#and i feel like both taylor and i knew it was the only option but we were never 100% sure if it's time to go

[pardonmydelays]

taylor swift lyrics that keep u up at night?

*takes a deep breath*

remember looking at this room, we loved it cause of the light now i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time.

(oversharing in the tags)

[imsandra]

HE SEE

Pairing: Azriel x Female reader

Summary: Love and promises don’t last forever, but guilt and remorse do.

Warning: Angst, sadness. Let me know if anything happens.

Word Count: 4962 

Notes: We have the continuation of “I See”. I’m proud of this. Thanks to those who asked for another part; you make me very happy. My friend told me that this second part has the song “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” by Taylor Swift, it’s just a recommendation.  

I hope you enjoy it. Please leave your comments on what you think, suggestions are always welcome as long as they are meant to teach and with respect.

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors.

Original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my story.

I appreciate the comments, reblogs, and likes that I receive.

Happy reading!

I see (1)

Velaris, the City of Starry Light, was illuminated by the soft glow of the moon. Azriel stood in the room of his new home, gazing through the window as the rain soaked the city streets. Sleeping had not been an option since he left the home he had shared with Y/N for the past centuries. It had only been a week since he did so, since he left his heart bleeding.

In the bed lay his mate, Liria, fast asleep. He had met her a couple of months ago, and of course, they had had their first date. She had joined as a new spy for the court, alongside Nuala and Cerridwen.

Liria was absolutely different from Y/N. She had dark blonde hair, her eyes were a sea-green color, and her lips were thin. At times, she was cold, and when her work took up too much of her time, she became distant. But with Y/N, she always found time to talk to him; she was sweet and the perfect mix of a woman who knew she wanted to be with him. Sometimes, at dinner, Liria simply ignored his trivial day-to-day conversations, or sometimes, neither spoke.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way for him. He had imagined that with Liria, he could have an even deeper connection than he had with Y/N; that they would embrace the bond, talk about getting married and having children in the future. But everything was turning out the opposite.

The Master of Spies couldn’t forget the feeling of wanting to be close to Liria on the day they met.

It was just a training session, training the next spies who would serve the Night Court, and then he would return home to his beautiful and sweet girlfriend to kiss her and catch up, as he always did.

Liria and Azriel were in fighting positions, assessing each other as opponents.

“This time, Liria, you need to trust your instincts,” he told the blonde.

“I always do, Azriel. Do you doubt me?” she replied with a flirtatious smile.

So when Liria attacked, it was directly at the feet of the Shadowsinger. The blonde slid across the training field floor to strike Azriel's right ankle. It was an unexpected move for him, and he fell to his knees. With the same determination, Liria lunged to throw him onto his back and ended up on top of him, their faces inches apart, about to kiss.

Azriel was astonished by the energy enveloping them both. He didn’t expect that just before the sea-green-eyed girl attacked, the bond that connected their souls would shatter. He could only watch as their faces were a breath away from kissing, and though he wanted to, he didn’t. His girlfriend was waiting for him at home, and he had plans with her. But the beautiful blonde girl was his mate , not Y/N, whom he had always thought their souls were destined to be together, whether or not there was a mating bond. Perhaps it was at that moment that he realized, no matter what, he longed for that bond with her, with Y/N.

And the mother was wrong about them.

Azriel sighed and decided to take flight, while the rain was just a kiss on the skin and a sigh in the night.

Sometimes, the people who heal you are the same ones who break you.

Y/N barely had the energy to avoid neglecting her work. Part of her was dedicated to designing costumes in a small boutique in the city center. Her busy life kept her occupied most of the time, but sometimes it wasn't enough. Azriel crossed her mind at the most inopportune moments: while designing, during conversations.

So when Mei, her coworker, told her that she had received a letter from the Dawn Court as a sign, Y/N decided to share the news with Feyre. They had agreed to meet at their usual café, right in the artist's quarter, in the Rainbow.

When Y/N arrived, Feyre was sitting by the window as always, sketching in a notebook.

“Sorry I’m late, Fey,” Y/N greeted her friend.

“Don’t worry, darling, I just got here,” Feyre replied.

The two women ordered their usual drinks while catching up on their work.

“Az hasn’t shown up at the River House or the Wind House,” the blue-eyed brunette informed Y/N. “Rhys has been worried, but his work hasn’t allowed him to take any time off,” Feyre continued.

“I don’t think Rhys should worry about Azriel,” Y/N responded. The name of the Shadowsinger came out in a broken whisper. “He must be with his mate,” she continued.

“Y/N,” Feyre called her friend, “Rhys isn’t worried about him, not right now or about his partner,” she confessed with tender eyes, while looking at Y/N, who was lost in her thoughts.

It took 10 seconds for Y/N to understand what her friend was telling her.

“Rhys wants you to come to the house to spend the afternoon. He misses his friend, Nyx misses his aunt, and I miss you too,” the brunette admitted. “Actually, everyone does,” the fae continued.

“I’m not his aunt anymore, not anymore,” Y/N whispered with a hoarse and broken voice.

Feyre stood up from her chair and moved closer to Y/N. She sat beside her, pulling her close to her chest as she hugged her. Y/N couldn’t resist, so she hugged back, burying her head in her friend's neck and letting her guard down. She cried as her adventurous mate  held her tight and whispered that it was okay, that she had her, and that she wasn’t alone. Nothing else mattered, neither the fae watching them nor the coffee cooling on the table. Only the two of them, only Y/N was Feyre’s concern. She was her friend, and although she had met her through the Shadowsinger, she knew enough to assure that she would always be her friend.

After a while, they slowly pulled away, and Feyre wiped the few tears from Y/N’s cheeks. She took her hands and looked into her eyes.

“You will always be Nyx’s aunt. He adores you, and I know you adore him too,” she said with the kindest voice she had for her friend. “Besides, I’m sure you miss him too,” she added, smiling.

“Yes, I miss my mischievous boy,” Y/N choked out with a hoarse voice. “And I also miss the others,” she continued.

“I knew it,” Feyre said with a small laugh. “So... will you accept coming to the house?” she asked with a calm and hopeful voice.

Y/N thought for a while. If Azriel hadn’t shown up at her friend’s house or the house where he used to live before meeting her, what were the chances of running into him?

“Alright, I’ll go,” she agreed.

“Tomorrow afternoon, we’ll prepare your favorite meal. Maybe Rhys will want to share some of his cherished wines,” Feyre mentioned with a smile.

Both women laughed, knowing it was hard to convince Rhys to share some of his wines, but it was no secret that there were always two people who took them without permission from the great lord.

A new day, another day at work. Y/N finished one of the designs she had been working on for a week. She asked Mei to pack it up, as they would pick up the dress later. With that, she ended her workday and returned to her apartment. She hadn’t moved into a new one yet; she couldn’t, not yet. So she decided to keep her mind occupied preparing for the meeting that afternoon.

Y/N was in her dressing room, surrounded by clothes she used to wear with Azriel, and it was a difficult decision. She had designed some outfits for their dates, family dinners, anniversaries, or special nights. Maybe she should have just bought something new and avoided this debate she knew she wouldn’t win.

In the end, she opted for a simple pair of pants and a shirt that had been shoved at the back of the closet, low heels, and understated yet carefully done makeup, trying to hide her dark circles and signs of exhaustion. She finished with her favorite perfume, no jewelry, since Azriel had been the one to gift her small collection since he entered her life. She couldn’t help but imagine going to this meeting with him, as they had done so many times before: her sitting at the vanity, finishing applying her lipstick, and the Shadowsinger behind her, watching her through the mirror. It would only be a moment before he would approach to fasten the necklace he had returned, kiss her cheeks, and tell her how beautiful she looked. She wouldn’t arrive late just because Azriel decided to take Y/N and lay her on the bed, just to kiss her and tell strange jokes. She wouldn’t arrive with wrinkled clothes from struggling to get them both up.

They would never again arrive holding hands.

Y/N stood at the entrance of her friend’s house, looking at the garden where Azriel and she had played with Nyx, a garden that had witnessed so many happy moments, and now they were just that, moments. The house that had scared her so much the first time Azriel introduced her to his family. The fae took a deep breath, preparing to knock on the door, but paused for a moment when she heard the boisterous laughter of Cassian, followed by Mor’s laughter and Nyx’s small chatter, her nephew. She couldn’t help the soft smile that appeared on her face, so she knocked on the door.

She was met with Cassian’s fierce hug when he opened it. He might have stopped her breath if he had hugged her a little tighter. She hugged him back, and little steps echoed as Nyx appeared at the door.

“Auntie! Auntie!” the child shouted, jumping up and down so she would pick him up.

“No, I saw her first,” said the general, too loudly for the little heir to hear.

“Lies, it was Uncle Az!” the child babbled, pushing at Cassian’s legs.

The general slowly released her, whom he considered his sister-in-law, to see her face and make sure she was okay. Y/N greeted him with a forced smile, silently assuring him that she was fine.

The woman bent down and picked up Nyx, who squealed and hugged his aunt. She couldn’t blame Nyx; he didn’t know yet. That his Uncle Azriel and Auntie Y/N were no longer together. So she showered him with kisses all over his face, tickling him, and the child burst into laughter. Cassian smiled at the scene until he felt someone else’s presence behind him.

“Are you going to let her in, or are you going to wait until the three of you freeze out here?” the father of the little black-haired boy questioned. “Nyx, darling, let go of Y/N, it’s my turn,” Rhys continued.

“No,” Nyx grumbled with a pout as he clung to Y/N’s neck.

“Then it will be a group hug; just try not to kill me,” Y/N attempted to joke.

The two adults laughed and moved in to hug her. She felt a part of her heart warm with the love of a family. A moment later, the four of them entered the house, leaving the cold weather behind for the warmth of the home.

Everyone greeted her: Mor, Feyre, Elain, Nesta, and even Amren hugged her, which was unusual for her. The table was decorated with her favorite food and even her favorite wine, courtesy of the High Lord, just as Feyre had said.

One more task to complete. It would be the last of the afternoon, and then she could have dinner with Liria, and maybe, just maybe, cuddle together. He had postponed some of his reports since he left Y/N and had also not visited his siblings’ house. He needed time.

Liria entered Azriel’s small office, where he was sitting reading one last report. She approached quietly and kissed him on the cheek. The Master of Spies shivered from the sudden affection and tensed his wings. It was one of the few times his mate showed affection, and almost always his body reacted the same way. Even his shadows didn’t approach her; he was sure they missed Y/N. And how could they not, when the woman with whom he had shared almost everything would enter his office in the loudest way, with a radiant smile that could light up an entire universe, his universe? She would shower him with kisses and hugs, then sit in his favorite sofa while keeping him company, creating new designs for her shop. And just now he noticed she was wearing one of the robes she had made for him.

He responded to the blonde with a tense smile.

“Are you almost done?” he asked.

“Yes. Where are you going?” she asked, noticing Liria’s outfit.

“I’m going out with some friends; I just came to let you know,” she whispered close to his lips and gave him a kiss. “Don’t wait up for me; you should rest,” she advised him, and with that, she left through the door of his office.

Another night added to the many nights he would spend dining alone, once again.

The doorbell of the river house echoed inside the property. Rhysand frowned and turned to look at his mate . “Are we expecting anyone else?” he questioned mentally to Feyre, who simply shook her head. Everyone had settled in the living room of the house to continue their conversation. Nyx was in his room with his aunt Elain; he had fallen asleep.

Rhys got up from the couch and walked to the door. He did not expect to see the person on the other side, at least not today.

“Azriel,” he said his name as if afraid they would know he was there. “What are you doing here?” he asked his brother.

“I came to deliver… Y/N,” he whispered, his breath catching. “Is she here?” he asked.

There was no way to lie. Her scent drifted into the Master of Spies’ lungs just as he remembered it: so soft, subtle, and sweet. The High Lord could see the agony on his brother’s face and how his eyes filled with tears. Was it guilt or mourning?

Azriel could have died in that moment. There was no way to say he didn’t miss her, because he missed her to his bones. His heart ached as if a dagger had pierced it. The sound of her laughter reached his ears. The melody had changed; it was no longer loud and full of life. It was all his fault. He should have been there with her and not with Liria. He had made a mistake, and his error would cost him his entire life.

“What did you come for?” Rhys asked, cutting through the thread of his thoughts.

“To deliver the reports,” Azriel muttered in a hoarse voice.

His brother let him into the house, and as he walked down the entryway, he saw the huge vase with strange figures that they had given Feyre for her birthday two years ago. It had been brought specially from the Winter Court, a trip they had taken together. He could still hear her voice with feigned annoyance telling him to be careful not to break it. The memory struck him like a stab to the heart. He arrived in the living room just as Y/N delivered the worst news he could have heard.

“I’m going to the Dawn Court. I’ll be away for at least a month,” she told her friends.

“No,” Azriel whispered with a broken voice. “You can’t go,” he shouted, alerting everyone to his presence. His shadows separated from him and approached her.

The fairy shuddered at the contact of the shadows on her skin. She hadn’t expected him to show up. Azriel saw the smile of his beloved falter the moment their eyes met. Her face grew somber, sad, and he wished that Prythian would swallow him whole at that damned moment.

Silence fell over the room. Everyone was tense from the unexpected arrival of the Shadow Singer.

Cassian was the first to break the silence.

“Az, we weren’t expecting you,” he muttered through gritted teeth, angry at the situation. His wings flared, ready to defend Y/N if necessary.

Azriel ignored him as he crossed the room to where Y/N was sitting. She stood up instinctively, wanting to flee, just wanting to forget him for a while. It wasn’t fair. The moment he reached her, he took her in his arms and began to cry.

“Y/N, darling, please don’t go. Forgive me,” Azriel whispered in her ear.

She couldn’t move. Her breathing became ragged, her throat tightened trying to suppress the sobs that wanted to surface. She swallowed hard to clear the knot that had settled in. A shiver ran down her spine.

“Let me go,” she whispered back. “Don’t touch me, Azriel,” she shouted, disappointed.

He continued holding her close, and she squirmed in his arms, pushing him as far away as possible. Where she had once felt safe, now she felt suffocated. When they were a few centimeters apart, she saw his clothes; it was one of the garments she had made for him, and it carried a scent that wasn’t his. Her heart sank to her stomach.

“I know you’re angry, please, listen to me. I know it was wrong, and I’m deeply sorry,” the Shadow Singer pleaded, as he moved his hands to her face. “I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back, to make you believe in me. I promise. I’ll do whatever you want, just say it,” he begged again, this time on his knees, holding her hands and kissing them.

“And what will you do?” she laughed sarcastically. “Will you promise that you won’t hurt me again?” she continued, with her fists clenched. “You hurt me, Azriel, and you didn’t care. While you were sticking your tongue in another woman’s mouth, I was at home, waiting, begging for you not to be hurt and to come back to our home safe,” she hissed with pain, as her gaze met his. “I would have ripped out my heart for you, no matter the reason, but I know you wouldn’t do the same for me,” she went on. “Do you know what I want?” she murmured.

Azriel had red eyes as she spoke. He remained on his knees, crying for the pain he had caused, and although he had a sliver of hope, it vanished the moment her eyes met his. There was no way to repair the damage. Her eyes, which had once looked at him with love, with the kindness and softness of a feather, with the adoration he didn’t believe he deserved from her, now looked at him with the coldest gaze, disappointment swimming in them, and sadness clinging to them. He didn’t even need to answer; nothing would heal her heart.

“I want my heart to stop bleeding, I wish it would stop singing your name,” she whimpered. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks. “But I wish it wasn’t you who nearly ripped it out of my chest,” she said, collapsing to the floor, hugging herself.

Azriel, who was closer, didn’t even have the chance to reach her in time. Instead, it was Cassian who appeared to hold her against his chest, crying like he had never heard her do before. His shadows tried to calm her as they once did when she was scared. Even they were there for her.

Cass, his brother, was the one holding her in his arms, against his chest, and Azriel wanted to tear her away, but he had no right.

“It’s best if you leave,” the general said through clenched teeth to Azriel.

His voice, filled with pain and disappointment, had never spoken to him like this in the centuries they had been together. Azriel understood. Y/N had developed a relationship with him, supporting each other, and he also knew that Cassian would never have done this to her.

A hand rested on the spy’s shoulder. He looked up and met the violet gaze of Rhys, his other brother, and the eyes of the rest of the people he considered family, who were in the dining room; they had left them alone a while ago.

The weight of his decision was on his shoulders, in his heart, and in his soul. His brother was indicating that he should get up, but Azriel's ears were ringing; he heard it from a distance. He didn’t know when he got to his feet. Rhys guided him to his office. The reports had been forgotten on the floor of the living room. But he decided he couldn’t stay there, not while he could hear her muffled sobs. So he left the house and went to the only place left for him.

The door opened. Liria entered; it was night, and she found Azriel slumped on the sofa, in the darkness. She could see the tears streaming down his cheeks, even though he was asleep. In his dreams, Y/N’s muffled cries tormented him.

The blonde approached to comfort him. She grabbed the blanket from the sofa across from him but stopped inches from his body when the scent hit her. A scent she had noticed on him when she first met him, which she had discovered belonged to someone else soon after. But still, she continued; he was her partner, their souls were bound.

If “I love you” were a promise, would it be broken if they were honest?

The next morning, Azriel woke up to the sound of clashing weapons. He got up from the sofa, rubbing his face with his hand, and saw Liria in the hallway, where the noise was coming from. The woman could feel her partner’s gaze, so she turned around.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she greeted him.

“What are you doing? Why the suitcase?” the dark-haired man asked.

“I’m leaving,” she replied vaguely, turning back to continue packing her weapons.

“I don’t want the bond,” the spymaster's words slipped out.

“I know,” Lyria said. “Don’t forget that I can feel your emotions through the bond,” she reminded him, seeing his look of confusion. “Last night, you were murmuring her name and how much you love her,” she revealed in a hoarse voice.

Her mate passed by him, perhaps gathering the last of her belongings. He could only watch; he thought it would hurt, but it didn’t.

“Two days ago, I found a small box,” Lyria continued. “By the way, nice ring. She would have liked it,” she confessed.

Azriel tensed at the mention of the object. He remembered having carefully hidden that ring, a proposal ring for Y/N. Before meeting Lyria, he had been planning to propose marriage; the only ones who knew were Rhys and Cassian. He had ruined everything.

“How did you find it?” he finally looked at her.

“I made a mistake with you, with us, Azriel,” she evaded his question. “I wish I hadn’t left,” she continued in a hoarse voice. “I don’t want the bond, I reject it,” she said finally.

They had heard stories that if someone rejected the bond, they would die. But the bond cooled on both sides and neither of them died. The rejection of the bond didn’t hurt as much as Azriel’s soul ached from having left his girlfriend. It didn’t tear his skin as it did that day when he saw her cry. He didn’t wish for Prythian to swallow him for the rejection.

“I’m sorry, Lyria.”

The decisions of the two had brought them to this point: bringing together two people with the same energy could make them implode. And they understood it too late.

“I’m sorrier for us,” was the last thing she said before leaving through the door.

Although they both had hope, dreams, goals, loves, friendships, and families, they had all shattered.

The journey to the Dawn Court was supposed to last only a month. Thesan, the high lord of the court, had requested in the letter that she be the one to make his tunic for the most special day of his immortal life and that of his lover.

She had done it. That was five years ago.

The rays of the sun filtered through the white curtains, reflecting the face of her beloved, who was sleeping peacefully beside her. He, with brown hair, had his arms wrapped around Y/N, holding onto her as if his life depended on it. And so it was.

A few years ago, Y/N left the Night Court for the Dawn Court. Her small boutique in her friend's court was left in Mei's capable hands; she trusted Mei to run it and might soon give it to her as a birthday gift. During her time in the Court of Sun Rays, she opened a new boutique, where she currently works, although she designed for both. Mei handled most of the workload at the boutique on the other side.

During that time, Azriel never stopped sending her letters, flowers, and her favorite things to reach out to her, always without success. Until one day, she responded to one of his thousands of letters, where he kept apologizing, making it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him ever again.

Darius and T/N were at the market, doing their shopping, holding hands, stealing kisses from time to time, and joking around. She had met him when she arrived at the court, with her heart still in pieces. He was a warrior of Thesan's royal guard. They became friends, then started flirting, soon became a couple, and now were married. He was always patient with her; her heart wasn’t ready at that time, but every time she spent time with him, the pieces came back together. He had also had his heart broken a few months before they met, so they understood and supported each other, respecting each other’s pain.

Darius loved his wife so much that he wouldn’t hesitate for a second to tear apart anyone who decided to hurt her. Anyone who made her shed a tear would find their own heart ripped out before causing her any pain.

Liria and Azriel were not exempt from sharing work. They had a court to protect and a high lord to respond to. Both were in the Dawn Court, searching for new leads on a minor commotion.

Azriel managed to distinguish a woman's hair. He walked, trying to get as close as possible to her to confirm that his eyes were not deceiving him, that it was indeed her, the woman he loved.

And even though she had told him she wanted nothing to do with him, he was unwilling to stop searching for her. So, when he confirmed that it was Y/N, the air escaped his lungs. At a respectful distance, he saw Y/N holding hands with a man, a warrior. But what struck him most was the bulging belly against which the woman rested her hand, adorned with a wedding band and the engagement ring. The love of his life had found her mate, was starting a family, and it would not be with him, as he had dreamed many times. Azriel would not be the father of her children. He had not been chosen, and he never would be, just as he had not chosen her first.

Liria watched the scene with the same sadness. On the day her bond with Azriel was broken, Darius, with whom she had shared a century of her life, had proposed to her. She had no doubt that he loved her deeply. However, she had rejected him and now bitterly regretted it. She knew she could have been the one to receive those tender kisses and those looks overflowing with love. Liria deeply regretted ending her relationship with Darius for Azriel and losing the chance to be his wife.

Such is the smallness of the world. The people they had hurt ended up finding each other to make each other happy and complete, like puzzle pieces that belong together.

Azriel had nothing more to offer. He never had a right, and he realized that his fear of not deserving Y/N's affection had come true. He did not deserve her, and he would carry that weight throughout his existence.

And if dreams were to come true, they would have been the ones.

The sun shone and embraced Y/N. Darkness dragged Azriel into the depths.

Tags: @janebirkln @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @blessthepizzaman @rcarbo1 @saltedcoffeescotch

@nikt-wazny-y @oceandiors @whosmys

Guys, it won't let me tag everyone, I hope you can read it.

I red them!

[pitchsidestories]

Alex Scott's daughter (1) II Leah Williamson x Reader

"Our song is the slamming screen door Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window When we're on the phone, and you talk real slow 'Cause it's late, and your mama don't know." ~ Taylor Swift, Our Song

part 2 I arsenal women masterlist I word count: 1747

Being the daughter of Alex Scott was significantly different to having any other mum. Not only had football a very important part in both of your lives, but you also were much closer than other families were. Alex had gotten pregnant with you when she was only seventeen, struggling to balance being a young mum and finding her way into a football career. You two basically grew up side by side, with the same people and on football fields all across the country. Often, you felt more like sisters than mum and daughter.

Now you were twenty-one sitting on the sofa and watching your mum slip on some heels while simultaneously putting in her earrings. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to this party?“, she asked for the hundredth time now.

You rolled your eyes with an amused smile; “Yes, I’ll be fine at home with my book and a hot chocolate, Mum.“ “Okay, fine. I won’t ask anymore. But you’re going to miss out.“, she warned you, holding up a finger in your direction. Satisfied, you nodded once; “Thank you and no, I don’t think I will.“

Your mum shrugged into her coat and walked over to give you a kiss on the crown of your head: “See you later. I won’t come home too late.“ You closed your book carefully, keeping one finger between the pages as a bookmark and raised an eyebrow at your mum; “We’ll see about that. If a certain redhead is there, I’m sure it will take longer.“ You knew your mum loved parties. Especially when her new crush was likely to show up.

Alex just waved your comment off; “Oh shut up. She won’t be there.“ “If you say so…“, you stated before returning to your book. “Hey, I’m not just saying it, I know it.“, your mum continued. “Mum, you need to hurry up or you’ll be late.“, you reminded her, pointing at the clock in your living room.

