#and like we're not alone in this. there are a lot of people in worse situations rn

[waterfallofspace]

Anyone else not able to say 'bless you', either because it feels too personal, embarrassing, slightly erotic or a mixture of all of the above-

Buuuuuut also whenever an event interrupts the conversation, you feel so much more awkward not saying anything/commenting on it at all, and so you wish you could just... say that phrase, or have some other thing that makes sense to say to just- shrug it off???

[six-improbable-things]

I had to open the ship combat rules doc I made for Rook's campaign the other day, and man, that thing was (and still is tbh) my fucking magnum opus. I put so much effort into creating rules for a type of combat that dnd doesn't naturally support, and it was SUCH a fun challenge. I'll admit it's not perfect, but it works for our campaign, and everyone seemed to like it during our one test so far, so that's good enough for me.

I think between the stat blocks, the rules themselves, and the maps of the ships, I spent easily 48 hours total on making this sailing arc happen. (No, I'm not the DM, I just like homebrewing shit, and also happen to be the one who decided to play a pirate and make that involved in the story.)

[venomvalley]

FEED ME!

EPILOGUE: BABY FOOD ↬ sevika x pregnant!reader | 3.3k words

SUMMARY: Snippets from a less lonely life.

TAGS: mentions of postpartum depression, PTSD recovery, hurt/comfort, domestic sevika, a LOT of fluff

NOTES: my knowledge of children boils down to babysitting my niece her whole life so blame her if i got anything wrong. also thank yall SO MUCH for the love on this story it's been absolutely insane and i still cannot believe it :'3

-> READ ON AO3 | SERIES MASTERLIST

I. THREE MONTHS

Parenting is hard work.

A fact of life that just about everyone knows, but it’s different actually living it. Days are long and nights are even longer, and Sevika can’t remember the last time she’s gotten a proper sleep. But you have it worse. As soon as she closes her eyes for the night, the kid starts crying, and you sit up with a tired groan to turn on the bedside lamp. Every three hours like clockwork, the same routine: remove Stella from her crib (that Sevika commissioned from a local wood worker) beside the bed, sit a pillow in your lap, pull up your shirt, and feed her.

Sevika tries to stay up with you, to keep you company, but you tell her over and over again that there’s no sense in both of you being useless come tomorrow. You have a good point.

But she does her part in other ways. Changes cloth diapers like a professional, spends more time cleaning up water messes around the tub than actually bathing the kid, rocks her to sleep then puts her in the crib.

It’s all routine now, in the strangest change of fate. Being in love, receiving love, waking up in an actual home and a soft bed—not alone anymore. She has two people now that she would go to the end of the world and back for, and she still can’t believe that the circumstances are real.

Stella always smiles at the sight of her, and Sevika always smiles back.

Weird. Terrifying. Perfect.

“We're going to Lyra’s tomorrow,” you say, adjusting Stella’s weight in your arms as she feeds, tiny hand curled against your chest. “Don’t forget that.”

Sevika cracks open an eye, head lolling on your outstretched leg to look up at you. Naked beneath your red robe, all dips and curves from the pregnancy weight you gained, fresh marks stretching over your belly and hips and inner thighs. Motherhood is a good look you.

But that’s her hindbrain talking. The part of her that would still love you no matter what form you took (but she likes this one a lot).

“The check-up, right?” she asks, turning away from Stella’s kicking foot that connects instead with her temple. “Ow.”

You bite back a laugh, smooth a hand over her hair, then tuck the baby’s legs under your arm. “Yeah. She just wants to make sure everything’s okay.”

“That’s good.”

Tomorrow comes and Stella is less than thrilled about being handled by a stranger. Lyra’s gentle with her exam, but the kid still fusses and wriggles around on the blanket-covered table. When Lyra turns her over onto her stomach, she wails, and you take a step forward before Sevika curls an arm over your chest, gently coaxing you back.

“She's fine, Mama.”

Your head thumps against her shoulder, hand curling over her wrist for comfort. Voice wavering and watery as you mutter, “I know, but I can’t stand to hear her cry.”

Lyra turns to you with a soft smile, cradling a babbling Stella in her arms. “It’s part of your new instincts, dear. But baby’s alright.” A soft pat to said baby's back. “Just fussy.”

With a sigh, you step over to the pair. “She probably needs fed.”

A quick exchange, and Stella’s back to her old self, cooing and smiling in her mama’s arms. Over your shoulder, Sevika catches her eye. Twists up her face in a way that always makes her giggle, and this time’s no different.

She still can’t believe that this is her life now. Too used to inciting fear in the heart of the Undercity, and now a three month old baby looks at her like she’s her world. A big part of her doesn’t believe she deserves it after all the bad she’s done—the people she’s killed, the strife she helped sew throughout the city.

But the kid in your arms doesn’t know that part of her, can’t comprehend it even if she did. Maybe that’s a good thing. At least you saw something inside her worth investing in. Sticking around for.

Still can’t believe it.

When you arrive home, though, the air thickens in a way that leaves her hackles raising. You set Stella's bag on the floor beside the couch and flee to the bedroom, the girl gasping and gurgling in preparation for a crying spell.

“I know, my love. You've had such a long day, huh?” you coo, voice muffled by the wall separating you.

Sevika waits on the couch as you put her down for a nap (she’s always been difficult to get to sleep, her growing brain just too active to shut down). You sneak back into the living room a while later, shutting off the overhead light as you pass, and she scoots over to give you room to sit. You exhale a breath, head thumping against the cushion at your back.

For a long moment, the two of you sit in silence. You need to decompress, and she waits for you to tell her what's wrong.

“Why are you doing all this?” you whisper, gaze trained on the ceiling.

There it is. The reason behind the sudden chill to the room, a tangible shift in your mindset.

“What do you mean?” She doesn't touch you no matter how badly her fingers itch to cradle your hand in hers. Wants to give you space to process whatever it is you're feeling.

“Nothing's keeping you here. Stella isn't even yours, and you still–” you scoff, tears pooling in the corner of your eye, “you take care of her like she is.”

“I don't understand, honey.”

With a quiet groan, you scrub at your face. “Fuck, I—I'm so sorry for involving you in this. We're not your problem, and I just… gods, it's not fair to you.”

“Isn't that for me to decide?”

“But you're already dealing with too much.” The tears fall when you squeeze your eyes shut, disappearing into your hairline. “I feel like such a burden, and I feel even worse for telling you about it.”

Your crying brings her back to that night, to the aftermath when you sat in a chair in the back of Silco's club, covered head-to-toe in blood, sobbing into your hands. She felt helpless then, and she feels helpless now. Doesn’t know how to make the pain go away.

So she does the only thing she can think of to help ease the ache. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into her side. Rests her cheek on the top of your head as your chest racks with quiet sobs. She lets you cry until your eyes dry up with an empty ache to her chest.

“If I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be,” she whispers, squeezing at your arm. “I can make my own decisions, alright?”

“But you said we're your responsibility—”

“I also said I didn't mean it that way. You're a lot more than that. Both of you.”

If only she had the words to tell you, to explain how much the two of you mean to her. The love that swells her chest to the point of bloating, so overwhelming she chokes on it at times.

You sniff, wipe your nose on your shirt. “You promise?”

“I swear.”

You look up at her, puffy-eyed and pitiful, lips twitching into a weak smile. “I'm choosing to believe you.”

She presses a wet kiss to your cheek. And another, and another, and another. Doesn't stop until you're giggling and fidgeting and turning your face away.

II. SIX MONTHS

Sevika might go insane.

The kid finally learned to crawl a week ago, and she hasn't stopped moving since. Wakes the both of you up late into the night by climbing over your heads to attempt an escape off the mattress. Crawls after you as you walk to and from the kitchen, shouting and gurgling for attention. Pulls herself up onto shaky legs as Sevika sits on the couch, little fingers fisting the fabric of her pants to steady herself. So active and curious that the two of you run yourselves to death just trying to keep up with her.

Sevika would never tell anybody this, but the first time she had to raise her voice at her to keep away from the heavy cabinets, she hid in the closet nearby and cried as Stella napped in her crib. You had come home from the market, seen her puffy eyes, and pulled her into a reassuring hug.

She just doesn't want to be her father's daughter. The parent her parents were. It's a fine line to walk. Terrifying at times.

Over the last few months, Sevika's pulled away a bit from the danger of the Lanes, and in turn, Silco. A shift in priorities tends to alter the brain, and her little family is now at the top of the list. Always at the back of her mind. When she leaves on jobs that she can’t put off on some grunt, she always brings gifts home. Your favorite food, a new onesie, little figurines that remind her of either of you (always the poorly-made ones that make you laugh yourself to tears, but the one she bought featuring a very smashed-up mother and baby cat proudly sits on the table in the entryway).

You’ve got a good part-time job going, cleaning houses for the elderly either too sick or too feeble to do it themselves. It pays in cogs, but you’ve found purpose again. Lyra insisted at your last check-up that you consider activities outside of being a mother. A new hobby, giving back to the community, meeting new people.

Well, you don't really have time for new hobbies and you're still wary of people after the whole Joker thing, so the logical next step was looking for a job. A way to build up a bit of money so you aren’t relying on Sevika all the time—at least, that’s what you told her.

But today, both of you are free to explore the Undercity with Stella in tow. It's the first time you've expressed interest in visiting your favorite bakery since that night with Joker.

A big, important step for you. Your hands shake the whole way as you follow the familiar path of the street, Stella swaddled against your chest. Sevika offered to carry her, but you probably need the comfort. Her point proven when you rub your nose against the wispy hairs on her tiny head as the shop comes into view.

Behind the counter, Tayla gasps when you step inside, squealing at the sight of the baby cradled to your chest. “Oh, I missed you so much!” She strolls up to you then grasps your hands with a beaming smile. “I was so worried after you left that day and I hadn't seen you around. Gods, how are you?”

Ever curious, Stella turns her head at the sound of a new voice then cries out in frustration when she can't see Tayla’s face. The woman in question steps up to your side and takes the baby's hand.

