without your knowledge—shaking the blanket above you. A few of the girls had said it would be okay to share, but everyone was afraid of the lock on the door clicking open and the men coming back in and seeing them. In the end, you could only look after yourself.

A thump makes you startle, drooping eyes snapping back open as you gasp. 

Head shifting, you blink rapidly upward to the ceiling, confused as to whether that had been a part of a failing mind or if you’d really just heard a muffled bump upstairs. Brows furrowing, you lightly sit up, hands still around yourself and legs limply outward; spine hunched. 

Your fingers had lost feeling, just as your nose had gone numb, but moving helped a little. Your hands dig into your flesh and your ears twitch at every creak in the wood—every pass of silent feet that suddenly becomes all the clearer as the sheen of fatigue slowly leaves your brain. 

Walking? Small pains move along your body like needles, poking and prodding, but you ignore them as easily as you do the vile hands that had touched you. Survival had forced you into a constant state of self-preservation—pain couldn’t bother you, because if you stopped, you wouldn’t get back going again. 

Your head tilts so you can side-eye the door to the room, sleeping forms all around shifting, singular groaning of tired lungs. But there’s something inside of you that stiffens like a prey animal, and you don’t know why. Inside of your sockets, your eyes hone in, bones stiff and your chest stilling as the grain becomes the most interesting thing to you beyond breathing. 

There was someone….out there. 

Watching, the sides of your vision shadow over to focus harder, your muscles tight. Your mind goes to the thumps from upstairs, the moving feet that sounded far more careful and deliberate than the ones your jailors took care to walk with. 

Inside your ribs, your heart patters a bit faster, adrenal glands sending a certain flight or flight through the few veins you hold that aren’t chilled over.

Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Only when you move to shake the shoulder of one of the women sleeping beside you does it happen. 

A yell. 

A scream. 

The girls in the room all startle awake, sounds of concern and shock entering the air that you mirror; faces snapping to the ceiling and the door. The townhouse erupts into gunfire and the sound of slamming wood—a warzone that only is separated from all of you by the thin material of the four walls.

You feel yourself being grabbed and held in fear in the dark, as your open face holds the expression of a rabbit in an open field, looking along the long, hidden grass. 

The sounds persist, loud German shouts going up over the house and echoing with heated fever. This continues for minutes, added in with the sound of doors breaking off hinges, bouncing off the ground, and shaking the foundation so hard that you can feel it reverberate. The women go silent. Stone-still. 

But the gunfire—so much gunfire. The constant pop of assault weapons and a pound of multiple booted feet. 

What was going on? You can't make sense of it, so you only freeze and listen; trying to understand the longer the fight goes on, heart hammering; mouth slack-jawed. And then it’s like it never happened.

Silence. 

You share quick looks with the others, all gripping one another and heads angled to the door. The heavy feet start back up again, coming closer. Your mind slashes to the window across the room, but it’s hard to think beyond the sudden body that shakes the door that leads directly to you all—the women scream, some standing up and racing to the glass with the same idea as you. 

'…Squad Leader [REDACTED], and both Fireteams successfully eliminated all targets inside of the [REDACTED] residence, leaving the room occupied by known hostages last to prevent casualties and/or the usage of bargaining chips. Squad Leader [REDACTED] made contact with hostages at approximately 0244 after the final sweep of the townhouse had been completed and all personnel accounted for.

Local authorities had been contacted by neighbors due to noise but were dismissed.' 

The door busts off its hinges and the room devolves into panicked yells and hurled bits of mattress material. Loud pleas and curses stuck like gums to teeth as they were forced out in fear and bone-crushing terror. You remember pushing back into the wall, many others doing the same, as a beast of a man enters the room with his face covered with a loose fabric hood of some sort. 

Large—brutish. Like a demon walking with the color of black printed over his entire body; gear hangs from a combat vest, hands holding an assault rifle as a sidearm is strapped to his bulging thigh. Forearms the side of your head stays near his chest, and in order to not hit his head on the doorframe, the individual has to bend slightly. Over that hood, the lenses and head-gear of a night-vision rig sit heavily before it’s moved back with a firm hand that is nearly double the size of yours.

A monster.

Your entire being is tight with quivering tension, eyes blinking away tears at the smell of blood that rolls in from the hallway. The women at the window duck down, hands to their heads as if expecting a bullet to carve its way between their skulls. 

“Cat,” one of the ladies behind you mutters, voice quivering. You shush her on bitten lips and move her farther behind you. 

“Don’t speak,” you mutter. “Don’t move.”

You don’t know what you expect, but nothing about this is correct. 

The man raises his hands, the rifle slapping his chest as it hangs from a strap. He speaks in German, and the heavy and fast noise of it makes your already addled head spin. No one answers beyond the slide of their own feet over the hardwood floors.

“Ich heiße König,” his head swivels from one to another, “Sprichst du Deutsch? Irgendjemand?”

You stare blankly, panting. 

After a moment, and a slow step forward from the stranger, he speaks again, though this time, it’s in English. 

“My name is König.” His voice is familiar to you, and you blink in confusion quickly, hidden near the back of the shaking bodies. “I am with the German Military, yes? We have conducted a raid on this residence.” 

Military? Raid? 

“...I am not here to hurt you.” He nears one of the women, beginning to bend down slowly. She squeaks, balking back—making him tense and halt. It didn't matter what he said, König was the epitome of a man who was intimidating on body alone; the gear wasn’t helping. Neither was the hood. 

A soldier appears in the doorway, calling out to him in his native language as you flinch at the noise. 

König calls back calmly, trying to keep an air of gentle strength around him.

The second soldier comes inside, dressed similarly despite the lack of fabric over his visage which instantly puts many at ease again. He clears his throat as König steps back, gargantuan hands coming up to rest at his vest collar as his legs shift. He seems a bit put off at the fearful stares from everyone, rolling his shoulders for a moment as he turns his head to look out of the doorway. 

Your eyes don’t move from him, though. A nagging feeling in the back of your skull. 

“We have to leave this place,” the second soldier tells you all, kneeling and resting a hand over his knee. “We’ll get you medical attention. Food. Water. There’s no need to suffer here any longer, hm? We can see to it that all of you will get the best care that can be provided.” A pause. “We can get you back home.” 

That certainly got the attention that was needed. 

Meek questions started falling out, then louder ones before pandemonium was roused in that tiny room pushed to the very back of the townhouse. Home. It was a word that had almost lost all meaning but was still that constant shining light in the back of everyone’s mind. 

Home.

Did you even have one of those left? 

As the rest of your fellows all got to their feet, taking you with them, you had to think over that fact as the soldier guided them gently out of the room to join the others waiting—trying to answer their questions and get them away from the gore before they saw it. 

You stayed behind, feet shifting over the floor and your lips thin. As the silence settles in, you hold yourself a bit tighter and glance at the mattress all mashed together and stained—those thin blankets as you shiver. 

“Are you alright?” Your head snaps over. 

You’d forgotten about König.

He still stands there, still and with his hands at his collar; he clears his throat softly, speaking up from his low utterance. “Please…do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you say tinily, your voice cracking in the lie. 

You can’t see his eyes—not with the shadow from his hood or his head rig, but you can see the way his skull lightly tilts to the side, trying to see you better in the low light. 

“That is good,” he answers, not convinced. “I’m glad. I did not wish to scare anyone.” He moves back and motions with a hand to the door from where they hang. “Please. It is best not to linger, yes?”  

“Do I…” you hesitate, shivering. “Do I know you from somewhere?” 

König’s face isn’t visible, but you can still sense the feeling of confusion leaking out of him. The man takes a small step closer, and you gaze up at him until his eyes are visible. 

Blue-gray. 

You stare, mouth parting in shock.

König blinks twice, quickly making a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of your eyes gazing into his—the same woman outside of the coffee shop from days ago.

That little invisible string pulls you closer, small millimeter by small millimeter. 

“You?” You both say it at the same time, laced with surprise and shock. 

It’s a long moment of gazing into each other, a battered body and another more strong than an ox. All fear of the man dissipates. 

“You gave me your jacket,” you whisper, still torn up about it. 

König’s hood shifts as he glances back to the door, German speech over the radio strapped to his chest which he takes in and processes in the back of his skull. But he always looks back at you, eyes crinkled with concern and perhaps even a bit of misplaced guilt. 

A protective knife sides into his side.

“Come.” The man reaches out a hand, hovering it over your arm. You stare at the gloved limb for a moment before softly moving towards it with your breath caught in your throat, hesitant. König’s fingers delicately slide over the flesh, not closing around it until he feels your muscles loosen. “...Let’s get you warmer, Schatz, yes?” 

You blink.

“It’s cold here,” you mutter, letting him guide you along, his gray orbs always keeping you in the side of his vision. 

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding. “Very cold. Have you been to Germany during the winter before?”

Your head slightly shakes, bare feet padding along next to the pair of great boots—you lean closer unconsciously to the promise of warmth. König guides you away from the seeping blood on the floor and protects your eyes from the view of the bodies across the room with his own as a guard dog would. 

“No.” He notices your leaning and brings you nearer to him, letting you use him as a brace. The man knows the effects of shock, and you wear it as plainly as any other. “I’ve never been here before.” 

König hums and his free hand goes up to press into the radio, muttering in his native tongue. He releases the connection and asks as he blinks at you, “Do you require any immediate medical attention?” 

Again, you shake your head. 

“Where are the others?” You sink further into him, being guided to the front door, open to the soft snowfall and a chilled wind as your shoulder hunch. 

“Just outside,” König glances at the bodies across the room—the ones he’d riddled with bullets that still twitch even as the minutes draw longer. Gray eyes going from one to another, the house is heavy with the weight of dead men. Twelve in total and all getting colder just like the temperature outside. König didn’t feel bad about it, and when he’d finally busted open that door to find you and the women, he was satisfied with the blood on his hands. If hell were to be his home, he would walk there with a golden-fanged smile. 

But now wasn’t the time for that. 

“I will bring you to them,” the soldier speaks, snow blowing in from the entrance. “Slowly, now, Schatz, watch the steps. Allow me to help.”

You stop at the doorway, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a haggard cough as König makes his way down the first concrete step ahead of you—large armored vehicles had pulled up from a ways away. The women huddle around one another, the rest of the soldiers sticking by them and opening the doors to the vehicles as the night gets only more cold and stormy.  

Gray eyes flicker for a moment down to your lack of proper protection, fingers twitching and tapping at his thigh as König remembers your expression the day he’d first met you. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” He says slowly, cautious in his approach. The man wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t touch you unless you explicitly stated it was alright for him to do so. “I will be gentle, I promise. I do not wish for your feet to freeze, I...” He pauses as you blink, staring into his soul. “I…will not touch you if you do not tell me to do it. You have my word.” 

You continue to stand there for a moment, face unreadable before your head slowly turns to the vehicles in the street. 

The neighborhood was so normal it still caused you to wonder how no one had spoken up and seen something. Rows of connected houses now with their lights on—faces peeking from the windows like little children on Christmas morning; trying to get glimpses of Santa and the man’s reindeer. 

Finally, your gaze moves back to the hooded visage of König, able to see it better under the moonlight and the glare of falling snowflakes—a few of those frozen pieces sitting in the folds of the fabric.

“The hood scared them,” you utter about the others. König stiffens a bit, blinking at you but not looking away. “They’re used to people trying to hide their faces, but yours…with how large you are…”

“I understand.” König doesn't tear away his eyes. “...Did I scare you, Schatz?”

You don’t know why, but for what seems like the first time in years, the question makes you giggle. The beast of a man goes still with his feet on the ground, usually jittery and moving body captivated by the sound as it echoes over the night’s air—the puff of your breath as it moves around his hood; rustling it like leaves on a tree. 

Eyes widening only a sliver more, König’s breath is in his throat.

It was like listening to a bird’s song.

“Maybe only a little,” you whisper to him. “But it’s okay. I’m scared of most things.” 

He licks his lips, but you’re unable to see the slight quirk of them afterward. 

“Then I will make it up to you, yes?” He holds out a hand. “Let me? The car is warm and your friends are waiting for you. My men say they ask about your health.”

You softly nod, the shadow of the house trying to drag you back into it—its blackened arms reaching and latching onto old scars. When your hand connects with König's, the man takes his time putting one foot back to a step and scooping you up from behind your knees. With a tiny grunt, you settle at his chest, calming your heartbeat with the fact that you know he won’t hurt you. 

“I’ve got you,” he says. 

In his arms, your bare legs hang in the air, hand wrapping his neck, and with a slightly nervous look to you as your body hovers. König watches for a moment, hesitating before he begins walking to the same vehicle the other woman had been moved into out of the snowfall. 

“Can you tell me your name,” he asks to distract you from his hold, to get you more comfortable with him as his boots crunch through the packed powder on the ground—making sure to watch his step so as to not jostle you. 

“Everyone calls me Cat.” Gray eyes blink your way, visible skin painted black. König’s head tilts. You can’t help but find it endearing.

“Katze?” He hums, and you can imagine his lips moving slightly upwards from the innocent tone of his voice as if taken by the strange moniker. “That is…interesting.” 

You huff tinily, shivering again as your body moves to curl a little more. 

The soldier quickly reassures you. “Nearly there.” 

The vehicle is in front of you, and a nearby man opens the door for König as he carries you over. Nodding in thanks, the large individual eases you into one of the seats as the blast of warm air makes you sag—the other woman in there mulls closer, grabbing onto you and laughing through tears. 

Looking back at them, you smile and feel yourself get a bit teary-eyed as everything starts to slowly come into focus. 

Glancing outward, you stare at the snow that hits the dark hood of König, sticking and hanging off until the tiny white dots melt from the heat of his body. With his legs shifting he moves back a step and nods to you, eyes moving to stare at the ground for a moment. 

“We will take you to base. From there you will all be given dorms and fresh apparel to—”

“Thank you, König,” you interrupted him. He stares, lips parted with the half-tones of cut-off speech. “And please extend my thanks to your men as well.” 

“...Of course, Katze.” König stands straighter, always twitching fingers moving to the car door as engines start with a grinding roar. He nods again, the loose fabric swaying as the lenses of his rig stay firm at the movement. “There is no need to thank us. Relax. Sleep, if you wish to do it. The ride will be long.” The man’s gray eyes linger for a moment on your own, studying the bumps and small marks on your face. His hand tightens over the door as your gaze is stuck with his own; warmth blooming in his chest. He was glad he had found you. 

König slips out a soft, “There are blankets under the seats,” before he closes the door with a firm thump of metal. 

You can’t help but smile. 

'…Hostages were taken back to [REDACTED] and received minor medical attention on site. Housed in [REDACTED] and were admitted for needed treatments/medications - all details/names listed in File 3 Section 6 for future reference. DNA was placed into databases. 

Next of kin were informed of their family members’ position and/or state of being via phone call to the corresponding government official that then traveled through the appropriate channels once identified.'

You sit as a nurse hands you heating pads for your hands, which you take with a small thanks and clenched tightly, sucking every ounce of warmth from them to stop the shaking. Your body was heavy with the weight of new clothes and heated blankets, the room utterly normal in a way you’d not known for years. A corner table with books and a chess board—a connected bathroom stocked with amenities you may need; even a rug on the tile floor. You don’t know why that was shocking to you, but even the simplest thing was awe-inspiring. Your eyes had even slipped over a tiny nightlight near the door. 

It nearly made you cry. 

Your nurse moves back a bit, smiling down at you kindly. 

“Is there anything else you might need, Dear?” Her accent is prominent, though not as much as König’s had been. She waits for your answer diligently as the pitcher of water and a similar glass sit on your nightstand. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your socked feet rub together like a grasshopper. “I think that’s all.” Your eyelids blink. “But…” you stop.

“What is it?” The lady asks gently, hands slack at her sides.

“The man—König,” you pause. “Is he here?” 

Blinking at you, the nurse tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “Not currently, no. At least, not in this specific building. He and his men are being debriefed across base. They will be there for a long while.” At your blank look, her brows slightly move up in accommodating comfort. “Would…you like me to tell him something for you?” 

Playing with the heating pads in your hands, your face gains a slightly embarrassed sheen. You liked the thought of being near König, truthfully. No one had made you feel safe like he did—him and his selfless action of a large coat given with no intention of getting anything in return. 

“Just,” you breathe softly. “Just that I’m sorry for losing his coat, and that I hope it wasn’t expensive.”

The nurse stares, very much confused but not about to question you. Her feet shift over the floor, and a light nod is sent your way. 

“Of course. I’ll tell him.” She motions to the bed with a hand and explains that whenever you wished to sleep, you were free to use the bed—and the TV was open to you as well, though you might not be able to understand the local stations. With that, she exited the room. 

Left alone, your head moves around the room slowly, taking it all in once more as the small bandages under your clothes pull at your flesh. The tears start slipping down your cheeks with no warning. 

Wrist coming up to your eyes, the limb presses in tightly, water staining the flesh as it dribbles down, and your lip quivers like a worm below it. You don’t know why you’re crying now and not when König had gotten you out of that townhouse. Why now, when there wasn’t anything prompting you to do so? 

But something was prompting you—the knowledge that you would never be going back to anyone who would mistreat you again. You had your own room. Good food. All the water that your stomach could drink down. A nightlight that pushes back the darkness even if you’re so used to living in it. 

Through your soft sniffles, chuckles move out, filling the space with a warm echo. You pull the blankets closer to you and collapse backward onto the mattress, smiling widely at the ceiling. 

That little invisible string dances as your heart pulls at it. 