Hesitant the former player started to laugh:” Yeah, fine. Why do you want to get me out of the house so quickly?” “I don’t.”, you replied flushing. Despite her feeling that something was off in the way you tried to make her leave, she said: “I’ll see you later.” “Bye, I love you.”, you shouted as Alex was already at the door. With a huge smile she turned her head towards you before stepping out of her home:” Love you, too.”

A couple of minutes after your mum left the door ringed. A bright grin was on your lips as you opened the door for your girlfriend: ”Lee, come inside.” “Hi.”, Leah smiled. A loud sigh escaped your mouth:“ Hey, sorry, I thought she’d never leave.” “Couldn’t say goodbye, huh?”, the blonde threw her eyebrows up in amusement.  “Nope.” The defender admitted:“ That’s kind of cute.” “So, any plans four this evening?”, you winked at her.

In a casual tone the older woman answered:” No, I thought I’d just come over and we’ll see what we’ll do.” “Sounds good to me.” An innocent smile was showing up on Leah’s face while she showed you what the Arsenal player was hiding in her bag:” I even brought my book if you prefer to read together.” “Like in a reading date? I love that. Do you want a hot chocolate, or I think we do have a bottle of red somewhere if you prefer that.”, you informed her about the options.  “Oh, I don’t mind. I’m just here to spend time with you.” Time together, was something you rarely had, especially with the busy calendar your girlfriend had even with her ACL injury.

So you decided on the following evening plan:” Okay, let’s spend our time with reading so your physio can’t complain about the fact that you don’t rest enough.”  

“I’ve rested enough.”, Leah protested before she was lifting you up carrying you in the direction to your bedroom. Giggling you pleaded: “Lee, let me down.” Although you knew all too well about the England’s captain stubbornness. Determined the blonde shook her head: “No.” “Sofa or bed?”, you questioned her. “To read on?” “Yes.”, you nodded.

“Bed.“, Leah decided quickly. You nodded in agreement of her decision; “Good choice.“ “I know.“, the defender grinned back while following you into your bedroom. With a sigh, she let herself fall onto your bed. You immediately followed suit. With your head propped up on one arm, you opened your book; “Want me to read out loud to you?“ “Sure, why not?“, Leah agreed and turned around to put her own book on the nightstand. As you started reading, she drew her attention back to you.

However, this did not last long. You could feel her fingertips on the outside of your thigh tracing small patterns and then slowly wandering higher and under your shirt. In feigned annoyance, you slapped her hand away; “Hey!“ “What?“ Her blue eyes met yours with pure innocence. “You’re not listening.“, you scolded her. Leah shook her head in denial; “No.“ You shot her an amused look which Leah took as an invite to kiss you and finally, you gave in.

The book dropped from the side of the bed as you passionately kissed her back, running your fingers through her long blonde hair. “Now I know why you didn’t finished The Cost of Living yet even though it’s only 200 pages.“, you laughed between two kisses. Your girlfriend rolled eyes as answer and pressed her lips on yours again. You two were so absorbed in each other that neither of you heard the front door open and close. “Honey, I’m home.“, Alex’ voice echoed through the hallway.

In surprise, you two immediately drove apart but at the same moment, the door to your bedroom opened. Alex stood in the door frame, watching the scene before yelling out; “What the hell?“ “Oh shit. Alex, I can explain.“, Leah replied. She got up from the bed and took a few steps towards her friend. Your mum refused to hear any of it, looking from you to Leah with in an expression of betrayal; “No. That’s my daughter you kissed there, Leah!“ “Alex…“ Your mum turned back to you; “And you? Leah is one of my best friends!“ “Mum…“, you whispered, looking down at your hands because you could not stand to look at the hurt in her face.

“Can I talk to you for a moment, Alex?”, the blonde pleaded. Sternly Alex shovelled one of her closest friends out of the room:” For how long this has been going on, Leah?!” “Not long. Really. We just didn’t find the right time to tell you yet.”, Leah confessed. Out of breath Alex lips escaped an: “Oh wow.” “Don’t be mad at her. I started it.”, the younger woman told her, the softness in her words when she mentioned her daughter startled the older one. Devastated the former Arsenal player shouted: “You? When? How? Why?” “Because your daughter is cute.”, Leah said trying not to hurt her best friend any further while staying honest about her feelings.

Furious Alex looked at her:” I know she’s very cute!” “Alex.” Angrily the ex-defender waved with her hands:” What?!” “Calm down.”, the blonde asked her to. “So you started it?” “I did.”, the England skipper nodded earnest. “Are you serious with her? If not I swear-“, Alex began.  Without any hesitation Leah stated firmly:“ Alex, you know me. I don’t date unless I mean it.” Groaning the BBC reporter hid her face in her hands:” I know and I even told you recently you need to let someone in your heart again, that you’re ready to love again.” “And I am.”, the Arsenal player confirmed. “With her?” “Yes.”, the blonde affirmed.

Carefully you reached out to the brunette: “Mum?” “I’m fine. Sorry, I’m just being dramatic it’s what I do.”, Alex apologized.  A mild but also tired smile appeared on Leah’s face:“Only when it comes to her.”  “True.”, her friend admitted while putting the arms around her daughter into a tight hug. Quietly you said:” But mum I’m not a kid anymore.”  “I know that.”, your mum mumbled into your ear. “But?” “It’s Leah. And you. I’ve to get used to that first.”, the brunette revealed. You let out a sigh of reveal:” That’s okay, we respect that.” “You should leave now Leah.”, Alex told the younger woman. The blonde went to you and pressed a kiss on top of your head:” Oh okay, good night you two. See you both soon.”

You share on last look with Leah; “Night, Lee.“ “Good Night.“, Alex answered curtly and closed the door behind the blonde defender. Your mum turned back to you but didn’t say anything. “How was the event, Mum?“, you finally decided to break the silence. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.“, she shook her head earnestly. You bit your lip, trying to avoid the elephant in the room; “What do you want to talk about?“ “You.“, Alex replied simply. With a sigh you agreed; “Alright.“ Slowly, you sat back down on your bed.

Your mum was still looking at you with her arms crossed in front of her chest but her facial expression has relaxed a bit; “So? When did you want to tell me?“ “Soon, really.“ Alex raised an eyebrow and repeated sceptically; “Soon?“ “Yes?“ Unconvinced, she shook her head; “I don’t believe you that.“ “I’m really happy with her.“, you stated, tired of discussing with your mum.

Finally, she seemed to soften up and sat down next to you; “You really are, huh?“ “Yeah.“ “I can tell.“ You carefully tried to find her eyes; “You’ll get used to it, right?“ “I think I will.“, she answered, a smile tugging on her lips. You nodded gratefully in her direction: “Thank you.“

“Hey?“, she asked and nudged you with her shoulder. “Huh?“, you looked up in surprise. Your mum winked at you; “I don’t want to know anything about what you two are doing together, okay?“ Perplexed, you could not stop yourself from laughing; “Okay.“

After a moment of silence, Alex cleared her throat; “I’m sorry I send her away for tonight.“ “Don’t worry about it.“ Gently, she slapped you on your thigh as she got up from your bed; “Let’s order some food and you tell me about you two? How does that sound?“ A big smile on your face, you followed her; “That sounds great, Mum.“

[pookalicious-hq]

endgame || pt. 2 to tolerate it

caitlin clark x reader (previous paige bueckers x reader) || previous: tolerate it || masterlist

notes: fluff, lmk if you guys want more caitlin stuff!! sorry for taking so long lmao, hope you like it <3

now playing: endgame by taylor swift

Endless streams of black silk flowed along her arms, down the small of her back, the weightless tule pooling at her feet. Gems stitched across the expanse caught sight of the flashing glares, absorbing the endless bursts of light. 

(Y/n) had been positioned at the beginning of the velvety carpet, the expanse of red spreading to the entrance of the 2024 WNBA draft.

With her smiles, she carried along her reputation. She held the weight of tonight's unknown outcomes atop her head, her chin never wavering. Soon, (Y/n) would take the first leap, discarding everything and everyone who dared to trap her in the past. 

Luckily, she wouldn’t be alone. 

“Caitlin! (Y/n)! To your left here, please!”

The two girls moved together in unison at the request. An arm clad in white made its way around (Y/n)’s waist, finding solace in the familiar position. Soft smiles were placed upon their features. Their presence swallowed the venue whole, demanding attention. 

Before, (Y/n) would’ve shied away from the sudden spotlight. She had been taught that seeking attention was greed, and only those who deserved it received it.

Now, she learned from someone else. 

She met a girl whose love contrasted with anything she’d ever learnt before. Every word the girl spoke had been dipped in nectar. Apologizes were sent along with flowers and warmth, there wouldn’t be room for doubt anymore. 

Ever since that night, days with Caitlin moulded into months. Savoured kisses were hidden behind curtains, bodies tangled beneath soft sheets. 

Anyone would assume they had been cut from the same cloth given their natural lines that effortlessly fit together. 

Now here they stood. After a lengthy conversation, the two eventually decided to make their first appearance together. 

Another thing Caitlin had drilled into (Y/n)’s mind; never change who you are.

They addressed no comments towards their relationship. Only offering welcoming replies, carefully steering from the unsaid questions that plagued everyone’s mind: what were (Y/n) and Caitlin to each other?

If they had real answer, they would’ve told any who asked. But, unfortunately that was still a question left unanswered between the two girls. 

Of course, they were friends. They had been friends ever since playing on the same team in seventh grade. They were friends who had shared each other’s first kiss. They were friends ever since they knew what it meant to want the princess, not the prince. 

Being friends was the safest option. They both lead a busy life. There wasn’t much they could do together but send a ‘happy birthday <3’ text when they lived (about) 1000 miles away.

Though, together now, there still lied this unanswered question. 

“Did I mention you look gorgeous, love?” 

Caitlin’s soft murmur travelled across the expanse of (Y/n)’s neck, the sensation sparking warmth throughout her body. She swept her gaze upwards towards the brunette, eyebrows raised playfully. 

“Yeah,” (Y/n) laughed, “like, three times already. You’re so dumb, Cait.”

Her last words were laced with love, of course, Caitlin knew what she was doing. After her comment, (Y/n) stepped out of Caitlin’s reach, continuing her path down the carpet. The brunette’s gaze trailed behind the deep cut of her black gown, she was never out of Caitlin’s sight.

It was a given that they would be separated tonight. Even before their arrival together, they had been the main topic of the night. Everyone wanted to talk to the all-time NCAA leading scorer from Iowa just as equally as they wanted to talk to the March Madness MVP from South Carolina.

Flash

“Please stand here for an interview, miss.”

“(Y/n), who are you wearing tonight?”

“Caitlin, how are you feeling?”

“Please sign my jersey, I love you guys so much!”

Every comment, instruction and praise was met with the genuine smile that places itself on her features. Her gown flowed along the carpet as she made her way towards her third interview of the night. However, her steady gait soon faltered as her gaze found an unexpected variable in her path. The shock rippled through her, momentarily freezing her in place. It had been months since they last spoke, since they last exchanged words that weren't filled with bitterness and hurt.

Paige's presence hit (Y/n) like a sudden gust of wind, stirring up memories that she had buried deep within herself. She remembered the laughter they’d shared, the late-night conversations, the warmth of Paige's embrace. Unfortunately, alongside those memories came the pain of their parting, the arguments, the tears, the lingering sense of resentment.

But, despite those average thoughts that came up on the topic of Paige, (Y/n) now felt something additional, something different. 

As she stood there, her gaze briefly catching Paige's figure in the crowd, a wave of indifference washed over her. It wasn't that (Y/n) harboured any ill will towards Paige—far from it. (Sure, if Paige tripped and fell in that moment she would laugh at her pain, but no one would know that.) She had long since disregarded her for the actions of the past. But forgiveness didn't equate to a desire to rekindle what once was.

Paige Bueckers had exited her life. Whether anyone else thought differently, it didn’t matter. 

Her performance over her college years had granted her a seat at the table. 

Well, her own table.

She stood atop the stage among teammates and competitors she’d met over the years. The only difference this moment held, they would all be happy for each other no matter the outcome. Every player here had earned this moment. 

And no one would doubt that (Y/n) and Caitlin deserved this moment. 

Hard work leads to rewards. 

But, hard work and raw talent lead to a spotlight reserved for the best.

The line defining the two is a delicate balance, one that is forced to put both against each other. Nevertheless, what the media depicts as a head-to-head is never the true case.

Throughout their careers, Caitlin and (Y/n) had unwillingly been placed on opposite sides of a scale. What others perceived as a rivalry, the two girls simply considered their competitive nature. Nevertheless, they found no reason to acknowledge the headlines.

Who would be granted the championship? 

Who would the title of MVP belong to?

Who would win? 

On that significant night, (Y/n) and Caitlin painted a masterpiece of determination and skill. As the clock dwindled to its final seconds, Caitlin conceded—it was (Y/n)'s turn to shine. And shine she did, her brilliance lighting up the court with a mesmerizing career high of 39 points.

South Carolina roared with triumph, claiming the championship banner, while (Y/n) (L/n) ascended to MVP status. Amidst the cacophony of celebration, whispers of debate lingered, but for most, there was no denying—she had earned her crown.

Now, on this electric draft night, (Y/n) waded through a sea of flashing lights and eager faces, her senses alive with anticipation. The air crackled with anticipation, pregnant with the promise of new beginnings and boundless opportunities. Yet, amidst the excitement, one question lingered—whose name would be called first?

With each step, purpose pulsed through (Y/n)'s veins, a steady rhythm guiding her forward. Tonight wasn't just about personal glory—it was the culmination of years of dedication, an opportunity to showcase her artistry on the grandest stage.

As she settled into her seat at the draft table, nerves and excitement tangled in her chest. The room buzzed with energy, a symphony of voices and whispered dreams. But amid the chaos, one figure stood out—Caitlin, a beacon of unwavering support, making her way to (Y/n) with purpose.

"Hey there, superstar," Caitlin's voice, a melody of pride and affection, washed over (Y/n) like a warm embrace. Leaning in, she planted a tender kiss on her lover's cheek, igniting a spark that danced across her skin.

(Y/n) returned the gesture with a soft smile, her heart overflowing with love. "Hey yourself," she murmured, reaching out to intertwine her fingers with Caitlin's, their connection a lifeline in the swirling chaos.

"Okay, sassy are we?" Caitlin teased, a playful twinkle in her eyes.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, her laughter a melody that danced through the air. At that moment, amidst the clamour of the crowd, they were a symphony unto themselves.

Though, soon enough, the minutes they were sharing vanished as the familiar chords sung, marking the beginning of the 2024 WNBA draft. The look shared between the two girls could only be described as duplicated. While their loving smiles spoke ‘good luck’, their eyes held nothing but determination. With one final squeeze to (Y/n)’s hand, Caitlin weaved back through the tables and took her seat. 

Truthfully, (Y/n) couldn’t give a damn about the speech that Cathy Engelbert was reading. The probably scripted words only added to the weight on her heart as she awaited her next team assignment. Despite the dragging minutes, she kept up a facade of interest for the camera.

“And now, we don’t have to wait any longer because the pick is in!”

Those words flipped a switch in (Y/n)’s mind, her senses sharpening as Cathy Engelbert took the stage, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Each click echoed through the room, a metronome counting down to the pivotal moment. The air was thick with tension, electric and charged, every breath laden with anticipation.

The moment drew closer and closer.

“With the first pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the Indiana Fever select…”

The words hung in the air, estatic with possibility. Everyone held their breath as the selection came down to two athletes. (Y/n) glanced over to Caitlin’s table, finding her already searching for her eyes.

“Caitlin Clark, University of Iowa!”

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the room erupting in chaos as the crowd roared in ecstasy. (Y/n)’s heart thundered in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a rush, overwhelming and intoxicating.

With her eyes still locked onto Caitlin’s, she broke into a blinding smile, Caitlin mirroring her. In that moment, everything else faded into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of them.

(Y/n) stood, her heart pounding, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Every step toward Caitlin felt like an eternity, the ground solid beneath her feet. Suspense hung in the air like a heavy fog, thick and suffocating.

With a barely contained laugh, she tumbled into Caitlin’s embrace, the world spinning around them. Nothing else mattered but the warmth of Caitlin’s arms around her, the sound of their shared laughter drowning out the noise of the crowd.

“You did it. You deserve this, Caitlin,” (Y/n) spoke, her voice ringing clear over the clamour of the crowd. Her words were a declaration, a testament to Caitlin’s strength and resilience. Her final words slipped out in a hush, “I love you.”

Amidst the cacophony of noise and celebration, Caitlin held onto (Y/n) as if she were the anchor in a tempest. Each beat of her heart reverberated with the pulse of the crowd, her senses heightened by the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was a moment suspended in time, a fleeting eternity of shared joy and boundless emotion.

As Caitlin finally released her grip, (Y/n) felt a bittersweet pang in her chest. Her heart swelled with pride for her friend, yet beneath the surface, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. In another time, her stomach might have plummeted, her throat constricted by the weight of unshed tears. But now, amidst the chaos of the draft, she found only a sense of serene acceptance.

Her gaze lingered on Caitlin, the embodiment of success and possibility, as she stood adorned in her Indiana Fever jersey. In that moment, (Y/n) glimpsed the future unfolding before her, a future that held boundless potential and untold promise.

Returning to her own table, (Y/n) was met with sympathetic glances and unspoken assumptions. But she brushed them aside with a knowing smile, the genuine ecstasy of Caitlin's triumph shining through her features. For in that moment, she understood that second place held no sting, no bitterness. Caitlin's victory was her own.

The room buzzed with anticipation as the attention shifted to the second pick of the night, belonging to the LA Sparks. (Y/n)'s heart raced with a mix of nerves and excitement. She couldn't help but steal glances at Caitlin, who was now enveloped in the embrace of her family, her smile radiant with joy.

As the tension mounted, (Y/n)'s mind raced back to all the years of hard work and putting up with undeserved bullshit. She remembered the countless hours spent on the court, the sacrifices made, and the people she overcame. It had all led to this, the culmination of a lifelong dream.

But amidst the anticipation, there was a sense of contentment that washed over her. She had already achieved so much, and seeing Caitlin's success only fueled her determination. Her focus remained unwavering, her heart filled with pride for her lover.

And then, it happened.

"With the second pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the LA Sparks select... (Y/n) (L/n)!"

The words echoed through the room, but Mayari hardly registered them at first. It was as if time stood still, her mind unable to comprehend the magnitude of what had just been announced.

But then, reality crashed over her like a wave. The cheers of the crowd filled her ears, and she felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her. The room seemed to spin, the lights blurring into a dazzling array of colours as she stood, her legs trembling with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief. The warmth of the moment enveloped her, and with every beat of her heart, she felt the weight of everything she had worked for lifting off her shoulders.

Just then, amidst the applause of the crowd, she heard melodic notes of her name being called out.

Suddenly, (Y/n)’s world tilted on its axis as she was swept up into Caitlin’s embrace. Their gazes locked smiles mirroring one another in joyous ecstasy. The sounds of the cheering crowd seemed to fade, replaced by the pounding of her own heart and the warmth of Caitlin's arms around her. 

"I love you too," Caitlin whispered, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

(Y/n) felt her heart swell, her emotions threatening to overflow. They rested their foreheads against each other, their breaths mingling as they shared the profound intimacy of the moment. It was as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them in their shared victory.

The fans in the crowd went wild, their cheers and applause creating a wave of sound that crashed over the two girls. Cameras flashed, capturing the raw emotion etched on their faces. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, one that neither of them would ever forget.

As they finally pulled apart, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble out of her throat, the sound drawing an admirable expression from the brunette. She turned to face the stage, her heart pounding with excitement and anticipation. This was it—the moment she had dreamed of for so long.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) made her way to the stage, the cheers of the crowd propelling her forward. She felt the warmth of their support, the love and pride radiating from every corner of the room. This was her moment, a testament to all the hard work, the sacrifices, and the unwavering determination that had brought her here.

As she stepped onto the stage to accept her LA Sparks jersey, she glanced back at Caitlin, who was watching her with a look of pure, unadulterated pride. (Y/n) knew, in that moment, that they had both achieved something extraordinary and that this was just the beginning of their journey.

With the weight of the jersey in her hands and the future spread out before her like a vast, open sky, she felt a profound sense of peace and accomplishment. The journey had been long and arduous, filled with moments of doubt and resilience, but standing there under the bright lights, she knew it had all been worth it.

As she held up the jersey, a symbol of her new beginning, her eyes swept across the sea of faces, each one a blur of colors and emotions. The lights above her were warm, casting a golden glow that bathed the room in a surreal, dreamlike quality.

Her gaze found Paige amidst the cheering crowd. Paige's smile was radiant, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression a blend of pride and a quiet acknowledgment of their shared past. The sounds of applause and cheers seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the rhythmic thudding of (Y/n)'s heart. The moment hung in the air, thick with unspoken words, a silent reconciliation and mutual respect woven between them.

(Y/n)'s heart swelled, a rush of warmth spreading through her chest, filling her with a deep sense of closure and peace. She returned Paige's smile, a genuine and heartfelt gesture, before her gaze naturally found its way back to Caitlin. Caitlin's eyes sparkled with joy, her love and pride shining brightly, grounding (Y/n) in the whirlwind of emotions surrounding her.

Caitlin's eyes were bright with joy and love, reflecting everything (Y/n) felt in that moment. The applause of the crowd seemed to fade into the background as they shared a private, intimate moment amidst the public celebration. Caitlin, in all her seriousness, blew (Y/n) a kiss, a tender gesture that drew a smile out from her. (Y/n), with a smile, reached out as if to catch it and then graciously tucked it into her pocket.

As she stood there, the weight of her journey lifted, she knew this was the beginning of a new chapter. With Caitlin's silent encouragement echoing in her mind, she felt ready to embrace whatever came next. The next step would be difficult, but it was hers to shape, and she would no longer be alone.

a/n: IM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG SHIT'S BEEN TOUGH. anyways hope you liked it, if you wanna see more cc x reader lmkk also next chapter of midnight love will come out soon IM SERIOUS I PROMISE DON'T HATE ME

anyways thank you for the support love you guys, mwah <3

taglist: @kenzie-luvzz , @idratherbesleepingrn , @h34rtsformilli , @pinkandlilacroses , @i-bribri-i , @thatonemarvelfan03 , @girlokwhatever , @ihrtthotdads , @kc88888888 , @nfleditsrjustbetteridk , @imsobabygiirl , @vi0lentb3rry , @sejus-wife , @katemlk , @littlelesbianinternujung, @ktaerssoi, @evangelinexo , @c999sh , @yazmunson , @choibeomkai , @ekisokay

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Here me out. Grumpy!Bucky x Sunshine!Reader but based on Down Bad from Taylor's new album. I feel like there would be such an interesting story!

Down Bad

"I might just not get up, I might just stay down bad..."

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary - You were down bad for Bucky Barnes. You had a cosmic love with Bucky Barnes. But when you woke, you woke in blood, naked and alone, still you might just stay down bad. A.N. - How many fics do you think I've written since TTPD came out?

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Inspired by Taylor Swift Series

Alright, hear me out...

BAMF!SHIELDAgent!Reader x Bucky.

Together, you were the definition of a power couple. There was no one better, no higher peak. Practically untouchable. You set the standard.

And now, you wish you could un-recall how you almost had it all.

Because it was over.

He sent hurtling back down to Earth without a second thought.

And you couldn't lie, you hit the pavement hard.

You were down bad. Worse than you could ever imagined. Most days, you debated on not getting back up, but you knew that wasn't really an option.

Not when people looked to you, watching and waiting. It was like you lost your twin. And while you mourned losing your other half, you felt naked and alone. Watched by all, consoled by none.

The sick part was that you never wanted this. You never asked to be thrown into the orbit of Bucky Barnes. You never wanted him to tell you that you were special, never wanted him to tell you were the chosen one. You didn't want him to show you that the world was so much bigger than the confines of your life. You never wanted him to make you feel safe in his arms.

So how dare he think it was romantic to leave you safe and stranded?

Some days, you stared at the sky and quietly pleaded for him to come get you.

You never wanted to need him. You never wanted any of it. You were perfectly fine on your own.

But you can't deny, you really loved his hostile takeover.