“Hi, baby. It's nice to meet you.” Then she turns to you. “What's her name?”

“Stella,” you say, voice dripping with pride. “Sevika picked it out.”

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

Sevika stands off to the side to let the two of you catch up, meandering along the displays of bread and cakes and cookies. The whole shop smells amazing, fresh and sweet, and the handmade furniture and soft lighting give off a coziness uncommon to the Undercity. No wonder you spent so much time here.

When she turns around, Stella is balanced on your hip, grabbing the bits of fresh bread you offer from your palm with thumb and forefinger. Tayla celebrates after each bite with words of praise and a soft clap, and Stella beams. Sevika doesn't want to interrupt the sweet scene, too afraid that her presence would break whatever blissful bubble surrounds your little group. She has nothing to say to Tayla, and this is a big moment for you. One of reunion and reclamation.

Where does she fit in?

You answer her question when you turn around, eyes searching for a split second, and panic gives way to warmth when you spot her. You invite her over with a coaxing nod of your head, lips stretching into a smile.

“She loves the bread,” you say upon her approach, and the baby reaches for her with a scrunched nose and a big smile—her two bottom teeth an adorable contrast against her gums that leaves Sevika's lips twitching upward.

(She remembers when the kid first started teething. A lot of sleepless nights and tears and chewing on wet washcloths. Fingers indented with marks, pricked with blood. You cried more than Stella did, utterly helpless against curing your baby's pain.)

She holds the baby in the crook of her metal arm and wipes the crumbs from her mouth. “Mama's made a mess of you, hasn't she?”

You giggle, squeezing Stella's chubby leg as she babbles away. “She eats like somebody else I know.”

Sevika chooses to ignore the very pointed glare aimed her away.

III. ONE YEAR

Her bubble of happiness shatters shortly after Stella's first birthday, when the gates are knocked down between the Undercity and Piltover, and war is declared. A fight for the world and the two people she loves most in it.

You cry the entire way to the trolley, holding two packed suitcases and the remnants of a broken heart. Stella wriggles in the bend of Sevika's arm—old enough to pick up on the doom in the air, but too young to understand why.

You round on her when you finally reach the door of the car. “I swear to Janna, if you die, I'll track down a mage and revive you so I can kill you myself.”

She holds you close, presses a goodbye kiss to your forehead. “I don't plan on dying.”

“That's what my dad said, and look what happened to him.”

“Good thing I'm not him.”

Your frown deepens as she passes Stella to you, gaze locked onto the cloak hiding her missing arm. “You aren't even able to fight.”

She exhales a breath through her teeth. “You underestimate me.”

“I worry about you. Is that so awful?”

Yes. It's irrational, and the image of your wet cheeks—tear tracks caused by her—sits wrong in her gut. A kind of guilt she's never really experienced. But before you, she never had something important to lose, nobody sitting at home waiting for her to come back safe. Now she has two.

Which is why she has to do this.

"I'll be fine."

You resort to begging, arms wound tight around the baby. Please don't go. I'll do anything. I can't lose you. Please. Please.

She can't let the heartbreak in your voice affect her, not when everything is at stake, no matter how badly she wants to cradle you both in her arms and take you home and damn the world to its fate.

It's the first time she says I love you. A phrase that burns acidic on her tongue, that rushes out in a whisper as you accept one final hug before climbing into the car.

IV. TWO YEARS

The kid's a damn menace. Two years old now, yanking the leash of the world in her chubby little fist. Can barely talk yet (you understand her better than Sevika does), but she always has something to say. Always running around the house.

Like now.

Sevika steps out of the kitchen and intercepts the girl with her lone arm. Pulls her to her chest as she squeals and laughs and kicks her feet.

She can’t help but smile. Says, “I don’t think so, kiddo. You have to put your clothes on.”

You walk from the bedroom with a shake of your head, a pair of matching pajamas in hand, eyes sunken from the long day finally behind you. “I have no idea where she’s gotten this energy from. You, apparently.”

“…Me.”

“I've known you three years and I've never seen you sit still.”

She doesn't know how to tell you that she's not, in fact, the dad (no matter how much she wishes to be), and has no bearing on the kid's genes. So she just nods along and agrees.

Watching this girl grow into herself—become a person with interests, likes and dislikes, a personality that gets stronger with each passing day—has been nothing short of amazing. Already, she's grown an attitude. Talks with the cadence of someone who's dealt with a lifetime of bullshit (Sevika's influence, no doubt). Morphs her face into a direct mirror of your scowls and glares and grins (she looks so much like you sometimes that it's almost uncanny).

The three of you had spent the entire day at a ceremony celebrating Sevika's seat on Piltover's council. Nothing more than a shallow show of solidarity and hospitality that she would rather not subject you to, but you had insisted. I won’t let you do this alone. It’s a sweet sentiment, but she doesn’t expect anything to come of her new status—as if she’d actually take them up on their offer to move her family out of the Undercity.

She’s just putting up with this shit for the confidential information anyway.

You had been excited, more optimistic about the future than her. A chance for change, for progress, to give Stella a better world to grow up in. But the kid will reach the stars one day, with or without her influence. She can feel it.

Sevika sits down on the couch with Stella in her lap, keeping her still so you can finally dress the kid after her bath. But she can't blame her. Who the hell actually likes wearing clothes?

"You can go on to bed," you say, sidestepping the giggling toddler when she runs past. "I'm gonna get her a quick snack."

When the two of you return from the kitchen, Stella that Sevika reads her a story. Climbs into bed with the same pop-up book you've read so many times the pages started cracking, and plants it on her lap.

Sevika shakes her head, mouth twitching into a frown. “I'm not good at telling stories. Not like Mama is.”

Really, she just… can't. A sacred line she hasn't yet dared to cross. She thinks of her mom flipping through those picture books, how animated and enthralling she made each story, and knows she could never do it justice.

(Shit, she's forgotten the sound of her mom's voice.)

You stroll in a moment later, feet dragging along the ground, before collapsing into bed with a relieved groan. "What are you two talking about?"

Sevika sighs, thumbing the edge of the worn book. "She wants me to read to her."

"Mommy, book," Stella says again, patting the cover to get her attention.

The look you give her is one of understanding, reassurance. "I think it would be nice."

"I can't do it like you." Like her mom used to.

"You don't have to."

With a huffing breath, she opens the first page, and Stella curls up against her side, tiny arm slung over her chest. Sevika reads along in a low, calm voice, adjusting her tone for different characters and asking questions about each picture. Halfway through the book, she gets no response, and when she looks over, both you and Stella are fast asleep, curled up beneath the sheets.

She sets the book on the nightstand, turns off the lamp, and shifts Stella around to carve out a spot for herself on the bed. Smiles soft and sleepy when your hand finds hers in the darkness.

[homunculus-argument]

Back when I first moved to the city I currently live in, that was the first time I had moved to live somewhere new truly on my own - I had lived in student housing with all my schoolmates, and then a shared apartment with a classmate as my roommate, and in work-adjanced housing in the same town where my family lived, but this was the first time I moved right into a completely new place where I knew nothing and nobody, all by myself.

So on my first weekend in a new city by myself I figured the best way to find friends is go out by myself to do something I would enjoy doing with buddies and see who else is there - packed a bunch of beers in my backpack and decided to go drink in the nearby park. Found a group of cool-looking punks, awkwardly introduced myself and pretty much had them go "oh huh, neat" and grab me in. So I now had a band of drinking buddies who were cool.

I have a tendency to unwittingly screw things up, and being an undiagnosed and unmedicated, pre-therapy ball of mess, I was a lot worse, and a lot worse at coping with it. So once a problem I hadn't noticed building up unexpectedly collapsed on me, I had no idea what had happened, or what to do, and one of my new friends found me literally sitting on her doorstep, sobbing. I had no idea what was wrong but I was 100% sure that I was doomed and that I Can't Fucking Do This Anymore.

So she calmly went "alright how about you calm down, and we're gonna sit down and have a cigarette and you can tell me what's wrong and we can see what we're gonna do about it." Troubleshooting everything, it turned out that the reason my phone had stopped working was because my internet contract had cut off, because I hadn't paid my phone bill for three months, because I hadn't received the bills in the mail, because I hadn't noticed I had put my new home address wrong in the registry. So she let me borrow her computer to get all of that fixed, and just like that, the problem that almost crushed me was gone, popped out of existence like a soap bubble.

I was so relieved that I was straight-up euphoric, she was downright embarrassed by my avalanche of thank you's for something that had been really no bother at all to her. On my way home I was still so happy that I even texted my mom about it - I didn't tell her in detail what stupid thing I had embarrassingly fucked up, but I wanted to let her know that I had had a problem I hadn't been able to fix on my own, but that I had already made friends here and one of them could help me fix it, and that I feel so loved and cared for here.

And I guess I expected her to reply something along the lines of "I'm glad to hear that. I'm relieved to know that even though you have your weaknesses in managing day-to-day life, you have the skill to befriend people and build yourself a social support network that you can turn to when you can't manage alone and family is out of reach." Echoing my own pride in being able to make friends, and having found such good friends already. Being glad to hear that I am safe, and that I can still find ways to get by even though I can't do it all on my own.

Instead she answered "wdm you didn't feel loved here, we have always cared for you."

[redeemingvillains]

three words, eight letters - mattheo riddle

summary: you confessed your feelings to mattheo months ago, and his unwillingness to do the same might be the very thing that breaks you apart for good.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst!!! y'all i literally hurt my own feelings writing this. but i had several requests for angst so here you go! ultimately it's flangst because please, we're not doing real sad on this blog.

a/n: this is the first of two v-day fics i have to share! happy love month my dears, you are all my valentines, no takebacks! ily! bonus points to anyone who gets the reference from the title!

Mattheo was slouched in the largest armchair in the common room staring blankly at the flames in the fireplace as he fidgeted with his lighter, flicking it on repeatedly. Chk, chk, chk. He was thinking about everything and nothing when he heard your voice and was shaken out of his stupor.