—

König’s leg lightly jumps from under his table, signing off his name at the bottom of a report before he stands and rubs a hand over the top of his un-hooded head. He grabs the paper and slips it into a manila folder, hands pale with deep scars running the length of them like fissures in the earth. Deftly taking the item, he walks out of his office and begins moving down the length of the building, fingers tapping over the yellowish material with a small connection of flesh and thick envelope. 

Tap-tap, tappity-tap. 

His fingers were always fidgeting—moving, tensing, twitching. It was one of the reasons they never let him become a recon sniper; the more obvious being the blatant size of his body. Both of which had been the cause of much teasing throughout his childhood. 

But König’s mind was on something other than the report in his hands, and it was starting to become a very strong distraction. You. The women. Al-Qatala. 

He was angry he hadn’t acted outside of that coffee shop—angry he hadn't noticed the signs right in front of him even if he had been powerless to stop it then. The soldier’s jaw clenched, the strong muscles of his jaw roving. 

“Verdammt,” he hisses under his breath, glaring at the tile. “Should have done something.”

König gets to his commanding officer’s office and knocks, only staying long enough to hand him the folder with his finished report and leave once more. His mind wouldn’t stay silent tonight. There’s no doubt that he won’t be able to sleep unless he reassures himself that you and the others are okay. 

The man’s head shifts back to the email he had gotten from your assigned nurse, whom he’d taken it upon himself to know the name of when he carried you into the base’s hospital—Eva. 

‘...She says she wants to apologize for losing your coat…”

König’s heart had twisted at that—that was what you were concerned about? He had to tell you that it was alright, or else he would never know peace. Perhaps even ask how you’ve been treated so far, just to make sure that everything was comfortable for you. 

The man’s eyelids move slightly downward in thought, a pull at his heart to walk outside. He passes a few other soldiers in the hallway, nodding to them with a tiny greeting but unwilling to stop and talk. In only fatigues, König exits the main doors quickly, lightly moving into a jog as his body shivers at the sudden chill touching his arms under the black compression shirt. Under him the snow has grown deeper, the large lights illuminating the almost greenish reflections of the winter landscape of open roads and large buildings. 

Curfew was long past—this had to be quick. 

Just a check-in, König tells himself as he nears the hospital, his breath puffing in the air. Then I can wipe my hands of it. 

He slows as he nears the doors, huffing a breath as he pushes on the barrier, opening it with a squawk of hinges and metal. Entering, the front desk staff looked up at him in surprise, muttering his name in question.

“Katze?” He responds, pushing a hand over his head and feeling the melting snowflakes. His cheeks are a light shade of exposure-red, and inquisitive eyes shift over the two individuals slowly. “What room?”

The pair share a glance and tell him in the same breath. Room ten. 

It’s no sooner after that König finds himself there, hand hovering over the handle as the hallway clock ticks beside his right ear. His gray eyes blink at the door, feet shuffling from under him before he clears his throat under his breath, glancing away for a second in hesitation. 

Was this appropriate?

König didn’t have an answer, but the pull in his chest was tight and firm—he just needed to see you. A glimpse, nothing more. He raises his fist and raps his knuckles over the wood delicately, three tiny knocks that hit his ears like bullets from a gun; the bullets he’s put into pathetic Al-Qatala bodies and watched burst like sacks of fluid. 

He waits, hands going to grasp at his shirt collar, pushing out a low breath to calm himself. 

After a long moment, his foot taps the floor, blinking. Again he knocks—a bit louder. 

“She is sleeping, you evolutionsbremse,” he utters, accent low and grating. “Leave her alone.” But even if you are, his nerves peek their head over the brimstone wall of his brain. 

With his fingers caressing the handle, slowly moved to clutch it fully, swallowing the metal in his grip. König takes a deep breath into his lungs, letting it fill them up. Again, he tells himself, just a check-in. 

He twists the doorknob and sets his forearm on the wood, pushing the barrier open. 

König moves so that his body makes no noise, even with how large it is as he angles the side of his head through the opening. He finds a large mound of blankets atop the bed—stacked and layered so heavily that he has to blink in surprise at how you can breathe under them; because you were under them. 

Gray eyes make out the small sliver of skin peaking out from the side of the bed—fingers—and the top of your forehead near the pillows formed around your skull. Unconsciously, a soft smile works its way over König’s lips until he finds himself chuckling.

“Niedlich,” he mutters, scars over his face shifting as he speaks. 

Sighing lowly, König pulls back his head, beginning to close the door once more.

“König…?” Your tiny voice makes him halt like he had in the townhouse. 

Eyes wide and lips parted at being caught, the door remains open, only a sliver visible to your vision as your furrowed brows are stuck at the barrier. A red sheen moves across the soldier’s face in a slow sweep of embarrassment that goes bone deep.

With a lick of his lips, König re-opens the door slightly.

“I did not mean to wake you, Katze.” He finds your eyes and nods to you. “I apologize. Go back to sleep—you must be tired.” 

 “Wait,” you utter, moving your head fully out from under the blankets. König pauses, eyes staring as his other hand comes up to itch at the back of his neck. 

“What is it,” the man asks, opening the door fully and moving inside. “Do you need anything?” 

The question had hit you in your thin slumber, interrupted only partially by the opening of your door to the familiar pull of gray eyes and a strong build. A buzz-cut head. You take a slow breath to wake yourself up more, watching him from your bed. “...Did you know that I would be in that house?”

König tilts his head at the question, sighing slightly and glancing at the clock inside of the room on your nightstand. He frowns. 

“No,” he explains gently, coming closer. “No, I did not. I do not get told such things—only where to shoot and where not to.” The man tries a small smile, kneeling on one leg down by the bed and staring into your sleepy eyes. “But I am glad I found you again, yes? You had me worried.”

“You were worried?” You can’t quite grasp it.

“Ja,” he nods. “Your eyes—they have stuck with me, Schatz, you understand?” 

Your eyebrows pull up your face, blinking in shock. 

“...Yours, too,” you confess. König’s heart flutters, listening until your lips have fallen still. “They’re very nice, König.”

He goes sheepish, lips flicking up into a smile and his eyes daring away for a moment. “You can thank my mother for them, then.” He chuckles. “I have stolen the family's eyes, I was told.”

You chuckle with him, hand coming to rub at your cheek. A silence falls between the two of you.

“I don’t sleep well,” you tell him in the relative darkness, light from the hallway and your night light illuminating the dips and bone structure of his face. “I was awake when you opened the door.” 

He nods after a moment. “Ja.” A pause. “I don’t either…Nightmares?” 

You watch him before nodding tinily. 

“Ah,” he mutters. “They are not pleasant, I’m sorry that they have been plaguing you. Do you…” König wonders if he should leave—this was far more than he had anticipated. “Do you wish for me to stay?” 

 Why had he said that?

The string between the two of you tightens evermore, gaining another thread just as it would for the years to come until it became as unbreakable as steel.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” you begin but are quickly interrupted with a shake of a square head and a huff of a sharp nose.

“You are not. Do not call yourself such.” His accent deepens with emotion, eyes narrowing as the dark brows on his face pull in. “If you want me to stay, I will stay. Wake you if you become shaky, yes? Keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“But what about you?” Your voice moves around the room as König stands and goes to the table in the back, shifting one of the chairs so that it’s angled your way. You shift so you can watch him sit back, grunting as his legs move out in front of him, opening so he can be more comfortable. He needed a bigger chair, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

“I’m not tired, Schatz.” A lie. His muscles are heavy, and he longs for his bed in the barracks. He pushes out, “Please, go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

You stare for a long while, studying him and how he fidgets in his seat of choice. A small laugh meets the man’s ears as he crosses his arms over his chest. König pauses, blinking over in confusion. His lips move upwards slowly. 

“What are you laughing at, then, hm?” 

“You look like you’re about to break it,” you mutter, head nuzzling the pillow under you as fatigue claws its way under your skin. 

König huffs, fingers twitching over the meat of his biceps as he slouches. He nods jokingly. “Perhaps,” he shrugs, the window behind him letting a slight tinge of cold air in from outside. “It would not be the first, I’m afraid, though it would be quite the embarrassment to do it in front of you, Katze.” He smirks. “But I’ll say, hitting my head on door frames hurts more than letting my arsch kiss the ground.” 

You laugh under your heap, your body jerking to the movement of your lungs. 

“I bet,” you say, fingers grasping one of your blankets and pulling it closer. “It’s a funny image.”

“You can laugh all you want,” König jokes, eyes soft as they gaze at you. “It does not bother me.” 

Your sweet sounds of amusement waft out from under the crack in the door, where a small group of curious nurses mull and listen with glances to one another. A doctor moves past the hallway where they stand, and all scatter on quick feet. 

'…Signed,

[REDACTED]

SUBMITTED: 0517, 25, November 2021

END OF MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’

RETURNING TO SELECTION MENU…

STAND BY…'

It’s only after most of the other women leave—sent home to awaiting families or loved ones—that you know your time is coming to a close here in Berlin, Germany. While you’re excited to put this behind you, you can’t help but feel a bit…lost. 

There’s something that keeps you here, on this base, until you’re the last out of all of them, waiting. And then you’re given the green light to go—go home—and suddenly you have a backpack full of necessities and you’re closing the door to your room with the little nightlight’s plastic body pushing against your spine. Yet, you stand in the hallway for a long minute, fingers interlocked. 

You take a long, deep, breath. 

Over the weeks of recovery, König had been a constant companion when he wasn’t needed. He had eased you back into a comfortable state, letting you somewhat lose the black-and-white view you had gained of the world. But there was only so much he could do, even if his soft eyes were still stuck in your dreams—the good ones, of course. 

You needed to go home, and, today, the C-17 was whirring on the tarmac, waiting for you to be transported to a military base far from here where you would be processed and, ultimately, let go. 

Let go. It was jarring to think about, all of that freedom. What would you do with it? Right now, you don’t have the faintest clue. It was the best feeling you can remember having.

Smiling, you take one last look at the room behind you and walk on. 

At the entrance, you say a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors in broken German, shaking their hands as Eva kisses your forehead and whispers how happy she is to have had you here for such little time—you know what she means and you chuckle with her at the double-edged sword. 

König waits by the door, holding it open with…you blink at the item in his hands as well as his sudden appearance. Canvas fabric. A coat.

The coat. 

“I had to have it processed,” he says, smiling as you gape at him. “Very long process. It was found in the closet in the townhouse.” 

“Then why are you handing it to me,” you ask, tilting your head and walking closer. 

“I gave it to you, did I not?” The man hums, head tilting as he motions with it again. “It’s a good coat, Katze. Winters get cold.” Gray eyes crinkle gently. “I would hate for you to shiver, wherever it is that you end up, yes?”

You shake your head, cheeks hot. But your hands don’t hesitate to grasp the item, König’s hold on it remains fast, though, and you blink at him as you both keep it gently clasped like it’s worth its weight in gold. 

König stares at you, the door still kept open behind him. He opens and closes his mouth for a moment as you tilt your head. 

“Keep it safe for me,” is what he ends with, but his expression tells you he’s not talking about the coat. 

It makes your arms tingle—your heart skips a beat. 

“I’ll be sure it never gets lost,” you smile warmly, eyes malleable as the make of their color glints. There is a connection to this man that transcends words, and it is tied to you just as heavily as it is to him; unexplainable, incomprehensible, non-describable. 

Enigmatic. 

König’s reverential face is soft with care. 

“Good,” he mutters, unable to look away. “Very good.”

Clearing his throat, his grays dart to the floor, shifting his feet to move backward. He pushes open the door wider for you, and you hold your backpack in one hand as you shift past him and slip into his coat. 

It was exactly how you remembered it, and you sank into the fabric with a thankful sigh and a fluttering of your lashes. You shift the bag back over your shoulders, letting the straps fall into the bulk of the extra material. 

The snow wasn’t falling today, and the ground was shoveled of any white powder too. On the air, you can hear the whir of the C-17. 

König comes up beside you, a hand hovering over the small of your back as he guides you along. For the most part, the walk to the tarmac is silent with the weight of the future. You had no phone. No socials. You didn’t even know if you wanted any, to be honest. Your mind had convinced you that a good bout of soul-searching was exactly what you needed. And you had to do that alone. 

Your lips are thin as your legs take you closer to the plane, König’s scent stuck into the stitches of the coat and covered your senses. 

At the ramp, he stops as your feet take you onto the metal. Closing your eyes for a moment, you turn and lock gazes with him—gray hiding away what other, more human, emotions to be found. It was a slate of carefully crafted acceptance, and your own followed soon after. 

It had to be this. The string wouldn’t break, no, but it had to be stretched to such a point to come back stronger.

“Thank—”

“Don’t,” he says, not blinking, looking up at you. 

You smile. “What do you want me to say, then?” 

“You don’t have to say anything to me.” You hadn't known it then, but the both of you had truly thought that this would be the last of your meetings. It produced a pulse in both of your hearts that would never be told aloud. “....Live well,” König utters. “Heal, Mein Schatz.” 

The soldier wasn't one to give his chances to hope. 

Your eyes follow as he backs up, moving away as you stare. In his head, König pleads with you to stop and give him a reprieve from the hypnosis of your gaze, the addictive movement of your head as it tilts to the side. 

Live well. 

You send him a smile, a delicate thing, and then you back up a step and turn, disappearing into the darkness. 

The string follows, and it continues to do so even as your hands slip into your pockets hours later, bumping into the small form of a black flip phone. The note hidden inside of it. 

 ‘For whenever you find what you’re looking for.’

'REQUEST FOR ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE

REQUESTED BY: [REDACTED]

ENTERED: DECEMBER 15, 2021

TIME: 1422

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED….

RETURNING TO FILE SELECT MENU…

FILE SELECTED….

TRANSLATING…

STAND BY…

REQUEST OF HONORABLE ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE OF [REDACTED] APPROVED ON JANUARY 2, 2022

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED…

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN'

You sit in a coffee shop in Berlin, Germany, by the window. It wasn’t just any coffee shop, but you try not to think about all of that. It was all in the past—three years, now. You like to think you’d learned something in that time.

“Danke schön,” you say to the woman who brings you your drink, nodding kindly. You take a small sip, humming and winking at her teasingly. “Perfekt.” 

She chuckles, wiping her hands on her apron. “Möchten Sie noch etwas anderes dazu?”

“Nein, nein,” you shake your head, waving a hand that soft bumps the flip phone on the table. “Danke.” 

The lady walks away, and you take another sip of the hot beverage, never put off by the heat. 

It was winter again, and your eyes followed the flakes as they fell from a cloudy sky, finding the beauty in it easily as you sat inside. The scarf around your neck is loose—your gifted coat open. You smile to yourself and hum, watching people walk past outside, thinking about their lives and how they live them. 

A large form travels out from a shop across the street, a plastic bag in his loose grip. He was not small, no, this man was a beast of height and strength alike. The loping, canid-like, walk was accented by the twitch of his fingers over his quarry. 

Your wide eyes stay stuck to him for a long moment as he moves to the crosswalk, people shifting out of his way as he ignores them. Familiarity strikes like lighting—a buzz down your spine that leaves you straightening.

After a long moment, a breathless laugh sneaks out of you.

There were just some things that people were never meant to understand.

Your hand places your cup back on the table, picking up the old flip phone and pushing it open. Your thumb runs the keypad, moving to the only contact that had ever been entered into the device. 

Pressing, you move it to your ear as you watch with a soft expression, heart pattering. 

Across the way, the man tenses, hand patting his leg before the other hand moves inside his pocket and shifts the item out. People walk away, moving to the other side of the crosswalk as he stares at the contact. 

A minute passes, and all the while you hold your breath.

He presses and moves the phone to his ear, staying as still as stone. As still as a man afraid his hood might scare a group of terrified women. 

His voice graces your ear.

“...Katze?” You beam, trapped in the warmth of the coat around your shoulders.

“How do you feel about coffee, König?” 

Blue-gray eyes had never been more beautiful than when they snapped up to meet yours.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @aldis-nuts, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

[wosohours]

i missed you - alexia putellas x reader

Alexia arrived at training in a sour mood with a pout on her face, the same pout that had been seen on her face frequently throughout the last three weeks.

“What’s wrong Capi? Your girl still hasn’t come back yet?” Mapi teased when she saw Alexia’s face. Alexia roller her eyes slightly shoving Mapi out of the way to get to her locker, “No, she will be there for four more days.” she sighed.

You had been gone for almost a month on a business trip out of the country. This is the longest you and Alexia have been apart since you two got together four years ago. Even when Alexia had to travel for major tournaments or national camp you would always try to be present at the games. Although this time it was you who was away and Alexia could not just ditch training and games to be with you.

Hence the reason for the almost permanent pout being stuck on the Catalan woman’s face for three weeks. Of course this is not the first business trip you have ever been on or the first time you and Alexia have been away from each other for a while, but being gone for more than a couple of days started to take a toll on Alexia. Little did she know it was starting to take a toll on you as well but with being constantly busy working you tried not to think about it as much.

Alexia did not want to seem clingy, obsessed, or act like she was heavily dependent on you, but to go from being attached to the hip everyday with someone to them not being around at all kind of threw her off a bit.

She did not realise how involved you were in each other’s daily lives and routines. Going to sleep and waking up alone sucked. Brushing her teeth alone was boring. Showering alone, of course, sucked. The first week you were gone she kept accidentally making two cups of coffee. She even tried to make the breakfast you make for her the same way, but it just did not taste right.

____________________

“The days will pass by soon, just think of it as…four more sleeps,” Patri chimed in across the room. “Yeah, four more ‘sleeps’ alone,” Alexia sulked, lacing up her boots.

“Okay Ale no more pouting, time to train,” Mapi walks over pulling Alexia up from her seat.