And just as easily, he left you all alone.

All alone trapped inside a person you no longer recognized.

This wasn't you. You were strong. Independent. You were the standard. You were the pinnacle. Not the person who burst into tears at the gym. You weren't the person who slammed on the emergency stop button because sobs wracked through your entire body.

But as you stood in the center of the training room, all eyes on you, there's no denying how he made a mess of you.

It was Wanda that pulled you into the locker room away from prying eyes. You furiously wipe away your tears, staring up at the ceiling - both to keep the tears at bay and to beg him to beam you up to that cloud of sparkling dust once more.

"Are you sure you're okay for this?" Wanda asks, she rests an easy hand on your back.

You roll your shoulders back, steeling yourself, "I've got this."

"You just - you haven't exactly been yourself lately. I'm worried about you."

"Just because I'm single?" You feel the tears welling in your eyes again. "Because I was so fucking down bad for him."

"Don't say that."

You've lost count of the amount of times you've cried this week, but you impatiently groan at yourself as you feel hot, stinging tears slip down your cheeks again. "I can't believe I'm actually crying."

"You're hurting. It's okay not to be a bad ass every second of the day."

"Fuck," you whimper, your head falling onto Wanda's shoulder. "I was so in love with him."

"I know, I know," she coos, stroking the back of your head. "He's not doing any better - if that makes you feel any better."

It doesn't make you feel better. The thought of him hurting nearly as much as you were only made it hurt more. It only made you ache for him more. You would either go down with the ship you built with him or burn as he held the matches.

You shake your head, pulling away from her. You rake your hands through your hair, then harshly rub your hand over your face. "Let's just get this over with."

"Are you sure?"

"It would make no difference if I was sure. Fuck it if I can't have him."

You really, truly can't believe you were this stupid. You can't believe you allowed yourself to get lost in his opal eyes. Never in a million years would you have wanted this.

To involve yourself with someone so irrevocably intertwined with your life. Because now, now, you had to listen to the stranger that knew every inch of your mind, body, and soul give you orders and directives on dangerous, life threatening missions.

Mere minutes after a full breakdown in the training room, you had to stand before him in the conference room all alone and listen to him talk like nothing happened.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asks, concern shining in his familiar blue eyes.

You roll your eyes, snorting, "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not. I'm just checking on you."

"Well, that's not your job anymore," you spit. "How about we focus on our actual job?"

"Fine." His spine stiffens, his jaw ticking as he speaks through clenched teeth, "Are we clear on the plan?"

The words leave your mouth without a second thought, "Would it matter if we weren't?"

"I thought we were going to be mature about this," Bucky's voice comes out low, so similar to the quiet rumble of his voice first thing in the morning.

You scoop up your share of your files and turn on your heels without another word. Without thinking, he reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

The weight of his familiar touch is a shock to your system.

You know the mature thing to do. You should apologize. You should carry yourself with grace. You should set boundaries. You should hold your head high.

But lately, everything comes out with a teenage petulance. So fuck him. Fuck him for breaking your heart. Fuck him for taking away the love of your life. And fuck him for being the loss of your life.

You wrench your shoulder out of his grip. "Fuck you."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist Inspired by Taylor Swift Series

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky @roseproseposts @theoraekenslover @king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24

[castiwls]

tolerate it pt2 - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt;

Requested; anon

Notes;highly requested sorry its taken so long.

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

In the days since Dean had left, you’d spent most of your time thinking. You’d gone over and over your conversation with Dean until you were pretty sure you’d analysed every single word a few times over.

You’d come to the conclusion that upon Dean’s return, he was gonna have a choice to make. It killed you inside to even think in this way but you knew something had to be done. Living life locked away in a bunker was nothing you’d imagined, nor wanted. Before the bunker your life had been filled with long car rides and late-night conversations whispered under the covers of old motel rooms.

You’d never bothered much about Dean’s protectiveness back then because you’d still had the freedom of exploring new towns and finding small hidden treasures. You’d loved the whirlwind of moving from town to town. State to state. Until it had stopped. Until you’d found yourself trapped in a metal prison.

By no means were you kept here forcefully. You could leave at any point but you didn’t want to. Walking around the same town on your own was only entertaining for a certain amount of time before it grew repetitive. While before Dean used to join you as you’d both explore the new towns, now he barely left the bunker unless he was hunting.

Even when he was here he’d always have a reason to stay behind while you adventured out for supplies. 

Which is what brought you to now. What brought you to sit on your bed, a duffle bag in hand as you slowly worked up the courage to begin the task of packing. It almost broke your heart in two reaching from the draw and slowly opening it. Pulling out the first piece of clothing felt like you were poking small holes in your heart.

You loved Dean, you truly did but you couldn’t live like this any longer. 

“What are you doing?” You jumped slightly at the voice, dropping the top you’d been holding. “Your back.” You quickly picked up the top before turning to face Dean who stood staring at you. His eyes darted between the bag and your open draw before back to you. A small look of fear crossed his face for a moment before quickly disappearing. You were leaving?!

“Sweetheart.” He slowly began walking towards you, his arms reaching out to grasp your own. “What are you doing?” He repeated.

“Giving you a choice.” You responded simply, keeping your expression calm. “You let me come with you every so often, or I leave. For good.” 

Dean faltered for a moment. His grip on your arms tightens. “You..you can’t leave. Sweetheart why would you…no.” He shook his head as his mind raced a mile a minute. “I can’t keep doing this.” A small frown pulled on your lips as you softened your gaze. “It’s not fair on me. I feel useless here Dean! You never let me help anymore!” 

“I’m trying to keep you safe! Why can’t you see that.” He threw his arms up turning his back to you before running a hand through his hair. “You being here is the safest place you can be.”

You shook your head. “What’s the point of this relationship if you're never here and I'm constantly sitting here doing nothing? I spend my time worrying that one day Sam will walk through that door and you won’t be with him!” Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you tried to reason with him. “I can’t keep doing this Dean.” You pressed a hand to your mouth taking in a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“Either start letting me help or I’m leaving.”

You held your breath, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest as he stayed silent before turning back to face you. His heart beat in his ears as he considered his options for a moment. Losing you would break him, but seeing you in harm's way would also break him.

He felt stuck between a rock and a hard place as he stared at you. Taking his silence as an answer you nodded, pushing the tears back. “Fine.” You turned back to the draw beginning to throw things into your bag. 

The feel of arms wrapping around your waist stalled you slightly. “Stay, please. I can’t lose you.” His lips pressed against the side of your head before he nuzzled his face against your neck. “We can compromise. I’ll teach you how to hunt but on my terms.” He turned you in his arms allowing you both to come face to face. 

“I'm so sorry.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before repeating himself. “We can fix this. I promise.” You nodded slightly. It was a start. Him even considered the idea of training you was a step up from before.

“You better keep that promise.” You nodded towards the bag. “Or I really will leave, I swear.” Dean nodded before pulling you impossibly closer, his hand caressing the back of your head.

“I promise.”

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 3: Cursed Creatures

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

Note: This is not at all how I thought this chapter would start. Alas, I am riddled with religious trauma, and Taylor Swift just released the song “Guilty as Sin?” I mean… “My boredom’s bone-deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry? I dream of cracking locks, Throwing my life to the WOLVES” Are you kidding me? It’s perfect. So this started out differently than I planned. But what was I to do? I am just a girl.

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There were many topics on which you had been educated in-depth but were never supposed to experience first-hand.

Sex was one of those topics.

You knew the mechanics of it. The anatomy that was involved. Its purposes and benefits. The dangers of it.

You had been told, vehemently, that it was something that should never be done outside of the safe and proper confines of marriage.

Which meant you could never do it because you could never marry.

The Prophet had to remain pure.

Set apart.

Free from romantic, familial, worldly ties.

You were taught to suppress any desire to do otherwise. A task that you had been mostly successful at upholding.

But there were times when your eyes lingered where they shouldn’t and your own thoughts made you shiver and blush.

It was the sin of lust.

The other major vices were usually easily circumvented. You could be disciplined and selfless, just and kind, modest and brave.

You always did what you were told, and you didn’t ask questions.

You told yourself that you weren’t weak; you just knew your place. You knew what was expected of you, and no other options had ever been made available.

So, like thrown clay, you had allowed yourself to be molded into the person you were today, each piece of you carefully and intentionally shaped by the hands of others.

The Elders created the perfect Seraphite specimen. Quietly devout. Enigmatic. Indelible. Untouchable. Obedient.

A mouthpiece disguised as a leader.

A Prophet.

They made you.

You were not a naturally occurring thing.

Sometimes you didn’t even feel human.

Lust was one sin you knew could be concealed, buried far below your surface, unseen by critical eyes.

It was a small act of rebellion. A hidden glimmer of defiance. Although, you weren’t doing it on purpose.

And it was made especially loathsome due to the regrettable fact that it only ever happened to you when you were looking at or thinking of a woman…

Now the Wolf stood in front of you, hammer held tightly in her right hand.

Demons were quickly descending upon you, and you had just witnessed (and neglected to intervene into) the death of three of your own people. The only person you helped was the Wolf, your enemy, who you were meant to kill.

You could guess what the Elders would say if they were here now. How disappointed they would look as they pointed out your many failings.

For once, you didn’t care.

Strangely, despite everything, you felt like a bird whose cage door was just thrown wide open.

Or a well-trained dog that had been mistakenly let off leash.

You could breathe. Unrestricted.

Your eyes remained glued to the Wolf.

Her back was to you, her soaked clothes clinging to her skin. Her shoulders rose with each of her deep, deliberate breaths.

Time seemed to slow as your eyes traced down the length of her arms, taking in her strong form…

See, you knew the sin of lust was bad, if only because it made you stupid.

Or distracted, at the very least.

Demons were coming, and you had just been moments away from gutting this girl.

You definitely couldn’t trust her.

But you didn’t have to trust her to look at her.

A series of snapping twigs and high-pitched shrieks from the surrounding forest instantly brought your attention back to the approaching threat.

Demons were another one of those things that they taught you about but never thought you’d actually encounter.

When you arrived on the mainland that morning, you had been led to the network of Seraphite-built bridges, above the city, concealed in the clouds.

Nearly your entire day had been spent in the sky.

If there were any Demons below, you didn’t see them.

Honestly, you hoped you’d never have to come across the cursed creatures.

The sounds they made were animalistic, but somehow still eerily human. Like a voice that was either enraged or overwhelmed with pain.

You had been told that they were unsavable. Completely consumed by the disease and irrevocably punished for their sins. No longer even human.

As a child, you heard stories of the first Prophet valiantly fighting off hordes in defense of her early followers.

In training, they taught you how to fight both Demons and human adversaries alike. Although the former was always theoretical.

You were shown sketches, detailing the different stages of it.

Foolishly, you thought you were ready.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what came running out from the cover of the trees.

It moved faster than you would’ve thought possible, too quickly for you to take it all in, but the glimpses you captured were grotesque.

It went straight for the Wolf, swinging its arms wildly. She effortlessly dodged its attack before striking with the hammer. Hard. It was dead in just three blows.

Two more approached from behind you, closest to Lev, and it was past time for you to be useful.

Lev was a skilled archer, but he was still a kid. And Yara, also a kid, only had use of one of her arms.

Both of the Demons were focused on Lev. He fired an arrow, hitting one of them in the chest, but it didn’t take it down.

Its back was to you.

You couldn’t let yourself freeze again.

You closed the distance between you and the beast, lifting your dagger with both hands and bringing it back down swiftly, piercing deeply through its skull.

It let out one last pained shriek as it fell.

The Wolf had taken out the other Demon before Lev had to loose another arrow.

But there were two more where those came from. One swung at the Wolf, and the other came for you.

You were able to dodge, narrowly missing the impact of its savage attack. Stepping back, you continued to evade its blows.

You swung at it, but the thing was fast. Your blade cut into its shoulder instead of its head. Ripping your weapon out, you tried again. This time, you hit your target.

That was two for you.

“Prophet, look out!” Yara shouted. Before you could discern which direction the threat was coming from, you were brutally thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of you entirely.

Death wore the grisly face of the Demon standing above you.

You had dropped your dagger, leaving you completely defenseless.

Lev’s arrows pierced its throat twice.

It kept coming.

You blinked and it was on the ground. The Wolf knelt over it, hammer crashing over its skull repeatedly, past when the thing was decidedly dead, until the hammer actually broke in her hand.

You just blinked again.

She saved you.

Why did she save you?

You scrambled to your feet, your breaths coming too quickly.

You tried not to panic.

You had only almost died.

You were fine.

The Wolf dropped the splintered remnants of the hammer and stood, shaking out her hand. You stared as she walked over to where your dagger lay on the ground and bent to pick it up.

She looked at you for—as far as you could tell—the first time since you’d cut her down from the rope.

She walked over, holding your gaze.

You realized that she could kill you now. That that was likely why she had saved you.

So she could end you herself.

Because you were the Prophet, and a Seraphite. Or because you had nearly killed her before.

She could even do it with your own weapon. The one that had been meant for her.

You imagined that would be satisfying for a brutish Wolf.

As she approached, you noticed that she towered over you, making you doubly aware of the fact that this was not a fight you would win if it came down to it. Especially when you were unarmed.

She stopped when she stood only a couple feet in front of you, turning the dagger over in her hand and simply offering it to you, handle-first.

Dumbly, you slowly reached out and took it.

Her hand fell back to her side.

There was a hint of a smug little smile on her face, like she knew what you had been thinking.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” she said, voice low. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to you, and you resented the way it made your cheeks warm.

Before you could come up with a competent response, Yara interrupted.

“Prophet, Wolf! Come on. We have to move!” She held a lit torch in her uninjured hand. Lev stood at her side, ready to run.

“Where are you going?” the Wolf asked, unsure if she would be following. You were already moving to join Yara and Lev.

“Out of these woods. We’ve gotta run! Now! The coast is this way.”

They took off into the trees with you close behind. The sound of footsteps falling behind you informed you of the Wolf’s apparent decision to tag along, at least for the time being.

You could also hear more Demons, closing in on either side, chasing the torch’s light. Which meant they were after Yara.

You ran faster, trying to close the distance between you just in case.

As she passed an abandoned vehicle, one of the Demons jumped out, tackling her to the ground.

Lev shot an arrow through its head as you ran to her, pushing the dead Demon off and helping her back to her feet.

The horrifying chorus of even more of them, just beyond your vision, made you startle with each screech.

“They’re all around us!” Yara cried, moving closer to her brother.

The Wolf, weaponless after breaking the hammer, quickly looked around, finding a glass bottle. She grabbed it and threw it at the next creature that emerged from the forest.

The Demon slowed, momentarily stunned, and the Wolf wasted no time knocking it over and bringing her foot down on its skull hard and fast.

Just one stomp and it was dead.

You flushed again, transfixed.

Stupid.

You should not find that attractive.

But she was undeniably incredible.

You shook your head in an attempt to refocus as you turned to watch Lev take down another with a couple well-aimed shots.

A shriek behind you revealed the presence of yet another. You turned to meet it, killing the thing easily enough.

It seemed your training in combat had been sufficient after all, at least where Demons were concerned.

“That was the last of them,” Yara said.

“You guys okay?” the Wolf asked, like she might actually care.

“Yeah,” Lev breathed out, bow and arrow still at the ready.

“We have to keep moving before more come,” Yara insisted, taking up the lead again as she pressed forward.

You all ran after her.

“Every direction looks the same,” said the Wolf. You were inclined to agree. “You sure you know where you’re going?”

“It has to be this way,” Yara said, quietly determined.

“What the hell am I doing?” the Wolf muttered to herself under her breath.

The four of you picked up your speed as the Demons grew closer.

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Abby seriously had no idea what the hell she was doing.

She was running through the woods, fighting off Infected with three Scars.

And one of them was the Prophet.

Who had been fully intending to disembowel her not too long ago…

Something had to be wrong with her. Maybe it was brain damage from nearly suffocating.

Because this wasn’t like her.

A couple hours ago, Abby was killing Scars. Happily.

Well maybe that wasn’t the best word for it. It didn’t make her happy. She just didn’t feel bad about it.

And now, she was prancing through the forest and going out of her way to protect Scars?

The kids were one thing. They seemed to be just as in danger with other Scars as they were with the Infected.

What had that one woman called them? Apostates?

Abby had done enough reading to know what the word meant. She guessed they must have broken some stupid, insane rule and run off.

Or been kicked out.

Either way, from what Abby had gathered, they had gone rogue and were being hunted by their own people.

Which meant they weren’t necessarily her enemy.

But the other girl. The Prophet…

Abby didn’t know what was going on with you.

Were you going rogue too, or were your friends just dead and you needed help getting past the Infected and out of the woods?

And yeah, you had been about to kill her before. But you’d stopped as soon as there was a distraction. Took the out the second it was offered.

And then you had been the one to cut her down.

So maybe you didn’t want to kill her.

That counted for something, right?

Abby didn’t let herself think too much about how pretty you were.

How stunning your eyes looked when they met hers.

How your fingers felt, lightly grazing her bare skin for just a second, then leaving all too soon.

And how you had definitely blushed when she spoke to you.

See? She totally wasn’t thinking about any of that at all.

And she was probably delusional.

And way too distracted, spending any amount of time or energy thinking about such crazy shit while you were all actively running for your lives.

Abby was bringing up the rear of the group, and she knew a horde of Stalkers was not far behind her.

She really hoped these Scars knew where they were going.

“It’s just up here!” the girl, Yara, shouted from up ahead, leading the way to a wall of hanging vines.

The boy, Lev, pulled the vines aside, revealing an opening behind. Yara carefully but quickly maneuvered through. You waited until both she and Lev were on the other side before looking up at Abby expectantly.

There wasn’t time to argue, so Abby went next. You followed closely behind, then let the vines fall back into place, hiding your path from the Infected that pursued.

On the other side, Abby was met with the sight of several dead bodies, clearly recently slaughtered.

She couldn’t tell from this distance what had killed them. Or if they were Scar or WLF.

“Those are fresh. There another way around?” she asked, maneuvering around the corpses.

Lev spoke up. “If there were, would we be going this way?”

Okay. Fair point.

Yara pointed to a chain link fence with the torch. “Come on, Lev. Get it open.”

The kid tried to bend the steel wires up to create an opening. It didn’t budge, despite his efforts.

“Move,” Abby said. He did.

She strained as the piece of fencing gave way beneath her hands.

“Get in there, Prophet,” she said, teeth clenched.

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You quickly slid through the opening and popped up on the other side.

Finally, you were free of the suffocating forest.

The clearing was illuminated with light of the full moon.

You wandered on ahead as Lev, Yara, and the Wolf came through the fence behind you.

“Prophet?” A new voice spoke out as you turned the corner. The reverence in the person’s tone alone told you that you were dealing with a Seraphite.

You turned toward the voice to see a woman you recognized but whose name you couldn’t recall. She was large and stood tall, the side of her face bloody and a pickaxe in her grip.

She had been part of a patrolling squad in the area. You’d seen her briefly earlier in the day, with Emily, after the Wolf had been captured.

The woman saw that you were, in fact, who she thought you were, and she bowed her head out of respect.

“Are you alright, Prophet? What are you doing out here? Where is Emily?”

You were at a loss for words.

Her voice was calm and concerned now, but you knew that she would kill Lev, Yara, and the Wolf if given the chance.

“I—”

Your two friends entered the clearing behind you, drawing her eyes toward them.

“Apostates,” she hissed, and instantly her demeanor changed.

She rushed past you, ruthlessly throwing Yara to the ground and lifting Lev up by his neck.

You moved without thinking, your dagger still tightly clutched in your fingers. Again, you raised your arms above your head, just as you had done when fighting the Demons. Using all of your strength, you brought the blade down above her head, piercing her skull. The weapon was long enough that it exited through her chin.

Her body slackened and slumped to the ground. Dead.

You stared down at her, feeling the weight of what you had just done.

This wasn’t a Demon. It wasn’t an animal.

She was a living person.

And a Seraphite. One of your own people.

You were supposed to be her Prophet. Her leader. Her new hope.

She hadn’t been watching her back because she never imagined that you could betray your people like that. That you would pose a threat to her.

You continued to stare, holding your breath. You couldn’t look away.

You didn’t deserve to look away.

You felt a sob rising in your throat. Your eyes began to water.

No. You would not cry.

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Abby was the last to enter the clearing.

By then, the Scar was already holding Lev in the air, and you were already approaching from behind, lifting your dagger.

Abby watched as you killed her.

Woah.

You were good with that knife, she’d give you that.

Yara and Lev got back to their feet and watched as you stared down at the dead Scar, unmoving. Like you were frozen.

You weren’t even breathing, and you looked like you might cry.

Abby had been wondering how many WLF soldiers you killed today before you got to her. If the three she’d seen hanging when she first came to were yours.

Now, she was sure they weren’t.

Because based on your reaction, that had to be your first time.

She wasn’t usually one to be especially sensitive to the emotions of others, but when she heard you sniffle, finally taking in a ragged breath, she couldn’t help but move towards you.

Abby thought of her own first kill. How easy it was to do in the heat of the moment, but how torn up she’d been in the aftermath.

She understood that it was necessary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell.

She fought the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, or even rub your back soothingly. Reminded herself of who you were and who she was and all the reasons why she shouldn’t even be here right now.

Instead, she bent to retrieve your dagger from the body. She tried to hand it back to you, but you were still stuck, staring down.

“Hey. You did a good job.” She took your hand in hers, placing the handle into your palm and closing your fingers around it. She didn’t let go, allowing her hands to fully encompass yours.

Abby waited until you met her eyes. “You saved them,” she said, nodding towards Lev and Yara, who were both silently watching this unfold. “You did what you had to do.”

You drew your eyebrows together at that, like you wanted to argue. But you seemed to change your mind, ultimately just nodding your head lightly.

She let her hands drop and glanced back down at the slumped body again, her eyes catching on something.

“Wait. Is that my backpack?” Abby asked, looking more closely.

Beside her, you lifted your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“Probably. Emily gave it to her earlier,” you said numbly.

Abby didn’t need to ask who Emily was. She could guess.

She reclaimed her belongings while you pulled yourself together.

“Are you two alright?” you asked the siblings.

“Yes, Prophet,” Lev answered, watching you closely. Abby noticed that you seemed to bristle ever so slightly at his use of your title. You didn’t say anything though.

She held her rifle in her hands again, happy to have her stuff back.

Especially the guns.

Wordlessly, the Scar kids led the way into the nearest building.

Out of habit, Abby began gathering supplies as you went along, taking ammo and medical supplies and anything else that seemed useful.

“How’s the arm?” she asked Yara, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I have it under control,” the girl insisted defensively.

“Okay…” Abby took a box of ammo from a cabinet. “Grab any supplies you find.”

“We can’t touch this stuff. It’s Old World,” Lev said, like that should’ve been obvious.

“Are you fu---? You need supplies. We’re not out of the woods yet.” She opened and then shut a drawer. “Pun fucking intended.”

“What’s a pun?” Lev asked from another room.

Abby didn’t have the energy to answer that question.

Instead she said, “I’ve never seen Scars go after Scars like that before.”

“Seraphites,” you and Lev corrected in unison as you explored different rooms of the building.

Again, she ignored. “So what the hell did you do?”

“I shaved my head,” Lev answered simply.

Abby scoffed. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

The group passed through building after dilapidated building, heading towards the coast. At least in theory.

“We’re almost there,” Yara said. “Just a little farther.”

She led the way down a steep drop-off into another run-down building. One where you wouldn’t be able to get back out the same way you went in.

“Now what?” Abby threw out, tired and frustrated.

“I’m quite confident it’s this way.”

“Quite confident?” Abby repeated incredulously.

“You don’t have to follow us,” Lev pointed out.

“You want me to leave you three out here alone?” Abby shot back.

Your response was an immediate and insistent, almost panicked, “No!”

Everyone else turned to you, surprised.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Lev offered.

Abby found the front doors, but they were held firmly closed by a metal gate on the outside.

Above the door was a large opening, too high for Abby to pull herself out of, but not too high for someone to climb through with a boost.

“If you get us through there, we’ll open the gate,” Lev said.