He glanced up to see you walking into the room with Enzo and Blaise at your side, laughing at something one of them had said before you parted ways.

Gods she's beautiful he thought, as a familiar warmth settled in his chest and fuck if I'm not glad she's mine.

You were searching the common room like you were looking for someone, and he was about to get to his feet when your eyes lit up in recognition, twinkling, as your perfect lips curved into his favorite smile, the one reserved just for him; but the warmth in his chest disappeared, replaced with a bolt of something that felt an awful lot like fear when he realized your smile wasn't for him.

Another guy was approaching you that Mattheo didn't recognize and the concept tickled something in the back of his brain... didn't he know everyone in this house?

He immediately began trying to place him, to size him up. He had a few inches on Mattheo and though he was loathe to admit it, he was a little broader and more muscular too. His hair was a bit darker, his curls a bit more tamed and the way you were looking at him had Mattheo physically shaking with rage.

He was approaching you with confidence, with ease, and with a lopsided smile and a look in his eye that hinted at exactly what he had in mind and Mattheo was on his feet and moving towards you before he knew what he was doing.

"Hey!" he shouted, his voice carrying in a way that demanded attention.

But either you didn't hear him, or worse, you were ignoring him because your eyes never left the guy who was now dangerously close to you.

"Hey!" he shouted louder, his voice booming now. "Get the fuck away from her!"

But you were totally entranced as the guy stopped before you, and you pressed your hands to his chest and ran them up around his neck, tugging at his curls in the very way Mattheo loved most; he could almost feel the ghostly whisper of your fingers on his neck now, even as he pushed people, shoved them aside in his effort to get to you, to stop whatever the hell was going on.

He was running but felt like he was going nowhere, he was shouting, but it was like no one could hear him. And then the stranger sunk his lips to yours and it was like Mattheo could have called up hell itself in his fury as he lunged for him, but met nothing, falling into deep darkness.

Mattheo's eyes flew open as he clawed at his chest, breathing frantically as he tangled in his sheets, sitting up in his four-poster bed.

...In his four-poster bed.

...In his dormitory.

...It was a dream?

He sat up fully, cradling his head in his hands as he tried to calm his racing heart and steady his breath. He was granted a single moment of relief as he realized the entire scene he'd just witnessed was a fabrication of his mind before he remembered why he was alone in his bed in the first place, why you weren't tucked into his arms, rubbing your eyes and granting him your sleepy smile, his favorite way to start every day.

Fuck he thought as he remembered your argument from the night before, dread settling in his stomach like a rock as he threw back his covers.

It was the last night before everyone returned home for winter break and Mattheo had probably had too much firewhiskey; maybe you both had, he thought, as he watched you wobble beside him as he walked you back to your dormitory. The corridor was empty given the late hour, the only sound the occasional rustle of a painting and your heeled shoes against the cobblestones.

"You're so unserious" you said.

"Well, not everything is as serious as you make it" he replied smartly, smirking at you.

"Not even us?" you asked as you stopped walking to face him.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, drawing his gaze to the ceiling. He did not want to have this conversation with you... again.

You sighed, exasperated at his reaction and moved to keep walking. "Forget it" you mumbled.

Great, he thought. Now he'd managed to piss you off without even saying anything.

"C'mon, c'mere" he said, grabbing your hand pleadingly and pulling you back towards him.

But you didn't relent.

"You're not getting out of this this time" you said, pulling your hand back.

His face sat in an angry sneer, unfamiliar with the feeling of not getting his way.

"It's a simple question that you refuse to answer" you pushed. "How. Do. You. Feel. About. Me?—"

"—Why do you keep asking me this shit?"

"Because it's important to me! Because I want to hear you say it. That's not too much to ask Matty!"

And he knew you were right. So he rolled his eyes and sighed.

"I...care about you, you know that."

"And that's it?"

"Is that not enough?!" he asked, more loudly and harshly than he'd intended. But you were relentlessly pressing up against an insecurity he didn't want to face and it was wearing him thin.

Your eyes watered at his tone, which immediately made him feel even more full of self-loathing.

"I told you I loved you two months ago" you whispered. "And every day you don't say it back breaks my heart just a little bit more and leaves me wondering what I am to you."

He could physically feel your vulnerability, could see it written on your face in the tears perched in your eyes that were wide and desperately searching his face for answers he couldn't give you, in the wobble of your bottom lip that you were biting to keep from breaking down.

But he didn't have a single weapon in his arsenal to fight this emotional battle, he didn't have any context or experience with these kind of feelings, or any idea what to say to make it better. So he shrugged his shoulders in defeat, slamming down the walls around his heart that you'd been beating against since the day he met you.

And it was like you could see him put them up, because you shook your head in disbelief, in disappointment and swiped at your eyes.

"And there it is" you said quietly as you turned away from him.

The fact that you could see through him so clearly, so easily, and the fact that he couldn't bring himself to let you in infuriated him.

"Well princess" he snapped, twisting your once affectionate nickname, "If I'm such a disappointment, why don't you go find someone else who can tell you what you want to hear?"

You turned back to him slowly, your cheeks flush with the shock of his words.

"What?" you whispered in disbelief.

"I can't give you what you want and I clearly don't make you happy" he said, gesturing to the crumbling expression on your face, "So why waste your time?"

"Matty" you said, reaching for him, trying urgently to stop his train of thought.

"Nah that sounds like a great idea" he said, pushing your hand away as his lips curved into a sarcastic smile that terrified you, that brought to the surface every fear you'd had about how he'd break your heart, every warning you didn't heed along the way. "It's obvious this isn't working—."

"—Stop, please stop, that's not at all what I'm saying, Matty, I love—"

"—Don't" he said simply.

He shook his head, barely tracing his eyes over you before he turned to walk away, the distant echoes of your crying chasing him as they reverberated off the stone walls.

He hastily grabbed his clothing off the floor, wobbling as he pulled on his pants and grabbed his shirt.

"What time is it?" he asked gruffly, looking at Enzo.

"Well, good morning to you too—"

"—What fucking time is it?" he growled.

"Eleven" Draco muttered as he walked by. "The first train leaves in twenty."

"Fuck" he said as he slipped on shoes and made for the door, brushing by Theo and Blaise.

The castle was in disorderly chaos with students departing for the holidays; the corridors were crowded with luggage and groups of friends saying their goodbyes that acted as a veritable obstacle course for him that he wound through urgently to get to you on time. He didn't hesitate to give a shove when it was warranted, he knew you'd be on the first train home because you had planned to leave together before he'd thrown a fucking dynamite into your relationship.

His head pounded with his hangover and his regret, neither of which did anything to help the nausea he felt as he remembered what he'd say to you and the mental image of his nightmare that felt more like a reality every moment he couldn't see you, couldn't touch you.

His feet were moving faster than his brain and by the time he found you he wished to Salazar he'd spent more time figuring out what to say. Unlike him, you showed no visible signs of a rough night; your tear-stained face and smudged makeup were wiped clear and you were dressed beautifully as you hoisted your luggage onto the train and hopped onto the platform.

"YN!" he shouted.

But just like in his dream, you didn't hear him.

The sharp conductor's whistle sounded, signaling five minutes to departure.

"YN!" he shouted louder.

A few people around him looked up as he ran past and finally you did too, your eyes wide with surprise at the sight of him dodging around people to get to you, his cheeks flushed, his curls windblown.

You swallowed visibly as he approached you, but you didn't say anything as you stepped back off the train.

He reached for you before thinking better of it and pulling his hand back.

"I..." he cleared his throat and looked down at his feet as he tried to catch his breath.

"...Am sorry about last night. I shouldn't have said a lot of what I said...I shouldn't have spoken to you that way."

Your eyebrow quirked, though your face remained serious. An apology from Mattheo Riddle? Was the sky falling?

His eyes met yours and though they were red rimmed and told of a restless sleep, they remained a perfect, intoxicating shade of chocolate brown that caught your next breath, as it always did.

He paused again, his face scrunching as he carded his hand frustratedly through his hair.

"M'not great with words, or feelings."

You shot him a look as if to say "No shit."

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, but I—fuck—I do— when you said—I..."

He was trying so hard to get whatever he needed to say out, you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

Against your better judgement you reached out and tangled your warm fingers in his cold hand.

He looked down at your intertwined fingers and then up at expectant smile on your lips.

"I fucking love you" he exhaled heavily. "I have probably since the first time you let me kiss you. And it terrified me, because loving you means I have a chance of losing you, of getting my heart fucking destroyed, of giving you the power to destroy me, and I don't let people get that close to me for that reason. But not telling you how I felt was destroying me, destroying us all the same. So, fuck it. I love you. Now you know."

You had gotten closer to him with each word and were looking up at him now as you pressed your hands to his chest, just like in his dream and he was certain you could feel his heart hammering there as you smiled at him quietly.

"Can you please say something?" he whispered as he searched your eyes.

"Oh, you want me to say it back? Would it feel really really nice to hear me say it back? Like, you'd feel safe and seen and validated and not alone on a fucking island wondering where you stood with me?" you said with a tilt of your head, challenging him.

He pursed his lips, pushing his tongue into his cheek and pouting slightly as he broke his gaze from yours.

"I deserved that" he said.

You waited a moment longer, dragging it out.

"I love you too, Mattheo Riddle. I forgive you. And I promise I will never, ever destroy that perfect, stubborn heart of yours."

You smiled and looped your hands around his neck, tangling your fingers in his curls in a way that sent shivers down his back that had nothing to do with the soft snowfall that had started. It felt like the earth, the universe itself was back on its axis again and he smiled at you, wide and honest.

"Say it again?" you whispered as you leaned into him, brushing your lips just on top of his.

"I deserved that?" he teased, repeating the last thing he'd said, instantly feeling your lips pout against his own.

"Kidding" he whispered as his hands wound to your hips, pulling you into him.