During training, Alexia was usually able to turn her brain off and do what she needed to do, but since her normal routine has been flipped upside down all this time and the anticipation of seeing you again weighed heavy on her might, she could not help but get distracted.

So much so that the amount of passes, easy shots, and penalties she was missing earned her concerned glances from her teammates and staff. Alexia understood their concern, they had El Clásico coming in two days, and messing up on easy drills was not looking good.

So she pushed through the rest of practice, showered, did her recovery, and left towards her car so she could get home and call you.

____________________

When Alexia arrived home she immediately jumped in bed and called you on FaceTime, “Hola bebé, I miss you so much.”

“Hola mi amor, I miss you too. How was training?” You asked her while propping your phone up so you two could see each other better.

Alexia groaned and smashed her head into your pillow before she looked up again, “It was terrible bebé I was missing everything, and on one of the set pieces I kicked the ball at Mapi’s back, and this time it wasn’t on purpose.”

That got a loud laugh out of you and Alexia thought about how she could not wait to hear it in person again. After you stopped laughing Alexia asked you about your trip and how work was going. You told her how great it was, how much fun you were having, and how special it was for you to be in the leadership position of the project.

“ I am very proud of you mi amor no one deserves this more than you and clearly the company thinks the same,” she told you with a small yawn.

“Thank you, baby. I appreciate it. Though I thought about you a lot, and it also made me think that maybe we needed this,” you said, causing Alexia’s eyes to shoot open.

Before she could respond you continued, “I know you are about to jump to conclusions but I mean that it is a good and healthy thing for our relationship. You know the saying ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder.’ It made me stop and think about how much I love and appreciate you and the love that we have for each other.”

“You’re right, I didn’t think that far into it. I just thought about how much I miss you and that I can’t wait to have you by my side again.” Alexia replied, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“I’m going to let you sleep now, I love you and see you in a couple of days.” you told her. Alexia blew you a kiss through the phone, “I love you too, see you in four days.”

____________________

You had told Alexia the truth about how you had been thinking about her a lot. You two were very independent people when you first started dating and even now four years later, but in the last couple of months something had shifted between you and now you could not get enough of each other.

Now where you did not correct her was when she said “...see you in four days.” You were already at the airport staying in one of those convenient airport hotels waiting to get on your flight leaving for Barcelona in just a couple of hours. You texted Alba and Eli and told them your flight information letting them know what time you would be landing. Alba had agreed to pick you up and Eli would be sort of distracting Alexia from thinking of you all day.

The plan was to get to Barcelona a day early and stay with Alba so you could rest and the next day you would be attending El Clásico with the plan of surprising Alexia.

Checking the time on your phone you realize that you should get some sleep to prepare for your long travel day.

____________________

“Hola hermanaaa,” Alba cheered as you walked out of the airport with your luggage. “Hola Alba,” you laugh, letting go of your suitcases to give her a big hug.

“We have all missed you so very much, mami is making us all have dinner together at her place tomorrow so that we can all catch up and you can tell us about your trip,” she says, grabbing one of your suitcases and putting it in her car.

“That sounds great. I missed you all as well, your mama's cooking even more though,” you laugh as she rolls her eyes.

You both finally sit in the car and start the drive to Alba’s apartment, where you will be catching up on some sleep until the game tomorrow.

____________________

“Do you need a shirt or did you already pack ten for your trip?” Alba joked as you two started getting ready for the game. You were texting Alexia your usual, “Good Morning,” so that she would not get suspicious when you looked up hearing Alba speak.

“Haha, you’re so funny, but no I already have one,” you say, showing her the jersey with Alexia’s name and number on the back.

“Ouu and a special game worn one at that. I should’ve known, you are never without one,” she teases, shaking her head.

“I’m done getting ready. Are you ready to go now?” you ask, making Alba nod and grab her bag and keys so that you two can leave.

____________________

As you two were making your way to the entrance of the stadium you spotted Alexia and Alba’s mother and uncle already standing there waiting for you two. Everyone exchanges greetings and hugs before heading to their seats.

While you and Alexia’s family made small talk waiting for the game to start, Alexia was sitting in the locker room getting ready thinking about how this was the first El Clásico you would miss since you two got together.

“Are you ready Ale?” Mapi asked. Alexia looked up and gave her a nod and a small smile. Before Alexia could tie her boots she received a text notification from you.

“Don’t worry I’m watching. You’ll be great. I love you.”

She texted back, “Thank you. I love you more.”

This relaxed her a bit. Knowing that even though you were not physically here you would always support her no matter where you were. With that small boost of reassurance, Alexia stood up and clapped to get her team’s attention so that she could give her speech before the game.

____________________

When the girls started walking out you and everyone else stood up and started cheering. You were hoping to get Alexia’s attention but you know that she was focused on the game. The start of the game was entertaining as usual with both teams doing their best to score early and gain a lead, but with both teams holding their own it was 0-0 by the time half-time came.

As the girls were walking back to the locker room you and Alexia’s family tried once again to get her attention since you knew Alexia usually looked up at the family section when half-time was called. Sure enough, she heard her name being called and looked up to see her family there with you standing and cheering right next to them like you always did.

She could not believe that you were here when she was sure that you still had four more days of work in a whole different country. After she shook the disbelief off of her face she waved at all of you and slyly blew a kiss in your direction, which you pretended to catch.

In the locker room, Alexia could not hide the smile on her face. “Did you see your girl in the stands Capi?” Patri asked, grabbing her shoulder slightly, shaking her. “Looks like she couldn’t wait to see you either, Ale,” Mapi said, making Alexia blush.

After the half-time break was over the girls went back out with a little more fire earning them a goal from Frido, Aitana, and Caroline. Two goals being assisted by Alexia. Ending the game at 3-0.

Since the game was over the team did their rounds taking pictures and signing autographs. Alexia looked up at her family and nodded her head in the direction of the tunnel signaling them to make their way down there. Once Alexia was done she made her way to the tunnel and met with her family and she gave everyone hugs and kisses until she got to you.

“Oh mi amor I missed you so much, I can’t believe you here right now,” Alexia says pulling you into a tight hug laying kisses all over your face and the side of your head. “I also can’t even believe that you kept a secret from me, usually you spill faster than Mapi,” she teased, tickling your sides.

You laughed moving away from her a bit just for her to pull you back in, “I know it took a lot of willpower for me not to just give up and tell you, but when have I ever missed an El Clásico?” you asked her, holding her face in your hands.

“Never,” Alexia answered with a big smile.

“Okay, we know you too are in love and all, but Ale please go take a shower so that we can go eat,” Alba tells her. Eli softly slaps Alba on the arm and pulls her away.

“Yea go shower you stink, I will wait right here,” you tell her. Alexia rolls her eyes and nods before laying a soft kiss on your lips before going back into the locker room to take a shower.

____________________

You ended up riding back to Eli’s house with Alexia where you let her tell you all about the game, even though you were there. Her hand on your thigh the whole ride, you both stealing kisses at every red light. She thought she was slick taking the long way there but you had noticed and you were okay with it.

When you finally made it to the house, Eli was still finishing dinner so everyone sat around the kitchen and talked to keep her company while she finished. As dinner was served you started telling them all about your trip and the project you were working on. The whole time Alexia was not able to take her eyes and hands off of you, but it did not bother you because you were acting the same.

After dinner you all sat around the living room talking some more when Alexia whispered in your ear, “Are you ready to go home?” You nod your head and kiss her cheek.

When finished making your rounds to say goodbye to everyone and thanking Eli for the delicious dinner, you and Alexia head home.

____________________

When you two walk through the doors of your shared home Alexia pulls you into her arms and says, “I am never letting you out of my sight again.”

“I am so okay with that,” you reply, shoving your face in her neck to lay small kisses.

“Now let’s go to sleep, I know you miss me laying on top of you like your personal weighted blanket,” she says, making you laugh and follow her to the bedroom.

____________________

note: not sure i really like this 💀

also, i fight for my life not to say “yall” at least 20+ times

[hereforthehitsbaby]

prompt 16 with Logan on the fluff list! thinking that their messing around and reader accidentally confesses and it’s a toooootal love bomb after that

Confession | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of a panic attack

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.7k…did I get carried away? Yes.

Author’s Note: Okay but why am I sobbing at my own writing? This request was so cute, thank you for this nonie!

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

“Wade when I said we should watch The Wizard of Oz, I didn’t mean that you need to dress up as Dorothy and act out the entire movie!” You exclaimed in the living room, trying your hardest to suppress a laugh as Wade twirls in front of the couch. The blue and white checkered dress swirled in the air as he spun, arms wide out as he threw his head back. In the background, droning on was “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” to which Wade decided it was the perfect time to lip sync. Days like this are what you cherished most, especially when things were a bit shit all around. The world wasn’t as safe as it used to be, but in this little apartment – it was comfort. Solace, everything you all needed to wait out the storm down below.

“You may not have wanted that, but they did.” Wade lets out nonchalantly, whispering the last part at the brick wall, causing you to look around him. Every so often he would stare off into a hidden camera, like it was The Office, speaking to the “audience” about what was going on. At first it was funny, charming even – but when it got to be quips about you, it was almost instinctive how you needed to roll your eyes. Now? It was just another thing about Wade you admired, how he could keep himself entertained like this and forget how things were outside, there was no judgement but pure love and laughter. Shaking your head with a smile, you sigh out as you stand from the couch, stretching your back. “Whatever you say, Wade.” As you felt your tailbone crack, you smiled softly at the release. It felt nice to get up and walk, to stretch out a bit before engaging more with Wade’s antics of today. It was endearing to see him doing this – you knew everything was getting to him as well, and you both needed a good laugh. What you silently hoped for though, was for Logan to join the two of you.

It was obvious your feelings for him, Wade called that out the second you both first met. The way your eyes went from thin slits of weariness to full blown hearts was enough to make his head spin – Logan on the other hand seemed to have no effect. But that’s what he wanted you to think. It had been months since your apartment flooded, causing you to move two floors up with Wade, Logan, Laura and Al. But it had been the best months of your life, creating new friendships and hoping to blossom out of the awkward phase with Logan. A stoic, quiet man who truly needed this – needed a friend – needed to know he was loved. You wanted to help him with that, if only you could get over this little hump of self-doubt. It was a silent battle you faced internally; Rejection scared you and hurt more than anything else – but you’d respect the decision if it happened. The struggle was the worst part of it, how it ate you alive. Wade would always try to help quell it but alas, your mind could be very fickle.

As you made your way into the kitchen, you rounded the counter, back facing towards the living room as you hummed along with the song. Lost in your own little world, you didn’t notice when the bedroom door to the left started to slowly open, your head down to face the coffee maker as you stuck your mug underneath, using the hot water for your tea. It wasn’t until you saw something sparkling out of the corner of your eye that it caught your attention. You knew Mary Puppins had a flashy little get up, since Wade spent four days bedazzling her suit, but then you remembered Laura had taken her out for a walk a few minutes prior. Cocking your brow, you turn slowly to see what that shine is – not expecting to see what you did. “Holy shit,” you mumble out, your eyes shooting wide open. There was no proper way to react except shocked, your body freezing at the sight.

Logan was home after all, hiding away in his room. But what you didn’t realize was that Wade had gotten him to dress up for the movie. Standing there in his gray and black flannel, gray sweatpants, and white socks was your Logan – face covered in silver face paint, sparkling against the orange hued lighting of the kitchen. You stopped to stare at him, admiration making your heart grow as Wade let out a dramatic gasp, his hands coming up to cover his mouth. “Robocop has arrived!” Wade cheered, hoping over the back of the couch and standing on the opposite side of the kitchen. At the comment, Logan growled in Wade’s direction, sending him straight daggers. “Don’t give me that look, Pookie. You know what you signed up for.”

Logan could help but groan as his gaze shifted back towards you; The silvery color making his eyes glow brighter than usual. A soft green, like a meadow on a cloudy day always stared back at you. But today, it was Emerald City. The glints of golden flecks and little silvery tendrils drifted through his irises, causing your heart to race. You didn’t mean to gaze so deeply into his eyes, finding your own eyes losing focus the further you delved in. You couldn’t tell but Logan’s heart was racing a mile a minute under his shirt, his claws quivering inside his hand. “You’re taking shine bright like a diamond to a whole new level, Lo.” You let a bright smile cascade over your lips as you looked up at him, tilting your head to the side to admire his application skills. Under all the silver you could see a gentle pink blush creeping up his neck, fanning over the little exposed patch of skin beneath his flannel. It wasn’t everyday that Logan blushed – but with you, he couldn’t stop. Even at your teasing, he was a mess.

“His idea.” Logan snickered as he pointed to Wade. “Dipshit told me we were all dressing up as characters.” Of course he did, because that is just how Wade is. He always says one thing, then never tells anyone else. In a way you knew he said it for you, knowing this was your favorite movie and all. To have Logan dress up like the tinman was all for you. A simple admission you made not too long ago about how he was your childhood crush; Convincing Logan to dress up as him only seemed right. Wade could tell you both were mutually pining over one another, and he was tired of the will they won’t they. All he knew was that he wanted his two best friends to be together, to be happy; He knew you’d be good for one another. Wade blew Logan a kiss as he spun in his dress, twirling his way through the kitchen and living room.

“Wade you dirty dog.” You laugh as you roll your eyes, shifting your focus back to your now freshly brewed tea. Taking the mug away from the coffee machine, you bit your bottom lip as you giggled, nudging Logan with your shoulder. “When we need a disco ball for Al’s 70th birthday, we will just strap you to the ceiling and spin you.” You winked in his direction as you slightly raised a brow, indicating that you were joking, but also being a tease. Logan liked when you did that, finding it invigorating how his heart would pound out of his chest. A hearty, sincere laugh slipped from his silvery lips as he narrowed his gaze. Leaning against the countertop, Logan crossed his arms over his eyes, his lips turning up into a challenging smirk. “Oh yeah? You think so, beautiful?” He let out without question, tilting his head to the side as he eyed you up and down. He could hear, smell, how hard your heart was racing as he leaned closer, how your palms grew clammy, how your body shivered under his gaze. There was something so primal clawing its way beneath his skin; He wanted all of you, to be the only one to make you feel this way. “I know so!” You shot back without hesitation, trying to keep your cool.

Logan thought it was cute, how hard you were trying to fight yourself off. Trying so hard not to spill the beans or say what was on your mind. It was a game of hardball, and Logan was going to come out on top like always. Huffing with amusement, he placed his hand softly on your shoulder, letting his wade palm graze down your arm, fingers drifting over the expanse of your wrist. Leaning closer to you, only a hairsbreadth away, Logan whispered as he held your hand lovingly. “Well what if I…”  You were so entranced with how he was coming onto you, months of tension finally reaching its peak as the knife cut through it, releasing that hold on you. Closing your eyes as you prepped yourself for what he was about to do next, you pursed your lips instinctively, waiting to feel him on you. Alas, that never came.

In a singular second, Logan roughly pulled you close to him as he rubbed his face all over yours. The burn of his beard across your cheeks made you yelp out, the slippery feel of the face paint flowing over your skin made you laugh. A fit of giggles and playful pushing ignited the room, filtering out the sound of Mary Puppins and Laura coming back from their walk. You couldn’t breathe from how hard you were laughing, trying to muster up the energy to speak as Logan held you close to him. Though you felt his touch burning through your clothes, not one of a friendly nature but one of pure passion. The way he gripped your hip with one hand, and the side of your neck with the other. The way his face slid over yours, it was pure love. Your mind was reeling with endless thoughts of what it would be like to be in love with Logan, never realizing how you spoke aloud. “Ohmygod, I’m in love with an adult man-child.” The words fell out before you had anytime to think about it, not realizing what you had said as you fought yourself through the giggle fit. You didn’t realize what had come out, until Logan stopped.

The tension in the air was palpable, your heart pounding in your ears as you caught your breath. Logan stopped the ministrations on your face, his grip to your neck and hip growing harder, steadier as his breathing picked up. “In love!?” Wade and Laura yelled out from the living room, Mary Puppins gave a little bark as well. In that moment you stopped, your eyes growing wide as you panned upwards. “In love?” Logan asks, his eyes turning from a vibrant green shade to mocha, his pupils blackened. Meeting his gaze, you swallowed back the words I’m kidding, because in reality you were not. It was out there now, there was no taking it back even if you had tried. There wasn’t anything that would make this moment easier to digest, it was all or nothing. “Shit.” That was your only response. The movie in the background grew quiet. Laura, Wade, and Mary Puppins stared at you with wide eyes, trying to process it themselves. Al on the other hand sat by the open window and laughed, keeping his head towards the street below.

All you wanted to do was run; Fight or flight kicking in made you want to scream. It wasn’t the way you announced it that made you scared, nor nervous – but how Logan was staring at you. His once playful demeanor was now clouded with something unreadable, enough to make tears well in your eyes. At the end of the day, if he didn’t feel the same there were no hard feelings, and you both could live with that. But right now, you wanted to be alone, to calm down from the panic rising in your chest. “No, no running away.” Logan whispered for you, and you only. His hardened grip on your neck moved to gently hold your face, his thumb sweeping against your cheek. He could see the fear in your eyes, the unknowing – he wanted to settle that for you. Logan leaned forth to press his forehead against yours. The switch of Logan gave you whiplash; Usually he wasn’t this affectionate with his actions, always keeping to himself, not thinking himself worthy of love. But today, that all changed. “Sweetheart…do you mean that?” Logan’s voice broke slightly as he asked, his own eyes welling with tears.