Abby remembered again that these were Scars she was dealing with. And like hell was she going to boost you all up to safety just so you could leave her stranded here.

“Get them out,” you said, as if you could read her mind. “I’ll stay with you.”

Lev started to protest but stopped after one shake of your head.

Abby nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

He gave you one last look before walking over to her, stepping into her open hands and pulling himself through the opening.

“Your turn.” Abby looked at Yara. “Watch that arm.” She carefully helped the injured girl maneuver up and out.

The all too familiar shriek of Infected sounded off behind you, coming from deeper in the building.

On the other side of the doors, Lev pushed at the gate. It wouldn’t budge.

“The gate’s stuck!”

“Fuck! Hurry up!” Abby looked back and forth between the door and the direction the Infected were coming from.

“We’ll look for another way!” Yara said, and the two of them disappeared from view.

Abby tried to stay calm and prepared herself for the inevitable fight.

“They’re not going to leave me,” you said, drawing her attention. You held your knife at the ready, rolling your shoulders back.

She didn’t respond, not sure if she believed you.

“They won’t,” you reiterated.

“I hope you’re right, Prophet.” She offered one of the weapons from her stash. “You ever shot a gun before?”

You shook your head but accepted the firearm anyway.

“Come here. I’ll show you.”

What Abby hoped would only be a few Infected turned out to be an entire horde. Runners, Stalkers, Clickers, and even a couple Shamblers.

You were fighting them off like a champ.

Seriously. She was impressed.

You’d kept the gun, watched her rushed demonstration on how to operate it, but ultimately chose to primarily stick with the dagger.

Both of you had been fighting for several minutes as you moved through the building. No sign of the other two Scars. Abby had pretty much resigned herself to needing to find her own way out.

She cleared the room she was in, lowering her weapon to take a breather.

You were in the next room, and it sounded like you had cleared that one out too.

The only warning Abby had before she felt the blow was you urgently shouting, “Wolf!”

A Stalker that she failed to notice had her pinned to the ground, knocking her rifle from her grip in the process.

It reared its head back as Abby struggled, fighting to get it off her.

A gunshot rang out, and the Infected slumped, lifeless.

She shoved it off her and sat up to see you standing there, borrowed gun still aimed and ready.

“Good girl!” Abby exclaimed, beaming up at you from where she sat on the floor.

Wait.

What the fuck?

She meant to say “good job”…

Actually, she hadn’t meant to say anything.

You lowered the weapon. Based on the look on your face, you were just as taken aback by her use of those words as Abby was. Although, she managed to keep it from showing on her face. Mostly.

She stood quickly and fumbled through a recovery. “Good shot. That was—I mean—It was a good… A good shot. Good job.”

You smiled softly at Abby’s obvious display of nerves, walking over to where her rifle had fallen when she was attacked.

You picked it up and returned it to her.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” you said, mimicking the teasing tone Abby had used when she said those same words to you earlier that night.

She made a face. Something that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement.

“Prophet! Over here!” came Lev’s quiet voice from the next room.

You shot Abby an I told you so look before the two of you ran after the sound.

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When Yara collapsed, the Wolf picked her up and carried her.

You listened as she quietly comforted your dear friend, encouraging her to keep breathing and promising to find somewhere to rest soon.

Your heart felt soft for her in that moment.

Or maybe you were just exhausted.

Lev led the group with you in the back, gun drawn and alert to the best of your current abilities.

You entered a clearing, full of enormous metal boxes and small, raised buildings. All things from the Old World that you had never seen before and didn’t have words for.

The Wolf instructed Lev to start checking the doors of all the small buildings. It took a few tries before he found one that was open.

The inside was in noticeably better shape than any other structure you’d seen on the mainland, with a few simple, fully intact pieces of furniture.

You watched as the Wolf moved through the first small room and into the second, carefully setting Yara down on the couch. She went over to the windows, checking again to make sure the four of you hadn’t been followed.

When Yara began to slowly remove her overshirt, you were quick to help, being especially careful with her injured arm.

It was swollen and bright red from her elbow down to her fingertips, visibly mangled. You had to bite back a gasp.

Lev stood on the other side of the room, a horribly worried expression on his face.

It wouldn’t be helpful for you to panic now.

“Hey,” you said to him, light and encouraging, drawing his gaze to you and away from his hurt older sister. “It just needs to be set. Okay?”

You turned your eyes to the Wolf who was still hovering by the window. “You know how to do that?”

The face she made confirmed what you already knew. Yara needed much more than just for the arm to be set.

Still, the Wolf walked over, instructing Lev to cut the discarded overshirt into strips and telling Yara to lean back.

You helped her, kneeling on the floor by the side of the couch where her head lay, ready to assist in any way you could.

“I’m gonna move it, okay?” said the Wolf.

“Okay.”

They were both speaking so softly.

“You ready?” she asked.

Yara nodded, reaching her uninjured hand out for one of yours. You held it, letting her squeeze as tightly as she needed to.

The crunching noise the arm made as it was set nearly made you sick.

Yara let out a series of pained noises, panting and grunting. You used your free hand to gently brush the loose strands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears.

You whispered that the worst was over, and that she would be okay now.

You didn’t know if that was true, but you hoped it comforted her a little.

The Wolf broke a leg off a wooden chair, took the newly cut strips of fabric that Lev offered, and went to work bracing the newly-set arm, using the chair leg as a splint.

Yara watched the Wolf’s face.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The Wolf secured the last piece of cloth before she answered, meeting Yara’s gaze.

“Abby,” she said.

She stood, looking to Lev and then to you.

“I should go,” the Wolf—Abby—said.

You stood too, to walk her out.

Lev quickly filled in the space that you left, kneeling in the same spot and taking Yara’s waiting hand in his.

Abby grabbed her backpack and followed you into the first room, toward the door.

You paused, turning to face her.

“Are you—” You wanted to ask where she was going. What she would do next. Really, if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to go at all.

But you didn’t have the right to ask for any of those things, so instead you went with, “Are you okay?”

You gestured to your neck, meaning to indicate the dark, noose-shaped bruises that circled her own throat.

It felt like so long ago that she’d been hanging in front of you, unfortunate to find herself on the wrong end of your dagger. But, realistically, only a couple of hours had gone by.

She cleared her throat, her own fingers instinctively ghosting over the marks.

“Oh umm… Yeah. It’ll be fine.” She waited a beat before adding, “Thanks for cutting me down.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, considering it was technically your fault she needed to be cut down in the first place.

You settled on a nod and a tight smile.

She turned to go, twisting the doorhandle and stepping back out into the rain.

Before you could close the door behind her, she looked back and said, “This area gets a lot of traffic. Whatever shape she’s in…” Abby leaned closer, hand on the door frame, “You need to get out of here by tomorrow.”

Again, you nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer before she turned and walked down the steps.

You shut and locked the door.

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

As Abby walked away from the office trailer, she couldn’t help the images that came to mind.

She kept envisioning you and Lev and Yara, dead.

Hanged and gutted by the Scars.

Or shot by the WLF.

Or ripped to shreds by Infected.

She had real responsibilities. A friend to look for. A whole community counting on her.

She had a war to get back to.

But if she left now, would she always wonder about what happened to you?

The urge to stay near you—to protect you—was so overwhelming. She didn’t know where it was coming from or what she should do with it.

You were not safe, but she knew you were much safer with her.

Isaac had warned her that the first Scar Prophet had been able to make even the most dedicated soldiers turn on a dime. He said that with just a few carefully chosen words, she could make a person question where their loyalties lied.

It had seemed so ridiculous just that morning, but now you were doing the same thing to Abby.

You were in her head.

But this didn’t feel like manipulation.

She didn’t know what it was that drew her to you, but it felt real. Natural. And entirely unintentional.

Or maybe she was reading you all wrong, and you really were a master manipulator.

Abby needed to make a decision. Because she was currently standing still in the pouring rain with the trailer still in view.

She chose to trust her gut.

And her gut was telling her to turn around. To stay with you.

Owen would have to wait.

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

Note: Thank you to anyone who’s read all three chapters of this! The fact that literally anyone has is absolutely bonkers to me. I’ve already learned so much about myself as a writer since I started writing fics a couple weeks ago. For example, this week I learned that I DO NOT enjoy writing fight scenes… Unfortunately it was thoroughly unavoidable for this chapter. Regardless, I really hope it was interesting to read, and I’m looking forward to fleshing out the relationship between Abby and my reader more and more!

[webslingingslasher]

hiii, could you please write a peter fic based on you are in love by taylor swift??

*cleaning out my inbox*

‘One look, dark room. Meant just for you, time moved too fast, you play it back.’

Your eyes danced across the room until you found Peter’s, he was on the opposite wall but connected eyesight when you did. Neither of you blinked or tilted your head, just a single glance and you both knew what it meant. 

Peter politely ended his conversation and you wrapped up yours, there wasn’t a reason to look back for him. You met him at the front door, it took you back to the first night you met. A party a friend threw, he was a friend of a friend and wasn’t even supposed to be there, but fate aligned. 

You locked eyes with him across the kitchen, it was instant, you both moved in tandem until you met in the middle and talked for hours. 

This time, he’s your boyfriend. 

“Ready?” 

“God, yes.” 

—-----------------------

‘Buttons on a coat, light hearted joke. No proof, not much. But you saw enough.’ 

You hadn’t expected much, he had seemed nice but so had every other guy you tried to date. It always started with them as  prince charming but then after a few dates you realized why you were single. 

Until the sixth date with Peter, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn’t seem like it will, what started as a lunch date bled into the evening, currently sitting on the green of central park looking over the playground. 

You smile and banter back and forth with Peter, you don't remember the last time conversation flowed so easily between you and a suitable dater. 

The air started to drop with the threat of fall approaching, you hadn’t planned to spend the evening talking with Peter in the outside air but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, everything new you learned about him made admiration blossom in your chest. 

You’re shivering but haven’t noticed, Peter had. 

While you’re in the middle of explaining your favorite book plot he drapes his jacket over your shoulders, it makes you stop talking. The warm wool eloped your shoulders, you were about to ask but he stopped you. 

“I need you to stop chattering your teeth if I want to hear how this ends.” 

You feel warmth hit your cheeks but you shake your head softly and pick up where you paused.

—----------------------

‘Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight.’

“I’m going to fail this test and then I’m going to fail the course and then I’ll have to drop out.” You sigh heavily and frown at your laptop, “there’s no other option.”

Peter’s trying to think of something quick, he only has one idea. 

“I can think of another,” you peer at him and find yourself being tugged up by his outstretched hand, following him without another question. You watch Peter move around the kitchen, his task revealed quickly. 

“It’s midnight! You should go to bed and leave me to suffer on your futon.” Peter has none of it, spooning coffee grounds into his french press. You complimented it the first time he made you breakfast the morning after, he told you it was less about being fancy and more about being poor. 

There’s been more and more of those lately. You wouldn’t change it for a thing. 

“I’m craving coffee, that’s all.” You know him enough to know he doesn’t really like coffee, but struggles through a cup just so you don’t feel guilty about him making only you a cup. 

“I think you’re lying about that. I actually think you lie about liking coffee.” He’s been caught, the look on his face says it all. He’s amused, he likes that you’re figuring him out as much as he is you. “I like that it gives me something to do for you.” 

You bite back a smile, you haven’t felt this good in awhile. 

—------------------

‘You keep his shirt, he keeps his word. And for once, you let go. Of your fears and your ghosts.’ 

“Good morning.” You wash your eyes over his skin, you’re so thankful for last night you ignore his greeting to move around his kitchen counter for a kiss. Peter’s hands scrunch the fabric of his shirt over your waist, “nice pajamas, are they exclusive?” 

You nod and give a chaste kiss, “designer exclusive. They came from this super hot guy I’ve been seeing.” 

Not talking, not hooking up, not friends. Seeing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve said that, or the last time they were spoken proudly. Peter’s eyebrows raise, “you’ve been seeing someone? Do I need to fight him?” 

You can sense it before it happens, your hands clutch his over your hips. “I’m not wearing underwear!” Peter gives you a funny look, you squeal when you’re picked up and set down, your feet lightly kicking cabinets. 

“Good thing the guy you’ve been seeing doesn’t mind.” You lick your bottom lip, last night wasn’t enough, you need his morning too. “Then I’m sure he wouldn’t mind giving me a kiss.” Your knees push open when he rests between them, you lean up into his mouth, and gasp when his hand pushes up your thigh. 

Slow kisses, he presses into you. A hum pulls from the back of your throat when his trailing hand finds-

“Fuck. Peter, the toast is burning!” 

—-------

‘You kiss on sidewalks. You fight, then you talk.’ 

Peter pulls you closer, you think it’s less about safety and more about keeping you next to him. You wonder if he still thinks about last week, you still do. You couldn’t admit the truth, the whole reason you pushed him out. 

But you can now, and it’s at the tip of your tongue and you can’t hold it in any longer. 

“It scares me how much I like you.” Quiet. You assume he didn’t hear you, it’d be the only reason he didn’t respond. You almost say it again but that much admission scared you. A kiss to your forehead. “It doesn’t scare me.” 

“It doesn’t?” Not even when you pushed him away? Not even when you shut down? Not even when-

“Not even a little.” 

—-------

‘You can hear it in the silence.’ 

A bowl pushed into your hands, you’ve refused to speak to Peter for three hours and he doesn’t mind one bit. But he still made you dinner. 

‘You can feel it on the way home.’ 

A dozen kisses, “let me know the second you’re home, okay?” And you felt each one on the way. 

‘You can see it with the lights out.’ 

It’s the middle of the night and you’re tugged into Peter’s chest after a slight rumble from the sky. You said once that you were scared of thunder as a kid, but he’s taking no chances and letting you know he’s there and you’re safe. 

‘You are in love. True love.’ 

[studiodrydock]

Interview With a Werewolf - A deep dive into the character of Westley Vuk from Wylde Flowers

We've put together an in depth look at Wylde Flower's fuzziest romanceable character, Westley Vuk! 🐺💕

Westley, the romantic werewolf bookseller, is one of our most beloved characters, and we had the privilege of chatting with several members of the team involved with bringing him to life, including Iona Vorster (concept artist), Desiree Cifre (narrative director), Mike Taylor (animator) and Ray Chase (his voiceover artist).

We discussed all things Westley including his inspiration, design, and what makes him so popular (and dreamy)! Enjoy! ✨

Writing a Werewolf

Questions answered by: Desiree Cifre (Narrative Director)

Q: Can you start by telling us a little bit about Westley?

Desiree: Westley is a bookish werewolf originally from Alaska. He became a werewolf due to a case of mistaken identity. His identical twin brother, Lou, was a marksman for a logging company, and shot at a werewolf who then returned and attacked Westley one full moon. Once Westley turned into a werewolf, he vowed to keep his distance from humans to protect them and himself, and found safe harbor in the magical village of Ravenwood Hollow. He hopes to find a cure for his lycanthropy and in the meanwhile, prove that werewolves can be positive contributors to the magical community.

Q: What was your process like, including inspirations and challenges, when creating Westley?

Desiree: Our original scope for the narrative limited the characters to the members of the coven and the other, non-magical villagers, so I was delighted when Amanda and Alex told me we would have the budget for a magical village with four residents. I knew right away that I wanted one of them to be a werewolf and that I wanted him to be a romantic interest for Tara. A bookseller seemed like a natural fit so that he could sell Tara the parchment and incantations she would need for her spellwork, and when Iona drew up some concept art of our nattily dressed Westley we all knew that was the right direction for the character. Once I learned we could support him having both human and wolf forms, that opened up the space to create a little mystery around his first appearance in town, and then we got to dive into his backstory a bit more later in the game.

Q: Do you have a favorite line that you wrote for him?

Desiree: Well, I was expecting players to love Westley, but even I couldn't have anticipated how much of a fan-favorite he would become. I have to say one of my favorite lines is one that only plays if you are partnered with him: "Tara, you're looking ravishing today! Not that I want to, or would, I mean, you know." The actor who plays him, Ray Chase, gave such a hilariously brilliant reading of that line and it makes me giggle every time I hear it! The thirst is real.

Drawing a Werewolf

Questions answered by: Iona Vorster (Concept Artist)

Q: What was the process like for designing Westley? How did you incorporate his personality and backstory into his design? Iona:��Initially I started with sketching out ideas for all the Ravenwood Hollow characters in tandem. I wanted to make sure they would sit well together, and since they are all (mostly) fae, I wanted to make sure they felt consistent across their designs while figuring out “what do the fae look like in the world of Wylde Flowers.” Once I had a good idea of what they’d generally look like, I took each character one by one to work out the specifics.

With Westley, the process was a bit more complicated because I also had to figure out what his werewolf anatomy would be like and how far we wanted to push it. Since Westley is a romanceable character, I wanted his werewolf form to still feel personable and able to emote like the rest of the characters, so going very wolf-like with his design didn’t feel like the best option!

As with all the characters, I did have a wonderful character background to reference for Westley, written by narrative lead Desiree! A facet of his personality is that he likes dressing well, so along with him being a bookseller, a suit seemed like the natural choice!

Q: Which did you design first, werewolf Westley or human Westley? Did you have to put any considerations into giving him a (relatively) consistent appearance between the two forms? Iona: I started with his human form, since I knew his werewolf form would need R&D on aspects of his anatomy like his face and legs. However, eventually I moved back and forth between the two, because parts of his werewolf form, like his fangs and his fur, informed design decisions on human Westley. I wanted to hint at his werewolf form when he was in human form, and vice versa/

I also wanted to keep consistency in his outfit, especially since there’s the comical details of his suit not quite fitting his massive werewolf frame, which accentuates the differences between the two!

Q: What is your favorite part of Westley's design? Iona: His fangs! Designing all of him was fun, but I love that he has fangs in human form.

Animating a Werewolf

Questions answered by: Mike Taylor (Animator)

Q: What did the collaboration (if any) look like between you, Desiree and Iona? Mike: I wasn't involved very much in the concept of Westley. As with all characters, I was asked for feedback on each concept, but the concepts are always so good, I have very little to add, and Westley was no exception. Soo-Ling (Wylde Flowers’ 3D Artist) and I would discuss his model more and especially the hair, since we knew that was a big part of his design. We would work together to decide how to structure Westley's hair so we could have the most movement as efficiently as possible.

Q: What types of personality bits or other considerations were you trying to showcase in his animations, and how did you achieve them? Mike: Desiree and Elizabeth put together Casting Notes for all the characters, citing specific actors and/or roles that best exemplified the character. I always started there as the basis. For Westley in particular, I know I felt that he should be a little withdrawn and maybe a little brooding. He's an intellectual who has been cursed with being a werewolf, after all. From that I thought his walk - which is the animation that gets the most personality - should be pretty subdued, compared to the other characters, and he should be looking at the ground rather than straight forward. It's subtle, but hopefully reads just a little.

Q: And for Wolf Westley? Mike: For Wolf Westley, the goal was to make him more feral, without going too far. To do this, I added some exaggerated chest breathing to his idle, arched his fingers and turned his hands inwards, then made his walk very 'stompy' to highlight the extra weight he was carrying around.

Giving a Werewolf a Voice

Questions answered by: Ray Chase (Voiceover Artist)

Q: Can you describe the direction you were given when portraying Westley? What types of personality traits, emotions, etc. did you need to convey? Ray: Westley is a really deep character - and one who I was immediately drawn to. Going back through my auditions for this game, it looks like I only chose to audition for him and the reverend! I love how genteel he is - there's a huge part of me that wants to go run my own bookstore in a small village, so I'm playing out my own fantasies when I'm playing him. :D The voice director, Krizia, was a big help in dialing in just the right amount of werewolf into this character. He shouldn't be frightening, but rather be a warm wolfy snuggle.

Q: Westley's fans have become quite passionate From an acting perspective, what do you think is the secret sauce that makes him so appealing? Ray: I'm definitely using my bedroom voice most of the time for this guy. I have heard that it can be...most enticing....

Q: Are there any lines or beats with Westley that stick out to you? Ray: I'm a vegetarian, so it's always quite alarming when I have to do his butcher shop quotes! I can't believe he eats that much meat... But I guess it's better that he buys from a friend than go roaming the woods at night… And that's a wrap! Thank you for reading! Victoria and the Studio Drydock Team Find out more about Wylde Flowers Here

[beefboyandbabygirl]

can i request pleasee? wonwoo oneshot based on taylor swift's song "the very first night" because i'm in need of smutty with extra fluffy in it ☹️😔

Very First Night

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

pairing: ex!wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff, exes to lovers

warnings: this is SMUT MDNI!, oral (f receiving), regular smegular missionary, making out, exes getting back together, brief mentions of clubbing and alcohol, petnames (baby, darling)

quotes from beefboy: "it's FIERCE" (sorry thats the only one i dont feel like scrolling thru all our messages AHHA)

wordcount: 1k

a/n: first request yaaay!! i know im a little late into the game by now (my summer vacay is pretty packed lol), but in case ur confuuuuused, hiii im the bbygirl to the beefboy (aka user @joshibambi), im taking care of all the requests xx. And im gonna be v honest here and say i hadn't heard this song until this request lol, but i took this task SERIOUSLY and i love basing fics on songs (i make a playlist for all of beefboys fics, its true), so like keep em coming. i rlly hope u like it!! (this was a v long a/n lmao i promise they wont all b like this).

You watched his name on your phone screen, displayed in your contacts in a row amongst many other w-names. Wiliam, Wade, Walter- Who the fuck was Wylan? You tried to pay attention to any other name but his.

Wonwoo.

And then you thought, fuck it. It wasn’t like things had ended on bad terms. They had ended on we-are-busy-and-maybe-we-should-try-something-new terms. It was easy. An honest talk on the couch during a chilly Friday afternoon, and you had decided it was the best option. For the both of you.

And it was only after the fourth weekend out with your friends after the breakup, you realized what had happened.  

You missed him. You missed him so bad, you wished you could abandon the strong drinks and sweaty air of the bar that reminded you so much of your very first night with him. But you didn’t. You didn’t say a word as you danced under flashes of pink and red with strangers. Nobody knew.

Nobody knew how much you missed him. Not until now.

“Hello?” 

He sounded confused, maybe even a little startled when he answered your call. Maybe you should have told your friends so they could have talked you out of this afterall.

“Hey Wonwoo.”

“Hey…”

You realized you hadn’t actually planned what you were going to do from here. 

“Do you- Like, wanna come over?”

It went silent on the other end again, and the question echoed in your head, suddenly sounding pretty wrong.

“I mean- Not like that, just like if you wanna talk, you know? Catch up and stuff, I just wanna make sure you’re okay and-“

“Y/n, let me stop you right there.”

Well. That didn’t seem too good.

“I, uh- Okay, fuck, this is really embarrasing, but I’m- I’m already here.”

“…What the fuck?”

“Yeah, and I was gonna do this whole- I don’t know this whole thing, and now you’ve ruined it, actually. So thank you.”

The familiar sarcastic tone of his voice made you giggle as you got up from the couch and sauntered towards the door.

“Really? What kinda thing?”

You were teasing him now, but hell, you had already decided to call your ex on a lonely late night. Might as well go all out.

“This whole…Romantic thing, I know it’s stupid, I’m sorry, but I just-“

Before he could continue, you pushed the door open, and there he was. Not a particularly spectacular sight, to the average person. Dressed in sweats with his glasses (your favorite pair. The slutty ones), sliding down his nose a little, exposing the fact that he probably ran all the way up the stairs. 

And still he was beautiful. The most beautiful you’d ever seen him.

“…So do we talk first, or do you wanna-?”, he asked. 

“I was thinking fuck first, talk second?”

“I wanna kiss you first though.”

“Kissing is an integral part of sex.”

“I know, but I wanna kiss you now.”

“Was that your romantic thing? Burst into my apartment and kiss me?”

He shrugged.

“I figured you’d like it.”

You took a step closer to him.

“You were right.”

At some point during the kiss you both made it past your doorstep, lips pressed together tightly and limbs intertwined in all sorts of impossible ways. 

Once again you were brought back to your first night together. How you practically jumped into his car, and he pressed the gas as hard as he could, and the lights and neon signs were so pretty it felt like they were there just for you. How you stumbled through the hotel room door all smitten and giggling, the sounds of the busy city life behind the window not even coming close to drowning out the sound of your pounding hearts. It was written in the sky that night, the longing, the want, the need you felt for each other. 