"I love you, princess" he said quietly, slowly, reveling in the way it filled a part of his heart with warmth that he'd never felt before as he cupped your face and pressed his lips to yours.

@kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner @smut-anarchy @locknco

[bynux]

"don't vote for Harris or you're supporting genocide" "voting blue is still voting for fascists" Then what else do you expect us to do?

Here are some options y'all seem to insist on and why they're fucking stupid:

Vote Third Party :: Until we have ranked-choice voting (and probably even if we did have ranked-choice voting), it is practically impossible to make a 3rd-party candidate viable. There's not enough of the population that's far enough from moderate to give up their "safe" blue vote for some "revolutionary."

Don't Vote At All :: I'd prefer to pick my enemy. If I'm going to be working in spite of the government, or even against it in some ways, I'd rather the people I'm working against not already be targeting me for being queer, for example. If my options are "bad" or "much, much worse" I'm gonna pick "bad" and try to improve things from there.

Violent Revolution :: It's a cosplay power fantasy in the same vein as the Right-wingers looking for a reason to shoot protesters. Assuming you even have enough people organized and enough firepower to pull that off in the first place…have you prepared a plan to keep the innocents alive and safe? Are you sure you can keep supply chains for food and medicines intact? Are you sure there will be resources available for the disabled, the scared, the young and old, those who won't be able to fight and still need to be taken care of? Turns out revolution is ugly and causes a lot of undue collateral damage. Are the lives "saved" really going to outweigh those whose lives will be upended and destroyed? It's not like a newly-toppled, unorganized country will be able to do anything about Israel/Gaza, so you're just hurting and killing far more people than you're saving.

As for the power you do have to better things (and make Leftism more viable as a political stance in the US)?

Work at the level of your local government. If you're in a small enough town or neighborhood and think you have what it takes, run for local office. Be a local face of the left wing; you're far more likely to sway a small town to your views than the whole country, and each small town with a socialist-leaning government is a dot on the map for larger-scale viability, and you can help keep your community safe while trying to build up in scale.

Build community so we can keep each other safe if worse does come to worst. Push mutual aid initiatives, help at food banks, grow produce to donate to those in need, apply to work at your local free clinic, empower local businesses whenever possible so that if there is a socioeconomic collapse, you and those you love aren't left completely without resources.

Protest, and make it disruptive. You can be disruptive without being violent: graffiti, blocking roads, encampments, sit-ins, to name a few examples. Create inconveniences so it gets people's attention whether they like it or not.

Above all, FUCKING VOTE BLUE. You're choosing your enemy. You get to help decide if the government we're working in spite of is run by milquetoast neoliberal war hawks who do, on some rare occasions, actually make things marginally better��or full-tilt Christo-fascists who want to kill some of us for kissing people with the same genitals as us. There aren't any other options that are going to be picked. It sucks, but at the bare minimum we can pick the option that isn't going to actively murder us while we try to build up viability for a candidate who won't sell out brown people to an ethnostate.

If you aren't doing at least one of the things above, then don't lecture me about how I keep myself and my community safe. I'd love to see a United States (or some future iteration of it) that acknowledges the sovereign rights of indigenous peoples, that doesn't fund genocide, that provides healthcare as a basic human right, that doesn't meddle in every other country's business. But if we are to see that, let alone help that happen, we need to survive this next presidential administration.

Edit: y'all have lost reblog privileges. If you wanna screenshot this and have stupid unnuanced opinions OFF of my post, be my guest. Just leave me tf alone.

[wachinyeya]

I'm one of the anons from the other day I just want to say thank you. I'm still terrified but you words did help. Currently in my country we have been experiencing effects over the last few years that were expected in 2050. In just the last few months (when it is winter) we've had a "once in a lifetime" storm and we are now on the second lot of wildfire warnings already this year. I'm only in high school and I just don't see a livable future and that is terrifying. There are too many problems to fix in the world and our government would rather fund more oil and gas drilling than save my future

It is okay to be afraid. But, remember that we cannot predict the future, even if we try. We can only work in the present for a better one. I was going to ask which country you're in but tbh I feel like it could apply to countries all over the globe. We are at the tipping point, the place scientists have been talking about. What we're experiencing is the results of their predictions. Now we are being forced to act. There is no more hiding, no more pretending (even if some of them want to).

There are many many problems but there are just as many solutions. And many people dedicated to applying those solutions. I believe we all have a role to play in this. Even if it's something 'small' like advocating for a local species or picking up litter--all things are connected.

You are not alone. And you are not responsible for all these problems. These problems have been building up for hundreds of years and it will likely take us that same time frame to 'fix' it--but we're working on, we're deep in the trying to fix it stage. It is not your responsibility to fix these problems but you do have a responsibility to keep going even if you struggle to imagine a future--I promise there WILL BE ONE. There was once a time when the the divine right of kings was just how it was and people living in it likely struggled to imagine a day when things would be different. But, they are.

You may have a lot of shitty people in your government but there are also good ones. Pay attention to your local government, your local officials because they are the ones who you have the most influence over.

I want to give you this video to watch that someone recommended if you haven't already:

There is also a really awesome masterlist put together by @reasonsforhope about why we're going to beat climate change.

I try to remember that there have been MANY MANY times on this planet where life struggled, where humans have struggled, but we've survived. There was a point in time where my people, indigenous people, lived through the apocalypse--millions of us died, torn from their families, we were put into concentration camps, the land was stolen and torn into pieces, destroyed for farming and building and mining. If you learn usa environmental history, the dust bowl and other disasters came from this. But, we're still here. And the land is still here. it is damaged and so are we. But, we are still here. Nature heals and adapts in incredible ways. We just have to help.

I'm not saying it will be easy. As I said, it will likely get worse before it gets better but it is going to get better. In the mean time, we are going to have to adapt, we have to be resilient.

Use your voice, use your hands, and do what you can where you are right now. Action is a good way to fight despair. Write letters to your government, call them, speak with your family and friends, go to protests, clean up trash around your home, learn the birds and insects and plants in your local area....aid in the fire recovery if you can and learn how they are trying to prevent it from happening in the future.

We're all in this together, friend. It won't be an easy struggle but it is so, so worth it. You must keep going. There is no other choice for us. And we need you. It's okay to be afraid but don't let it control you.

Again if you haven't already it might be a good idea to speak with someone (an adult in your life) you trust, but your doctor or a therapist might help as well (I've seen both and they have helped me a lot).

[animeyanderelover]

May or may not write in the next few days also some poly!relationship with Morticia and Gomez Addams (as portrayed in the two movies in the early 90s). For now I would like to try my skills with my currently other hyperfixation. We're talking about the Wolverine version as portrayed in the first 3 X-Men movies.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, overprotective behavior, death

Wolverine Hc's

The situation would be quite difficult and most definitely unexpected for Logan. He has spent years just aimlessly wandering around with no clear recollection of who he is and how he came to be, spent years just getting by somehow before Professor Charles and the X-Men offered him the closest thing to a family he has had since he came to be. He's loyal yet still sees himself as a loner who prefers keeping to himself. He's very conscious of his own feelings above anything else and even though he's known for his short temper and crude attitude he is by no means a bad person which is why he tries to put some distance between the two of you, fully aware that you shouldn't associate with him. At that point it is most likely too late already. For Logan to get so attached to you to the point of obsession it's likely that the two of you have known each other for a while now and that you've opened his heart up without even being aware of it. You've essentially just gained yourself a guard dog who will take any physical harm for you all too gladly.

Whilst Logan can be very possessive, especially in an established relationship, above all he is very protective. He spends most of his days just watching you from a distance, usually able to track you down by scent and sound alone. Normally his days do not require him to be overly busy unless Professor Charles needs something from him so he has a lot of time on his hands which he gladly devotes to you. All too often you have him always a few feet away from him, watching over you and willing to interfere as soon as anything or anyone should pose a threat to you. As someone who doesn't like when his own freedom is limited Logan at least gives it a try to not be too protective yet the fact that his senses are so much keener do not make this task easier. Never think that he isn't good in noticing your current mood. He hears it when your heart starts racing and his elevated sense of smell makes him very sensitive to changes in your body odor as he's able to detect the chemical changes when your emotions change. This plays a role in how he reacts and if his darling is highly emotional or on a more anxious Logan will be naturally more protective.

Your existence is a blessing as much as it is a curse for him simply because you make Logan aware just how painfully lonely he feels now that he has started yearning for you. You make him miserable in more than one way. Somehow he makes the situation even worse for himself though whilst being your devoted watchdog from the shadows. He's usually there when you spend time with friends or family outside, observing from a safe distance all whilst feeling a strange sensation tugging at his heartstrings, a strange sensation edging between warm comfort and cold loneliness. He'd like to be by your side too but knows that there are things he still has to work on. Jealousy is one of a few emotions that tends to make you aware that there is in fact a man following you around and the first time you hear that guttural growl from behind you you believe for a short moment that a beast is standing right behind you. One may call him too protective but he isn't irrational when he's jealous for neither his nose nor his ears lie to him. He knows exactly when you feel attracted to someone or vice versa.

People have insulted him more than once as being no better than an animal, a beast with no mind of his own. That is not true as Logan doesn't blindly attack people but killing others he will do if it guarantees your safety. There's a difference between arrogant stupidity that some may put up for show and the genuine bloodlust , the will that it takes to kill someone and Logan is able to tell the difference which often spares idiots their life as a few simple threats with his adamantium claws are more than sufficient enough to have grown men running away like little kids. Anyone who really comes for your life though will be met with the beast he has been called he is. Logan is fully prepared to murder anyone who would even dare try to lay a finger on you and his regenerative abilities tend to make him very reckless, fully prepared to use his own body as a shield and endure all injuries if it means that there isn't a single scratch on you. The one mistake someone could make though is triggering him to go berserk by hurting you, leaving him attacking and hurting anyone around him blindly, his mind clouded in red rage as he tears through blood and flesh.