“Of course she does! She’s in lov-“ Wade began, not even giving you a second to explain yourself. Logan grew tense at hearing him speak. He never pushed his face away from yours as he growled out into the room. “Shut the fuck up!” A shiver ran down your spine at the dominance in his voice, your hands instinctively going out to hold onto his hip as you steadied your breathing. “Ohhh my god,” was all Wade could respond with as he sunk back into the couch, Laura holding her hand over his mouth so he wouldn’t say anything more. It was now or never; Forever hold your peace or tell Logan how you really felt and see where it led from there. Taking a deep breath, you nodded against Logan’s forehead, a shaky breath exhaling from your parted lips. “I do.” The words felt right coming out, there was no line of awkwardness or reluctance to them. It was the truth, and now it was known.

You refused to open your eyes as stare at Logan, hearing the deep inhalation he made at your comment. You knew if you opened your eyes tears would fall, and you were not about to have that. Nothing came to mind on what you could say, nor could you move from where you were planted. Internally you begged someone to say something, to break the silence. Logan must’ve heard your internal thoughts. “Finally, didn’t know how long we were going to play that game, sweetheart.” Logan let out, causing you to open your eyes. He extended himself to his full height as he held your face, peering down into your soul with a genuine, loving smile. It was in that moment his words fully clicked inside of your brain, the mutual pining was over. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. I could tell you were too, but I didn’t want to come on too strong, if you weren’t ready. I wanted it to be on your terms, when you felt it was right.” Logan’s word held you tightly, holding you close to show you just how loved you are, how cherished you are, how appreciated you are. You could tell Logan had more he wanted to say but, actions speak louder than words.

Surging forth, you pressed your lips lovingly against Logan, feeling how the world faded around you. The dull, orange lighting of the kitchen burnt out around you. The hum of the coffee maker, fridge, and lights became silent. The only thing that could be heart was your heartbeats, merging into one. Around you swirled endless love and possibilities, flecks of the brightest yellows and blues flowing out like clockwork, binding you two together. This feels so right. Everything felt so right. Logan felt so right. Nothing in life ever felt like this, nothing ever felt meant to be. Only now did you realize, the love you have been waiting your entire life for, finally arrived. In the form of Logan Howlett, The Wolverine. Your hero.

-----

Hugh Jackman Taglist: @anamiad00msday @coowayeoo

Logan Howlett Taglist: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444

[girlgenius1111]

close to you part two

alexia putellas x leila ouahabi x jenni hermoso x reader a third installment of the orgy fic: rush by @vixwritesagain [all chapters + all OOYG chapters linked on her masterlist] r and alexia continue to dance around each other, despite the... meddling from jenni and leila. 18+ for light smut and lots of sunscreen

—

Groceries stocked (and overstocked, if you asked her), Jenni stepped outside and slid the door closed behind her. 

“You seem relaxed.” She purred sarcastically. 

Alexia had migrated to the shade, flicking through the pages of a book without really taking anything in. 

“No.” Alexia snapped, pulling her sunglasses down. “You left me here.” 

“I did.” Jenni grinned, strolling along the path to stop in front of the shaded lounger.  “What happened?” 

Even though Alexia stayed silent, Jenni grinned wider at the cool stare she knew was being aimed in her direction. 

“Nothing? Not even when she saw you in this tiny little thing?” Jenni leaned over her girlfriend, running a hand over Alexia’s bare thigh until it reached the red ties of her swimsuit. 

A sharp slap to her knuckles gave her pause. 

“Don’t touch. I’m burnt.” Alexia growled, lifting her book higher. 

“You don’t look burnt.” 

“You left me here without even sunscreening my back, Jennifer.” 

Jenni froze, trying to read Alexia’s half hidden face. “What happened, mi amor? Did you talk to her?” 

With a dramatic slam of her book, Alexia sat up and swung her legs to the ground. Jenni had only enough time to pull back and watch her girlfriend storm back into the villa. 

It wasn’t that she wanted Alexia grumpy, just that it was so fucking hot when she was pissy. Couple that with the sight of her perfect ass in a bikini, and Jenni lasted all of thirty seconds before following her. 

Catching up with her in their bedroom, the striker shut the door courteously before watching as Alexia lay herself down on the hardwood floor. 

“Ale?” 

“Go away.” The midfielder huffed.

Jenni didn’t even try to hide the roll of her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“It’s cold. Feels good on my burns.”

“I have aftersun in my suitcase. Let me help.” 

“No!” Alexia hissed, rolling stubbornly onto her stomach. “No touching for you.”

“Alexia-”

“You left me, Jenni! I will never forgive you.”

“Alexia, I thought maybe if you two had some time alone it’d be easier-” 

Jenni was stunned into silence when Alexia jumped to her feet in an instant, then froze completely. 

“Ale? I thought it might be easier for you to-”

“Shh!” Alexia hissed, snapping her furrowed brow to face her girlfriend. 

Jenni had taken a sharp breath to argue right back when she heard it too. 

–

Leila already had you on your back, her lips making a slow descent down your now bare body, when she heard the door slam shut. A moment later, it opened again, then closed much more quietly this time. She grinned against your hip bone, leaving a final kiss there before ghosting her fingers over your swim suit bottoms. 

“Leila, please go faster,” you whined, already embarrassingly worked up from your girlfriend’s hands all over you, and your hands all over Alexia earlier. You thought of her back, taut muscles and smooth, soft skin. You thought of the red bikini, and the way it looked on her when she’d walked away from you. 

Hooking a finger under the waistband, Leila tugged your bottoms down and off your legs, humming happily when she lowered her cheek to rest against your thigh. It gave her a perfect view, especially as her fingers brushed over your glistening core. You were wet, very clearly affected by the events of the day. You squirmed when Leila’s hand spread you wider, letting her thumb gather a bit of wetness before dragging up to your clit. 

You felt like every one of your nerves was on fire, the agonizing anticipation of wanting Alexia and getting none of her driving you crazy. You’d been worked up since you’d arrived, maybe even since you boarded the plane, and no matter what you did to get rid of the ache, it stuck around. 

You were over the teasing, even if it had only been going on for a few minutes. You needed more this instant, or you were sure you’d explode. 

“Lei-”

Before the word was even out of your mouth, Leila was flicking her thumb over your clit, her touch no longer ghosting against you. Now, she touched you with purpose, rubbing and pressing in just the right way. Her hand drifted down, finding you more than wet enough for one of her fingers to slide easily inside, only needing a few gentle thrusts of her hand before a second finger eased itself in. 

You pressed your hand over your mouth,  not wanting the loud groan in your throat to escape. Partly because it felt much too soon for you to be reacting like this, and also because you were well aware you weren’t alone in the villa. 

As soon as your hand clapped over your face, though, muffling a sound Leila wanted to hear more than anything, she stopped. 

Her touch disappeared, and you snapped your head up fast enough to give you whiplash, torn between annoyance and desperation. Leila was grinning up at you, though, with not a care in the world. 

“Let them hear you. Let her hear you. Show her what she’s missing.” Leila whispered. 

And with the knowledge that both Jenni and Alexia were well within hearing distance, you let your head fall back onto the bed, an unrestrained moan falling from your lips as Leila’s mouth connected with you again.

-

Jenni watched the full spectrum of emotions flutter across her girlfriend’s face before it settled into a frown after one particularly pointed moan. 

“We could…” Jenni trailed off tilting her head towards the door. 

Alexia’s pout only intensified. She reached up and tugged at the ties of her bikini, letting the top fall to the floor. Bottoms next, also discarded in a crumpled heap. 

Jenni lifted an eyebrow. 

“I’m going in the shower.” 

The captain made it three steps before she was lifted and dropped unceremoniously on clean bed sheets. The noises were louder from there, frequent and undeniable. 

“Are you sure? You want to go and touch yourself in the shower and listen to her scream for someone else?” Jenni kneed her way onto the mattress, prowling over bare skin before stilling just above. 

Alexia stared up at her, jaw set. 

Matching her serious expression, Jenni pushed Alexia’s hair back from her face. “Do you want me to ask them, amor? I can text her now.”  

Jenni wanted to kiss away her girlfriend’s grumpy pout, but Alexia shaking her head like a toddler made it difficult. “No. She’ll ask for me.”

“So stubborn.” Jenni teased, leaning down to ghost her lips over Alexia’s. “You’re sure?” 

“Sí.” 

“Fine. Go shower, then.” Rolling over into the empty space, Jenni quickly stripped her shirt off. 

As she stood up and began shimmying her shorts down, Alexia followed her every move. It wasn’t till Jenni reached into their suitcase and started throwing toys on the bed that Alexia sat up. “What are you doing?” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to join them without you. I know you’re too sunburnt to touch. So I’ll just be here. Enjoy your shower.” Jenni lay back down, picking up one of the vibrators. 

Alexia didn’t move a muscle, but her stare was intense. 

In the silence, the noises from the bedroom across the hall were so loud - “yes!” and “fuck!” and the kind of moans which made Jenni shiver.  She pressed a hand into her panties, exhaling at the first brush of contact before turning to her frozen girlfriend. “Did you want to watch, or-ooft!”

Jenni only just moved her hand in time to avoid the squish when Alexia straddled her waist. 

The striker’s hands remained down on the bed, showing an enormous amount of restraint. Especially when Alexia leaned down. 

“Venga, Jenni. Tócame.” The midfielder demanded, using her position above Jenni to her advantage. Or so she thought. 

Jenni hummed, finally lifting one of her hands up off the bed only to push Alexia’s hair out of her face. “I shouldn’t. You are burnt, no? I don’t want to make it worse.” Jenni told her, an overly sympathetic look on her face. 

Alexia glared down at her, grabbing at one of her girlfriend’s hands and trying to pull it to rest on her hip. Infuriatingly, Jenni continued to smile, pulling her hands away with ease and resting them behind her head. The blonde’s death stare didn’t really seem to be doing much, and Alexia sighed, moving to climb off Jenni’s lap, determined to do it herself if she had to. 

Before she could fully remove herself, though, Jenni’s hand moved between her legs, lightly dragging over Alexia’s core. The blonde inhaled sharply, turning back triumphantly to her girlfriend, thinking she’d won. 

“You are wet, though, amor. That must be uncomfortable.” 

The smirk on Jenni’s lips told Alexia she had to play along, or she wouldn’t be getting anything she wanted. And as easy as it would have been to grab a vibrator off the bed and slip into the bathroom, she couldn’t do it. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get off the way she wanted to. Not even with the sounds coming from the bedroom next door, not with Jenni so close. 

Still, it wasn’t easy. Alexia remained frozen for a moment debating. 

“Jesus, Lei,” your voice rang out, likely audible from anywhere in the house. Only after hearing you did Alexia unfreeze, an unmistakable spark of competitiveness now shining in her eyes. 

“Do something about it.” A raised eyebrow, a challenge extended - just because Alexia knew what she needed didn’t mean she’d give in easily. She knew Jenni didn’t want her to either, because Jenni was just as stubborn. 

“I’d love to, but you’re so burnt. It’s probably better if you’re on top.” Jenni tried to school her smirk, but the corners of her mouth were infuriatingly curled. 

Alexia frowned, staring hard at her girlfriend and trying to block out the fervent moans bleeding through the walls. She’d grown used to being under Jenni. While it wasn’t her natural position, being strong armed into submission was addictive. She’d come to crave the way Jenni would manipulate her body and make it take over and over. “I… can top?” 

Alexia shivered at the faintest hint of her touch as Jenni once again dragged long fingers through her wetness. The striker chuckled, leaning up to nuzzle the soft skin of Alexia’s neck. “Definitely not. But you can be on top.”

Once again, Alexia froze. 

Pressing her lips to her collarbone, Jenni curved her hand around her waist to keep her close. She hid her smile at the desperate buck of Alexia’s hips, knowing that she’d played her hand well. “That, or you can get off alone in the shower. I know which I’d prefer. I’d even let you sit on my face as a warm-up.”

__

“Fuck, Lei,” you panted blinking up at the ceiling. 

Your fingers drew lazy patterns against her lower back, drawing out aftershocks which made her shiver and keen. She still straddled your leg. You could feel her grin where her face was pressed against your neck.  “Fuck,” she agreed. 

You were only given half a minute of listening to the fan of the AC and her slowing breaths, before you heard the first sound. Quiet and muffled. You wouldn’t have paid any mind if Leila didn’t sit up inquisitively. 

Her brow furrowed, then the second noise. 

Leila’s eyes met yours immediately. “They’re…” she trailed off. 

As the seconds ticked by and Leila’s expression only grew more excited, you wondered if you were missing the sounds. Then a moan so loud you sat up too. 

“Should we…” Leila whispered, tilting her head towards the hallway door.

As tempting as it was, you stroked over her thigh before sighing, “No, babe. They didn’t interrupt us. And we all know you’re the loudest moaner in this house. ”

Leila’s playful pout made your chest tighten. “I don’t know, you can be loud too.” 

“Exactly,” you brushed off, “so they definitely heard us and still didn’t come in.”

Leila chuckled, nodding along. “You’re sure you don’t want to go to them, bebé?” At the shake of your head, your girlfriend wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “Want to keep going with me instead?” 

“Later,” You promised, doing the same to her waist, “Maybe food first? They’ll be hungry after.”

“Maybe they’ll eat you on the table.” Leaning in, Leila kissed you deeply before pulling away just a fraction. “Or maybe I will.” 

–

Alexia stretched out lazily as she watched Jenni - still half naked - move around their room. 

“This one?” The striker called, holding up a dildo from the suitcase. 

“Si, any. Hurry up.” Alexia muttered, though any irritation she held towards her girlfriend had been all but erased in the aftermath of her first orgasm. Just to tease, Alexia slid her hand down between her legs. 

Jenni’s piercing glare gave her pause, now holding up two dildos. “No. You choose.” 

It was one thing for the captain to take it, another entirely to admit to wanting it. Alexia rolled over so she didn’t have to feel her cheeks heat up when she replied. “Pink.”

She was ready to feel Jenni’s warm hands stroking her back, pushing and pulling until she was in the perfect position. Instead, the bed dipped to her side and gentle fingers worked through her hair. She waited a few seconds before humming her confusion. 

“Ready?” Jenni asked patiently. 

Alexia twisted to look at her, lying perfectly relaxed against the pillows despite the harness tight against her hips. 

Jenni stroked the toy casually, keeping her voice even. “Your burn, Ale. You’re on top. Remember?” 

“Pero…” Alexia started, before blushing further. She sat up to her knees, suddenly feeling very bare indeed. 

“But?” Jenni teased, though her fingers trailed down to catch Alexia’s hand. She lifted it to her mouth, kissing at the knuckles before turning the palm against her cheek. “You enjoyed riding my face, no?” 

 “Sí, but…” Alexia grumbled, putting on her very best puppy dog eyes in a last-ditch attempt. 

Unfortunately, Jenni’s pout was just as well-trained. “I could hold you down again, amor. But what I really want is to see you enjoy it. And I can’t do that when you’re on your stomach.”  

“On my back, then.” 

“Your back is burnt, no?”

Alexia squeezed her jaw stubbornly. 

When she made no move, Jenni’s signature grin grew slowly.  “Like this.”

“I want to come. No punishment.” Alexia bargained. 

Jenni turned her face to kiss at her girlfriend’s palm before reaching for her thighs. “Hurry up and I’ll let you come twice.”

-

It was a good thing Leila could cook because you were completely and utterly useless that evening. Ignoring the increasingly loud noises coming from the bedroom was impossible, but your girlfriend did well to set out the ingredients and give you seemingly simple tasks. With each one, Leila would even pretend you’d done a fine job before stepping in to speed things along. It wasn’t until the knife you were meant to be using to chop peppers only narrowly missed your finger that she took that from you too. 

“Sit,” she ordered before laying into the vegetable. 

It was so much worse then. The vision of her, dancing her way around the kitchen with her hair scraped back in a messy bun punctuated by all kinds of sounds. Their words were muffled, but the grunts and moans and slaps and bangs of the bed hitting against the wall? All loud. 

“They’re going to damage the house,” you grumbled.

Leila chuckled, shaking her head as she offered you a piece from the chopping board. “Hmm. Maybe they should have used this counter. Much more stable.” 

The sounds continued through the rest of dinner prep, which felt like an eternity just sitting and listening, though was probably not long at all. Leila cooked quickly, alternating between smiling at you when she heard the bed banging against the wall  and frowning in concentration at the food in front of her. She was thrilled, you could tell, but that was not the word you would have assigned to your own feelings in the moment. 

“They’re so loud tonight,” Leila commented as she placed a full plate in front of you. “Alexia… wow.” 

Your emotions were hard to swallow down. “Dinner will get cold.” 

“They can use the microwave.” 

“Maybe I should shout on them.” 

“Alexia would come running,” Leila sniggered.

“It’s not fair. You cooked for us, the least they could do is be here and eat it while it’s hot.” 

The most infuriating thing about Leila was her ability to see right through you. “Hmm, what could have happened to make you so grumpy after a very fun afternoon?” 

“Maybe we should go back upstairs.” 

“Sí? And let dinner get cold?” 

“It’ll reheat.” 

Leila grinned and picked up her fork. “Eat, bebè. I don’t want to hear your stomach singing.” 

“Rumbling,” you corrected as a particularly rapturous moan rang out, “my stomach rumbles.” 

“So grumpy.” 

__

You were all too aware when quiet finally fell. You and Leila shared a look before finishing the last of your plate, and clearing it away. 

She’d just poured you another round of drinks when the door squeaked open. 

“Hi,” Leila greeted as Alexia timidly made her way downstairs. Jenni followed ten seconds later, moving far more energetically. Jenni’s grin was triumphant, and you desperately wished that you could get her alone to get to the bottom of it. 