You were brought back to the present when the air got punched out of your lungs, as your back hit the mattress of your bed. Wonwoo crawled on top of you, his eyes meeting yours. 

You kissed again. Your limbs intertwined again, and clothes flew all over your room as you scrambled to get back to each other after all this time. you knew then and there that your very first night together was going to be incomparable to this feeling. This feeling, in this moment. 

His lips kissed their way down your body, not leaving a single spot missed until he met your clit, his nose brushing against it ever so lightly. 

“Don’t tease, Won- Ah.”

He couldn’t dream of teasing. Not now, when you were right here, and even though he didn’t get to tell you the words he had memorized, he couldn’t really care. Not when all he could think of at this moment, with his lips wrapped around your clit and tongue prodding at your hole, was you.

“God, so fucking good, missed this fucking pussy”, he mumbled into your dripping core as you gripped his hair tighter and gave in to the inevitable urge to grind against his tongue. 

“I know you’re close baby, come on. Cum for me darling.”

With one last flick of his skilled tongue you were falling over the edge, a rush running through your body that couldn’t compete with any other feeling.

Still in a daze, his chin coated in your wetness, Wonwoo made his way back up your body until his lips were on your neck and his hard cock was grinding against you. 

“Need you Won, need you so bad, please.”

Your voice was barely a whisper, as you ran your nails down his toned back and nipped at his earlobe in a desperate attempt to get him to do something. Anything. Everything.

“I know, I know. Need you too baby, you have no idea.”

He was almost panting, and soon enough his struggling breaths became a long content sigh as your sweet pleas and whines had him pushing into you, your familiar warmth sucking him in.

His thrusts were sharp and deep and fucking perfect. You didn’t want it fast, didn’t want it hard or rough, you wanted it real, wanted it to be just him and you and nothing else.

“Do you know-“

Now he was truly out of breath, heavy sighs and grunts tumbling from his swollen lips right next to your ear as you shut your eyes in pleasure.

“-How much i missed you? Missed you so fucking much, I should have never, fuck, never let anything get in the way.”

God, how nice it felt to know he had missed you. And how nice it felt for someone to finally know how much you had missed him. 

Between a hundred more I missed you-es, you dragged each other through the fall, him after you (ever the gentleman), and between many quick kisses and a few drowsy ones you fell asleep in his arms. 

Just like the very first night.

[dailyreverie]

We fell in love at the end of the world

Part of the Your Wish is my Command universe

A/N: ...well this took a while didn't it? To makeup for it here's a long-ass update with like a thousand taylor swift song references because that has been my personality for the past two months. Title comes from the song with the same name by "Hozier" (Give it a listen because it has huge Poe vibes)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader (fem.)

Word Count: 3.9k words

CW: A lot of feelings. Bar setting, alcohol and drunk people mentions, reader drinks alcohol, s3x mentions.

SERIES MASTERLIST

There were so many factors of why you couldn’t be with Poe that you didn’t even know where to start enlisting them. The heart-crushing feelings you had for him were becoming unmanageable; you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t speak to him, couldn’t think of him without feeling your limbs and organs moving in a giddy flutter, so you did the only thing you could do: avoid him at all costs.

It’s hard to do so, ignore your favorite person in the whole galaxy, but maybe if you did for a few weeks you could get over all those feelings… right? And yes, it’s hard to do so, even more so when you are summoned to a briefing only to find him going in at the same time.

“Hey!” Poe sounded happy when he saw you, relieved even, his features even lighting up when he looked at you after taking a double look. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Poe!” Damn you, Dameron, was all you wanted to say when his arms opened to greet you with a bone-crushing hug. “You know how this gets…” Your vague answer made his smile turn into a tucked-lip grin, almost as if he were disappointed by your answer.

“I know,” was all he said. “So are we both in trouble, or are we going on the same mission?” Being in trouble sounded like the better option. You couldn’t know, but Poe thought so too.

An infiltrated spy in the government had reached all the way to the Resistance, and of course, in order to give away more information, the spy needed an in-person meeting. Even knowing that, when the General told you who was assigned to the mission, that news alone terrified you more than the actual meeting.

“I’m sending you two”. You couldn’t know who was more nervous about it, you, or Poe, who kept looking at you without really knowing what to say. Your blood turned cold in your veins. You looked at Poe as he looked at you, and you both turned to look at the General. “Why?” You asked, trying to remain as cool as possible even though you felt like your knees could give up on you at any moment. You failed, clearly, since your own mother looked at you stranged at your uneasy tone. “I mean… why send two people? Isn’t this a- uhm- one-person job?” You saved yourself quickly while looking at Poe, who seemed like a lost porg with wide eyes avoiding yours.

She glared at you as if she knew more about you than you did - and she probably did. “I’m sending you because they are expecting an Organa, and I’m sending Poe as your protection.”

The General walked past you, leaving no room for protesting. All Poe did when you exchanged a look was shrug.

“Protection?” You asked after a beat, once the General had walked past you, and from the look on her face, you may have asked a bit too harshly. Poe looked down, hiding a hurt smile that twisted your insides from guilt. “What I mean is- You don’t have to send your best pilot to this mission, I can handle it on my own. It’s just intel, after all.”

“Well, then…” Leia looked between the two of you; you with your panicked eyes hiding a thousand feelings, and Poe a couple of steps behind, uncharacteristically quiet, watching it all unfold. “...then consider this a fun friend getaway, in which your friend is also there for your safety.” She patted your arm and left the room.

“Hey!” Poe called you as you began to walk outside, and as you stopped and turned around, facing each other and waiting for him to speak, you got a glimpse of the hurt from before mixed with something else, something warm; right there, all over his eyes, you remembered why you couldn’t be sent alone with him. “Are you okay?” Was all he said.

“Yeah.” You said almost instantly. “Why wouldn’t I be?” A chuckle came right after.

“You seemed a bit… I don’t know.” His voice turned to a quiet whisper at the last words, as if he were questioning his own self. “Are we good?” He sounded hurt, and you hated yourself. A nod was all you could do without giving away your almost exploding feelings.

“We’re good.” You confirmed. It wasn’t his fault, he didn't deserve to be ignored by his best friend.

Poe nodded back, convincing himself about it. “I thought you were avoiding me, I just- I wanted to make sure we were good.”

Damn. Damn him and his perceptive, smart, beautiful, brain.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I would never avoid you.” You smiled, with an apology between the lines that you hoped he would get, but a real smile after all. You can’t be away from him, it doesn’t matter how hard you try.

“Well, then I should get some rest. Can’t be easy being your personal security, I have to be well-rested.” You pushed his shoulder, scoffing at his dumb joke. You felt almost relieved to be back to laughing with him, not realizing how torturous the past couple of weeks of avoiding him had really affected you. “I’ll see you in the morning, Lieutenant.��� He shouted as he turned his back to you, finally, letting you break into the enormous smile you couldn’t contain anymore.

It was going to be a hard mission.

******

In another life, this would have been the most beautiful trip. You arrived well into the afternoon, with a smooth flight with Poe as your pilot soaring you amongst the clouds of the waterfall-filled moon you were sent to. Poe and you were back to being your ridiculous selves with each other, making the job of not falling anymore for him harder.

You laughed together at Poe’s dumb comments and jokes about being your bodyguard, walking side by side along the streets lined up with stone walls that paved the way to your secret meeting. “I need you to stop looking at me, ma'am, you can’t be distracting your security guy on times like this.” He faked a deep, serious voice, failing miserably at it since his lips kept turning upwards at the sound of your laughter.

“Shut your mouth, Dameron.” You rolled your eyes, but in all honesty, you couldn’t stop looking at him. You had to lay low for the meeting, no uniforms or clothes that could give away who you were, and Poe’s choice of clothing had you mesmerized since the moment you saw him before take-off; with his hair pushed back and his relaxed white shirt that hung loosely from his shoulders while still showing the built frame that the pilot suit usually hid, you were having a hard time to focus on what had to be done. Not that it was any easy for him either, since what you had modestly called a disguise happened to show your body in a way that was giving Poe a hard time to even turn the engine of the ship on.

Sure, you were there to see a potential spy and anyone could come around the corner and attack you, but for a few hours you felt like you could forget about all that; for a few hours, it didn’t seem like you were falling in love in the middle of a war.

Meeting the spy was anything a meeting with a spy could be, or so you thought, since you had never done it by yourself before. As soon as you reached the cantina he mentioned you spotted the guy, immediately tensing as a sharp breath came in through your nose. The realization of why you were there came upon you then, when you saw the blaster hanging so freely by the guy’s hip. Thank the Maker your mother insisted on sending Poe with you, who so gently reached for your hand and squeezed it gently. “I’ll be right beside you, I got you” he whispered, nudging his head towards where he was already holding his blaster by his hips.

You were spotted and greeted with an acknowledging head tilt and a hand urging you to reach the table. “I was expecting the General, not some kid and a flyboy playing war.” His voice was a whisper, yet you could still hear the raspiness of it, one that came with the age his graying hair and experienced eyes showed. 

“The General has more important matters than meeting a self-acclaimed spy.” Your reply made Poe hide a proud smile with a bite on his own cheek.

“You talk just like her.” He asked, knowing quite well who you were. “Little Solo, aren’t you?”

“Are you giving us what we came for or should we just tell the General we wasted our time?”

“No!” He said in an instant. “I can’t say much, but everything you need to know is here,” he placed a drive on the table that Poe quickly went for, examining it before putting it in his pocket. 

“What’s in it?” Poe asked urgently.

“Mission logs. Everything you need to know about their locations, positions, and next attacks.” He stood up then, looking at both you and Poe with the surprised look on your faces.

“How do we know you are trustworthy?” You did your best to read him, but he gave no sign of being either on your side or on the other guys’. 

“Who would be crazy enough to meet the Resistance, anyway?” And with that, he walked away.

“Well, that was fast,” Poe spoke first, signaling the waiter for a couple of drinks not before putting the drive safely kept in one of BB-8’s compartments. 

“This better be real,” You couldn’t shake the nerves away from your body, only then realizing how risky everything could have been. Who knew, maybe you were distracted by your security after all. “What if this is a fake thing? Or a drive that will read into all of our files and all our missions and-”

“Hey, sweetheart,” Poe’s hand reached yours on top of the table, but even without the touch, the way he interrupted your dooming thoughts so sweetly, calling out for you in that way he hadn’t done before, was enough for you to land on your feet again. “It’s all going to be okay, we’ll check it before giving this to the General, ‘kay?”

You nodded, that’s all you could do, since words had left your brain for a good minute already. If his words weren’t enough before, Poe smiled at you reassuring you everything was going to be alright. And how could it not with Poe by your side?

After one more comforting hand squeeze from Poe, he leaned back, taking his surroundings in as you took the chance to admire the view before you, it was not every day that you got a relaxed, loose-curl Poe all for yourself. “Let’s get drunk, what do you say?”

“Huh?” His proposal caught you by surprise, you were too busy thinking of… other things.

“We’re already here, the night is young, and that was stressing enough.” 

You laughed at his words, murmuring a so-not-convincing “You are terrible, Poe,” covering your face long enough to not see the way he lit up at your giggles. His mission was accomplished. “Alright Commander, let’s get drunk.”

A couple more drinks flowed for each one of you, enough for both of you to be comfortably tipsy, laughing, and living that night without a care in the world. Poe was in the middle of recounting a ridiculous story about Snap, something involving his ship becoming the nest of a family of tiny rodents on their last trip to Endor and him being terrified of them, when you realized how drunk you both actually were, laughing your asses off without really being able to pay enough attention to the story.

“I swear, he kept squirming away and begging me to take them out of his ship,” Poe managed to say in between laughter.

“Oh poor Snap,” You tried having some sympathy for the guy, but in between the alcohol and Poe’s laugh, you really couldn’t feel anything other thing than an exploding amount of happiness. “How come you had never told me that story?”

“It just happened las week,” Poe’s laughter began to die down. “And you were too busy not wanting to talk to me.” He raised his eyebrows at you from behind his glass. You had no words to justify it, not this time, yet your mouth still opened and closed without a sound coming from it. The one thing you were working so hard on not bringing up was laid on the table, displayed for you in the shape of Poe’s whole heart.

“I was not- ugh, I know what it seemed like but I promise it’s not-”

“This is not just me, right? I mean… you feel this too, right?”

“What are you talking about?” You almost believed yourself, asking unknowingly as if your heart wasn’t hammering against your chest all of a sudden.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Poe was so sure about what he was saying you could be mad. But you weren’t, you couldn’t be.

You could keep quiet. You could stand up and leave and never acknowledge your feelings anymore. The thing is, you couldn’t, not when looking at him at base and much less with the stars ant the moon reflecting in his eyes. “It’s not just you, it definitely isn’t.” You stated, simple as that, but the look in his face, hopeful and gloomy all at the same time, told you that you hadn’t answered his question at all. After a sigh, you spoke again. “We can’t, Poe.” 

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?” He almost hoped, because that was way much better than any scenario he had played in his head.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, doubtful, not knowing how to tell him. Poe smirked, laughing at the situation you were both in. “I’m sorry, and I’m sorry for lying to you about it yesterday. But this, whatever this is, is something I never felt before.” The tiny smile he sent your way was enough to make you smile too. “Great timing, huh?”

“It’s not the best.” Poe nodded without ever breaking his stare from you.

“When Leia assigned us both, and I knew we were going to be sent away together, I- I knew I would not be able to hide it, but I had to at least try.”

“I know. I-” His own laugh interrupted him, meeting your eyes with a shimmer in them. “I felt the same way.”

You shared a silent smile, taking in the fact that you had both just confessed how bad you had fell and how you couldn’t do much about it.

“I don’t know if I’m brave enough to risk it.” The happiness you had felt mere seconds ago left the table, breaking both your hearts almost instantly. Poe understood, you saw him nodding, but that didn’t meant he agreed with you. “It’s just- It’s hard, Poe, and just imagine us trying to work this out in the middle of a war. There’s so much at stake and-”

“Hey, hey-” He cut you off, grabbing your hand over the table in a soft grasp in the process. “I know.” When he sighed you realized he felt the exact same way. “Let’s just finish this mission, ‘kay? We already have the intel, so let’s enjoy this dinner, get the job done, and when we get back we can continue our own lives forgetting about each other. Deal?” A pained smile painted his face. Poe’s eyes spoke a million words and reflected even more galaxies. You wanted to explore them forever.

No!, you wanted to scream. No deal, no way. How could he even suggest that when he knew damn well it would be a lie to you both? “Deal.” you said against yourself matching his sad smile, thinking of all the possible ways this could have ended if your lives weren’t so complicated.

The inn they had put you at was as lovely as the rest of the town, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy the night away with an actual bed instead of the hard mattresses you had back at Base. The report of today’s encounter was half-filled on your pad, which was long forgotten on the bed as your eyes got lost in the sight outside your window. Your nails couldn’t resist any more picking and biting, but you couldn’t take Poe’s words out of your mind.

He felt it. He felt it too and there you were like an idiot trying to avoid the most real thing you’ve both ever felt in years. “Fuck it.” you spoke into the silence of your room. You didn’t think twice when you began walking to the door, headed straight to Poe’s room across the hall and set this straight once and for all. You couldn’t ignore your feelings anymore.

But as soon as you opened the door you were met with Poe’s disheveled curls and his uneasy eyes. “Poe.” You greeted surprised, not knowing what else to say, the practiced speech you had planned was nowhere to be found anymore.

“I can’t,” he said firmly. “I can’t go back and live life without you. You have no idea how hard it has been for me too.” You were speechless. When you made up your mind to go and confess your feelings to Poe you never expected this, never expected him to be already at your door with a desperate confession of love. “I think I’m in love with you.” He added when he saw you were not talking. “I’ve been for a while, and I can’t pretend anymore that I’m not, especially when I know that you feel it too.”

He took a step back from your door when he saw you were quiet, muttering a quiet apology, but the lightning bolts you felt on your fingers couldn’t let him walk away.  

“Wait,” Your hand reached for his wrist and stopped him, pulling him to be close to you again, close enough for your chests to press against each other with every quick breath you took. Poe smiled, that stupidly gorgeous smile of his. 

“I’m in love with you too.” You barely finished the sentence when his lips crashed against yours, backing you into your room and closing the door behind him as his lips moved in sync with yours. Tender and soft, just as you had pictured them so many times, they molded perfectly with yours, all while his hands held your back letting yours cling around his neck, up and down his back, around his arms… anywhere they felt like going, making up for all the times you could’ve kissed him and you didn’t. His lips found their way to your neck not long after, making the most beautiful gasp leave your lips. You could feel the smile on the kisses he was peppering all over your neck and jaw, your fingers tangled in his curls to hold him firmly against your skin.

“Poe,” You breathed, and whatever it was you were going to say was cut short when he started kissing your lips again. With expert hands, firm and rough moving along your back, he walked you backward until the back of his knees reached the bed, lowering slowly to let you straddle him. Breathless, you parted your lips and found each other’s eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh, an incredulous laughter that forced you to hide your face in his neck. His fingers turned delicate as he traced circles on your back. If this was what kissing Poe was like, you would’ve kissed him the moment you met him at that bar.

“There’s no going back from this, isn’t it?” 

“There better not be.” Poe shook his head with a lovestruck smile all over his face. Your fingers reached up to trace Poe’s eyebrows, soon your lips replaced them and traced down his face, to that spot in between his eyebrows and the hard edges of his nose that you’ve always loved. Your hands traveled down his chest and began to lift his shirt, there was no hurry in your movements, all you wanted was to enjoy each minute you had together.

“Are you sure?” Poe whispered as you began to lift your own shirt.

Once it reached the floor and your hands were back to each side of his face, you replied with a smile on your face: “With you, I’m always sure.”

The night passed in a blur of soft touches and tangled limbs. Poe took his time, never rushing anything, letting every exploding emotion take over your bodies whenever it arrived, every time it arrived. It was everything you had ever dreamt of and more, it was the man you loved with every bit of your heart loving you back as if both your lives depended on it.

You were still wrapped in each other when the sun came up, the silence of the couple hours of sleep you had filling the room in a quiet haze. “What’s going to happen when we get back?” You broke the silence. “When people find out it’s all going to be a mess. My mom is going to freak out, everyone is going to talk, and the ranks are definitely going to come up…”

Poe turned his head to kiss your forehead as a way to stop your rambling mouth, which for some reason, has happened a lot in the last few hours. “Why don’t we take it slow? With telling everyone, I mean.”

“Sure, because the last 5 hours were definitely us taking it slow.” You commented with sarcasm, making Poe tickle your side. “Are you talking about a secret relationship, Commander Dameron?” Resting your chin on his chest you turned up to look at him.

“Maybe.” He met your impressed stare, and as you began to break into a smile he quickly turned around to lay on top of you. “I would want nothing but to scream into the galaxy that I’m madly in love with you,” He squeezed your side, making you squirm. “But for now, just for a while-”

“I know, I know. We should enjoy having this for just us, just for a little while.” You finished, pulling him in to kiss him. “You’re going to have to keep it professional, though.”

“What are you talking about? I’m always professional.” Much in disregard of his own words, his lips started attacking your neck leaving delicious open mouth kisses on it.

“I mean no cute little nicknames, no calling me ‘sweetheart’ in public, no sneaky looks,” Poe whined, writhing his hips against yours as he complained. “Definitely not that.” You whispered that last part, fingers sneaking up to his tangled curls.

“I can behave, sweetheart, if that’s what you’re worried about.” The way he said that, with that love-drunk smile on his face, told you just how much trouble you were in. “Can you?”

You matched his daring smile, quickly thinking and catching him off guard as you pushed him to his back and straddled his hips. “Of course I can.”

You could deal with the rest of the galaxy some other day, because right then there was nowhere you’d rather be than in Poe’s arms. 

🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨🚀✨

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

[dyaly21]

Long-winded thoughts no one asked me for about Red, White, and Royal Blue (movie)

First things first, would I have preferred it was a series? Absolutely. More time available, more characters allowed maybe, which could've run possibly closer to book. Do we know if that was ever an option though? I haven't seen or heard anything to indicate this had anything other than a movie available to be made. That being said, I really enjoyed the movie and can separate the book and movie without finding issue with anything not included. I mean, my favorite book is World War Z and if you want a movie that is absolutely nothing like the book...yeah.

I can't explain it but Henry's dog is absolutely a 'David'. He doesn't look like a Bowie at all. I don't know why but his name inexplicably fits.

Okay moving on. I like that the characters are older. They've lived a little more life and are settling in to who they are by the time their worlds' are shaken up. They're (still young but) no longer younger men who's brains aren't yet fully formed. Forever feels big when you're young but it's almost like it holds more consequences as you get older. Which - and I might be flamed for this - made the absence of Luna easier. At 22 Alex still had people he was looking up to, hoping to follow in the footsteps of. 27/28 year old Alex is creating his own path, being his own role model to follow. He knows he wants to be someone his dad didn't see growing up. He knows the weight that carries.

Henry is reserved and poised, except when it comes to Bea and Alex. His sister is understandable; she's his closest ally in a world he isn't comfortable living in. But Alex is the only one to get under his skin and make him less poised. Arguing with Alex should be beneath him, particularly on his brother's wedding day, but there's something about that antagonism that draws him in - crush notwithstanding. Maybe it's the thrill of talking to his crush regardless of words said, or maybe it's the freedom he feels in being less than proper around Alex because Alex doesn't white glove treat him in any situation.

The Waterloo closet. Henry was forced into the public eye - I do like how movie changed some lines here and made the death more recent for that interaction. It makes Henry look more sympathetic than the book (to me). And it allows Alex the chance to find some emotional even footing with Henry. He wasn't a douche cause he's a douche. He was a douche because he was grieving and wasn't allowed to navigate it properly. They were both struggling that night and neither knew it. The closet ironically let the air clear.

Henry hating New Years and basically (in a way) repeating Alex's death phrase. They think so similarly they both decided if I'm dead I can't be forced to do something lol. But Henry still goes and still has a good time until he's confronted with why he hates it. Seeing someone you like surrounded by others, engaged with others, when you can't be your true self with them must've been a gut punch. Nicholas Galitzine has the best facial expressions. And I love the way Taylor played the happy vibe until he noticed Henry not happy any longer.

I don't think the girl draping herself all over Alex during the party had slept with him yet. I think she was hoping to but he was not interested, no matter how hard she tried to get him to be. She felt too "look at me" and not "remember when we" to feel like they were past bed buddies.

The tree scene I like better movie wise. Alex staying back, letting Henry have his space to think and be but still engaging. He felt a little like a smartass in the book but here he explains he was who Henry describes, anonymous until he wasn't, but he seems to understand Henry wants to talk so he asks Henry who he'd be. There's a hint of a smile on Alex's face when Henry describes writing and Paris, like he appreciates Henry's hopes. Taylor plays this scene so softly (if still a little sloshed). It's only when Henry mentions dating that the banter part of Alex's brain turns back on and he isn't wrong; it isn't hard for a prince to get a date. But that doesn't mean they're dating who they want, no matter who they like.

I could gush about the kiss but that'd be paragraphs. So I'll just say I've seen some question why Alex doesn't give chase when Henry apologizes and walks away. 1st I think he's stunned. Maybe his brain hasn't figured out how to tell his legs to follow. It was a good kiss, he's shocked. 2nd, I think maybe the sober part knows if he did follow it would not be beneficial. Henry might run, be spooked off, and...vanish (sigh).

Side note: anyone else notice the steam coming off Alex (Taylor) after Henry walked away? Lol boy was feeling warm and I doubt it was the alcohol.

Real quick, the texts/calls. I love them playing out on screen and the progression from words only to them being spoken. It shows growing comfort until the bed scene where they feel together, if separated by an ocean. Also, OUCH to Henry reading the messages and not responding.

I liked how though Alex admits to interactions with other guys to Nora he doesn't label himself. He isn't 'out' to her. Sure she can deduce but he doesn't say it outright. His whole purpose isn't whether he's bi but why Henry lol. No there's no Liam but he is there in the peripheral of an experience Alex had in high school. And his time drunk in the hot tub with Miguel is just another experience. Alex it seems has never questioned why he's attracted to who he's attracted to until it became Henry because that doesn't compute.