In all the years since he has awoken without any memories of his previous life he has never been able to settle down once as a unease deeply rooted within his soul kept him moving from place to place, too restless to ever allow himself to sit still for even a moment. He has no place where he could keep you and Logan knows that yet strangely enough the longer he starts spending time near you the more he feels a previously unfamiliar ease washing over him, one that motivates him to give a permanent stay in a place a chance, something that previously used to be unimaginable for him. Even if he were to actually take that step and buy a small house he would still refrain himself from kidnapping you unless his trauma that lays dormant somewhere in his mind would resurface when he has to witness the heart-shattering situation of almost losing you, a vice on his mind that would taunt him forever that you almost lost your life because he couldn't protect you. The guilt will most likely only serve as an additional shackle around his soul yet his paranoia would ultimately outweight his guilt.

You may fall in the same trap as others do when they initially lay eyes upon the wild-looking man. Whilst Logan is gruff, crude and quite aggressive at times he is not only that. He's more but that is a side he only reserves for the people he trusts and you figure out that there is far more beneath his hardened surface. He's kind, he's loyal, surprisingly gentle and downright flirty once you get to know him better. He's usually careful with his touches, aware that his grip may hurt you more due to the adamantium that coats all of his bones. Your scent usually manages to calm him as soon as he gets a whiff of it unless it would be tinged with distress in which case his own emotions would quickly start stirring up with worry. There are still occasionally moments where he appears more uncertain and hesitant, moments where he questions just how much he should indulge in all of this and to a degree even how much he deserves it. At that point he's already aware that it is far too late to recover though as he'd leave half of his heart with you if he were to distance himself from you now, doomed to always live only half the life he could have if he were to have you.

[apomaro-mellow]

Corroded Coffin ransoms Steve 3

Part 2

They left Steve alone again, this time making sure he was tied up to the chair tight before leaving him in the basement. They conferenced in the living room again. By now, the sky was beginning to get dark. Winter in Hawkins could be such a bummer.

"So his parents won't be back in town a while. They'd still call to check on him, though, right?", Doug asked.

"He's right", Jeff said. "We can sneak back into his house, change the voicemail to our demands. The moment they call, they'll get it and we get our money."

Eddie rubbed his face. "Somethin' tells me it won't be that easy, gents."

"One of your famous 'feelings'?", Gareth rolled his eyes.

"Who leaves their golden child during the holidays? And when was the last time you actually saw either of his parents?", Eddie asked.

Living in a small town, you saw everybody at least once a week. Either at the grocery store, the gas station, at Benny's. It was hard to avoid people in this town unless they were a literal shut in.

"My mom had some things to say about her from that lady's luncheon the church threw", Jeff said.

"Dude, that was back in April", Gareth said, suddenly shooting to his feet. "Shit! What if he's really worthless?! We just kidnapped Harrington for nothing!"

"We let him go?", Doug suggested.

"So he can go and tell his jock friends what we did? They'll literally murder us!", Gareth shouted.

Eddie stood up and began pacing about as the others argued, all making valid points. They couldn't just let Steve go. Not only were they still penniless, Steve would probably go straight to the cops, or worse the basketball team. Getting arrested was a hundred times better than murdered by mob. It felt like they had nowhere to go.

"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!", Eddie shouted, bringing them all to silence. He took a deep breath. "Harrington said he can get us the money. I say we let him try."

"The moment we let him go, he's gonna make a run for it!", Gareth threw his hands up.

"Then we put a leash on him!", Eddie's hands also went into the air.

"If we don't do this right, we're all going to jail. Or worse", Jeff said.

Eddie opened his mouth only to freeze when he had an epiphany. Yes....yeah a way to kill two birds with one stone. He started mumbling to himself, pacing about the living room again before clapping his hands together.

"I got it!"

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

Steve could hear them shouting above, but couldn't make out every word. Not like he needed to anyway, he could figure out what they were talking about. It had to be him. Maybe it finally sunk in that they couldn't get a ransom from his parents and they were brainstorming a new plan. He hoped in involved letting him go.

His stomach growled.

Or letting him eat. God, it must've been hours since they grabbed him.

He heard it get quiet upstairs and that made the gurgling in his stomach even louder. Then there were footsteps coming down the stairs. This time it was just Munson. He pulled up a chair and turned it backwards before sitting across from Steve, crossing his arms over the back of it.

"You said you can get us five Gs."

"Yeah? Yeah, I can do that", Steve said.

"Elaborate, Harrington."

"My folks keep a lot of expensive stuff. And believe it or not, they let me have a key to the house", Steve grinned cheekily.

"And you'd let us just, what? Ransack your house?"

Steve shrugged. "It's not my stuff. Why should I care?"

Eddie snorted. "And you wouldn't even think of calling the police and telling them exactly who took all that valuable stuff."

"You don't trust me?"

"I don't KNOW you. But I got a way you can win some points with us."

"...What?"

"You've got all the leverage right now, Harrington. But if you commit a crime, then we'd have something on you. And, we'd know you could pull off this little heist."

Steve opened his mouth only to be interrupted by his stomach again. Eddie raised a brow. "Coach got you on a diet or something?"

"You guys kidnapped me hours ago, asshole. You don't expect me to rob a bank on an empty stomach, right?"

"Not a bank, Stevie", Eddie smirked.

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

"Were the dumbbells really necessary?", Steve asked.

"We could always get you a collar and leash", Eddie said.

Before untying him completely, they had used rope to tie two fifty pound weights to his ankles. Getting up the basement stairs had been a trial. He'd been tossed a box of cereal as Eddie explained the plan, the others glaring at him the whole time.

Steve knew why they disliked him. It didn't make it any better though. After he agreed to the plan, Steve was corralled into the van, still tied to the weights. The five of them drove through town until they got to the convenience store. It was just past five pm, but with the cold and darkness, most people were holed up in their houses by now.

"You ready for this, Harrington?", Jeff asked.

"As soon as you get these weights off, yeah."

"Are we really sure about this?", Gareth asked. He hadn't stopped giving Steve the stink eye this whole time.

"Don't got much of a choice", Eddie sighed from behind the wheel. He got out and released Steve from the weights. "If my boys get any inkling about you running, Jeff'll hit you with the van again."

Steve didn't need a reminder for how that felt, but played it off, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, let's just do this already."

Part 4

Taglist

@tinyplanet95 @dammitjim02 @chaotic-waffle @missarte-beltane @im-sam-fucking-winchester @persnicketysquares @estrellami-1 @spookycollectorcandies @chocolateraccoonlights @exasperatedsighohmy

[damnfeelings09]

Animals AU- Shadow's version

A.N: Sorry, got lost in crimson eyes! RED for stalker thoughts, GREEN for yours Please check your surroundings, someone is coming.

Shadow stopped his motorcycle just in front of your house. You got off, still on shaky legs, feeling dizzy. “Thanks... for the ride, for saving me.”

“Now you owe me a bunny”  he said with a wink. “Why did you show up out of nowhere? Be thankful I have good reflexes or you'd be a stain on the floor by now.”

“Ah...” you quickly thought of an excuse, because telling him that you had been chased by a madman was not an option “I missed the bus and the only way out is to walk 5km to the next stop, so I was running to catch it.”

Lies.

“Really? I thought you looked scared, are you afraid of the dark bunny?” he asked getting close to your ear. His hot breath hitting your neck. The memory of what you had done in the afternoon and even more the why came back to your mind blushing you instantly. Shadow had the power to make you furious and now, it seemed, he also had the power to make you blush and he was enjoying it. “Would you like me to walk you to your bed? You won't be afraid of the dark if you’re with me.”

“Asshole” you said coming back to reality. You threw the helmet back at him, but Shadow had good reflexes, catching it in mid-air. You frowned and turned around raising your middle finger at him.

What you trying to do to me

It's like we can't stop, we're enemies

“Love it when you play hard to get”. - He said putting on his helmet “You turn me on” And with that Shadow disappeared again among golden sparks.

The next morning you were at the bus station, Mailo had been apologizing for leaving you alone for 10 minutes straight and excusing himself that he had to go for his sister and you were nowhere to be seen. Mailo and you were best friends since you were in high school, you were both in the same class and his house was 2 blocks away from yours, you used to spend a lot of time at his house because your parents were too busy working for GUN. However, when you turned 15 something changed, both of them became paranoid, locking you at home with them, you were not allowed any electronic devices, you could only talk to your friends when your parents were asleep. Little by little, the stress was consuming you, nobody knew what was going on, a mobian virus the doctors said, it was slowly eating your parents brain and there was nothing to do. You went through many studies but fortunately you had not been infected.

That was the reason for you to study medicine, you would find a cure for that virus, for the Mobian diseases. When you enrolled in medicine Mailo was surprised, he had no idea that you liked sick people, he cared so much about you, saying it was his job to protect you at all costs, that he ended up enrolling with you in the faculty, however his other interests did not allow him to have a clear conscience and he changed some of his classes to biology.

“Forgive me, honey,” he said, pleading with his blue eyes. He’d always been like this, you knew he had feelings for you, heck you even tried to feel the same but in your eyes Mailo was like your brother “I promise I will never leave you alone again.”

“It's okay. Besides, the bus ride wasn't so bad.” You lied. If Mailo knew what was going on he would surely get upset and go straight to his father Commander Clarke, they would start an investigation and have you watched 24/7 or worse, locked up in a safe house. You wouldn't let either of those things happen. You would never be locked up again.

“It is my duty to protect you,” he said with a peculiar smile, ”I will never leave you alone… again.”

When you arrived at the university Mailo said goodbye to you, gave you a kiss on the cheek and assured you that this time he would wait for you. You smiled at him and waved goodbye. You turned around and bumped into a hairball. You blew it away from your face before it made you sneeze, when you opened your eyes white fur was in front of you, shiny and tempting, inviting you to run your fingers through it and check its softness.

“Wow, are we getting along like this bunny? It's my turn to touch” it was his stupid teasing voice again. You were beginning to miss the Shadow who only teased you or hid your stuff. You walked around him and continued on your way to Psych class. “Hey, no good morning kiss for the one who saved your pretty little ass last night?”