“Did you cook? Sorry we’re late,” the striker began, brushing up against her girlfriend and kissing her shoulder. 

Alexia’s hands immediately circled Jenni’s forearms. As Leila dived into her master cheffing, you took in their disheveled appearance. Despite the messy hair and the crumpled, loose clothes, they were glowing. Happy. 

You tried to push down the jealousy as you busied yourself prepping their plates for the microwave. 

—

[pitchsidestories]

little me (to my sister) II Alexia Putellas x Putellas!Reader

masterlist I word count: 882

a/n: thanks anon for giving us the idea for this story, enjoy 🫶🏻

“Something’s off.”

You looked up in surprise, suddenly torn from your thoughts by Aitanas voice.

She observed you closely through narrowed eyes.

You thought it was funny how she strained to figure out what was wrong.

With an innocent grin you stretched your legs out in front of you and leaned back against the dressing room bench.

“I don’t know what you mean, Tana.”

“Something just feels very wrong today.”, she said once again, her gaze still fixed on you.

You were just waiting for her to finally realize it. The white 11 printed on the chest of your warm-up shirt wasn’t really subtle. Everyone knew which Putellas sister this number belonged to.

“More like looks wrong.”, Mapi corrected the midfielder and winked at you.

A few of your teammates had grouped around you, smiling at each other once they saw you wearing your older sisters shirt.

“Hello? Can you stop staring at me?”, you complained playfully.

Vicky flashed you a lazy grin in reply: “Wait until your sister sees it.”

Luckily, your sister had a habit of putting in some extra work in the gym before your actual training so she left the house early that morning, her shirt unattended in her closet.

“She won’t even notice.”, you calmed Vicky with a laugh.

You were wrong about that.

Alexia walked in a few minutes later, a blush on her cheeks and sweat beads on her forehead from her previous workout while she sipped on some isotonic sports drink.

She only took one look at you and immediately yelled: “Is that my shirt?! You little…”

You raised your eyebrows, surprised that she had stopped herself and curious about what insult she had planned on using: “Little what?”

“I’m going to murder you!”, she replied and took a few threatening strides towards you. The familiar upward curve of her mouth telling you that she wasn’t actually mad at you.

Laughing, you lifted your hands in defense: “Don’t! Remember, I’m mums favourite!”

Your sister gasped offendedly: “You’re not even mums third favourite!”

“That’s not true. Mapi, help me!”, you called your friend while your sister cornered you on the bench, blocking the obvious exit with her body.

Mapi shrugged nonchalantly: “I mean… I really thought she was you for a moment, Ale.”

“What?!”, you both said simultaneously, staring at the defender.

You and Alexia did look similar but there was no way that you looked over thirty years old!

Ingrid put a hand to her girlfriends arm, subtly grimacing: “You offended two Putellas at once, that’s a new record, love.”

“But I agree with Mapi. They look so similar.”, Kika chimed in and was immediately rewarded with a glare from your sister in return.

“Are you saying I look old?!”, you asked the Portuguese woman, your lips formed to a pout.

An amused smile appeared on Alexia’s face. “I’ve to admit I’m a bit flattered by the fact that I still look as young as her.”  

“I can assure you, you don’t.”, you replied teasingly.

“Rude.”, your older sibling commented, punching you playfully.

“You’re basically twice my age.”, you added grinning.

“Don’t exaggerate.”, she laughed, hands resting on her hips.

“I don’t!”, you insisted. The age gap between her and you were thirteen years, and you turned 17 in June. You were forever your mother’s miracle she hadn’t expected anymore but was glad to have received.

“So, are you going to swap shirts or play with each other’s?”, Aitana interjected curiously.

“We’ll swap shirts. Come on, little one.”, Alexia declared in her captain voice.

“Come and get it if you want.”, you gave her a challenging look.

“Don’t play games with me.”, your sister rolled her eyes in an annoyed manner.

“Or what?”, you stuck your tongue out cheekily before starting to jog away from the blonde.

“Fine! I’ll catch you anyway.”, she yelled smirking.

“Prove it.”, you responded, you stumbled over your feet which was then Alexia caught up with you, her body towering over you.

“I got you now give me my shirt.”, the midfielder demanded slightly out of breath, after she started to tickle you.

“Ale, stop!”, you gasped.

“I’ll when you return what belongs to me.”, the captain said.

“Okay, fine. You won.”, you sighed, swapping her shirt for yours.

“Thank you.”, Alexia smiled satisfied.

“Happy now?”

“Very., your sister confirmed, she paused for a moment when continued beaming, this is your friendly reminder that cooking is on you tonight and no, Olga won’t help you this time.”

“I already gave you your shirt back, you could at least let your girlfriend cook for me.”, you whined.

“No, it’s your turn.”, she shook her head.

“Ugh, fine.”, you groaned.

The training was about to start now, the playing time was officially over, and you wanted to prove Pere that you belonged into the squad not because of your famous surname but because of the talent of your own.

Later in the kitchen Olga noticed you struggling with the recipe you were trying to cook, so she stepped inside with a friendly smile on her lips.

“Don’t worry I’ll help you, Ale is busy with business calls, so she won’t notice.”

“When is she not busy?”, you returned smiling.

“Good point.”, your sisters girlfriend admitted.

Gratefulness was spreading in your chest.

[jadeactuallysucks]

Idc what people say I loved seeing him a terrorist. He’s exactly how I would’ve imagined someone outside of his perspective seeing him

Also doing research on Azrael Angel of Death I can’t tell if he’s supposed to be a fallen Angel or just an Angel but I don’t know religion that well

More stuff I wanna say

With all of you chosen defenders out there saying it was dark who killed mitsi, nahhh we need A train Chosen, I’m calling him over during valentines. Ruin some relationships. Including yours. How is it not a surprise he kills people?He’s quite literally made to be a weapon with all the powers and violent tendencies.

And he was absolutely at fault for making dark a terrorist too no complaint about it. Very hedonistic ideology in which the two of them could do whatever they wanted. In which the world was their sandbox. Up to interpretation

Obviously I view chosen, especially my version of him, different than others. Some of you sickos are treating him nicely!!!!

Low-key mitsi didn’t need to be in the story at all. Just tweak a bit, and also the box would’ve been a lot more callous, instead of agent and victim hating chosen for killing their fridged gf, I would’ve loved the more controversial morals of victim hurting chosen for whatever justification he wanted to come up with. And like there’s too much of a pattern with killing off characters for the sake of plot. I think dark is a good exception cause he was a rabid dog and needed to be put down sorry dark lovers also not sorry cry

I liked that ambiguity, I know most people like stuff spelled out for them with backstories but I like mysteries cause that’s how fanart and fics can be made. Some stuff does need to be explained like how victim escaped and founded rocketcorp which I get.

Oh yeah agent 😛😛😛😛 smash smash smash I see why victim is on the bisexual dance floor he’s amazing. And I don’t need merc backstories, I can just guess he recruited work buddies or just buddies

First part and terrorism parts my favourite scenes, can’t wait for Ava 12 to make or break my interest haha. The box will forever remain my favourite episode the glaze is real

Oh my god victim getting tortured during the first scene. By far the best part (except chosen and dark) in the episode. Kicking and giggling seeing him get revived after being unsaved. I feel like it kinda one ups Chosen’s trauma so I definitely hope that stupid shit gets it worse than victim. Honestly this is the stuff I want left out. I want to imagine the pain he went through rather than see it. Cause even after that he still forgives his tormentor like a dog crawling back to its owner

Uhhh also I have a big complaint about women (sorry women) I don’t like the stereotypes. I don’t need to know they’re a women by the colour pink or long hair. But this is me screaming at a wall cause I watch the same thing kids watch and the main audience is children. I need more characters like blue. Where you can’t tell if they’re a girl or not and you don’t need to care cause they’ll be taking performance enhancing drugs either way

These were all made in the moment so yk agree to disagree. I can’t get myself to hate the episode like how other people manage to do. I guess it’s just cause I stuck around for a year to see this. And I’m sticking around 3 MORE SEASONS BABY

Also like this is a good day for multi fandom me. Al of the stuff I watch is getting new stuff. Like omg Ava, then walten files, then interloper and digital circus and prolly more but I can’t count as you can tell I can only count to four

[postanagramgenerator]

for the time being this blog is dedicated to reblogging donation posts for people suffering from the ongoing genocides. if youd like an anagram, please send me (via the submission box) proof of either donation to a fundraiser of your choice, or an esim for gaza, along with the text you would like me to anagram, through dms or the submit box. any anagram requests without proof of a donation or esim purchase will be ignored.

there are a few guidelines:

no slurs or otherwise offensive content

the more you donate, the longer the text i am willing to anagram

current campaign spotlight: ibrahim, 15 years old | @ibrahim-family | post to share | verification

below is a list of more verified accounts* who have personally reached out to me:

Mahmoud Khalaf @helpkhalaffamily, @mahmoudkhalafff: PhD student living in Ireland, 8 family members stuck in Gaza. #151 on nabulsi and el-shab-hussein's vetted fundraiser list

Tamer Al-Deeb @tameraldeeb: Dentist in Gaza, 4 family members, #191 on the vetted fundraiser list

Basil Ayyad @basel-1995: verified TWICE after being accused by high-profile blogs of being a spambot. 8 family members, #214 on the vetted fundraiser list

Mahmoud Sharif @mahmoud-sharif : trying to save his wife and 3 children with a fourth on the way, has lost an eye and finger, vetted by 90-ghost

Mahmoud Balousha @tamer200333 @5735765: is working with various intermediaries to help several different family members; he's also been the target of recent harassment. see here for links and information. verified by apollos-olives.

Doaa Jad Al Haq @free-gaza: met her initial goal to raise money for a new sewing machine for her business in Egypt now that she's evacuated, and is now hoping to make enough for a workspace and more materials. check out her designs here. reblogged by 90-ghost

Nour @nor-famaily @nourfamily1989: raising money for her husband and 5 children. initially reached out to me for help setting up a gofundme, but fortunately she was able to get in touch with the Gaza Thrift Collective and they were able to set one up for her. verified by 90-ghost and killy

Mohammed Atallah @mohammed-atallah: Mohammed is only 17 years old, and needs a bone graft after being shot with an explosive bullet. this fundraiser will also benefit his parents, siblings, and baby niece and nephew.

Hazem Khalil @hazempalestine: dentistry student living in Belgium hoping to evacuate his family. vetted by Bilal Salah, who himself is #132 on the vetted fundraiser list

Mahmoud Ayyad @mahmoudayyad: raising funds for many family members and receiving VERY few donations so far. vetted by 90-ghost

Fahed Shehab @fahedshehab-new: a family of 8 hoping to evacuate; Fahed, his wife Reem, their 5 young children, and the childrens' grandmother. vetted by el-shab-hussein

Sarah Zidan @sarazidan: a mother caring for her disabled son. vetted by el-shab-hussein and co. at gaza-evacuation-funds

Mohammed Shehab @mohammedshehabneww: a family of four seeking evacuation, including 2 children. shared by sayruq and 90-ghost

Abdul Salam Al-Anqar @nader5555: a family of seven, including two teens and one baby, who is starving. abdul's father has cancer and desperately needs treatment. #4 on the spreadsheet by GazaVetters

*when i say "verified", i mean that well-established palestinian users on this site have been able to confirm their identity via private correspondence. all users i mention as having vetted fundraisers are palestinian and have been working their asses off to help people with their fundraisers for months. they deserve every bit of love and appreciation in the world and none of us should let their efforts go unrecognized.

[onelittlespiral]

FML:Relax

From the moment I arrived, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. I had come on vacation to kick back for a few days and get some action, but the resort had nearly no women and was instead populated with almost all men. They seemed like nice guys when I talked to them, certainly my kind of guys with how jacked they were. Or at least I thought so.

“Hey cutie, wanna come spend some time with daddy?”

“A newbie! Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle and sweet with you.”

“You looking to top or bottom?”

I realized I must have come on the Gay Days, and the men there were not shy about coming on to me. I tried to politely excuse myself whenever they turned the topic to sex. I spent a lot of time at the pool trying to just relax and have a good time, but it was starting to tick me off.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you here before.”

A man came and sat next to me. He was a scruffy guy, tanned and huge like most of the rest of them. The scent of sunscreen and BO rolled off him. His arms were wrapped in some nerdy tattoos but their size clearly showed he worked out hard. If he wasn’t here this week I would assume him to be a good pick for a gym bud.

“Yeah, first time. Didn’t realize I booked…uh…this week. Not really my scene.”

Something in his demeanor changed. It was hard to describe, but I felt a lot more at ease. He leaned over and began whisper to me,

“If I’m being honest. It isn’t much for me either. But fuck these gay guys know how to party. They’ve got just about anything you could want to take, and basically just pass the shit around. You ever actually tried poppers? I was fucked up bro.”

Maybe it was finally meeting another straight guy but I began relaxing.

He continued, “I got some stashed if you want to swing by and try some shit out.”

Maybe this vacation wouldn’t be such a wash.

I stopped by his room later that afternoon. He greeted me at the door and invited me in as he promised to show off the goods. The room was trashed. The floor was strewn with dirty shirts, shorts, and jockstraps. Shot glasses and beers were stuck to the tables. The bed was drenched in sweat. I stepped in and took a seat on the couch, cautions to avoid the mess. He sat down next to me.

“So, what have you got?”

“You now babe,” he said, throwing his arm in the air.

“Whaaaa…haaa” I started before my brain was afloat.

I slowly leaned forward, drawn in by the thick musk that radiated from his pit. I tried to resist but soon my nose was pressed against it as his sweat filled my brain. I tried to pull back but he rested his arm against the back of my head, pinning me as my brain shut down on the fumes. It wasn’t long before my tongue lolled out of my mouth.

“There you go. Relax. Good boy.”

Good boy. It echoed in my brain, bouncing till it was the only thought left. I quivered in anticipation as I continued to drink in his scent and let his hair tickle my face.

“Yeah, lap it up big boy. This is right where you belong. It was designed just for you, to trap guys and help them fit in a bit more.”

What did he mean by that? But as he told me to lap it up, it was no longer good enough to just smell. I gave a hesitant lick. It only took one as his sweat swam across my mind. All functionality shut down as I worshipped that pit. As I did, I began to feel a change. Deep within an itch, a need developed. A need to be desired by this man… no. To be desired by men. Any who would have me. I felt a new power flow through me, a revitalized energy and strength. He pulled my dumbstruck face out of his pit and gave my hair a quick tousle. His hand glided down my cheek to my chin, and with a firm flick of his wrist pulled my lips to his. He pressed my face to his in a deep kiss as new memories filled my mind. Memories of long nights dancing and drinking at bars. Days working out getting shredded before hitting the sauna for some fun. Of pride parades and glitter in my beard. The longer he kissed me the more I felt myself grow completely comfortable in his arms. I belonged here, with all the hottest guys living it up for a week at the resort. I had been coming here for years to show off, party hard, and fuck into the early morning. My old self was being flushed away, leaking out of my cock, while the new personality filled in the gaps.

My body began to change where his hands brushed over my body. Arms swelled as biceps grew to mounds on my arms. Pecs hung heavy with muscle. Thighs and legs sent slow rips through my shorts until they had burst through, leaving my swelling cock to fight the jockstrap underneath. Feet inched across the floor as my toes curled from the strain. Every inch writhed beneath his touch. He pulled me back to inspect me.

“Damn you’re turning out well, some of my finest work.”

I mumbled in agreement, still stuck in a state of ecstasy as I felt new power surging through me. “Time to seal the deal.”

He slid his jock down, and the full force of his sweat and musk sent my brain swimming. I couldn’t resist as he slid his cock down my open throat, balls deep, and began face fucking me. As his bush filled my nostrils, pre slid down my throat in a steady stream. I felt warm all over, as a deep tan set in. I had come to this resort for years and loved sunbathing and showing off my muscles. The heat persisted, turning to a sweat, the sweat turning to a deep funk. It was the same smell invading my mind and body as he continued to thrust, deeper as my body adjusted to years of sucking men off. It felt like no surprise as a dusting of hair covered my pecs, then pushed down my stomach before my shaved down bush exploded. My pits filled in to better capture my own smell, and keep me just a little high on my own supply.

“Fuck yeah little bro, you’re gonna be so good out there.”

He slipped a hat over my head, and my mind filled with a new purpose. To kick back at this resort and fucking party. To feel pride in who I was and become one of the community. But, most importantly, to grow the tribe and bring more guys into the fold. I felt his cock tense in my mouth as my mind slowed down to accept my place as a gay god, to worship my bros and be worshiped. As thick ropes shot down my throat, I felt strong. I smelt rank. And I was fucking home.

The next day, a new guy showed up to the resort. Skinny, shy, out of place. I came over to talk with him.

“First time here, bro?”

“Yeah, not quite sure I belong.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. Throwing my arm behind my head. My musk caught his attention as his eyes began glazing over, “Why don’t I show you around?”

“Ye…yeah…yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” his face was soon resting in my pit, and I saw his muscles twitch with anticipation, “you’re gonna fit right in bro.”

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Teen Villain Alliance Chapter 6

When Fenton had given Damian his task of attending classes and picking a team, he hadn’t expected to start enjoying it. 

Which was a miscalculation on Damian’s part. Damian had always enjoyed learning; his mother had been indulgent with what he learned as a child, sending tutors in everything that caught his interest, from art to world history to veterinary medicine. It wasn’t until his education in assassination began in earnest–around his 7th birthday–that his interests were stifled. And when he’d been sent to live with Father, it ground to a halt.