I do believe Alex reciprocated at least something in his bedroom after the PM's dinner. When the Washington Monument (no pun intended) pops up, the moon travels across the sky to indicate significant time passing and once we rejoined A&H, Alex was shoeless and adjusting his belt so they had to have done more than just a bj from Henry. I seriously doubt they could have controlled themselves if Alex was undressed all that time or had changed into something else. But I think Henry looks so put together because he's in Alex's room, in the White House as a guest, and he has to leave the room risking potentially being seen, so he can't look rumpled or ravaged if he is. He has to look like he's proper and dignified and sexed out would not do.

Real quick on Miguel: I don't think he was ever jealous, not completely at least. I think he was calculating and opportunistic. Initially hooking up with the son of a presidential candidate is a big deal, get them drunk and maybe they'll talk/give you a scoop. It also shows he's ethically ambiguous. It presents a conflict of interest to hook up with a candidate's son and then continue to cover that candidate/elected person. Ethically, what is his bias like, you know? Did he cover the Claremont administration first term fairly or did he skew things just in case he ran into Alex again? Sure he probably enjoyed himself and hoped for a repeat but I think he let ambition run over common sense and decency. He sees something (A&H meeting at the bar entrance), and it's after he's just been harshly (to him) rejected by Alex so he probably let that sting of rejection propel his opportunistic side and now he gets a big scoop. It will propel his career and the carnage left in the wake of that is secondary. As a queer man I'm sure he weighed the outing and decided his advancement was worth more than the harm he was bringing about. Especially since he never should have continued covering the president or her family. I'd like to think he was fired but... I also doubt he did everything on his own. He has connections, he used them, cut a deal with foreign press and got his notoriety. No matter its cost. And also the irony of the actual publication the fictional Miguel works for lambasting the movie because they got in their rejection feels makes me laugh a little. Journalists who you think have integrity can disappoint you. Horribly. That's just as realistic as what happens in the book. Their review felt more like why'd you pick on me than what the actual movie was intended to be viewed as. Just my opinion though.

A quick sidebar on TZP: Nick was amazing. He had a meaty (get out of the gutter) role to play with a vast array of heavy emotions displayed. Alex, however is the more laid back, possibly happier character because he has a good support system at home, even if I felt (movie wise) he was isolated in his own way, with no real relationships outside those working around him. He causes chaos but he isn't cruel about it, he's just occasionally dumb lol. He drives Zahra crazy but she genuinely cares for him. I think Amy would be interested in seeing Alex tased (all in good fun) but he's like her baby brother and she will destroy you if you hurt him. But TZP feels so Alex coded, and he does funny really well which isn't easy for everyone. After learning of the part and before he auditioned Taylor made sure to read the book to grasp the character, even, as he says, crying over it. He annotated his script, essentially making lists to keep track of feelings and emotions needed to convey Alex's growth and journey since they film out of order. His script was his bible so he got his character just right. Nick gets a lot of (justified) credit for his performance but I really feel like Taylor put in so much effort to do Alex justice and deserves his flowers for that.

It's so interesting to watch the way both men change. Henry is reserved and "grey" in appearance and mood. I look at the character and he's a muted blue to me (out of curiosity, I wondered how much of "Mad King" George was passed into Henry's lineage seeing as book Henry sees a therapist/takes meds and movie Henry is very often on the downward). But when Alex enters his life other colors full of vibrancy do too. The muted shades lighten and he grows stronger, more confident. He learns he doesn't have to be confined to propriety and status quo keeping him caged. Alex on the other hand is buoyant red and orange, he's a bit of a chaos gremlin, like he has so much energy and passion he needs to share but with limited outlets (like, just please look at his memo). Henry gives him an outlet, both passionately and as a safe space to express his hopes. He also soothes the chaos Alex carries. Once their relationship gets going, Alex feels softer, quieter. Like he settled into his skin finally, having it fit the way it was always meant to but didn't have the right measurements yet. He's still passionate, he still has a raging fire burning within but it's like everything clicked into place and he finally understands how to wield it. Alex helped Henry finally believe he was brave all along, and Henry helped show Alex he was capable, especially when he kept being held back.

I'm so curious what's going through Henry's mind when Alex tells Zahra they've been seeing each other since New Years. Because it was an impulsive act in the middle of him feeling down on Henry's part but to Alex that's when their relationship started. It didn't even matter he was ghosted. New Years was the beginning to Alex and I'd love to know what Henry's thoughts are on that because of the way he looks at Alex in that scene is one of potential curiosity or maybe even disbelief.

I'll admit I like Uma's Ellen better than the book version. She's involved and attentive to her son's life and unlike in the book, it doesn't feel like she has to set time to be motherly. The scene where she questions Alex about Miguel leaking his Texas strategy, when she tells Alex he's no longer allowed to speak to the press Alex is genuinely hurt. It's all over his face, his mom losing trust in him over this. It's not something that's happened before or often. He's chaos but even after the cake incident, he wasn't perceived as a risk until this moment and it hurts him his mom feels that way. But Alex isn't one to hold a grudge and he still wants his mom to succeed, whether he helps with that or not. And his coming out to her, she's holding him after they've eaten and are talking. In the book, yes there's the funny power point but it's in a conference room setting and more clinical. Taylor is a tactile person, Alex is now too, and the character being held by his mom while they discuss his life is endearing.

The almost "I love you" made me think to how desperately Henry wants to hear it but at the same time it's a swift wake up that the carefully crafted fun time they're supposed to be having isn't actually just for fun. Casual is a word they heard but never learned the definition of. With Alex's bedroom and the "can't have you fall in love with me" bit, Henry didn't see the quick flash of disappointment in Alex's face at being told this had to be casual. He only heard and noticed Alex agreeing with him. Henry liked Alex a long time but it was probably his safest crush because he only saw the superficial version of Alex that was portrayed by people who didn't know him. The playboy, the guy who didn't take life too seriously and who jokes around. Of course that guy wouldn't fall for Henry, it's just a good time. But Alex feels deeply. He's exposed this constantly, but most fiercely when discussing why he wants to be involved in politics. Henry just made himself turn a blind eye so he didn't let his attachment to Alex break him when that played up version of Alex inevitably got bored and moved on. So the almost I love you shatters Henry because it wasn't supposed to happen. The lies he fed himself were exposed and he had to run.

I do think the emotions Alex let free within him amped up his idealism. And probably nerves did too. So once he started talking whatever was in his head slipped out because he knew walking through Austin holding hands was not realistic but his heart yearned for it so his mouth said it. I did wonder what Alex was thinking after Henry swims away. I imagine he believed that maybe while he was there emotionally, Henry wasn't and jumped because he got spooked worried about not feeling love yet. He probably figured Henry needed space and then they'd talk it out because that's what they do but instead Henry ghosted. He admits to Henry he knew he wouldn't hear I love you back but he still wanted to be honest about his own feelings.

The fireside confrontation: Alex storming the castle is a metaphor. Henry's the castle. Honestly, Alex doesn't storm anything in the book either, he just causes enough of a nuisance they let him in to not cause or create a scene. In the movie I imagine it's the same; Henry's told Alex insists on being let in. He was probably outside close to a scene and was let in to avoid that. I think he was fire and determination until he was let in and was left standing alone waiting for Henry because for all his bluster, he's terrified of losing Henry completely. He loves him, his heart is on the line here. It was only after Henry told him he could say his piece and then leave did that fire return.

And Henry isn't wrong but he also isn't right. He did tell Alex who he is and what is and isn't acceptable. Prince Henry belongs to Britain. Protocol. Problem though is he was only ever Henry Fox with Alex. He was his true self and so Alex saw exactly who Henry is. He knows exactly who Henry is. I think Henry accusing Alex of not knowing him was a little bit of projection because after so much time spent with Alex he was struggling to keep up the act and maintain keeping the parts of himself separated. Because Henry let himself be reckless when he knew a prince wasn't supposed to be. But also Henry's wrong about it costing Alex nothing. I'm sure Alex weighed his future if he pursued Henry. Not only does it hold risk to his mom's reelection, he has goals for himself, promises he made to himself that affect the rest of his life, and a relationship with Henry could put that in jeopardy. It has the potential to completely throw off his entire life but his feelings for Henry were weighed to be with that risk.

Also just thinking about it, Henry longs for anonymity. It's the first real thing he discusses with Alex, it's something they discuss after they make love the first time, it's a big deal to Henry. And I do think in some ways he's a little upset at Alex for not necessarily wanting that life. But I think one thing he doesn't think about is if Alex was anonymous, if his mom never ran for president, Henry would've miss out on meeting the love of his life. If Henry was anonymous, same thing. How would their paths have crossed? Maybe fate or some kind of magic, but that doesn't always happen. They had to be who they are to find each other.

I also just really loved the way Alex spoke to Henry through the confrontation. It was romanticism and all those books Henry loves but in real life. It shows Alex was paying attention to who Henry is and what he likes/appreciates. I also feel like Alex weighed their separate futures and saw how he could try to move on with someone else but it would never amount to what he had with Henry. There would always be a void there. And Henry, if he met and married would be forever miserable, locked in a lie just to appease an institution that cares more about propriety than the person. It'd undoubtedly hurt Alex the rest of his life. "Nothing would ever happen to you." Just think how even if Alex didn't pursue a public life he'd still occasionally be talked about. So if he did meet someone and marry them, it'd be publicized, in black and white for Henry to break apart over. And the same for Alex, only knowing it was all a facade to keep up appearances. God, that thought actually hurts to think about.

Heading to the V&A it was interesting to watch the distance between them. Alex hangs back, he steps purposely out of the way when walking through the gate to not touch Henry, and he sniffs a little once on the other side. I wonder if he wondered would Henry get him out there to shut him out. Alex doesn't know what they're doing and he's going on blind faith this won't break his heart any further. It's only just before their dance their steps become in sync again, a reconnect of what was nearly broken. And Alex had Henry step to him, having Henry make the choice to equalize them again because this was the only time they didn't walk side by side. And that fake was amazing. It was nearly as intimate as them making love, only this was full of fear and hope and uncertainty and want all wrapped up into the heavy but chosen burden of history.

I am so glad Alex gives Henry his key. And that Alex wears the ring. It feels so much more meaningful to have them both give a "part of themselves" to the other while they have to be apart. Especially after their peace is violated. They need that anchor to the other, most especially once radio silence commenced. And then the way Henry held it together but slowly started to break as he walked away...ugh heartbreaking. But I just know Alex knew he was struggling because he stopped to watch Henry leave, no doubt to make sure he was able to. Henry can't watch Alex leave but Alex has to watch Henry leave because he needs to make sure he's okay.

"Just hold on until I get there." and "I'll break the sound barrier for you." Alex will let Henry fall apart if he needs to and he will hold him up and be strength for both of them until Henry gains his strength back. And it feels so much like Alex will fight whatever even thinks of hurting Henry. He doesn't think twice, Henry needs him, distance and everything else between him and the man he loves can screw off.

I was thinking about how Alex addresses the press, admits to a relationship with Henry, confirms the rumors, yet the King decided to say it was all lies. I believe he intentionally mentions the misinformation campaign as his way of letting Henry (and Alex) know it doesn't matter what was confirmed during the White House press conference; the crown is going to sweep it under the rug and pretend it didn't happen. They're going to pretend it's false even if it has the potential to disrupt relations between the US and UK. Isolating and hiding away Henry was step one in that plan. The king says this in front of Alex, basically daring Henry to go against everything he was brought up to behave like, because of course he'll agree to the denial and having him do it in front of Alex let's Alex (and Henry) know the power of the crown isn't to be trifled with. It's why when asked, Alex looks at Henry, face serious, wondering how Henry'll respond. I've no doubt when the King dressed Alex down and Henry released his hand, Alex thought he might've lost Henry for the briefest of moments until Henry asked why. The problem though is this is the age of instant media, and if citizens of a nation see one side confirm, openly, honestly, but see the other side made to be hidden, they're gong to react. In this case they understood what wasn't being said by the crown and decided to show support for Henry (and Alex by association). The carefully constructed image backfired because the people wanted their prince happy and in love. Not locked away and forgotten until he projects what his position demanded.

And I was also thinking how neither Henry or Alex could contact each other. Radio silence and no way to make sure the other (especially Henry) is okay. What can Alex do if he can't actually reach out? He can make a speech. He can confirm to the world - but speak to Henry specifically ("I hope Henry was watching." he tells Zahra) - that he's resolute. That he isn't ashamed and no one else in their similar positions should be either, because privacy violation doesn't diminish love. Henry did see. It helped. But Alex's presence healed.

Other tidbits: For as chaotic as he can be, Alex being very organized makes so much sense. He probably understands his mind is a mess and he struggles to be stagnant for too long so he makes sure his physical surroundings and his work is orderly. I like how though Alex is a touch driven person, he let's Henry lead in touching him. (Did anyone else notice how it looks like Nick hit a sensitive spot around Taylor's shoulder/chest in the Paris scene before they fall into bed? Lol!) Henry is closeted and though Alex hasn't come out he isn't afraid of being himself. So he doesn't want to take from Henry, instead allowing Henry to take, thus he can touch freely while Alex holds back until Henry is comfortable. Casual relationships don't get discussed with sisters. I wonder if Bea was thinking that while Henry talked about Alex lol. Alex's instant "no" to Zahra: man feels zero hesitation. The way Zahra calls Alex kid: you know he's the baby brother she never asked for and questions why the stork won't take him back lol! The way Oscar and Alex talk about Henry; first at the WH where Oscar asks Alex's problem with Henry, and then when Alex asks if Oscar likes Henry. I just know Alex was thinking back to that conversation hoping his dad still thinks of Henry as a good person. The little kisses Henry gives to Alex... lovely. There are so many little moments that I'm curious if it's just decisions by T&N to do or if any bits were scripted. I'd love commentary and deleted scenes and extras etc.

Honestly, Taylor and Nick were stupendous in this movie. They made me believe they love each other romantically, that they're soulmates. I love that they're such good friends, but it feels like their bond transcends that. Taylor's crying causes Nick to cry, that kind of emotional connection is so exquisite to witness. Though in their humor I probably adore them more. It's like they share a brain cell and the lithe guy is fighting for its life haha! I need to see them -definitely in a sequel- do more things together. Buddy comedy, drama, whatever, just let them do their thing. I hope the studios get their acts together soon because these guys (whole cast&crew) deserved to promote this movie and feel up close love and adoration for it.

If you read all that, you're a champ.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Something There (Chapter 9)

7.1k words Roy Kent x Reader Warnings: Language, moment of violence (yay!), one scene of angst, lots of fluff and buildup A/N: Okay now THIS is my favorite chapter! I listened to Taylor's 'Daylight' for most of this, highly recommend 😘

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He wasn’t letting go of her. Not this time.

Roy squeezed her tight, letting his cheek rest on her hair, the hair that smelled like fucking lavender and vanilla and was just as soft as he remembered. She felt good, pressed close to his heart like this. Right. Like she belonged there. The way she clung to him, trembling ever so slightly, told him that she was thinking the same thing.

Saying something would break the spell. So, Roy kept his mouth shut, wishing they could stay here, in this little office with its humming air conditioning and fluorescent lights, and forget about reporters and tabloids and non-boyfriends and hell, even forget about football. All he wanted was right there, in his arms, clutching to him like he was a life preserver in a storm.

But of course, staying frozen like this forever wasn’t a real option.

The sound of someone walking through the Greyhounds office had them releasing each other, not quite stepping away, as if they couldn’t bear parting, not quite yet.

Ted stood in the doorway, mouth open and eyebrows raised, glancing from one manager to the other. “I, uh, just wanted to see how you’re doin’,” he finally said, nodding to Buck. “That was a hell of a press conference, Coach.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, wiping her damp face; Roy realized she’d been crying into his shoulder. “I’m, uh, pretty tired. Should be heading home.”

Ted nodded, his face telling Roy he was sorry for interrupting. “Yeah, you get some rest. You deserve a good night’s sleep.” He offered a small wave. “Goodnight, coaches.”

Both managers mumbled their goodbyes to Ted before turning back to each other.

“I should go home,” she finally repeated, taking a step backwards to her desk, where her things were waiting to be packed up.

Roy nodded, suddenly unsure about what to do with his hands if they weren’t holding her. “Yeah, yeah. But listen-” He cleared his throat, eyes on the ceiling. “You… deserve to celebrate. Taking first place, the press conference, surviving all the shit we’ve been through. Maybe next week, when you’re up for it, I could… buy you a beer or something?”

When he forced himself to look at her, the corners of her red lips were tugging upwards. “Yeah. I’d like that, Kent.”

Before he could say anything else, his mobile vibrated in his pocket, further breaking the spell. He pulled it out, only vaguely registering the name on the screen.

“Answer it,” she hummed, starting to pack up her bag. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Roy nodded and started backing into his own office. “See you later.” He turned, answering his mobile as he walked through his office, into the changing room. “Hello?”

“Roy.” Trent’s voice was that serious tone he often used. “I, uh, got that information you asked for.”

Oh, shit. “Right, right. Anything… interesting?” he glanced over his shoulder as he entered the empty hallway, making sure he was alone.

Trent’s sigh sounded tired. “Oh, it’s interesting, alright,” he muttered dryly. “So, the photos were taken, but they weren’t going to be released. Keeley had done a good job convincing The Richmond Star to sit on them.”

“The fucking Richmond Star?” Roy’s chest tightened; he knew that paper.

“Yeah.” Trent paused. “They were going to just ignore them until… one of their reporters saw them. And gave them to another publication.”

Roy stopped in the middle of the hallway, ready to punch a wall. “Any idea who the reporter might’ve been?”

The hesitation on Trent’s end gave Roy his answer before the writer even spoke. “George Willows.”

“FUCK!”

Trent cleared his throat. “Figured you’d feel that way,” he hummed. He sighed. “I hate that it’s him. She’s… she’s lovely. She doesn’t deserve that.” The next pause was heavy. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Gotta… gotta think.” He let out a low, growling sigh. “Thanks, Trent. Really.”

“Good luck, Roy.”

~

Keeley had, thankfully, forgiven me for going off-script. On the contrary, she thought my rant was brilliant and long overdue. Rebecca, while concerned about the language and the reaction from shareholders, was proud of me.

After a the most light-hearted practice the Whippets had had in weeks, I found myself in my office, going over the report on our next opponent, determined to keep our first-place status.

“Hi there, Coach.” Ted Lasso stood in the doorway, smile on his face. “How was training today?”

“Good,” I chirped, waving him in. “Anything I can do for you, Ted?”

He shrugged and leaned on my desk. “Just didn’t get to chat last night.” His eyes searched my face curiously. “Sorry for, uh, interrupting.”

My face went warm. “It’s fine,” I murmured, looking down at my report. “We were just-”

“No need to explain,” he assured me, clearly trying not to grin goofily. “It was an emotional night for ya. For Roy too.” He raised his eyebrows. “The two of you… deserve something good. Some happiness.”

“The two of us,” I repeated with a little cough. “I mean-”

Ted placed his hand on top of mine, silencing me. “Lemme just say one thing. I know we’re practically strangers and it’s none of my business, but I dunno. I feel like I know a thing or two about a thing or two.”

My curiosity was piqued. “What’s up?”

After a quick glance around, Ted leaned in close. “Roy… he thinks you’re special. You know that right? Because it’s obvious to anyone with eyes. Heck, Helen Keller would be able to tell ya that Roy thinks the world of you.”

My heart stuttered as I looked at Ted. “I- you know, he-”

“But Roy’s pretty darn special too,” Ted continued. “He is so darn good. He’d do just about anything for the people he cares about. He’s got to be one of the most passionate people I have ever had the pleasure of knowin’. The man is a great coach and an incredible friend.” He cleared his throat. “Like I said, just a real special guy. And…” He shook his head. “I dunno. I think, and I’m sure a lot of other people think, that maybe you two… could be somethin’ special… together.” He threw his hands up as he hopped off my desk. “I said my piece. You can ignore me if you want, like I said it’s not really my place to talk.” He started towards the door, pausing halfway out of the office to look at me one more time. “But Roy… well if you let him, he’d care about you like no one’s business.” With a friendly nod, he was gone, leaving me alone with thoughts full of Roy Kent.

~

It was like Roy’s mind was at war with itself for a couple of days after the Whippets match. On the one hand, he was so angry with what he’d learned from Trent. Of course fucking Willows was behind this whole mess; the man was scum, after all. And the fact that her trust had been so fucking violated just crushed Roy. And now he had to figure out a way to tell her that didn’t look like he was just trying to break them up. Fucking hell.

But, even with all this inner turmoil, Roy couldn’t help feeling… happy. She was smiling at him, cracking jokes, and a couple of times he caught her gazing thoughtfully through the window from her office to his. Something had shifted, and Roy’s heart was soaring.

Still. How was he supposed to tell her who was behind their shared hell?

He was contemplating this when Rebecca bumped into him in the hallway.

“Oh, Roy, just who I was hoping to see.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

She nodded, stepping closer. “I was wondering how you’re doing. We haven’t had a chance to talk since… well, the other night.” Her eyebrows flew up. “That press conference was interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Interesting,” Roy repeated, shifting his weight and his gaze. “Yeah, you could call it that.”

As if summoned by Roy’s discomfort, the Whippets’ coaches walked by, chattering quietly. The two managers locked eyes, and Roy was the recipient of the softest smile, the kind that made his breath hitch and his fingertips tingle. He nodded back, keeping his eyes on her as she continued down the hall; to his absolute delight, she glanced back at him before disappearing around a corner.

Rebecca’s face softened as she watched the manager squirm. “Roy Kent, when are you going to fucking tell her how you feel?”

He sighed, glancing around, praying no one could hear the two of them. “Rebecca-”

“No, don’t ‘Rebecca’ me,” she scolded in a low voice. “Come on, Roy, I’m sick of seeing you stumble around here in this little daze. There’s something between you two, we all know it. It’s so damn obvious. It’s been there for months. Hell, it’s probably been there since the day she arrived. So go fucking tell her that you have real feelings for her.”

“Rebecca,” he warned, face burning. “It’s not that fucking simple-”

She rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stop getting in the way of your own happiness. Stop acting helpless, because you’re not. You’re Roy fucking Kent! You deserve to be happy.”

Roy felt his blood boil as he finally snapped at his boss. “And you’re Rebecca fucking Welton! So when are you going to stop pretending you don’t love Ted and let yourself be happy?”

The color draining from Rebecc’s face told Roy he was right on the money. It wasn’t as if it was some great secret; everyone knew there was more than friendship between the owner and former manager. Well, maybe everyone except the owner and manager in question.

“Exactly,” Roy went on, confident that he’d ended this particular conversation. “When you talk to Ted about your feelings, I’ll talk to Bucky about mine.” He nodded, more to himself, and began to turn to walk away; Rebecca’s hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks.

“Fine.”

Before Roy could say another word, Rebecca dragged him down the halls of the Dog Track, ignoring the curious looks of the people they passed as her heels click, click, clicked against the tile. She didn’t stop her quick pace until they were in the Greyhounds office, where Ted was chatting pleasantly with Beard.

Ted’s eyes lit up at the sight of Rebecca. “Well, hey there-”

“Ted Lasso,” Rebecca commanded, releasing Roy’s wrist. “Are you ever going to kiss me?”

Roy had never seen Ted’s face so pale. “I-” the American choked, Beard wide-eyed next to him. “Well, gee- Becca, we-”

Rebecca took a step forward, raising a cool eyebrow at Ted. “Oklahoma.”

“Well, shoot.”

He cupped her face carefully and pulled her into a deep kiss; behind them, Beard’s arms were in the air as his mouth widened in a silent scream. Roy felt his ears go warm, his heart drumming with a mix of annoyance at Rebecca’s frankness and joy at seeing these two finally admit how they felt. He could also feel a twinge of envy in his chest; fuck, he wished he could be so honest.

Rebecca released Ted and turned to Roy, a goofy grin on her face. “There,” she hummed triumphantly. “Your turn, Kent. Off with you.” She looked back to Ted, fixing the collar on his polo shirt. “This one and I have some things to discuss.”