“I said thank you.” you reminded him, hurrying your pace.

“You still owe me one bunny,” Shadow walked at your pace, wearing a black sports outfit, which camouflaged perfectly with his fur except for his chest. White fur peeked through the V-neck of his shirt; the same one you had bumped into minutes ago. On his wrists and ankles, he wore golden rings, imprisoning him as if he was something dangerous, he also wore his typical aero shoes.

You're like a drug that's killing me

You rolled your eyes at his words. You might be a good person, but you would never, ever do that hedgehog a favor. “Consider it a truce between us.” You smiled mockingly at him.

Shadow tugged on your wrist, pulling you into the hallway between the buildings. He placed you back against the wall and positioned himself in front of you, one hand resting on the wall close to your neck and the other resting on your waist with a firm grip, a mixture of the warmth of his hand and the coldness of his ring against your bare skin.

“Wha- Shadow let go of me.” You brought your fists to his chest striking him but only managed to get laughter from your opponent. You could feel the vibration under your hands.

“Somone's got fire inside,” he said looking you up and down with his eyes. “Careful  you might get burn bunny.” He withdrew his grip on your waist, your body yearning to feel the touch again.

“Maybe I want to” you whispered, holding his gaze. Shadow smiled, the glow in his crimson eyes turning dark, as if warning you of danger. Seeing that you were not frightened, he looked away.

“I need you to repay me for last night's favor,” he turned his attention back to you, that darkness gone from his eyes.

“What?, Mr. I do everything better than you, Mr. Perfection, Mr. The Ultimate Lifeform is asking for the help of a mere mortal?”

“You're so funny bunny, are you sure you didn't take the wrong career path? You should be a comedian,” he said sarcastically with an annoyed grimace. Seeing Shadow annoyed was not something that happened easily, but when you did it your whole being enjoyed it. You enjoyed making him feel a hint of what he provoked in you.

“I don't think so, sombrita.” you teased, a smirk perfectly drawn on your face, however, your moment of satisfaction didn't last long. Shadow closed the distance between you, his face only inches from you, his breath crashing against yours and his grip again on your waist, this time, gently caressing you with his thumb. The heat rising to your cheeks, almost as red as his eyes. Shadow inhaled deeply, allowing the strawberry scent of your perfume to flood his lungs causing him to shiver, his spikes standing on end.

You can start over you can run free

You can find other fish in the sea

“You're going to help me” it was more of a command than a plea. Your mind focused on his touch, his pads were rough against your skin but the contact didn't bother you, it felt... good.

“Wh-what for?” you hesitated to speak.

“Something simple bunny. There's a girl who doesn't understand that I'm not interested, I just want you to get her off my back.” he said as he played with the strap of your bra, very close to the curve of your breasts.

“Ho-how?”

“Go out with me.” he smiled. “It'll only be a few weeks.”

“No fucking way” You refused, but the blush on your face and your body's reaction to his touch gave away what you felt.

“Pleeeeeease,” he pleaded softly, ”I'll be good to you and help you pass your self-defense class.”

Danger alarms were ringing loudly in your head, but the way Shadow was looking at you had you trapped, you couldn't pay attention to anything else but him. His commanding presence over you and his deep voice, unsettled your senses. And his eyes, fuck those crimson eyes hid behind them an indomitable fire and you a simple match waiting to burn. You were at his mercy, whatever he asked for at this moment you would give it to him.

“Okay” You replied, almost inaudibly, but Shadow had excellent hearing.

“That's my girl.” he smiled, releasing you from his grip “Later bunny.”

But you can't stay away from me

Stupid, sensual hedgehog you thought. How could he look so carefree and disappear just like that after all the wave of emotions he had caused in you.

[azulpitlane]

i wish you would I ln4

pairings: lando norris x reader, exbf! mason mount x reader summary: part two of got love struck notes: kinda dragged making this but finals are finally over so send me some requests pls🤸‍♀️ this ones kinda angsty and there's lots of miscommunication sorry hehe part three, masterlist

yourusername posted a story 2h ago

The night was full of partying, drinking and dancing as you celebrated your best friend's 23rd birthday. The night quickly turned into a mess when you went to the bar to get everyone more drinks. When you came back your friends were nowhere to be seen, you assumed they were in the dance floor but when you went to check, they weren't there either. To make matters worse, you had put your phone in your friend's purse for safe keeping so you had no way to contact them. The panic quickly sobered you up as you looked everywhere for them but instead you found different a familiar face.

"Mason?"

"Y/n! Hey, I didn't realize you were here."

Your ex-boyfriend went for a hug as he greeted you. You and Mason ended your relationship over a year ago, and though you felt no animosity towards the football player, the breakup had been hard as everybody on the internet seemed to have an opinion on it. It was mutual breakup, you both were in different stages in your life and it just seemed like it wasn't your time.

"Yeah, I was celebrating y/bff/n's birthday with a few other girls, but I have no idea where they are and they have my cell." You were starting to get frustrated as you felt like they left without you.

"Oh no, I would help you look but I'm about to head out. Let me give you a ride home, I would hate for you to be here by yourself."

You knew if somebody saw you and Mason alone it would cause chaos all over again, but you had no other choice at the moment and you just wanted to go to bed. You agreed and as you left you both were oblivious to the cameras taking pictures of you leaving through the back door together.

As you pulled up to your hotel you smiled at Mason and thanked him.

"You're a lifesaver Mase seriously, I don't know what I would've done if I never found them or you."

"You don't have to thank me y/n. I will always look out for you even if we're broken up. I still care for you."

"You're a great friend, I'll always look out for you too."

"And um I have to ask,"

You could tell he was nervous as he scratched the back of his neck and his cheeks flushed slightly.

"What is it Mase?"

"Do you love him?"

You were surprised by the question, not expecting him to bring up Lando.

"Um yeah-yes. I love him so much, I can't even find the words to describe it to be honest. I don't think any song I write can even measure to how strong my love is for him."

"That's good, yeah, that's great. I just, I'm happy you found your person y/n. You know, I thought that person would be me, but if you're happy, than I am too. I guess we just weren't meant to be."

"Mase, you're one of the most amazing people I've met, seriously. I don't think it was ever in the cards for us, but you've taught me so much and you'll always have a special place in my heart. You will find your person one day, I promise."

You smiled at Mason as you spoke, not realizing you had given him the closure he had been needing for a year.

Lando was freaking out.

He had been sent the article of you and Mason over 5 times already and you hadn't answered your phone in over 2 hours. His mind was reeling as he was thinking about what you could possibly be doing right now. Even though he trusted you more than anything, he couldn't help but let it get to him. Why aren't you answering?

He knew your phone was charged and turned on considering he can still see your location. As he checked it again, he realized you were no longer at the club. You were at someone's apartment. Why weren't you at your hotel? Who's apartment was this?

Before he let himself jump to conclusions, he called y/bff/n knowing you two went out together.

"LANDOOOO! HI."

"Y/bff/n, hey is y/n with you?"

"Y/n? Oh nooooo. Aw I miss her Lan, is she with you?"

"What? No, how could she be with me? I'm in Monaco right now."

"Oh. Then I'm not so sure."

Lando could feel himself getting frustrated as he spoke with the clearly intoxicated girl.

"Okay, did she go home with you? With anyone else?"

"I don't know, you should probably call her or something."

"I did, over 10 times in the past hour."

"Oh maybe she's busy! Let me know how it goes, bye!"

"Wait-"

She hung up. Lando was going to throw up. He was never considered himself as an insecure guy, but he couldn't help but feel there was something going on. He's seen those tweets and comments saying how much everyone loved you and Mason together. What if those comments made you realize they were right? What if you were with Mason right now? Lando wanted to cry, scream and throw up all at once.

Three loud knocks woke you up from your beauty sleep. You were still in last night's clothes as you were too tired to even change after the nights disaster. You opened the door and your best friend ran in and hugged you.

"Y/N! I'm so so sorry for leaving you all by yourself. I was completely blacked out and I guess I was acting sloppy because y/f/n said we got kicked out of the club! I was acting too drunk and they got mad im so so sorry, this is all my fault and we tried to tell security to get you but they were so mean and-"

"Y/bff/n stop. It's fine, it was your birthday, you deserved to act a little crazy."

"Still babe, I'm sorry. Now that article is being spread like crazy and it's all because of me."

"What are you talking about? What article?"

"Shit. I forgot, here's your phone. But I have to warn you, people saw you leaving the club with Mason last night and the rumors have already begun. Im sorry hun."

Oh god.

Lando🧡 15 missed calls 5 unread messages

YourPublicist 2 missed calls 1 unread message

Danny Ric🤠 2 unread messages

Y/f/n 8 unread messages

The notifications were endless as you scrolled through your phone but there was only one that you really cared about. You immediately called Lando, afraid he was angry at you for this mess.

"Lan, baby, I'm so sorry for worrying you. I just opened your messages, y/bff/n had my phone all night." You immediately gave him a run down of the night as you knew what it was like to be in his position. The media has circulated so many rumors about your relationship overnight and you knew how hard that was. You had dealt with it all throughout your career and you were heartbroken it was happening to Lando because of you.

"That's weird because I actually called y/bff/n last night and she did not mention she had your phone."

"She was so out of it last night, she probably forgot she even had it. Oh god, she was downing shots I'm honestly not even surprised she got kicked out, she was so crazy-"

"Y/n, you don't understand, I have not slept all night. I was worried and everyone is talking about this. I look like an idiot in this situation."

You knew Lando was going to be upset but after your explanation, you didn't expect for him to still be angry at you.

"I know, the night was a mess, but nothing happened with Mason. He just dropped me off and I'm grateful it was him and not some random taxi."

"You're grateful it was him? You're grateful these pictures are all over the internet?"

"That's not what I meant! I meant he was the safest option at that moment, I had nobody else."

"Yeah. Half of the internet is happy it was him. People are actually celebrating thinking you guys are back together."