It took months for Father to deem him “tamed” enough to introduce him to the public, and even then he was  not allowed an education. While Damian was grateful that he wouldn’t endure public schooling, Father didn’t even allow tutors on the premises. Instead, Damian attended “online school” which consisted of video lectures and multiple choice quizzes on topics he’d covered years ago. In addition to the online school, he had daily lectures on “ethics” and “societal norms” from either Pennyworth or Grayson, neither of which were experts in the area. He’d asked. 

The TVA was different. Better, if he were honest, but he’d never admit it aloud. The teachers were ghosts, experts in their fields. Who else could say that they learned chemistry from Maria Skłodowska-Curie, or battle tactics from the first Amazonian, Pandora? The ghosts around him were not stuck in the past, nor apathetic to life on earth; instead, they kept learning, kept evolving, with a careful eye on the world outside the Infinite Realms. 

And despite himself, Damian even enjoyed having classmates. No class was large–most didn’t have more than 10 students per teacher–and many classes involved a debate aspect that allowed them to get to know each other. Just the other day, Damian had spent over an hour discussing the methods for creating a locked door murder with Shadowblade, a 14-year-old ninja from Japan. 

There was no competition, with the exception of combat classes. In the League, and at Wanye Manor, he was always competing. To be the best so he wouldn’t be replaced, to be strong to live up to the name of Al Ghul. Competing for Father’s attention, his approval, over the ingrates that make claims to a birthright that is not their own. With Grayson, Todd, Cain, Drake; each of them stronger, faster, better trained, better behaved. 

Trusted. 

Was it any wonder that Damian had jumped at the chance to prove himself?

Dr. Fenton–Danny, the man had insisted–trusted him. He wanted Damian to lead his team in the field. In his hand was a list of all the members he would work with, and the paper was tacky with sweat. Taking a deep breath, Damian knocked on the door to Fenton’s lab. 

After a few minutes, Fenton opened the door. He looked frazzled, hair astray and lab-coat half on. “Damian!” He said, smiling brightly. “I wasn’t expecting you, come in! I just reached a good stopping point for my latest project.” He invited Damian into the lab. “What can I help you with?”

Damian held out his list. “These are the four members of the TVA that I thought will work best as your infiltration squad.” He’d thought long and hard about who had the skills to join and, more importantly, who he could tolerate working directly under him. 

Fenton smiled. “That’s great! Have you started talking to them? Making friends?”

“...Some,” Damian decided on, thinking back to Shadowblade. “Everyone on that list has skills or abilities that would enable easy information gathering. I have yet to approach them though; I thought you’d prefer to determine if I’ve made the right choice.”

“Fantastic! I’ll give them to Jazz in a bit, see if there’ll be any conflicts. How’s everything going for you? Have you enjoyed all your classes?”

Damian nodded, but looked away. There was another reason why he was here. “May I… ask you something? I’ve encountered a conundrum that I could use advice for.”

“Of course! I’m always willing to ask. But if I may ask, why don’t you ask Jazz? She’s mentioned that she hasn’t seen you in her office once, and she gives fantastic advice.”

Damian made a face. “I see no reason to submit myself to brainwashing when I am already a loyal member of this organization. There’s no need for me to attend.”

Danny’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, we’ll come back to that eventually. But what’s bugging you, Damian?”

Damian swallowed. Suddenly, all the anger from the thought of therapy drained out of him and he sagged. “Is it… bad? That I am happier now than I was before?”

“What do you mean?” Danny asked, leading Damian over to a couch near the entrance of the lab. It was clearly a recreational space, with a gaming system in front of a TV. Damian sat beside him as he considered his words. 

“I… enjoy my time here. I like it more than I’ve liked anywhere else. And I should not. I shouldn’t be enjoying this life while leaving the people who raised me behind. My mother, my grandfather—this feels like a betrayal.” His father would be so disappointed in him if he learned how affected these villains made Damian. 

Danny’s face softened. He took in a deep breath, turning in his seat to face him. “I can understand that. Did something similar to my folks when I joined Phantom, you know.”

“...Really?” No one knew about the Wolves' pasts. Many of his fellows speculated, but no one knew for sure. The top theory for Fenton was that he was a mad scientist on the run from the government. 

“Yeah.” Danny nodded, glancing down for a moment before meeting Damian’s gaze. “When I was your age, I... betrayed my parents too. Not in the same way as you, but... my parents were ghost hunters. They spent their lives teaching me and my sister that ghosts were dangerous, evil. And for a long time, I believed them. But then they built a portal to the Ghost Zone, and ghosts starting coming through, and Phantom happened, and…” He looked away, swallowing. “I realized how wrong they were.”

He paused, gauging Damian’s reaction. The boy was listening, quiet but intense.

“I ended up siding with the very things they want to destroy,” Danny continued. “They want to indiscriminately massacre an entire species. They even co-authored a law that makes it legal to experiment and execute ghosts in American territory.” 

“What?” Damian couldn’t believe what he was saying. There couldn’t be a law that so blatantly breaks the Metahumans Protection Act, right? The Justice League–Father–would never stand for it. 

“It’s true,” Fenton said, as if to counter Damian’s thoughts. Damian boosted his mental shields just in case Fenton was a telepath. “There’s a whole government organization dedicated to ‘researching’ ghosts. Of course, they’re more interested in dissecting them.” Damian shuttered. “See? It’s clear that they’re in the wrong in this instance. That helps me some, when I keep thinking about how I betrayed my parents. But even knowing I was doing the right thing, it still hurts. Sometimes the people who are supposed to protect us and put us first end up hurting us the worst.”

Fenton placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You’re a good kid. You’re so smart, and you have so much potential. But what your grandfather did to you was wrong. What your mother did was wrong. And you have every right to distance yourself from any situation where you feel unsafe.”

Damian looked away. “They were just trying to make me stronger,” he muttered. 

“Would you ever do what they did to someone else? Even to make them stronger?”

Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his mind swirling with memories of training, the endless demands for perfection, the blood on his hands. He thought about how much he had been shaped by the League, how much he had been forced to be something he hadn’t chosen. And then there was his father. He had felt so out of place, constantly trying to meet expectations he didn’t fully understand, let alone agree with.

“No,” Damian whispered, the answer clear. “I wouldn’t.”

“Then there’s your answer,” Danny said, smiling gently. “It doesn’t matter what they wanted for you. You’re not betraying them by living a better life or by choosing a path they wouldn’t have chosen for you.”

Damian stayed quiet for a moment, absorbing Danny’s words. A small weight lifted from his chest. He didn’t need to feel guilty for enjoying this life—this better life—away from the constant pressure of the League, or from the expectations of his father.

Danny leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head, the familiar goofy grin returning. “And hey, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing pretty awesome here. You kicked butt in those combat drills last week.”

Damian flushed, suddenly embarrassed. “You saw those?”

“Yup,” Danny popped his lips, grinning smugly. “Sam and Phantom are so jealous you’re on my team instead of theirs. They’re planning to poach you, but I trust that you’ll dismiss their bribes.”

A small, rare smile tugged at Damian’s lips.

[musingmeaninglessly]

In Deep ; Neteyam x Fem!Human! Reader

Summary: When Tuk gets stuck underwater, there's only one person who can save her...

Lil bit angsty, lil bit fluffy. If you're sensitive to matters related to drowning, I suggest you skip this story.

If not, then enjoy! 💙

"Aaaand, I'm officially done."

Hands burning, you release the final inky braid of your boyfriend's that you've been working on.

Leaning his head back against your lap from his seat on the floor, Neteyam's glimmering eyes meet yours as he beams.

"Thank you, yawntutsyìp, what would I do without you?"

You don't get a chance to answer as he gently pulls your face down to meet his, the glass of your exopack chilly against his forehead. When he finally releases you, he's smiling wider than ever, but the same can't be said for the other figure present.

Sharpening her spear, Neytiri's glare never leaves you. Throughout the six month's worth of courting her son, you've never once been able to win her approval. Seeing her pride and joy be practically polluted by a damned tawtute was not her vision for the eldest Sully child.

And you felt that. Even without the prejudices against your species, what could you possibly offer her family? You lack the basic genetics that make the Na'vi so wondrous, not to mention the survival skills and intelligence. No matter how much Neteyam tells you otherwise, you feel inferior. And Neytiri's hostility doesn't help.

Yet in spite of it al, Neteyam had been defiant of his mother for the first time in his life. And it was all in pursuit of you; his star girl, his little love, his mate.

He catches your worrisome look and follows your eyes over to his mother's. With a sigh, he frowns at her silently, but her eyes remain the same, burning more ferociously than the campfire between you. No one says a thing; well, no one actually gets the chance.

"Help! HELP! It's Tuk!!"

The sound of Kiri's voice is the only thing that snaps Neytiri's attention away from you and her son. The teenage girl sprints over to where you all rise from your seats in a panic. She's gasping for breath and drenched from the ocean's waters.

Neteyam takes a step towards his sister, flashing you a worried, yet warm, look before he does so. Ever the level-headed communicator, he puts a hand on her shoulder, "Kiri, slow down. What's happened?"

"We- me, Lo'ak and Tuk- were free diving, and she spotted that new species of coral- you know, the one Norm told us about?"

Your eyes widened at that- you knew exactly which species she was talking about. A mysterious unnamed specimen with the ability to interact with the energy around it, not dissimilar to the Venus Flytrap plants you'd read about on Earth. Norm had told you all about this new discovery made by one of the botanists, detailing it's features and abilities. It was honestly quite fascinating; powerful, alive, dangerous.

"This new species, yes, I remember." Neteyam's green eyes transform with an amber hue just as Neytiri begins bombarding Kiri with a million questions.

"Well, we went to get a better look at it, and I told Tuk not to touch, but she didn't listen!" Kiri begins to cry, her face wracked with guilt. By this point, several overhearing Metkayina have joined the scene, "It's got her!"

"I can't reach her...the gap in the coral is too small..." Lo'ak suddenly appears on land, visibly exhausted.

"Can't we cut her free?" Neteyam sensibly suggests, but his siblings shake their heads.

"We tried, but whenever you cut a piece, even more grows!" Kiri wailed, prompting Lo'ak to put an arm around her. You make a mental note to suggest the name 'Hydra' to Norm once this is all over. "There's a gap in the coral-"

"-I will go!" Neytiri booms, ridding herself of her bow and spear. Lo'ak, however, stops her in her tracks.

"It's no use, mother! The gap is way too small, I couldn't fit through it..."

You squeeze Neteyam's hand sympathetically, and when his amber eyes meet yours, you get an idea. Amidst all the commotion, the panicked voices and desperate dives into the water, it all becomes crystal clear to you.

"I'll get her out."

Everyone's attention snaps over to you in an instant, not quite believing what you've just said.

"My love, it's far too dangerous! What if the water leaks into your mask?" Neteyam kneels down in front of you, sternness lacing his features. You simply shake your head.

"I'm the only one who can reach her and fit through the gap, I must go."

Neteyam exchanges a worried glance with his siblings, ignoring his mother's scornful expression. Lo'ak and Kiri nod to him, and he knows what he has to do.

"Then I will go with you."

"What's going on?"

Jake suddenly appears with Tonowari, presumably returning from some sort of meeting.

"No time to explain, Dad. Please could you fetch Y/N's spare mask?" Neteyam briefly requests, and is met with a nod of his father's head.

Meanwhile, you hurriedly rid yourself of your blouse. It's a flowing, loose fabric- certainly not appropriate for swimming. With no other choice, you're left in your bra before taking Neteyam's hand and diving into the water.

Lo'ak and Kiri promptly follow, helping you get down to the specific spot. Several other Metkayina follow you in, unable to help, but worried for the youngest Sully.

When you see Tuk, you have to do your best not to panic. She's more-or-less unconscious, limbs entangled in the coral's moving tendrils. Neteyam's grip on your hand tightens, but you place yours on his chest, wordlessly reassuring him, and he lets you go.

Lo'ak helps you over to the small gap in the coral. It's no wonder the siblings struggled, the opening is barely wide enough for a human to fit through. Yet, somehow you do, mindful of the fact that one wrong move would put you in the exact same situation as Tuk. With that in mind, you carefully make your way to her body after taking Lo'ak's knife from him.

There's really no other choice but to cut Tuk free, but you have to make quick work of it. Thankfully, your nimble fingers are up to the task as the Sully siblings watch on desperately.

But, amidst your hard work, you fail to notice that the suction lining of your exopack had come slightly free along your jaw, letting in a small trickle of water and, in turn, a whisper of oxygen out.

Neteyam goes to lunge towards you, noticing a small amount of water build up in your mask. But Lo'ak holds him back, signing that you're fine.

That's what you try to tell yourself as you hold your mask to your face tightly, cutting away at the last couple of coral tendrils. When you give Kiri the signal, she slashes an opening above you, and you haul Tuk's body out of the coral entrapment before the tendrils can grow back.

The rest of it becomes a blur. The Sully siblings are at your side in an instant, hauling you and Tuk up the surface. Your mask continues to fill with water and once it floods above your nose, you hold your breath. But, by some miracle, your head soon breaks through the water's edge above you.

Kiri and Lo'ak take Tuk from you while Neteyam wraps his arms firmly around your waist. "It's going to be alright, my love, we're almost there..."

He continues to murmur to you comfortingly through his own panic, finally reaching Jake and grabbing for the spare mask. "I'm going to take this off, alright?"

You have no time to acknowledge his words before your mask is swiftly swept off of your face and the new, dry, undamaged replacement is secured against your skin. You gasp in jagged breaths, only now processing it all as Neteyam bundles you against him.

"My brave, brave girl..." he whispers into your hair, cupping the back of your head as you both float in the water. For a moment, the both of you seem to forget about Tuk, and it's only when you hear her coughing back on the shore that you remember.

"Oh, thank Ewya!" Neytiri gasps, sobbing hysterically as she reaches to comfort her youngest daughter. "Don't you ever do that again, do you hear me child?!"

Tuk nods with a cry, before rushing over to you. "Y/N, you saved me! Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

The rest of the family smile at the two of you, Jake and Lo'ak thanking you profusely while Kiri joins yours and Tuk's group hug.

"Hey, hey, careful. She needs to breathe..." Neteyam protectively instructs, gently pulling his sisters off of you. You smile at them and mouth a silent 'thank you' to your boyfriend, before turning to hug him as he kneels to your height.

"My love," Neteyam's deep voice draws a soft smile from you as he tenderly cups your cheek, "you were so brave."

You can't help blushing at his praise, but grasp at his hand that's cupping your exopack-covered cheek and pull him closer. "You would've done the same if you could have, ma 'Teyam..."

The longer you hold him, the more pronounced the little sniffles heard from him become. Pulling back, you eye him worriedly, 'What is it, 'Teyam? Are you alright?"

Coaxing his eyes open by running the pads of your fingers beneath them, his tearful irises meet yours. "I could've lost you, little one..."

"But you didn't," you gently remind him, holding his hand over your heart, "I'm here, and I love you. Okay?"

Neteyam nods forcefully, almost as if an absence of the action would make you disappear. Yet, his eyes never leave yours. Not even for a moment.

"I love you...so deeply...even deeper than the waters you just braved for my sister..."

Now it's your eyes that overflow with salty tears and you throw your arms around Neteyam's broad shoulders. "I love you, 'Teyam...Nga yawne lu oer..."

"Y/N,"

The sound of your name breaks up the tender moment prematurely, and you spring away from Neteyam. In truth, you'd forgot that his family, and several people from the Metkayina tribe, were watching.

It had been Neytiri's voice that cut through the sweet moment like a knife through butter. You gulp, craning your neck to face the Sully matriarch, who's shrugging off her mate's hand from her shoulder.

You're surely for it now.

But to your pleasant surprise, she drops to her knees and hangs her head in..shame? Eyes wide, you look at her children and Jake, wondering what on Pandora you're supposed to do now. But they all smile softly.

"Forgive me. I've underestimated you, thought you like them. But you saved my child at your own risk. I was wrong."

You can tell that Neytiri's English isn't quite advanced enough to fully communicate her thanks. But it's there in her eyes.

"Please, forgive me..."

With a gentle nod of your head, you smile. You never expected Neytiri to see you as anything other than a Sky Person, but you really didn't expect her to grab at you and pull you into a hug.

Your arms raise to your side in surprise, and the look on your face is clearly comical enough to make Lo'ak burst out laughing- until Jake smacks him up the side of his head. Tentatively, you return Neytiri's hug. "I forgive you..."

"You are good for my son," Neytiri pulls back to look at you with a warmth you've never seen before, "thank you."

"Okay, Mother, let little Y/N breathe." Neteyam chuckles, gently pulling you back towards him. Neytiri shakes her head at her son's overprotectiveness, but fondly places her hand atop your head for a short moment before returning to fuss over Tuk.

You turn back to Neteyam and a soft hum leaves his lips and his eyes trail over your face, before he notices some Metkayina boys gawking at you. Only then do the both of you realise that you're stood in your bra and a pair of shorts.

"W-we, uh, let's get you back to the lab, get you some more clothes." Neteyam suggests, using his towering advantage to shield your body from prying eyes as his own glare at the intruders.

"Good idea," you giggle, desperate to be a little more concealed now that you're aware of your state, "I could do with a nap."

"I'm not surprised," Neteyam's face softens and he tilts his head, "may I join you?"

[cod-dump]

Trouble (teen!Ghost au)

___

They weren't bad kids but they were easily influenced.

"Don't your dads drink?" Alejandro pressed, Rudy rolling his eyes when he continued on the matter.

"Ale, don't be a bad influence."

"I'm not a bad influence! But come on- No parents in the house and we're just to behave?"

Simon never felt the need to impress Alejandro. They became friends a few weeks after Alejandro first moved here and went to their school. How? He's not sure but he considers himself stuck with the boy. It didn't matter if he wasn't 'cool' like Alejandro.