Blinking a few times, Roy turned his head towards the Whippets office, where Lucas stood with wide eyes. Realizing the answer to his current problem had been just through that door this whole time, Roy quickly ducked into the office, leaving the lovebirds behind.

“What in the world-?”

Roy shook his head and closed the door behind him. “Don’t fucking ask.” He glanced around. “She around?”

Lucas shook his head, clearly trying not to grin. “Want me to go get her for you?”

“No.” Roy cleared his throat, ignoring the heat on his face. “Lucas… I need your help with something.”

~

Today was the day, I decided. For a couple days now, I’d wondered if Roy was going to remind me about that beer he’d offered me. Even though we were on better terms than we’d ever been- saying hello when we passed one another, laughing, heck just smiling at each other- he hadn’t said anything else about grabbing a drink.

Of course, I didn’t mention a word about that to George. Things were icy since the press conference, with him insisting on going out to dinner the night after, which resulted in my picture going up on Twitter. But honestly, I didn’t care too much. Like I’d told everyone- I wanted to focus on my team.

Which I was admittedly struggling with since hugging Roy Kent.

Still, I did my best to get on with my day, running practice like I wasn’t wondering why Roy hadn’t asked me for a beer again. By the time Lucas and I made our way back to our office after most everyone else had left for the day, I was mentally composing a text to the Greyhound if he was free the next night. I threw my bag over my shoulder, mumbling something to Lucas about George picking me up for dinner. When I saw the sour look on his face, I sighed.

“What?”

He blinked at me. “What, what?”

“Luke,” I started slowly. “You’ve been weirdly quiet today. And the couple times I’ve mentioned George, you made these faces like you want to throw up. Is there something I should know?”

I had never seen such discomfort in my assistant coach’s expression; it had my stomach knotting up. “Bucky…” He ran his hands over his face. “Yesterday… I found out who leaked your photos.”

My heart nearly stopped in my chest. “You… you…” I clutched my bag, knuckles turning white as my voice lowered. “Who was it?”

Lucas closed his eyes, wincing. “George.”

It felt like all the wind was knocked out of me. “George?” I repeated, barely croaking it out. “As in my George?”

“Yeah.” Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, not quite looking me in the eye. “Trent Crimm, you know Trent, apparently he did some digging around… and found out that the Star had the original photos and… and George, well he passed them along to another publication.”

I sank into my chair, staring up at Brandi Chastain. “Why would he do that?” I whispered.

Lucas leaned on my desk, tenderly placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bucky. Really. I know I pushed you to go out with him, I know I-”

“No, Lukey,” I murmured, using the nickname I only called him when he was truly upset. “You didn’t know. Don’t you dare feel bad.”

He shook his head. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered, leaning back. “I swear, Bucky, when he walks through that door, I’m gonna-”

“You’re gonna go home,” I told him, standing up. “And you’re going to get some rest, and you’re going to come into work tomorrow like normal. And you’re going to go to tomorrow night’s Greyhound’s match with me. And we’re going to keep winning and leave all this shit behind us, alright?”

“What are you gonna-”

I shrugged. “Gonna tell him I know. Gonna give him exactly two seconds to explain himself. Then gonna have him permanently banned from Nelson Road.” I stood and offered Lucas my closed fist. “I’ll be fine.”

Lucas tapped his fist to mine. “Call me when you get home.”

After he left, I sat in my chair, not bothering to take off my bag, just staring at the hallway door. When George appeared, he was wearing that smile, that boyish, charming smile, the one that used to make my heart flutter.

“Hey, you,” he hummed, not noticing the stony expression I wore. “What d’you want for dinner? I heard about this great new restaurant-”

“Why the fuck did you do it?” I was on my feet, face burning. “Why the ever-loving fuck would you give those photos to someone to publish?”

He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. “No, see, Buck-“

“Fucking explain it,” I interrupted, bringing my face to his. “Tell me why you would put me through absolute hell. Why you would do something that put my reputation, my job, my everything at risk.” I blinked, refusing to let this man see my tears. “Tell me, George.”

For the first time since we met, his face held no confidence, only panic. “See, this is what happens to women who-who sleep with Roy Kent,” he stammered. “Honestly, aren’t you glad you found out now and not later? That being with Roy Kent is the wrong thing for you?”

“Oh my fucking-” I felt like everything was spinning. “You absolute jackass,” I groaned. “You piece of absolute shit. Because you were jealous that I had sex with Roy Kent, you told the world I had sex with Roy Kent? And this was supposed to make me want to be with you? I should fucking-”

“Buck?” Roy stood in the doorway between our offices, eyes wide as he stared at me. “You alri-” His gaze landed on George. “Oh, you fucking twat.” He stormed across the office, putting himself between us, chest to chest with the reporter. “You have three seconds to get the fuck out of here, otherwise, I will cut off your-”

“Roy.” I pulled him back by the shoulder, shaking my head at him.

He immediately stepped back, eyes never leaving George’s face and fists staying clenched at his side.

I whirled back around on George. “You need to leave,” I said in my lowest voice. “And you need to never, ever fucking talk about me, think about me, or write about either of us ever again. Or I will hunt you down and show you why I led the NWSL in fouls in my first season.”

George scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Maybe the two of you deserve each other,” he grumbled, nodding towards Roy. “Two washed-up has-beens, coaching low-rate teams, trying to stay relevant. Apparently the only time you’re relevant is when you’re getting fucked by that broken old bastard. No wonder you want to keep him around.”

It had been a couple decades since the last time I punched a boy on the playground, probably after an insult much less vulgar than this one. But as I looked at the smug look on George Willows’s face, I definitely remembered how. My fist connected harshly with his jaw with a satisfying thump. He staggered backwards, clutching his face.

“Bitch,” he hissed, stumbling towards the door. “Fucking bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled, cradling my fist in my other hand. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

We stood in silence as George trudged out, the sounds of his footsteps echoing through the otherwise empty halls. When I finally turned to look at Roy, he was already gazing at me with wide eyes, clutching his own jaw. The look of pure admiration in his eyes was almost enough to make me forget what I’d just learned.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed. “That might have been the coolest fucking shit I have ever seen.”

I blinked at him for a moment, ignoring the pain in my hand. “Did you know?” I asked softly, taking a step towards him.

He looked down at my hand, tentatively taking it and holding it up. “Let’s get you some fucking ice,” he murmured. His soft eyes met mine again. “And then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Roy kept my hand in his as he led me to the treatment room, only letting go so he could find an ice pack while I hopped up on the treatment table. He turned back to me, more confident now as he lifted my hand off my lap and pressed the ice pack to it, watching my face carefully as he continued to hold my hand. I scooched closer to the end of the table, letting my knees brush against the front of his thighs.

“I… asked Trent to do some digging,” he finally began. “And he called me after your press conference.”

“That was the phone call you got in the office.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah.”

I tried to focus on his words instead of how incredibly close he was, close enough that I could feel his warm breath on my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Think about it,” he chuckled glancing down at our hands. “You know I fucking hate the guy. You know I wasn’t… excited about you being with him.” He shrugged. “It’d look like I was just trying to break you up or some shit, like I was… I dunno…”

Like he was jealous.

“No, I get that.” I ducked my head, willing him to look me in the eye again. “So you told Lucas?”

He glanced up through his eyelashes. “So I told Lucas,” he confirmed. “Told him he could even call Trent if he wanted to confirm. You… you could call him too if you want. If you need to confirm.”

“I don’t need to.”

The corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “Well, I’m not going to pretend that seeing you punch that twat wasn’t the most bad-ass thing I’ve ever seen.” He cleared his throat. “But I am sorry it happened this way.” His eyes were again on our hands, his thumb slowly stroking my skin. “I… would never want to see you hurt.”

“Thank you.” I followed his gaze, a warmth filling my chest as I realized how nice his hand felt in mine. “Can I ask…” I trailed off.

“Anything.”

I wrinkled my nose, thinking for a moment. “Why’d you hate him in the first place? The whole thing with throwing a chair at him?” I couldn’t help but grin. “Which I now realize was probably well-deserved.”

He gave a full smirk now. “Fucking ’course it was,” he hummed. “It’s… pretty shitty, honestly.” With a sigh, he threw his head back, as if wondering where to start. “See, he always had some shit to say about my private life when I was a player. And it was really fucking annoying.” He scowled as he looked back down. “And, see, there was this whole thing… with Keeley… and some fucking video of her… a private video…”

“Oh.” It suddenly made sense why Keeley had fought so hard for me and my photos; fuck, I wanted to hug her.

“Yeah. We were already broken up, and it had nothing to do with me, but, you know, fucking hurt like hell to see her go through that.” He cleared his throat. “And George fucking Willows decided to ask me if I’d seen the video and if I knew who it was for. So, I threw my fucking chair at him.” He shook his head. “That’s why I was so pissed seeing the two of you together, even without… the gala stuff. And I should have fucking said something. Should’ve told you exactly the kind of shit he was from the moment he started sniffing around you. It’s my fucking fault.”

I shook my head. “Come on, Roy. You know I wouldn’t have believed you back then. I wouldn’t have even let you finish one sentence about him.”

After a heavy pause, Roy offered me a small smile. “We’ve… come a long fucking way, haven’t we?”

“Yeah.”

My heart hammered as we gazed at each other, holding hands in the quiet treatment room. It felt just like the night of my press conference, when we hugged in my office and just held each other. Quiet, calm, natural. Good. Like we weren’t dealing with all the shit we were dealing with, like we were just frozen in this moment. Like we could finally have a moment of peace.

“Any chance I could drive you home?” His soft eyes were begging me to say yes.

But the realization of everything that had just happened tonight came crashing down around me; as tempted as I was to accept the ride home, maybe suggest a detour to a pub, I knew I needed to say-

“Some other time.” I cleared my throat and nodded down to my hand. “Kind of want to walk. Just take the evening to myself. Get some rest. Ice this thing some more.”

If he was disappointed, he wasn’t going to tell me. “Yeah, I get that.” He stepped back and helped me down from the table. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I squeezed his hand before reluctantly letting go. “I’ll be at your match, by the way.”

“Well.” He smirked, flexing the hand I’d been holding. “Here’s hoping I can impress you as much as you impressed me the other night.”

My face warmed as I tried to figure out what to say; honestly, I just wanted to prolong our conversation, not say goodnight and walk out of this room and away from whatever moment we were having. Seeing Roy haloed in the fluorescent light, I wondered what would happen if I just leaned forward and-

“Oh.” Will stood in the doorway, holding a laundry basket. “Hello, coaches.”

Roy took a small step away from me, eyebrows raised. “Will.” His eyes shifted to me before returning to the kitman. “How much this did you hear this time?”

Will shrugged. “Walking home, going to the game, impressing each other.”

“Right.” Roy cleared his throat and turned back to me. “Goodnight, Coach. I’d shake your hand but…” He nodded to my hand, still red from the ice pack, and let out a little huff of a chuckle. “Anyways, goodnight.”

“Night,” I echoed, turning back to the door. “Goodnight, Will.”

He nodded to me, clearly trying not to grin. “Goodnight, Coach.”

As I walked out, I could hear Roy’s voice, rough and low.

“Will. Not a fucking word.”

“I know.”

~

Roy wasn’t sure the last time he’d been this nervous for a match. It had nothing to do with their opponent; he knew his team could beat Sheffield, that was no problem. But tonight she would be watching him, and that had him feeling a bit like he did when he was a young man and would have a girlfriend come watch him for the first time: giddy, excited, desperate to impress.

As he took his spot in the dugout, he found himself looking up into Rebecca’s box. Sure enough, there were both Whippets’ coaches, chattering with Rebecca and Ted and Keeley, laughter all around. His heart melted a little, seeing her so carefree, as if she hadn’t just been betrayed and wasn’t still being watched and judged. Ever since her press conference, she seemed to not care anymore; she ignored the papps who still wandered in the parking lot, she had told Keeley to not bother mentioning any Twitter trends, and she laughed at the cover of some magazine featuring an unflattering photo of her mid-sentence in that press conference.

Almost as if she could feel his gaze, she looked down at the dugout, locking eyes with Roy. Her red-lipped smile widened as she gave a little wave, one Roy found himself returning with a grin of his own. He ignored the clearly amused looks from his friends in the owner’s box, as well as the knowing chuckles from his fellow coaches. It was clear to everyone at Nelson Road that something had changed, and for once, Roy found that he didn’t care about people knowing his business.

Not when his business was her.

“I see we have some visitors,” Beard hummed, raising his eyebrows at Roy.

Roy shrugged, turning his attention to the pitch. “Yeah,” he murmured, wondering if his blush could be seen from the owner’s box. “Nice of them to come.”

The two assistant coaches exchanged grins, shaking their heads at the pleased expression Roy couldn’t quite hide.

To Roy’s delight, the Greyhounds outdid themselves, playing better than they had all season. It was almost as if the guys knew he was hoping to impress her; it wouldn’t completely surprise him if that was exactly the case. When the final whistle blew on a 4-1 win, Roy found his eyes gravitating to the owner’s box; she was already looking at him. She offered him a grin and a playful shrug, almost as if to say Yeah, you impressed me. He tapped his fingers to his temple, saluting up to her with a smirk.

He could get used to his, having her at his matches. He considered asking her to come again to bring him luck, because she clearly did tonight. He definitely felt damn lucky receiving that smile after a win.

His stride was uncharacteristically light as he entered the changing room, where he shouted compliments at his team, who were all wearing the most shit-eating grins he’d ever seen. Those grins only grew when the Whippet coaches popped in to offer their congratulations. As she went around giving hugs and high-fives to the team, Roy couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes kept shifting to find him; he was sure everyone else noticed too.

Finally, she approached him, offering her hand. “Good job out there, Coach.”

He gently shook her outstretched hand, melting a little at her wince. “Your hand alright?”

“Definitely bruised,” she mumbled, making a face. “But fucking worth it.”

Roy nodded. “Well, if you need some help icing it some more…”

“You’re my first call,” she assured him, smirking. They stayed there for a moment, exchanging smirks, fully aware of the eyes on them. It took Jamie asking if she saw his two goals to finally bring them back down to earth. After answering Jamie, she gave Roy a friendly little shove and turned to walk out.

“Oi.”

She stopped, looking back at him with a coolly raised eyebrow.

Roy shrugged, suddenly bashful. “So? Did I impress you?”

Her coy laugh had his heart stuttering. “I’ll let you know when you buy me that beer you owe me.” With a teasing wave, she linked arms with a smirking Lucas and strutted out, taking Roy’s gaze with her.

Shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Roy made his way to his office, where he found Ted, Beard, and Nate all waiting for him, expectation on their faces. He raised his eyebrows at them, closing the door behind him; he had a feeling he didn’t want the team to hear whatever this conversation was going to be.

“Yes?”

Ted spoke up. “Y’all are pretty darn cute together.”

Roy scoffed, pretending he didn’t love hearing the word together. “Fuck off,” he mumbled, not really meaning it as he took his seat.

Nate leaned on his desk dreamily. “You ask her out yet?”

“No.” He glanced down at his hands, thinking about holding hers. “Should I?”

“Yes,” all three men practically shouted.

Beard leaned back in his chair. “Roy, it’s pretty damn obvious the two of you like each other,” he pointed out. “You two’ve been very friendly, smiling at each other like you’re a couple of kids. And tonight she was like your own personal cheerleader. Please put us all out of our misery and ask that woman out.”

For once, Roy didn’t argue. Instead, he looked at his friends with something close to anxiety in his eyes. “How?” He cleared his throat. “Everything that’s happened… Don’t think I can just walk up and say ‘Hey let’s go to dinner and a fucking movie’, now can I?”

“That’s true,” Beard murmured, raising his eyebrows at Ted. “Sounds like what Roy needs is a…”

Ted snapped his fingers. “Grand gesture.”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “Excuse me?”

“Y’all are in the third act of your love story,” Ted explained, practically bouncing. “The rules of rom-communism state you need a grand gesture to show her how ya feel, somethin’ special and big, like- like runnin’ through the airport or holdin’ a boom box over your head or paying the dowry for her teenage sister to marry a slimy soldier.” He shrugged. “Show her how important and special she is to you.”

“Grand gesture,” Roy mumbled, tapping his fingers on his desk. “Grand fucking gesture.”

Sure. Roy could do that- right?

~

The following week was a blur of football, the announcement that Ted Lasso would be coming back onboard as a scout for both teams, continuing to field annoying questions from journalists, and, dare I say, flirting with Roy Kent. We had resumed running together in the evenings, time now filled with making fun of the reality tv playing in front of us as we pretended that we weren’t eyeing each other yearningly. Well, maybe I was the only one yearning; while I definitely caught his eyes leaving a burning trail down my body as I ran on the treadmill, he still hadn’t mentioned that freaking beer he promised me. Even after I took him up on his offer to drive me home a couple of times, he always stopped right in front of my building and wished me a good evening before I hopped out of the car.

Maybe we were friends. That was good, right? After all this time, being friends with Roy Kent was a relief to everyone at the Dog Track.

But damn, I thought as I sat at home on that late Friday afternoon, listening to the sounds of the rain that had us calling an early weekend, our first free one in a while- I didn’t want to be just friends with Roy Kent.

Underneath all the shit that had made me hate him for months, there was something special, as Ted as said. Roy was kind. Caring. Passionate. Almost funny. He loved his team and his friends and his adorable little niece. He completely understood my pain about retirement and the determination to stay close to the game. He’d been protective of me and supported me and, hell, even inspired me.

And the tabloids would be thrilled to hear that I thought he was fantastic in bed.

Fuck, I realized with a groan as I slumped further into my couch. My dumb ass loves Roy fucking Kent.

What the hell was I supposed to do with that?

The afternoon wore on, with the rain coming down progressively harder as I tried to distract myself with a movie and my playbook. But my mind kept wandering back to those brown eyes and that bearded smile, reevaluating every interaction we’d ever had, right back to that first night in the club. Clearly Roy was attracted to me; that had been pretty clear from the start, even when we were constantly arguing. But did he like me?

As I wondered about all the smiles and looks he’d been giving me lately, a timid knock at my door sent me jumping. Probably Lucas, I thought as I stood, adjusting my Richmond fleece sweater. We hadn’t said we wanted to hang out tonight, but he could always be counted on to randomly stop by with food and a movie.  

But when I opened the door, there was no one in front of me. I frowned, ready to turn around and close the door, but something at my feet caught my eye: a small box, darkened by the rain, with a folded note taped to the top. I bent down and opened the note; its sloppy writing read:

I hope you never play nice again. Except maybe with me.

“The fuck?” I breathed. I bent down again to open the box and stood up holding a black and white soccer ball. As I turned it over in my hands, I slowly began to realize it had writing all over it: autographs. The names were familiar to me: Julie Foudy. Kristine Lilly. April Heinrichs. Mia Hamm. Brandi Chastain.

The 1991 United States Women’s Team.

I looked back at the note, realizing I knew that handwriting.

Roy.

I quickly shoved the ball and note back into the box and tossed it inside, stepping in only to put on the sneakers I kept by the door. Not caring about putting on a coat or checking my hair, I ran outside as fast as my stupid ankle could carry me, immediately finding myself drenched in the rain. I looked both ways, my heart sinking when I realized how empty the street was. Finally, I saw that giant black car, the one that had brought me home earlier that afternoon. And walking towards it was someone in a black leather jacket.

“Kent!” I called out, breaking into a full sprint, ankle throbbing. “Fucking Kent!”

The figure stopped, tense and motionless. Roy turned around, brown eyes wide as I kept racing to him. He walked towards me until we stood face to face. He studied my face as I put my hands on my hips, breathing hard from the run, pretending that my ankle wasn’t killing me.

“You alright?”

I shook my head. “The fucking… the ball. You won it? Back at the gala?”

“No, actually.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking pitiful and beautiful with the rain dripping down his bearded face. “I did put a bid on it. But I got outbid.” He cleared his throat, bouncing slightly. “So I tracked down the wanker who won it. Had to pay twice as much as he did, and I’ve got to make an appearance at his idiot kid’s birthday party but…” He shrugged. “D’you like it?”

“Yeah.” I nodded feverishly, the nervousness in his eye making me desperate to assure him. “Fucking love it. But why…” I stared up at him, resisting the urge to wipe the rain off his cheeks. “Why would you do all that?”

His eyes roamed my face, as though searching for something. Finding whatever it was he was looking for, he took a miniscule step closer, our bodies nearly touching. “Because that team… it means something to you. And you… well, you mean something to me.”

I swallowed hard, not caring about how drenched I would be by the time I got back to my apartment, or that I hadn’t locked the door behind me, or the fact that anyone could walk by and see us. All I cared about was hearing whatever Roy Kent had to say. “I do?”

He nodded anxiously. “Yeah.” He put an uncertain hand on my arm, watching me carefully for a reaction. When all I did was continue to gaze up at him with what I knew were adoring eyes, he went on. “Right. Just… just let me say this, alright? And then you can tell me to fuck off and we- we can go back to ignoring each other, or this friendship thing, whatever you want, I honestly don’t-”

“Roy?” I raised my eyebrows, desperate for him to keep going.

“Right, right.” He took a deep breath, hand still on my arm. “I feel about you the same way I did the night of the charity gala. I just think you are the most incredible woman I have ever met. I fucking admire you, all that you’ve done and all that you are. And I care about you, so fucking much.” His hand left my shoulder to cup my cheek, his grip soft and warm and everything good. “I cared about you the night of the gala. Probably cared about you for a long fucking time before that, but I was too stupid and prideful to realize it until we were already in the middle of everything. And my biggest regret in all of this was not waking up before you so I could keep you in my bed and make you breakfast and assure you that you were never going to be a one-night stand. You never fucking could be.” He shook his head gently. “Not you, Buck.”

Roy ducked his head and brought his face to mine, moving slowly, almost as if he was trying to give me a chance to stop him. Instead, I grabbed him by his jacket and pulled him to me, crashing my mouth into his in the most desperate kiss I’d ever felt. My head turned light as my body remembered Roy and his hands and his mouth and his body, as if it had missed him even more than my heart had. Suddenly, I recalled what I’d thought the night of the gala, as he kissed me for the first time on his couch.

Roy Kent was everything I never knew I needed.

His other hand grabbed my hip, tugging me flush against himself, humming a little as my lips parted for him. The rain poured down on us, drops of water sliding between our faces, but neither of us seemed to notice; we were too wrapped up in finally, fucking finally, winning. When his tongue gently brushed against mine, I gave a soft groan; fuck, I’d forgotten the beautiful taste of Roy Kent.

I’d kissed plenty of men plenty of times. Hell, I’d kissed Roy plenty of times the night of the gala. But, as his fingertips dug into my hip, I realized how starved I’d been for this kiss, the one that held way too much heat and way too much affection. How long had I been waiting for it? Since the press conference? Since the gala? Since the first time I saw him shirtless on a treadmill? Or from that first time I spotted him at that club, leaning against the bar, miserable and rude as hell?

His hand slid from my hip to my back, trying to pull me closer, if that was even possible. Somewhere in the kiss, I lost track of whose heartbeat was whose; my entire body was pulsing and tingling. The rain sounded so faint and far away compared to the sound of Roy’s breathing and soft groans against my mouth. I wanted to swallow those groans, to rip off that leather jacket, to let myself have everything I’d been stupid enough to deny myself all these weeks.

Sensing that I probably couldn’t handle much more, lest we really give the paparazzi something to publish, Roy pulled back, face soaked and smiling. “Fucking hell,” he whispered, his thumb stroking my face. “I take it you don’t want to just be friends then?”

I laughed, probably the most real laugh I’d felt in a while, and gave his jacket a playful tug. “Fuck no. Who’d want to be friends with Roy Kent?”

He leaned down and kissed me again, slowly, tenderly this time, smile pressing against smile. “Play nice,” he mumbled against my mouth. “Or I’m taking my football home.”

“How about I play nice,” I murmured as I leaned back, smirking, “if you finally take me out for that beer you’ve been teasing me with? I believe you still owe me one, Kent.”