"Don't listen to them Lan, me and Mase are never getting back together. People will accept it over time and this will blow over."

"Why are you being so casual about this? Do you even know how I felt last night when you weren't answering. I was going to be sick thinking what you could possibly be doing with him."

"Lan, I told you nothing happened. Why aren't you believing me?"

"This is just all too much." Lando knew he was overreacting a bit. Your story made sense and it all lined up, but he had spent the entire night overthinking and reading the rumors about you two that he couldn't get them out of his mind. He loved you so much and last night made him realize how easily he can lose you and that thought terrified him. You were everything to him, but did you really feel the same way?

"Are you breaking up with me? Seriously? Over a stupid tabloid, I can't believe this." You felt betrayed. Did he not trust you?

"I dont know, it's just hard for me wrap my head around this right now."

"Lan, my flight to Monaco leaves in a few hours, how about we just talk about this in person when our heads are clear?"

Lando was getting angrier as the call went on. He knew his insecurities were getting the best of him right now but he felt like you weren't listening to him. You were trying to brush this off when the whole world was going against you two right now.

"Wow Y/n. My heads pretty fucking clear right now. You know what? Maybe it's best if you don't come, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay."

one week later

liked by user 1, user 2, masonmount and 3,593,304 others

yourusername life atm. p.s all new music released from now on is coming from the comfort of my own bed <3

comments on this post have been limited

yourbff love u. coming over rn🏃‍♀️

yourusername pls dont forget snacks

taylorswift need this new album right now

danielricciardo ❤️‍🩹

liked by user1, user2 and 231,583 others

dailymail Singer Y/n Y/l/n spotted once again with Manchester United star, Mason Mount, leaving a restaurant with a few other football players. Are the two officially back together? Rumors of her breakup with Formula One driver, Lando Norris have been circulating for over a week now after Y/l/n and Mount were seen leaving a club together. Read more on this new love triangle in our article linked in our bio.

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user1 im so excited for this album HAHAHA

user2 team mason idc

user3 funny how the last song she dropped was titled slut, if the shoe fits :)

user4 slut shaming in 2023? disgusting.

user5 i refuse to believe her and lando broke up sorry

user6 delulu is the solulu atp😁

notes: another cliffhanger!!!🤸‍♀️also this isn't proofread at all my bad heh

tags: @jayrami3 @whoselly @roseseraj @saturnbloom77 @landowecanbewc

[cripplecharacters]

I'm nonblack and writing a comfy slice of life alternate future story featuring characters dealing with various personal things like disabilities and mental illnesses. One of the characters I'm writing is black with inherited type 1 diabetes who eventually goes through stem cell therapy to treat it, where there was meant to be a long arc of the character staying alone for a year because of temporary immunosuppressants yet having their best friends make sure to keep them constant company. It was a completely random trait that I thought would fit the character and their story entirely unrelated to their race, but I had no idea that diabetes was one of the most common conditions black americans are diagnosed with until today, and I worry it could be insensitive of me to go through with the idea. Should I stay safe and rewrite the character? Or am I in the clear as long as I'm still careful to not perpetrate other tropes?

Hello,

So I see you've already taken this to creatingblackcharacters, great job because that was going to be the first thing I told you to do. You might also try @type1diabetesinfandom, and we're also opening this one up to feedback from our followers. Black people in real life do sometimes have diabetes and there's nothing inherently wrong with a Black character having diabetes, but there are sensitivity issues in that diabetes is heavily stigmatized as a moral failure and the fault of the person who has it, and that combines with racism in a truly ugly mix that makes life hard for Black people with diabetes, as they're seen as "even worse" than non-diabetic Black people and non-Black diabetics, as if their "moral failing" (there is no moral failing in having diabetes, the pancreas is unrelated to the morals) is even worse purely because they're Black. It's a complicated thing to depict and you need to be mindful of it. Do a lot of research on the issues impacting Black people with diabetes

Also, keep in mind that the stem cell therapy you mentioned is currently extremely experimental. There have been a few cases where it worked really well but also cases where it didn't, and early trials are still ongoing. Your character would need to be part of a trial group, they aren't offering this treatment in the average doctor's office. I'd recommend doing a lot of research into the experiences of the people who've tried this treatment and maybe into the experiences of people who have been in other experimental treatment trials to make the depiction as accurate as possible. This is not a miracle cure at this point, not even close, it's barely a step up from the Milwaukee Protocol, and it's entirely possible that this stem cell research will not work or will need years upon years of research and modification before it can be given as a standard treatment.

Plus, the character's status as a Black person will likely impact their quality of care and could even impact their ability to participate in drug trials and medical experiments, something else to keep in mind.

My advice here is to do a lot of research and be careful, and to see if the comments and the other linked blogs have anything to add. Thank you for the question

(Just so you know, you're also supposed to capitalize Black.)

Mod Aaron

[bigfatbreak]

Something I've been wondering for a while in the ML fandom. But after Season 5 ended, I saw a lot of authors coming to the consensus that Emilie is a "bad parent".

Where did that come from? Did I miss a fandom meeting where that consensus was reached? Or is that a consequence of Gabriel being a bad parent, having her as a bad parent by proxy?

I am mostly curious about where this headcanon came from, for some many different authors following the same path.

the series tries really hard to make Emelie seem like an angelic woman, but the problem is, it constantly steps on its own toes doing so.

even before her death, Adrien didn't go to school, wasn't socialized around others, never had a "real birthday gift," was only socialized around Chloe and his "cousin" sometimes, and though he yearned for school, was still denied that. The show says "oh she's a good person," but doesn't SHOW her being a good person.

the show contradicts itself. Emelie has to be good, because she's a dead mother who sacrificed her life for her child, but the show reveals the quality of life for that child was basically zilch, like owning a dog. The general idea of her being a bad parent is because being self-sacrificing doesn't make someone inherently good, in fact in Emelie's case, it made her all the more selfish.

if she knew she was dying and still had the audacity to keep her son from making connections with other people, all she was doing was saddling him with an immense amount of grief he would have no real way of processing, making her death the only thing he could ever revolve around for the rest of his existence.

Not only that, Gabriel seemed to follow the mindset of "oh she's just gone, not dead," which would only make things worse - and if Emelie suspected Gabriel might act the part of the fool, why didn't she ensure there was a support system for the both of them? To be fair, she doesn't have Gabriel on strings, but she literally has complete control over Adrien and just... decided to make him her emotional support child? a crutch through her death? an accessory to show what a good person she was???

maybe we really are missing parts. maybe she actually was an exceptional woman - but that SAME woman could be cattled and convinced to keep Adrien alone for his developmental years??? if we're following the idea that she was actually super good and kind, then we have to accept that she's also immensely stupid for allowing her husband to convince her that Adrien should be a bird in a cage.

Either she's loving but overall selfish, keeping Adrien for herself in spite of the damage it would cause, OR loving and stupid, letting Gabriel convince her to keep Adrien in the dark in spite of the damage it could cause.

the show may WANT us to route emelie down the path of overall "good," but considering her husband was such a miserable excuse for a parent who's attitude really hasn't changed that much from the past, like draws to like and we can only draw our own conclusions.

honestly i think Zoe put it better here, but there's my two cents on the matter.

[before-it-felt-like-a-sin]

Forever is a Feeling

Summary: Lottie takes you to one of her dad's fancy business events. Modern AU. Fem reader.

Warnings: mild mentions of homophobia in reference to Mr. Matthews, making out

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

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you something." Lottie's at her vanity, getting ready for your date while you sit on her bed, aimlessly scrolling through your phone. She turns to look at you, fiddling with the clasp of her necklace.

"Yeah?" You reply, idly scrolling for a moment longer before turning your attention to Lottie.

She brushes her bangs out of her eyes before continuing, seeming a bit nervous. "Yeah. So, my dad's dragging me to this dinner in a couple of weeks, and I was wondering if you wanted to come. No pressure or anything." She tries to sound nonchalant, like she doesn't really care if you come or not, but you can tell she wants you to say yes.

"He's letting you bring me?" It's pretty common knowledge at this point that Mr. Matthews isn't your biggest fan, for several reasons.

"Told him I wouldn't go if he didn't. His stipulation was that you'd go as a "friend" instead of my girlfriend so his colleagues wouldn't know his daughter's dating a girl." She shrugs, standing up from her vanity chair. "You in?"

"I don't have anything to wear," you reply, knowing Lottie loves any excuse to go shopping.

She brushes you off, smiling softly. "So we'll find you something. We have a couple of weeks. If you don't want to go, just tell me."

"Shut up, you know I'm gonna go. But you can't leave me alone there. I don't know how to talk to rich people."

Lottie laughs at that, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. "You talk to me fine."

"That's different."

"Sure it is."

"No, it is. You're different. Normal. Whatever."

She laughs, fluffing out her hair. "Okay, okay. But you're going, right? For sure?"

You smile, nodding. "Yes. Now, are you ready to leave? We're gonna be late for our reservation if we don't leave soon."

"Yeah, I'm good."

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

Three days later, you were being dragged into every possible store in the mall, looking for a dress for this event.

"This is worse than shopping for a prom dress," you complain, standing still as Lottie holds up different dresses to your form.

"You agreed to go, remember? Besides, I'm having fun. It's like having a real-life Barbie. I get to dress you in whatever I want." Lottie, obviously, is having a lot more fun than you are. She's not the one who has to try everything on.

"As long as you're the one paying." You make a face as she hands you both of the dresses to hold. "And can't you hold some of these? My arms are starting to hurt."

"I need free hands."

You'd been going at this for hours, trying to find a dress that was appropriate, cute, and both of you liked. The options were basically nonexistent. Either she liked it and you didn't, vice versa, or the dress wouldn't work for the dinner. In all honesty, you were starting to lose your mind.

"Lott, this is driving me insane. Can we like, I don't know, get a pretzel or something?"

"Baby, just try what you have on. If none of them work, we can just get a pretzel and go home. Does that sound good?" Lottie snaps out of shopaholic mode for a moment, back to her normal, loving self. It's an interesting switch to see in real time.