But Kyle? He was confident, but he was a bit shy around Rudy. Alex being there in the mix didn't help.

"I mean- Dad has a bottle of whisky downstairs in the basement. For when work gets a bit difficult."

"Oh, whisky?"

Alejandro perked up and Rudy showed interest, it was too late for Simon to stop Kyle.

"No- That's Dad's. He'll know if we go down there! Besides, I'm not drinking with Gary in the house!"

Gary was currently downstairs in the living room with Farah, both deciding to binge watch a bunch of Disney movies until bedtime. Alejandro just snorted.

"We'll be up here, away from the bichito."

Alex decided to join in, not helping the situation despite clearly trying to, "Doesn't Nik drink? Could grab from his stash since he's much more laid back."

This encouraged Kyle who silenced Simon before he could speak, "He has this special vodka he gets imported from Russia! But we don't know where he hides it, he doesn't even like sharing it with Dad."

Alejandro sighs, "Special vodka sounds killer..."

Rudy wasn't much involved in the conversation, just silently judging his boyfriend. Simon was mostly stunned by this rebellious nature Kyle was showing. Drinking? He was sixteen!

"Bro-"

Kyle stood up just then, "Then I'll go grab the whisky."

Simon immediately grabbed Kyle's sleeve and dragged him back to the floor.

"No! Are you crazy!?"

"C'mon, Si. Just a sip."

"No no-"

Simon couldn't stop Kyle. He was already out the room, jumping over Riley and narrowly dodging a very confused Smokey. Alejandro was laughing, mostly from disbelief. Kyle Price was a good child, where was this coming from?

Simon was going to kill him if their father didn't.

"Wow-"

"Ale I'm killing you later."

"Not my fault! You know I tease!"

Simon groans and gets off the floor. He had to get Kyle before he broke something or successfully stole their dad's whisky. He couldn't even imagine the old man's heartbreak at the discovery of not just his baby boy growing up but also adopting a rebellious phase. It would certainly kill him.

Simon was in the hall when Riley started barking excitedly. He ran past him whining and went straight down the stairs. Then Alex called out worriedly.

"There's a car in the driveway- I THINK IT'S YOUR DAD OH GOD-"

Alejandro cusses and jumps up, "Oh Kyle is so dead."

Simon, without thinking, grabs his phone and goes to call Kyle, Thankfully the nerd was never without his phone.

"Si, I'm already down here you can't stop me-"

"Dad's home early!"

Kyle was quiet before he spoke in a hushed tone, "Can you distract him?"

"Kyle-"

"Simon I am rethinking every decision I ever made right now please distract him."

Simon cusses, "Fine! I mean, you're only in trouble if you get caught."

Simon rushes downstairs while Alex, Alejandro, and Rudy stay where they are, probably waiting to see how this ends without getting caught in the crossfire. Right there in the living room was John, petting Riley while Farah and Gary sat on the couch, curled up in blankets with pillows and snacks.

"Back already?"

"For a moment, date night is still on just need to drop this file off."

In his office. Downstairs. Where Kyle is.

Simon ran into the living room and jumped at his father, the man wheezing at the sudden embrace from his son.

"What's with the hug? And when did you get so big?" John said with a light chuckle in his voice, arm around Simon's shoulders and a hand in his hair.

Simon didn't respond to the question, just squeezed onto John's middle, Riley whining at their feet. Farah immediately caught on that something was going on. John also caught on but immediately leaning into something had upset Simon and the teen didn't want to talk about it.

"Si... is everything okay?"

Simon wasn't sure if playing into him being upset was even safe. Running to his father the moment he walked in the door when his friends were staying over? Simon didn't want to risk John assuming they did something.

"Just... missed my old man. You could die any minute so I need to appreciate you whenever I can."

Farah's jaw dropped, dumbfounded, while Gary was absorbed in Finding Nemo and couldn't care less. John cared, the statement of course was alarming.

"Uh, do we need to talk? Nik will survive if we cancel date night."

Simon remained still, eyes wide. Was stirring the pot that was Simon's mental state worth preventing his father from catching his brother trying to steal a bottle of whisky?

I fucking suck at distracting people.

"I... Just love my dad."

Oh that didn't help.

"That settles it. I'm putting this paperwork away and you and me are gonna have a little talk."

FUCK FUCK FUCK-

"I can put it away," enter Nik. Simon certainly didn't have enough arm strength to hold bother men.

"UH- THE BASEMENT IS HAUNTED."

Farah blinked before she made a conclusion in her head. She calmly stood up, taking her blanket and tucking Gary in to the couch before she fast walked into the hall, out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

"... what are you kids up to?"

"Not even going to entertain the haunted bit?" honestly Simon was disappointed by that. Not even Nik took a bite at that.

"I'm not scared of ghosts, малыш."

Nik walked past them, taking the paperwork that laid on the end table as he went. Simon tried to pull away from John with the intention of jumping Nik, but his father kept a firm hold on him.

Gary was no longer watching the TV and instead was staring at Simon and John. Great, now he was more entertaining than Finding Nemo. This was a shit distraction.

"Simon. What's going on? Be honest."

Simon didn't get a chance to get a word out before Nik returned. With Kyle. Kyle was staring at the floor in shame when Nik held up John's whisky. As predicted, John was heartbroken.

"Kyle? No-"

"I... was curious..."

"You-"

John squeezed Simon and Simon feared his father's sanity.

"You were helping him?" Oh he sounded truly betrayed.

"I tried stopping him!"

"Oh you did an excellent job," Nik said with a laugh. He shut up when John looked at him with fire in his eyes.

"... I said I would buy you a nice liquor cabinet but no, you didn't want to be perceived as that kind of father."

"You-"

"-could've avoided this."

John scoffed and Simon clocked Nik trying to defuse the situation by turning the attention onto him. He had released Kyle who backed behind him.

"Simon. Go take Gary and Kyle to your room. I need to have a word with Nikolai.

Nik, for his credit, didn't flinch at the use of his full name. Simon parted from his father and grabbed Gary, who thankfully didn't fight him and just went along with him. He slipped past Nik and Kyle followed without word.

They darted upstairs and after a minute Riley followed. They didn't hear yelling, John and Nik weren't the types to yell. Simon predicted they would focus on the liquor cabinet comment before actually talking about what Kyle did or attempted to do. Either way things would be fine in the morning just awkward.

When they slipped into Simon's room Alex and Farah were there, Farah sitting on the bed while Alex was still on the beanbag.

"Uh, where is Ale and Rudy?"

"Oh they climbed out your window not long after you ran downstairs. They didn't want to be involved in Kyle's punishment."

Oh those assholes.

"Smart for Ale. His dad would murder him if Dad called him about picking him up."

"Didn't he drive here?"

"Ale's dad has towed his car before to ground him."

Alex thought Simon was joking and laughed. Simon wasn't joking.

Kyle couldn't find any humor in the situation and walked over to Alex, slumping onto the beanbag and shoving Alex to the floor.

"Oh why did I do that..."

Farah, having been filled in by Alex, rolls her eyes, "You're a boy, a natural idiot. Seriously, if you guys wanted a drink you should've had Ale go buy you something."

Silence.

Then Kyle sat up, "I'm going to kill Alejandro."

___

Why Johnny or Hong-Jin weren't there? Johnny went to Scotland to his material grandmother and Hong-Jin? Hong-Jin has a gaming tournament. Couldn't figure out how to fit these facts into the drabble but didn't want them to remain unknown lol

[myfriendpokey]

Talking About Some Horror Comics

(Image: Richard Sala, "The Bloody Cardinal")

On Cohost a while back i wrote a little bit about comicbook inspirations for Anthology Of The Killer - I might repost it when that site goes down at the end of the year, but until then you can read it here: https://cohost.org/thecatamites/post/7154072-i-wanted-to-write-so

For part two I wanted to talk more about horror comics in particular.

I probably wouldn't have gotten into horror at all if it weren't for comics. Horror comics can feel like a "cold" take on a very "warm" genre - indebted to and playing off of a familiar ground of horror films, but without film's tendency towards emotionalism or immediate effects... Working on a far more compressed scale than even the cheapest 80-minute b-movie, amplifying abruptness or abstraction into something dreamlike and strange. And with the great advantage of taking place inside a totally constructed world. It's not strictly a horror comic but something like Jess Johnson's "Nurture The Devil" is unsettling in part because it's hard to place in relation to either a real world or the world of dreams - whether it's a stylised version of some more familiar content or whether the stylisation is a literal depiction of what's happening.

A comic as physical object can also be a relic - not something we experience in one go, rather something to pick up, put down, sift through, read and reread, with new meanings emerging from a mass of material of which the supposed narrative may not be the most important part. The dreadful, knife-wielding maniacs from Al Columbia's Pim & Francie are familiar figures, but seeing their obsessive repetition across the different collected scraps of abandoned or submerged narratives changes them into dream symbols rather than direct threats.

I like a lot of comics that draw on horror imagery - Mark Beyer and Rory Hayes, A. Degen's "Junior Detective Files" and Daria Tessler's "Cult Of The Ibis", Nicole Claveloux and Imiri Sakabashira. But I wanted to try writing here about some comics that made me interested as horror in a genre itself.

Junji Ito: you may not have heard about this guy.... I actually hadn't read any of his work before the Viz edition of Uzumaki a while back, and the sense of being late to the party didn't make it feel less of a revelation. I think part of it was the sense of comics that were totally distinct while at the same time feeling like they were working entirely IN a genre tradition rather than against it; there was a sense of almost impersonal originality in their laconic and assured pacing, the clarity of line and their lack of need to give too much away, which suggested they must be drawing from and distilling a whole surrounding tradition. And this impression persists even when you follow up on other horror manga and the stated influences and find these comics still feel mysterious even in that context. One of his best effects is a willingness to seem more anonymous than he is, or to give the impression even in his most original effects that he's just flatly transcribing a readymade idea or image. And I think this is his biggest influence on internet-era horror, which has tended to disguise itself (even more than is typical for horror) in anonymous and generic forms, a surface impersonality: as if everyone aleady knew about this, except you.

But what I do feel gets underplayed about his work in particular is also how funny it is, and how indebted to comedy timing. Compare the monstrous reveal in an Ito story with one by Umezu (RIP) - in the latter the frame is pushed right in on someone's face, eyes bulging, screaming, the image repeats, gets even closer, we're in that portion of a nightmare where we feel immobilized by horror, stuck in a pit that we can never escape. The same moment in an ito story tends to be one of ironic equipoise - when the horrible thing finally appears it's depicted clearly, powerfully, it's almost this beautiful and static image. The onlookers stand frozen at the edges of the frame, mid movement, eyes wide but expression not yet changed, a single drop of cartoon sweat on the edge of their heads. There's a contrast between the assurance of the thing and the hapless rabbitlike fascination of the character regarding it, who becomes, like us, an aesthetic spectator - for a moment. When the spell breaks, when we see them screaming, running, it's comic because something of that mood of still contemplation that remains intact. Their eyes bulge, their mouths scream, but they're rushing backwards, away from the panel, and we regard their fear with the same attitude of detached interest with which we saw the full outline of the monstrous shape a panel earlier. To me this sense of humour is apiece with the disconcerting flatness of his approach to setting, in which the usual horror sets - gothic, extraordinary places outside the everyday - feel replaced by something anonymous and shabby, a kind of just-expired contemporary. The monsters rarely need to be explained; it's as though our own world has gradually become too worn down to have any purchase or power on these creatures of dreams that walk the landscapes and alleys with impunity.

Richard Sala - sometimes the artists I end up most fascinated by are ones I spend a while bouncing off of first. I read a few Richard Sala stories over the years and for a while I didn't know what to make of them. Great art, stylised and weird, but as narratives they were hard to place - too stylised and exaggerated to feel like straight horror but too obviously serious about and committed to those genre elements to feel like mere parody or pastice. I think I needed to read Uzumaki before I could get what he was doing, because it relies so much on a sense that genre horror was worth taking seriously; seriously enough to treat neither as a punchline or a heritage piece, something you could bring your own offbeat sensibilities and aesthetic to without condescending to the form, because there was something there. In some great interviews he did with the Comics Journal he was explicit about what he valued in the form: the dreamlike and symbolic qualities of b-movies, the ritual and fetishistic nature of repetition, the way pulp artists in an overlooked form could evolve a private vocabulary of forms, structures and images which worked like surrealist procedures to be mined and combined for new discoveries over time.

He was also interesting to me for the way his work changed over time. The shorter early pieces collected in comics like "Thirteen O'Clock" are recognizably art comics using a vocabulary of found horror images: the secret society, the leering face behind a window, are representative symbols of states of mind rather than presences in themselves. But his first longform serial "The Chuckling Whatsit" inverts this. Here the horror elements are given full play - it's a crazed pile up of characters, murder plots, conspiracies, odd locations, dreams, gimmicks, knives and masks, and while none of these feel like straightforward symbols of authorial expression there's obviously still something being worked out underneath that surface narrative, something warping all the pieces into new directions. The scene and the plot seem to abruptly change direction with every page; new characters are introduced and killed off again, constantly; the longest explanation of the plot we get is delivered by a lady with a cartoony moose-end-sqvirrel phonetic accent, but somehow it never loses either a sense of mysterious inner coherence or a sense of dread.

For me his middle period is from "Reflections Of A Glass Scorpion" (reprinted as "Mad Night") to "The Hidden". His art improves and he plays more with colour; the narratives slow down and there's more of a willingness to let them breathe. Characters become more important - my favourite is Judy Drood, the crazed Nancy Drew analogue crashing through a world of horror. Some of the books in this period feel less essential, as though having established what a "Richard Sala" comic would look like he was happy to spend a while doing the Richard Sala version of a vampire story, or an evil clown story, or a YA book. But he kept developing his style and "Delphine", towards the end of this period, is maybe his best single book: spare and serious and strange, as if he had reached a point in his craft where he no longer even needed to resemble himself.

But strangest of all is his late work, which maybe comes closest than most comics careers to the famous "late style" identified by Adorno in his essay. After increasingly subtle and quiet, almost slick, works, there's suddenly a return to the garish - rather than horror the model seems to be sleazy eurospy b-movies, the kind where masked girls in leotards run around machinegunning each other in underground bases. I don't think the biggest Richard Sala fan would think of him as primarily an action cartoonist but that's what we get here - panel after panel of firing handguns wildly into a crowd ("the simplest surrealist act" - andre breton) of milling henchmen, unkillable figures of vengeance running wild. And at the same time, just as startling, there's an abrupt and explicit emphasis on politics - the figures being shot are crowds of ghoulish Bush-era congressmen, executives, cops, sneering militia creeps, guffawing yuppies, movers and shakers. There's a sense of deliriously vindictive wish fulfilment that he's obviously having fun with, and what's not to love about a comic where a masked supervillain named Super-Enigmatix (shortened by the text as "S.Ex") breaks into the chambers of the Supreme Court to shoot the judges with a raygun known only as "the dissolver" in a single panel. But there's also a kind of sadness in the fury with which these characters are obsessively killed and re-killed; the flat, declarative way the political content declares itself has a kind of contempt, as if it weren't worth dressing up any other way. Rather than the politics of horror we have politics as horror, horror as the only form with which politics can adequately be represented.

Sala's last published work was "Poison Flowers & Pandemonium" - a collection of four(!) volumes unpublished at the time of his death, one of which is a collection of cavegirl-themed cheesecake art a character in the book itself winningly describes as "the dumbest thing i've ever read". The first book, a sequel to the late period work "The Bloody Cardinal", is one of his best - tensely paced and cohesive despite swerving crazily across genres, characters and settings (and also involving an evil mummy who exists in two dimensions). But the very last book, Fantomella, haunts me the most. It takes place in a world where the murderers have won - a vaguely futuristic tower in which dumb, bullying assholes, in costumes that are unsettling combinations of paramilitary gear, medieval torturer outfits and old-timey superhero costumes, spend their days in inscrutable violence or tangled, careerist infighting. The heroine, the title character, climbs up the tower level by level and kills absolutely everyone who gets in her way. The guys in the tower bicker and betray each other and bark orders over walkie talkies and then die and die and die; it's as though, having spent the last decade establishing a whole imaginative taxonomy of These Types Of Guy, there were no need for them anymore; they could be erased, one by one, in the perfunctory way of a henchman being offed in the final five minutes of a cheap film. Eventually Fantomella gets to the top of the tower; there's an ending reminiscent of stated lifetime influence Franz Kafka. Did I mention that this book is placed right after the sexy cavegirl story? Art can be powerful, when we let it be.

Mike Mignola, Guy Davis, John Arcudi - yeah, from B.P.R.D. These are spinoffs from Mignola's own Hellboy comics, and as will be the case with spinoffs I think they never quite got the respect of those other books. They're less quiet, less offbeat - they lack the quality in Hellboy of a mysterious folktale logic that we're barely able to glimpse. But that's the thing for me - in Hellboy many characters have some kind of knowledge that they act on, often piecemeal or imperfectly. What makes B.P.R.D. distinct is the sense that nobody knows what's happening at all; not the heroes, not the villains. Stuff just happens and happens and happens and maybe later on some of it is concluded in ways nobody notices because they're dealing with some other shit - the bits of narrative closure we get are as abrupt and unwilled as a long-forgotten gun that suddenly goes off. Maybe someone will accidentally glimpse the resolution of some other thing they had no idea was happening, in the shape of e.g. a nazi millionaire in a homemade skeleton outfit being pulled screaming beneath the earth by a plague of human frogs. Who was that? There's no time to worry about it, because the world is ending.