Roy smiled and let me go, taking my non-bruised hand and interlocking our fingers. “Fuck that,” he chuckled. “Everything we’ve been through, I’m buying you a whole damn bar.”

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[jeankluv]

Snow on the beach || Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: fluff, doflamingo, angst but light and fluff

Note: thank you to everyone who is starting to read this story and the rest of my one shots, I truly appreciate your sweet comments. By the way if anyone wants me to tag them when I post this story please let me know and I will start tagging you. Now enjoy this chapter.

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Chapter VI: You are my safe place

Law huffed at his office table. He had arrived earlier than his schedule, but all in order to avoid you. It wasn't that he didn't want to see you, he really wanted to see you and share moments with you, even if they were those in the car where you were singing a Taylor Swift song at the top of your lungs. But since last week when he had to go out of town to see the person he hated most in the world and meet him, he knew that having you around wasn't safe for you. He knew that you were stubborn and that you probably wouldn't give up so easily and would return home sooner or later, so leaving the house before you had been the best option he had seen to avoid talking to you again.

He had an idea of ​​who the person had been who had warned him, not for nothing did he try to get information from you the only time you met. Law leaned back in his seat and rubbed his temple. Years ago he and Corazon had distanced themselves from the family, they had gone to a quiet town, away from everything, away from him. But once again Doflamingo, he had to annoy them.

When Law talked to him on the phone, he actually considered telling Corazon the truth, telling him that his brother had called and that he was up to no good. But instead Law decided to tell him that Penguin and Shachi had been in an accident and he was going to see them for a week.

So yes, he went to meet Doflamingo to see what he wanted. The meeting was really short and unpleasant for Law but the worst thing was knowing that Doflamingo knew about you and that you lived next door. His skin crawled when your name came out of Doflamingo's lips, at that moment he felt like beating him up right there. Doflamingo began to talk about how they both seemed very happy in that town, that Law was paid well and how Corazon seemed very happy as a police officer, all this with the most cynical smile on his face. It was when Doflamingo finally told him what he wanted, money, as always. He said that if he didn’t get the amount he was asking him he would take action on the matter. Law agreed to give him, he wanted to keep both of you saved. But he knew he should be cautious since Monet knew who you were and she was on constant communication with him. He needed to find a way to fire her.

He sighed heavily and hit the table, couldn't he just leave them alone for once? Two knocks were heard on the door, Law wrinkled his eyebrows, it was still early for any patient to arrive for consultation.

“C’mon in.” He said sitting properly and putting on glasses. “What are you doing here?” He said once he saw who was the one knocking.

“Law…” You said swallowing. “I came here because…”

“I told you already that I didn’t want to see you again, didn’t I?” Law said and turned to look at his computer.

“You actually said you weren’t going to take me from the restaurant to my house, nothing about not seeing each other.” You said sitting on the chair.

“Y/n I’m not joking here, leave.”

You shook your head. “No.” He gave you a withering look and you just smiled at him. “Actually… I feel a bit sick. You’re a doctor so… please doctor could you check me?”

“Y/n… you know I can tell when you lie right?”

“Ah!” You cried out, you ain’t leaving that room until you were able to talk properly with Law. “Doctor please.” You pouted.

He sighed. “Where does it hurt?”

You smiled. “Here.” You pointed to your left knee.

He stood up and kneel in front of you. “Can you put your pants up so I can check your knee better?” He said while looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I…”

Shit y/n. You couldn’t really put them up, they were too tight, but when I asked you where it hurt, you only thought of saying the knee because it was true that it had been hurting for a few weeks.

“I don’t think I can do that.” You told him.

“Well then take them off.” Your whole face turned red in that instant.

“Wait… what?”

“Is for the examination y/n.”

“Of course, sure, yeah, hahaha” You laughed nervously.

“Listen, if you don’t feel comfortable, I can get something for you to cover up.” He said standing back up.

“Yeah… that would be okay.”

He nodded and left the room, leaving you there waiting. After your talk with Nami the day before, you had decided that you were going to get an explanation for Law's behavior. And you knew Law was doing his best to ignore you and not see you. You took off your jacket, waited there looking around at his office. You noticed a picture of him with Bepo on the wall, you smiled noticing how Bepo was still a puppy in that picture.

“Law you back?” You said turning around when you heard the door opening. But it was not Law who was in the door, it was the nurse from the other day, the one with the green hair. “Oh hello.”

“Where is Dr. Trafalgar?” She spoke.

“He went to…”

“Honestly I don’t care.” She replied. “I’m here to talk with you.” She sat next to you. “You should stay away from him, you know? Or the boss will have a good reason to make Law his little puppet again. And you probably don’t want that, right?”

“Excuse me… I don’t know what you are talking about…”

“It’s okay you will probably meet him if you keep yourself around him. This is from one girl to another, stay away from him.” You looked away, she was scaring you. Who the fuck was the boss and what did she mean with Law being a puppet?

She left without saying anything else. You were left there without knowing what to say or what to do. You don’t know how much time passed or when the door was once again open but when you came back, Law was in front of you, looking at you with an intense and worried look.

“You okay?” He said. “You are pale…” He said and touched your face. You knew he was probably checking your temperature but that didn’t stop you from turning red and moving your face away from his hand.

“Actually… I think I will leave.” You said standing and turning around to grab your things. “I have to go to work or else Zeff will get mad.” You tried to joke.

“Y/n, something happened right?” He said standing in front of you. “Did someone come here?”

“No.” You said, maybe a little too fast.

He examined your face, he knew you were lying and you knew he knew. “I already told you, you can lie but I will know.”

You looked down trying to avoid his gaze and thinking how to ask the question that was on the tip of your tongue. “Law…” You paused for a moment. “Are you… in danger?” You finally said.

You couldn’t see his face but you saw how his hands closed when you asked that question.

“Don’t worry about me… okay?”

You frowned and looked at him. “How could I not? You can not pretend like I don’t care about you, like I can ignore that someone is threatening you.”

“I have been dealing with this shit all my life, you don’t have to worry but I want you to stay away from me.”

“I can’t do that…”

“Y/n…”

“No Law, you can not ask me that. I want to help you.” You swallowed. “Corazon could help you, he is a police officer, I’m pretty sure he can…”

“Don’t… please y/n stay away from this, from me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn aren’t you?”

“You know I am. And I’m not going to let you deal with this on your own.”

“I told you I have been dealing with…”

“Doesn’t mean you have to keep dealing with it alone.” You cut him off, never once leaving his gaze.

He huffed and leaned against the wall behind him, his eyes closed. He massaged his temple, you really were stubborn and seemed to not care about anything he told you, you were willing to continue with him.

“Why y/n? Why do you want to risk yourself for me?” He said looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Because…” You thought of the reason, deep inside of you, you knew why you were doing that, but would you be able to put it out? “I… I care about you and you make me feel like I’m myself again whenever I’m with you, it's like I don’t have to pretend to be someone else when I’m by your side. You are… you are my safe space.” You let everything out, in a rush but it was out. “And I don’t want to lose that.” You added looking at him.

You watched him breathe heavily, but without saying any words. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes moved around looking at your entire face. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, trying to say something but saying nothing. You didn't think that your confession would leave him speechless and a part of you was regretting having said it. Law swallowed hard, you could see how his Adam's apple moved.

“Y/n…”

“Oi Trafalgar.” The door opened completely, revealing a blonde man with glasses and dressed just like Law. “Oh! I’m interrupting something?” He looked at you both.

“Marco…” Law moved to place him near the man, whose name now you knew it was Marco. “Nothing to worry about, my patient was already going home.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m leaving.” You said and walked to the door. “Thank you for looking at my knee doctor. I will take care of it.” You lied and turned around saying goodbye to both of them.

You quickly left the place, out of the corner of your eye you could see the same girl who had come in to tell you that about Law. You didn't want to stop being with Law, you wanted to continue sharing your trips in the forest, bother him with jokes, make him let you sing at the top of your lungs, see the stars with him again. And yes, with him you felt like you were back to being that girl that you thought had disappeared a long time ago. With the rest of the band you also felt good but with Law it was different. As you felt the cold air hit your face, you blew on your hands to warm up. You really wanted to be able to support Law, in some way. But like that girl, Zoro had also told you to be careful with Law, with the people around him. Was that “boss” so dangerous? So much so that you had to get away from him and Law couldn't do anything about it?

On the other hand, Law was reading the report that Marco had brought him. He was really trying to concentrate but he couldn't stop thinking about you, your words and the strange feeling you had caused in him.

“Earth calling to Law, come back to us please.” He heard Marco’s voice.

“Eh… I think it’s…”

“I think you’re somewhere else.” Marco smiled. “That girl, is the new girl that came here some weeks ago right?”

“Yeah, she is.”

Marco smirked. “You seemed to have an interesting conversation going on.”

“What…? We were… we were discussing some medical stuff, that’s it.” Law shook his head, trying not to seem nervous.

Marco laughed. “Please Law, I have known you long enough to see that what you were having wasn’t a patient doctor conversation.”

“Shut up.” Law rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say lover boy.” Marco stood up and walked to the door, leaving Law alone.

Law leaned back in his chair, thinking again about your words and what he could do to fix this shit. Because one thing that he was clear about was that he did not want you to end up in this mess in any way, for Donflamingo to get close to you. But what could he do? That man pulled the strings in the underworld, he had contacts with the police, who looked the other way when he wanted to do some of his shit.

When he and Corazon came to live here thirteen years ago, everything had been normal. Corazon got a good job as a police officer in the town and he started going to school and making friends. Everything was phenomenal, until Law left to study medicine, that was when he met Donflamingo again and from then on Donflamingo would occasionally ask him for money, with the condition of leaving Corazon alone and letting him live his life in a peaceful way.

Law took off his glasses and growled frustrated with the whole situation, no matter where he looked at it it was a maze with no exit. He got up from his chair and left his office. He didn't have any patients for another hour so he could go talk to Monet and tell her to leave you alone already. He saw her at the reception, with her glasses on, reading.

“Monet.” He called her.

She looked up and gave him a fake smile. “Good morning, Dr. Trafalgar. You came earlier today.”

“Cut that shit Monet.” Law cut her. “Listen, I know what you are up to and you better stay away from y/n. She has nothing to do with any of the shit you and the whole gang are in. So leave her alone and don’t approach her.”

Monet rolled his eyes. “My goodness Law, are you so taken with her? You already know that I only inform the boss about how you are, he cares about you.” Law snorted. “And it's good that the boss knows that you have a crush on a girl from the town, maybe one day he will even come and pay you a visit. “At the end of the day I miss her little brother.”

“The brother he tried to kill? Yeah don’t make me laugh, that man doesn’t care for anything other than money and power.”

“He deserved it, he betrayed the family.” Law narrowed his eyes. “It’s frustrating isn’t it? You can not do anything to get rid of me and besides Law, you will always be part of his family, no matter how much you try to get away or how much you try to protect Corazon. He will always find a way to find you.”

Law turned away from the counter in frustration and without saying anything returned to his office. And it was true, no matter how much he and Corazon tried to escape from that family, they would always find them and if they wanted to harm or harm them, Doflamingo would not hesitate to do so. During the rest of the day he dedicated himself to seeing patients, in the office and on the phone. When he realized it, the sun had already set and the streetlights were illuminating the streets. He stretched out in his chair and picked up everything to leave. He wanted to go home and rest his mind, even if it was just for a few hours.

He said goodbye to Marco and the nurses there and got into his car. He started the car and prepared to go home, but he didn't. For some reason, one that he knew very well, he parked in front of the restaurant. He sighed and looked out the window, there you were. You were wearing a high ponytail, but some of your locks fell in front of your face, and you had a smile on your face as you served the few clients you had that day. He grabbed his phone and connected it to the car, he opened Spotify, an app that for him was practically non-existent before you appeared in his life. He didn't listen to music so he didn't need a music app, right? And to no one's surprise, Taylor Swift was the artist who appeared to continue listening. He pressed play and smiled unconsciously when he remembered how excited she was to sing each lyric of the songs when he took you home.

An hour passed as he watched you say goodbye to Zeff and Sanji. Law got out of the car and leaned against it, waiting for you. He really was a hypocrite, after treating you terribly a few days ago, telling you on more than one occasion that you shouldn't be close, there he was.

When you walked down the small stairs at the entrance and looked up, you felt your heart skip a beat. He was standing there, looking at you and not looking away from you for a second. Waiting for you after work and looking at you with eyes that you couldn't describe or decipher. You approached him, shivering, was it because of the cold or because of what happened that morning? You had practically confessed to him and now you were seeing each other again after that.

“Law… What are you doing here?” You stood in front of him.

“I… I came for you.” He said and you nodded.

“About this morning…” You started to talk but he cut you out.

“Get in the car, you’re trembling.” He said and opened the door for you. You thanked him and got in the car. “You need to buy new clothes, warmer clothes.”

“Yeah… you told me that, remember?” He nodded and started driving back home. “Law about what I said this morning…”

“Once we arrive, let me check your knee.” He once again cut you off, was he evading the topic?

“Are you evading the conversation we had this morning?”

He shook his head. “I’m not, but… I told you, it’s complicated and… I don’t want to put you through something you don’t deserve.”

“I understand… but I want you to know that you have me.” He nodded and you saw the small smile on his face. “And about you being my safe place, listen, you can igno…”

“You also make me want to be myself when I’m with you y/n.” A small oh escaped your lips and you could feel your cheeks redden. “You’re cute peachie.” He whispered.

“Shut up Law.” You turned around, covering yourself. This was embarrassing.

“Oh…” You heard Law say.

“What?” You looked at him.

“It seems like it’s starting to snow.”

You looked ahead and could see how small snowflakes fell on the car window. You smiled. “It really is.” You whispered.

Law smiled when he realized how dazzling your eyes were just seeing the small snowflakes on the window. He was so hooked for you and there was no going back.

Tag list: @phsycochan {comment below if you want to be added to the tag list}

[blazinghotfoggynights]

It is totally possible to be a Buddie endgamer AND still support Buck/Tommy. It's possible to never be shaken from your stance as Buck and Eddie being soulmates while supporting every relationship they have been in, regardless of how dysfunctional it was.

Here's my take:

I want to see both Buck and Eddie explore life and find their true paths independently of each other, Christopher, and the 118. They are more than just each other's best friend/coparent, Christopher's fathers, and firefighters/part of the 118 family.

Since we know there is a season 8, and I would guess a season 9+ if these ratings keep up, it would be awesome to watch a full season, or more, of character evolution. We could watch Buck dating both men and women openly, learning his value, and discovering what he wants for his future.

Buck, as Bobby pointed out, doesn't enter into relationships of his own accord. He stumbles and falls into them without a clue how he got there. One day, he wakes up and he's someone's boyfriend or living with someone and isn't sure how it happened. Buck simply goes wherever someone will accept him. He misconstrues that acceptance and tolerance as genuine romance, feelings, and love.

Abby was bored and lonely and horny. I could say a lot about that relationship. If the motivation strikes, I may post about how that relationship was toxic and manipulative on Abby's part. If there are any Abby fans, you need to know your girl was showing some tendencies that were red flags.

Ali? Buck was single. She showed interest. That's it.

Taylor? Great sex and she kept coming back to Buck. She was there for all the wrong reasons and had questionable morals, but she was there. That was enough for Buck.

Natalia, again, was simply in front of Buck. She was obviously only interested in Buck's death, not Buck as a person, but Buck didn't care. He tried to make it work anyway because Natalia gave him time and attention.

So, we have an established pattern of Buck dating whoever will give him the time of day when he needs it most.

Enter Tommy. Buck is feeling left out. He's probably slipping into loneliness and spiraling because he feels the most important person in his life for the last six years is being taken away from him. (That's Eddie, for those in the back.)

Tommy shows up, sees Buck is spiraling, and kisses him. (Tommy fans, canon has established that Tommy has bad guy capabilities. Stop trying to gaslight the fans who are saying he may not be the good guy his sudden fandom claims he is. He isn't and Hen and Chimney forgiving him doesn't change that. People who are capable of consciously being a-holes are just a-holes. Mmkay?) He doesn't just hit on Buck. He physically initiates contact, giving Buck no doubt the man is open to other men. He showed Buck attention in a moment of crisis and he's a safe option after Buck openly admitted he was jealous and trying to get attention.

Buck stumbles into the next relationship. (Again, I could examine that situation, but if I do, it will be in a separate post.)

The show could give us Eddie admitting he let the expectations and influences of third parties control his destiny and he has no idea who Edmundo Diaz really is outside of what was expected of him, what he was taught, and what he did out of a sense of duty instead of doing what he wanted to.

He was with Shannon because she was pregnant and the right thing to do, per their parents and his faith, was marry her. I think he loves her for giving him his son, but nothing he has ever said or done indicates he was in love with her. I think he thinks he was. I think he wanted to be.

He was with Ana because Christopher needed a mother, per what he was told and taught, and she had an impressive resume and knew Christopher.

He is with Marisol because she fits the perfect mold of what his parents would like and she gets along with Christopher.

Should we talk about Eddie's relationships timing up perfectly with when Buck enters a relationship? No?

That man has never once in six seasons made a believable statement about genuine attraction to or sexual enjoyment with women. Ladies and gentlemen, if you have straight male friends who are in their 20s or 30s, you know you will be subjected to more details about their sexual history than you ever wanted to know. (Many of my close friends historically have been straight men. Conversations with them have been interesting and eye-opening. Sometimes traumatic, too, but I knew what I signed up for when I became their friend.)

Eddie canonically is in his early 30s and has been on the screen since his late 20s, but went without sex for years, never seemed to miss it, and now he's suddenly "pent up"? That is not the whole story and there is more going on there.

I'd love to see Eddie figure out he isn't into Marisol and hasn't been into anyone genuinely, except maybe Shannon. There could easily be a demisexuality arc for Eddie. Keep in mind, the term demisexuality was coined less than 20 years ago and is still not widely known. Eddie could spend a season, or more, working through the feelings he's ignored or been unable to put into words, dealing with overbearing parents, and how his faith has quietly, and unbeknownst to him, guided his choices. He could spend a long time wondering why he never feels an instant connection with anyone, except Buck and Tommy. (You seeing a pattern here?) This season has openly pointed out Eddie is in therapy.

The road to Buddie can be filled with satisfying detours, aka other relationships, leading to the realizations that open their eyes to each other. We don't have to negate the Buck and Eddie's experiences with others to support Buddie.

The part of me that wants instant gratification would love to see Eddie and Buck dancing at Madney's wedding and figuring out they are what they have been looking for all along. Cut to them in a room going at it.

But, the part of me that loves a great story, and doesn't mind waiting if the writing is great, is fine with a slow burn that gives us deep storylines and episodes that grip you from beginning to end. Let's say we have the rest of season 7, season 8, and maybe a season 9. There would be so much possible material.

Buck could go through a relationship with Tommy, a breakup, confusion, dating again, multiple amazing conversations with LGBTQ characters like Hen, Karen. This would also allow for giving other characters more depth, backstory, and more time on-screen. (This would be an amazing time to bring back Rockmond Dunbar as Michael and have him and Buck discuss figuring your sexuality out later in life!)

Eddie could spend that time working through his Catholic guilt and separating his actual needs and desires from what he was taught to need and desire. He could realize he makes excuses to stay with the women he dates then finds an excuse to escape when being with those women gives him anxiety. He could begin questioning if he is gay, bi, pan, or what. Then he could ask himself why he never really gets to know the women he dates. Who has he been close to? What was different? What gives him a feeling of safety and security and home? He needs to figure himself out.

So, yes, I do believe Buck/Tommy is acceptable and I support it, just not as endgame. I think, if written well, it could be integral to a great growth plot that takes us through Eddie and Buck diverging on their paths to self-discovery only to converge later on, a little more scarred but more in tune with themselves, to see their future in each other.

[holyhead-hufflepuff]

the great war

DRACO MALFOY X READER

"My hand was the one you reached for All throughout the Great War" - Taylor Swift

notes: this was an anon request for a third-person draco malfoy fic so enjoy!!

"HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS." The headline forced witches and wizards everywhere to prepare for the inescapable; they had to make a choice. Muggleborns huddled in the corners of the wizarding world, hands shaking and voices hushed. They had to choose between the fight for their lives or the flight that'll cost them everything. Half-bloods everywhere sat in the kitchen as lights everywhere dimmed and debated their options; fight alongside a child, fight alongside evil, or turn the other cheek. Many closed their eyes in shame at the thought of choosing the latter. Could they turn their cheeks and wipe away the blood— the remorse of playing an 'innocent onlooker?' 

Then, some read the headline without internal conflict brewing in their hearts. Harry Potter knew his place; his fate was sealed by a prophecy, and he would carry the weight on his shoulders until the end. Ron Weasley was raised to know this was wrong; his loyalty to Harry, Hermione, and the cause would push him to see it through. Hermione Granger knew what would come of the world if she ran; her identity and belonging to both worlds would give her the courage to finish it.

Then there was Draco Malfoy. 

Draco Malfoy knew his place. His fate was sealed by a mark on his parents' arms. He was raised to know that you believe what's wrong if you want to survive. He only had one identity. He was a Malfoy. 

Death Eaters, his followers, had been conditioned and told to believe in Voldemort's return. Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Y/N Y/L/N, and many others saw the headline and knew what it meant. This was the start of the war they were told to be prepared for. This was the cause that they would lay down their lives for. There was no choice; this was what they were raised for. 

_ 

"Sometimes, when I lay in your arms, I imagine that we're entirely different people — that we won't have to turn into people we hate whenever he calls." It was a bold statement to say aloud, especially within Hogwart's walls, but y/n could feel that this was the last night. Y/N could feel the burn of their mark intensifying, the tension becoming palpable, and the guilt creeping into their soul. 

Draco was quiet, his arms tightening around y/n as their breathing quickened as more time sat between their thoughts and Draco's response. 

"I get it," Draco breathed out, breaking the silence and allowing himself to say what he'd been thinking for years. "I used to pretend I was someone else occasionally when I was a child. It's been more frequent since I got the mark. I'll lay awake while you sleep beside me and wonder how I'll beg for forgiveness from our future grandchildren." 

"Before they villainize us in textbooks, will they ask why we did it? Will they ask themselves why children were even used in the first place?" 

"No, but I ask myself that a lot." 

"Do you feel this is the last night we'll have, too?" 

"Yes." 

"I-I sometimes think that I can't go through with it." Y/N's voice shook as the words tumbled out, ugly and exposing the worst thought imaginable. To their family and to Voldemort, this was a thought of treason. To Draco, this was a thought of unbelievable bravery and stupidity. 

Draco pulled away from y/n, his face cold and unreadable. "Stop it. You can't say things like that — not here and not to me." 

"Why am I ready to die for a cause that I doubt? Why are you willing? I look at Potter and his little band of misfits whose chances are slim to none, and I wonder how their faith in the cause carries them through. They are laying their lives down for something they believe in, and we're-" 

"We're keeping ourselves and our families alive, y/n. My mum and dad are one more mistake away from losing their lives, and I refuse to be that mistake." 

"I know our circumstances are different, but I can't help but wonder if my parents wished they had made another choice. I look my dad in the eye and see fear. I don't see loyalty to the cause, and honestly, I don't see loyalty to-" 

"I call my you, my followers, and every dark creature that has pledged their loyalty to me. I call you to begin the attack against Hogwarts." 

The pain of their marks blinded them; for a moment, the two moved as one. They moved away from each other and towards their wands — in complete unison and with total devotion. The moment lasted less than a minute. Draco was propelled by his family, but y/n was hindered by hesitation. 

"I have to go, but we will see each other again. This is the last night before everything changes but not our last night together." Draco grabbed his mother's wand and looked back at y/n momentarily. "I love you." 

"I love you, but I'm sorry. I can't do this — Draco, I'm going to fight, but not alongside you." The words hung in the air; Draco and y/n were frozen in time as they shared a bittersweet look. 

"I love you," Draco repeated, his eyes glassy. Y/N would have thought it was a parting gift or goodbye, except for the genuine smile. "We will see each other again, and I will tell our grandchildren about how brave you were in this moment." 

With that, a sign of hope, Draco apparated. He wasn't sure if he could choose to be as defiant and brave, but for the first time in a long time, he felt rebellion fluttering in his heart.