There's a lot of these comics and I can never keep track of what order they're in, but I want to suggest that one of the deep pleasures of longform serial narrative is reading it out of order and trying to figure out what's going on. You'll see someone pop up for a panel or die or do something of unexplained importance to the rest of the book and then keep going and maybe read an earlier one where you glimpse the setup that you saw finally paying off - if you can still remember. It's maybe an odd one for me to recommend, as someone who aggressively does not care about apocalypse shit, or military shit, or lovecraft shit. But in addition to the fun characters and offbeat storytelling and Guy Davis's typically great art I think what made this stick with me so much was an odd formal parallel, between the slow, shambolic, weirdly believable end of the world it depicts and the nature of serial storytelling itself. Details pile up, beyond our ability to keep track or notice them. The doomed task of remembering, of cultivating the little pile of our perceptions as they spill out and roll away, feels horribly similar to the efforts of the characters to hold a catastrophe in place; a catastrophe that no-one really seems to know the start or meaning of but that we're all stuck living out regardless.

It's a longrunning comic so there are lots of issues. You can try following it from the start and still find after a certain point that you no longer have any idea of what's happening, that "the start" is itself not really the start, just the latest in a series of dubiously reliable origin stories that seem to have no lower bound. You can spend a lot of time on wikis trying to combine the pieces and figure it out, just like the characters in the comic, the ones who inevitably end up going "AIIIEEE!" as they're blown up by a big machine or by some cosmic thingamabob they only realise too late they maybe never really got. Or maybe if you're lucky you can be a bit-part character; here in some pages, missing in others, with fate uncertain, deferred by an error in issue numbering, or a failure of memory.

[flamingpudding]

I now have ideas for Klarion is like Robin au

Batman was caught trying to make a contingency plan for Vlad after Tim said that he was like Ra al Ghul

Something happened were Dr. Fate need the help of Vlad and Klarion but all of them right now are and they're civilian identities so they can't help all but one

Cowboy Lassie

So Vlad takes the JLD puts Red Robin he's there to help cuz they need to get Nanda Parbat

Where are the Justice Dark League get to see Lassie in her cowgirl attire I'm talking standard western shirts boots jeans cowboy hat sunglasses I'm talking country

Along with the large horse made out of Lazarus pit be the biggest hater ever to her father as she literally explains that she hates him so much that she started a cult just to hate him

Vlad was just begging for her to help the only reason she does is cuz he brought up her ma

Dan was too busy to help because of the fact he's the head of the theater committee and had about it Danny has incredibly important meeting that he couldn't leave no matter what

And the rest of his kids definitely not going to help him

I should start feeling sorry for Vlad but this AU is just to funny to do so...

Good I love your ideas!

Also sorry if this is not up to how I usually write, I am kind of stuck in a bit of a writers block again thanks to my work....

Anyway! Here we go!

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

Red Robin, aka Tim, wasn't entirely sure how to go about this at first. Dr Fate had come by saying something about a threat for which they needed the help of 'Chaos' for a change and ranting about how 'Balance' was ignoring him currently because of something that apparently had happened a little while after their last encounter. Now normally this probably wouldn't be to much of a hurdle, if he hadn't tried to be a bit of a smart ass.

Because when he had heard about it Tim in the disguise of paying Dukes school a visit hat looked for Dan Master-Nightingale. Because obviously that was Klarion or rather the current Klarion and the 'Chaos' that could help them out, right? Yeah right...

Before Tim could even approach the other boy the teen had turned around sharply and glared with red eyes at him like he had personally offended him. Which he didn't by the way. Tim was pretty sure he hadn't insulted Klarion errr Dan recently.

"Screw off I got something to do here if we want the next school festival to be a hit. Tell you precious 'Order' to F off unless he apologises to Mom."

That had thrown Tim off a while lot. Because one, that meant Klarion knew who he was behind the Mask too and two, that brat was not going to be helpful or civil with him even out of masks. Not like any of the Klarions every had been but the current one definitely was the rudest among them. But that also meant no help from this agent of 'Chaos'.

Of course Tim wasn't one of the bats and birds for nothing. Bruce had contingency plans for Vlad since he had mentioned his suspicion of the man being like Ra's, so Tim when with the next possible option. If Dr. Fate meant with 'Balance' the Ghost King then they had a way of contacting them. Well not directly them but a contact that could, so he grabbed one of the plans, or part of it at least, and paid a certain millionaire a visit, as Red Robin of course.

It had taken a bit of back and forth, slight arguing in which the man was apparently very insistent in pointing out the time. Which fair it was close to midnight but it was important! In the end Tim had gotten the man to agree to lend them some help but after a phone call that apparently ended with the one on the other side hanging up on Masters themselves the man gave him a peeved look.

"We will have to change plans. Little Badger is not available at the moment and the other kids won't take my calls."

Tim didn't like the sound of that, not because of what Masters sort said about changing plans but the way he used the term 'Little Badger'. For now he would file that back into the back of his mind as his attention went to a map Masters pulled out and spread across his table. The man pointed at a specific place and Tim wanted to face palm. Because of course that man had more connection than just that questionable one between him, the Ghost King and the Klarions.

Masters was pointing at Nanda Parbat.

Good Bruce was going to love this. NOT.

So here he was now Red Robin, dragging a civilian Millionaire and a couple of the Justice League Dark members through the halls of Nanda Parbat as the man directed him where to go while dodging Assassins. For a brief moment he wondered why he hadn't dragged one of his siblings along before he remembered that at least two of them would be grating his nerves even thinner and Batman was busy helping the rest of the JLD containing whatever threat Dr. Fate found until he got the additional help.

A part of him was cursing as he dragged Masters by the cuff of his suit, (who the hell wears a suit when going into an Assassin cult base?!?!), to pull him out of harms way of another trained killer ready to strike the man down. Funnily enough these people all ignored Red Robins presence, like their leader didn't have a sick obsession with him and focused their strikes solely on Masters. That was good and bad, mostly bad but surprisingly the man was somewhat nimble for a civilian. Or there was even more to Masters than they were aware of which Tim also filed way into the back of his mind.

In the end after more or less fighting through half the hide out Masters lead him to a room, that oh great wonder who had thought it, contain the good damn Lazarus Pits! Red Robin wanted to hit that millionaire right now. He wasn't sure how the others present were taking this but he slowly was having enough of that Man.

Red Robin was really contemplating making good on his impulsive thought as a girl in full on cowboy style rose from the Pit waters.

They all, but Masters, blinked at her sudden and dramatic appearance. Masters took a step forward apparently wanting to speak to the girl and Tim only half heartedly because of his sense as hero tried to stop the man.

"Are you done with your cult nonsense, dear little Lassie?"

Red Robin in that moment felt a shiver go down his back when he saw the glare the girl directed at Vlad Masters as well as the room becoming several degrees colder. Mentally, this too, Tim filed back for later.

"No." Red Robin blinked under his mask as the girl snapped with her fingers and the Pit waters around her swirled a green horse appearing out of no where matching her style and he gaped even more the girl unapologetically pointed at Masers who apparently for once got a hint about dodging and ran away as the horse began chasing him.

A part of Red Robin felt like he had to do something to stop this and he caught one of the JLD members with them attempting to step in but the horse completely ignored them. The girl catching his look only waved them off dismissively. "Don't bother. Let Larus have some fun with him, before I sent the entire League after him again for stepping into my turf."

"Isn't Ra's Al Ghul...." He trailed off a little unsure how to proceed here.

"Oh he is sort of the Leader of my merry band of followers of hatred." Red Robin was about to speak again but didn't get a chance as the girl started to ramble on about the logistics of hating someone so much that you raise a cult just for that and the cult just so happens to still have a goal of its own but also are brainwashed to attack on side whenever Vlad Master is involved.

No Red Robin wasn't getting worried. Some of these statements definitely weren't worrying. That the League of Assassins originally was cult to hate just one man in particular was not a shocking revelation. Nor that the Lazarus Pits apparently were alive and also had a hate for Masters. Nor that this girl, Lassie apparently also was a daughter of the Ghost King. And it was definitely not worrying that she apologised for what her cult had done to her family and asked that maybe his older brother should see Vlad Master anytime soon.

Okay everything about that was worrying.

But for now they needed help with a bigger problem. But Red Robin did make a note of breaking back in into Nanda Parbat to have a enlightening talk with Lassie at a later time.

Thankfully after having listened to her rand and mentioning the Ghost King to the girl she did agree to help them. So original goal reached... but several new questions acquired...

[reshinless]

──── love you to the moon & saturn..

𝜗𝜚 synopsis. his kid's teacher, who decided to stay with them 'till he came back from a late shift at his job, and to his surprise, the teacher was kind of cute. a kindergarten teacher, actually no, his kid's favorite teacher, man what would his kid think if you suddenly became their parent, but getting to know you a bit is.. well, it doesn't sound too bad.

𝜗𝜚 pairings. multiple genshin men as dads x gn!reader (seperately)

𝜗𝜚 director's notice. i'm replying to like 3 other requests, have this for now!

a busy dad who got to see their kid after a small break, and finds you. — ayato, al haitham, gorou, diluc, childe/tartaglia, kaveh

he just happened to be given a few days off, other than weekends, he could see his kid. even so by ordering the person who usually picks the kid up for them to not for a few days, because he would instead. as he arrived at the kindergarten, the dismissal area was definitely filled with kids of all kinds, running to their parents, he searched the room for his bundle of joy, just to see them with a special someone; you. he knows his kid was in good hands, as soon as he sees you helping them with an activity that was being done earlier, waiting for their parent to arrive, you look behind to see a well-dressed man, looking down to you and his kid. while you stand up to introduce yourself to him, all the kid could do was cling to their father's leg, finally getting to see him on any day but a weekend, and with their favorite teacher? they were more than happy! watching their 2 most favorite people get along was the best! not to mention the subtle blush on both your cheeks as you both talked, gives his number through "maybe my kid might need help later :)". as soon as he gets home and has dinner with his kid, you won't go away from his mind, the still picture of your smile after he made a joke the first meeting you both had, how could he concentrate on any work this week if that's what's really stuck on his mind.

dedicated dad to his kid: while picking up his giddy kid from kindergarten, he wonders why, and he sees a newly-hired teacher. a really cute one that is. — zhongli, kaeya, diluc, aether, gorou, thoma, childe/tartaglia, arataki itto, tighnari

as his kid ran up to their father, almost attaching themselves onto him, he looked up to see the most jaw-dropping, ethereal, elegant, graceful, charming, beauty he's ever laid his eyes on trying to talk to him about his kid's amazing performance in class. honestly he's never seen his kid happier when you told them so, a perfect score in their quiz?! oh you're so proud of them!! even handing them their favorite chocolate/candy bar!! you were so breathtaking to him, and almost like another parent to his child, it made his heart bloom, what if you became his actual other parent, hey he's just thinking out loud... anyways, stroke a conversation with you, probably used a cheesy pickup line to get your number, plus points if you love funny guys (every1 does), experienced love at first sight immediately, thinks you are an amazing person for choosing your job as teaching too, must be quite hard too, his kid can be hard to discipline sometimes too, and multiply that by 20? damn, you must have a lot of patience. getting to talk to you and getting your number, on the same day? man this day must be a blessing from the archons! because it feels like he met the love of his life, and he truly did.

as his kid begged for him to go pick him up at school instead, he meets his kid's 2nd favorite person, you just might become his 2nd favorite too. — albedo, xiao, wanderer/scaramouche, cyno, al haitham

not that he didn't wanna pick up his kid, but he was definitely busy, and that early morning that they had to go to school was when they wanted him to pick them up instead of the maids around the house. their reasoning was that other kids were making fun how their real dad doesn't wanna pick them up because 'he left', but they knew otherwise, a work-at-home dad yet somehow piled with paperwork and goes to work on weekends, it's like he isn't even trying to care for them, so to prove those bullies they were wrong, they wanted their dad to come, just even that one time. as he approached the kindergarten classroom, he peeked inside to see his child holding another adult's hand and telling them about what happened about their day while waiting for to come get them, he was by far the most fascinated with you, it's like you had bond almost stronger than he and his kid had, when he went to talk to you while picking up the kid, almost just sleeping in his arms, and decided to introduce himself to you, since the little chaos ensuer in his hands seemed to love you so much, and honestly you two had more in common than he thought, so much so he got your number, handing a coffee to you, saying "coffee date sometime if you're free, call me XXXX-XXX-XXX." on the sticky note, you ended calling him, and he was more than excited for your date, but he obviously wants to take it slow, and doesn't wanna rush anything between you two at all. is more than grateful that his little angel asked him to pick him up even just once.

responsibly affectionate dad — zhongli, diluc, childe/tartaglia, thoma, dainsleif, wriothesley

chaotic good & super thoughtful dad — arataki itto, venti, childe/tartaglia

lowkey motherlike (overly nurturing & affectionate) — mika, aether, kazuha, childe/tartaglia, diluc, neuvillette

can't cook so him and his kid have been living on eggs, hotdog, rice, and instant noodles for 2 weeks obviously not forever.. — arataki itto, kazuha, venti, heizou

24/7 teasing, but when you tease him back he gets a lil shy (the kid thinks its cheesy and will say ew) — heizou, childe/tartaglia, kaeya, scaramouche/wanderer, cyno

you guys kiss when he goes to pick you both up from the school bc afterwards you have nothing to do cuz ur a kindergarten teacher (whipee!!), kid will cover their eyes, goodnight thanks 4 listening to my ted talk

[not-magdi]

-one too many / Pablo Gavi

Warnings: None, maybe Alkohol

Words: 835

Reading Time: 3min 20sec

A/N

Hey guys, long time no see huh. Well today was the first day I had really a free minute as I'm currently organizing prom so I'm stressed haha. Well I still hope you enjoy my story,

Love y'all Magdi <3

It was around midnight, and you were sitting on your couch, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket, watching some movie you found on Netflix. Pablo was going out with some friends tonight, and even though he asked you to tag along, you preferred to stay in today, wanting to get some things done for work. 

Pablo wasn't that happy with your decision, but he accepted it with a pout. He and his friends left around 9 o'clock, so you expected him to be home around one or two in the morning. You didn't mind him coming home late. Pablo is mostly really strict with himself, so you let him have his fun, and even though Pablo told you to not wait for him every time, you still stayed awake (or tried to) so you could fall asleep together. 

You were on your way to the kitchen, needing some caffeine to stay awake until Pablo came home. Your head is stuck in your pantry as you hear your phone ring. Confused about who would call you this late, you rush back to the living room, thinking it is an emergency. 

Your worry only grew as you saw the name of one of Pablo's best friends on your phone screen. You pick up the phone as quickly as you can. 

"Hey Ale, is everything ok?!" 

"Hey Y/N. Yeah everything is fine, your boyfriend just had one ... maybe three drinks to much." You heard him laugh over the loud music of the club. 

"Me and Fermín will bring him home now, he has been asking where you are for the past half hour." 

"Yeah, that's a good plan, I'll see you then. Has he fallen down somewhere already?" You ask, laughing to yourself. You see, Pablo had a bit of a habit when he had too much to drink. And that was totally ignoring where he was going. One time, the two of you were going out with some friends at a club near the beach, and at some point on your way home, Pablo just slid down the little bank that led to the beach. You didn't even realise he was gone until you heard his giggles from the beach.  

"No he hasn't fallen down anywhere yet, but we keep an eye on him." You heard him laughing over the phone.

Laughing to yourself, you say bye to Ale and hang up, starting to prepare a few things for when Pablo comes home, like aspirin and lots and lots of water. 

Half an hour later, you heard the doorbell ring and before said door stood Ale and Fermín, who held up a very drunk Pablo, who was smiling from one ear to the other. 

"Oh god, what did he do?" You ask his friends, who also have a smile on their faces. But as soon as Pablo heard your voice, his head whipped up. "Y/N!" 

He wriggled himself free from the grip of his friends and stumbled into your arms. 

"Oh, I missed you sooooo much!" He mumbled into your neck, his warm breath tickling your neck. 

"But you just saw me 3 hours ago, Pablito." You exclaim, laughing.

"I know, that's way too long." 

With the help of Fermín and Ale, you got Pablo inside, with a few little accidents on the way as Pablo kept running into every shelf you owned in this house. 

But now you finally have him where you want him to be, and after saying goodnight to Pablo's friends, you start the mission: getting Pablo ready for bed. 

"Come on Amor, you have to brush your teeth."

"But I don't want tooooo."

Sighing, you try to think of a way to convince your toddler of a boyfriend to brush his damm teeth. 

"OK Pablo, if you brush your teeth now, I will give you a kiss."

At that, his eyes went wide, and you never saw anyone grab his toothbrush faster than Pablo did at that moment. Giggling at his antics, you walk out of the bathroom into your shared bedroom to lay some pyjamas out for him. 

Surprisingly, convincing him to change into his pyjamas went more effortless than you thought. So now you were laying in bed, Pablos head on your chest, your hand stroking through his soft hair. Pablo's soft whisper broke the comfortable silence you were in. 

"I believed I was promised a kiss Querida." 

"Oh, were you now?"

"Mhm, yes." 

"Well, I can't break my promise now, can I?"

You grab Pablo's chin with your hand to make him look at you and place your lips against his soft ones in a quick kiss. 

"Happy now?" 

"Yup, as happy a ever." 

"Well then, goodnight Pablo, sleep well."  

You waited for an answer, but all you heard were Pablo's soft snores as he already fell asleep on your chest. With a smile on his face, you look at the aspirin lying on his bedside table, knowing he is gonna have the headache of his life tomorrow. 

----------

Don't forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !!!!! ❤️