"Yeah, yeah. That's good." You smile at her, and she walks over to give you a kiss before leading you to the fitting rooms.

You step inside, hanging up the six different dresses Lottie picked out for you. Each one was just a simple black dress in a variety of different styles. Apparently Lottie was a fan of the little black dress.

Picking the first one up, you slide it on. It's a halter that you'd have to buy a new bra for, but it did look good, in your opinion. The top clung to you, and the skirt flared a bit at the waist.

"What do you think? I like it."

Lottie, who was sitting on the bench in the fitting room with you, gave the dress a once-over, assessing the look.

"Not bad, but try at least a couple more on. I don't want to buy the first thing you try that we both like."

You groan, and she gives you a look, but it's clear she doesn't really mean it.

"Two more, and then we can go. I promise."

Nodding, you pick up the second dress. This one has sleeves, which is significantly better for your current bra situation. The whole thing is much more form-fitting than the previous one, and you can't decide if you like it or not. The sleeves and neckline look nice, but you're worried the skirt is going to ride up all night.

"No. Sorry, but absolutely not. Put the next one on, please."

"Bossy. But whatever you say."

This time, Lottie hands you one of the dresses. It's not something you would usually wear, a little too flashy for your taste, but Lottie was the one paying. The dress was black, like all the others, but this one had a corset-like top and an asymmetrical skirt. Not to mention the fabric was glittery.

"I feel like your dad's gonna murder me if I show up in this."

"He'll deal. C'mon, just try it on. If you hate it, we can get the first one."

You oblige, pulling the dress on over your head. When you turn to look at it in the mirror, you're pleasantly surprised at what you see. The dress looks-

"Perfect. That's the one. I don't even care if you don't like it, that's the dress I'm buying." Lottie looks almost stunned, admiring the way the dress looks on you.

"Oh, thank God. We can finally leave."

She laughs as you pull the dress off and change back into your normal clothes, and Lottie gathers the dresses you aren't buying so she can put them on the rack. She leads you out of the fitting room to the register at the front of the store, clearly excited that you found something.

"I'm really glad you're going with me to this thing. They're always so boring."

"Really hyping this up, Lott."

Lottie laughs as the cashier rings up the dress, nudging your arm with her own.

"No, no. It'll be fine, I promise. We'll have each other to talk to, plus the food is always pretty good." The cashier hands Lottie the bag with the dress, and she thanks her before leading you out of the store.

"I swear, we'll have fun."

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

"You said we'd have fun."

The dinner party was the most boring event you'd ever been to. Everyone was making small talk about things you didn't understand, and you kept getting odd looks.

"Okay, yeah, this kind of sucks, but at least you have me to talk to."

You roll your eyes jokingly, fake annoyed. "Remind me to never agree to come to one of these again. Next time, you're on your own. And I mean that. "

"It's one dinner, and it's not that bad. We can leave soon, I promise. My dad only makes me stay for dinner, and then we can go." She sips her drink, giving you a smile. "But no more complaining, okay?"

You straighten up, nodding. "Yeah, sorry."

"C'mon." Lottie gestures towards the bathroom, intending for you to follow her.

"Won't people notice?"

"Maybe. But people do this all the time. Relax."

You follow her into the bathroom, and she locks the door behind you, grinning. In an instant, she's kissing you, pushing your back against the wall, her hands running over your sides.

"God, why did I pick this dress out? It's been hell to not kiss you, you look so damn good."

Laughing, you put your hands on her hips. It hasn't been easy not to touch her, either. She's wearing a red dress that hugs her body perfectly, and she looks incredible. Damn Mr. Matthews and his rules, not letting you cling to your girlfriend all night.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Matthews."

She laughs, kissing you again. And again. And again. Clearly, she's been starved for your attention.

"I don't even care about dinner anymore, let's just go home. I can't sit through another minute of this shit." She trails kisses down your neck, leaving lipstick marks on your skin. You're grateful to have makeup wipes in your purse.

"As much as I love that idea, your dad might actually kill me. We're just gonna have to suffer through for now."

She groans, continuing her onslaught of kisses. You move one of your hands from her waist to her hair, fist curling into the soft waves. Lottie's mouth makes it's way back to your lips from your neck, pressing more kisses as she goes.

You push your tongue between her lips, exploring her mouth. She tastes like the sparkling cider you'd both been sipping all evening. Melting a bit, Lottie lets out a soft noise into your mouth.

Lottie pulls herself away, sighing. "We've probably been in here for too long. We should go back out there."

Now it's your turn to groan, but you nod nonetheless. It would be a pretty awkward thing to explain if anyone asked.

Both of you turn to the mirror, fixing yourselves up so you don't look like you were just making out. You take a makeup wipe to your neck while Lottie fixes her hair.

When you emerge from the bathroom, you both act as if nothing happened. No one gives you a second glance or judgmental look, which is a relief. You were worried that you'd be met with knowing looks.

The two of you continue around the party, talking to people you've never seen before in your life. You have no idea how Lottie does it. She makes conversation look effortless. No stumbling on her words, no saying the wrong thing. Just endless charisma.

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

What feels like an eternity later, but is probably closer to an hour, you and the other guests are sat down for dinner. Lottie's next to you, of course, feet touching under the table. It wasn't the most... romantic option, but it was better than nothing, you supposed.

The chatter surrounding you was all business, or rich people bullshit you didn't care about. The only thing you really cared about was Lottie next to you. She was gorgeous, all grace and style.

You're watching Lottie talk to the woman next to her when she catches your eye and smiles. "How's the food?"

"Good. Yours?"

"Yeah, it's good." Suddenly, Lottie's back to being herself. A bit awkward. The girl you fell in love with. Not that she wasn't perfect when she was being Charlotte Matthews, but you did prefer Lottie.

You reach for her hand under the table, and she takes it. Her palms are a bit sweaty, you assume from nerves.

The rest of the dinner is as boring as the rest of the party, full of small talk that you don't care about. Lottie's hand stays grasped in yours, even as the both of you continue to eat, and her leg keeps bumping against yours, clearly impatient to leave.

Once the plates have been cleared, the two of you stand, ready to leave. Unfortunately, the other guests have a different plan. Lottie keeps getting caught in conversation, and so do you, by proxy. They ask about college, about soccer, nothing meaningful. But every time you're freed of one conversation, it's rinse and repeat.

Eventually, Lottie turns to you. "Hey, the car's here."

The man she was talking to gets the hint, walking away. Fucking finally. You make a break for it, walking to where the uber is waiting for you. Damn, she really did get a car. You slide into the backseat, Lottie grabbing your hand, and the driver starts on his way to Lottie's penthouse.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" Lottie asks, worried that you were uncomfortable.

"Don't freak, Lott. It was fine. Boring as fuck, but fine."

She visibly relaxes, glad to see you're not miserable. You lean your head on her shoulder, sitting in comfortable silence for the rest of the ride back to the penthouse.

The car drops you off, and Lottie practically drags you up to her bedroom. As soon as the door closes, she's back on you, leading you to sit down on her bed before she straddles your lap.

"That dress is driving me insane. I know I already said that, but Jesus Christ. You look incredible." She kisses you surprisingly sweetly, her lips pressed gently to your own.

You laugh, pulling her closer as she continues to kiss you. "If I had known I'd get this reaction out of you, I would've agreed to go to one of these dinners earlier."

"Mmm. There's another one in a couple of weeks."

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY ALISTAIR THEIRIN - PARTY BANTER *  updated version - assorted banter from dragon age: origins

they say you can get anything here. i once got pick-pocketed.

i don't know if i should take you seriously... but you scare me sometimes.

i locked myself in a cage once when i was a child. for an entire day. ahh... good times.

why do they call it a brothel? there's no broth. or is there?

couldn't you crawl into a bush somewhere and die? that would be great, thanks.

leave me alone.

i know where babies come from!

what would you do if someone told you that they loved you?

food shouldn't be frilly and pretentious like that.

we take our ingredients, throw them into the largest pot we can find, and cook them for as long as possible until everything is a uniform grey color. as soon as it looks completely bland and unappetizing, that's when i know it's done.

we're not going to be mobbed, right? that's not something they do here? mob people?

do you get the feeling things are just getting worse as we go up?

now that's just unnecessary.

i don't think we're alone. i really don't think we're alone.

is it just me, or did i do really badly back there?

excuse me while i begin projectile vomiting.

maybe she was ugly. maybe she had buck teeth. how would we know?

what is that smell? fish? and something else. oh... more fish.

uh-oh. i'm terrible at puzzles.

let's try not to get lost here. places like this can get you turned around.

i think there's something ahead. something big.

i don't even want to imagine where that leads.

you could be an utter moron, for all we know.

it used to get so quiet that i would start screaming until someone came running. i would tell them that i was just checking. you never know, right?

there's a certain allure to danger, isn't there?

i will never get over how quietly you are able to move.

i heard you often seduce your targets.

don't you wish you could have stayed there? to help more people, i mean?

i've never been very good at that. the steeling myself part. i find it better sometimes to just be a little weak. i'm all right with that, really.

i just wanted some advice.

what should i do if... if i think a woman is special...

i am not lost.

do i have a choice?

you find that curious, do you?

that's directed at me, i take it?

have you really been thinking about that all this time?

so let's talk about your mother for a moment.

why do you always go on about how stupid i am? i'm not stupid, am i?

it hurts my manly feelings, you know. all one of them.

you're not even listening to me.

you're joking, right? a five year old could answer that question.

so what's the deal with you and him, anyway? dare i ask?

that... is a ridiculous question.

i figure you'd be the sort who knows all about deception.

it's moments like this when i truly appreciate the difference between you and me.

you're... you're drunk, aren't you?

how do you manage to be constantly drunk? are we even carrying that much alcohol with us?

i guess a romance between you and i is completely out of the question.

you know a lot of big words.

you wouldn't understand.

don't you ever talk? you know, make polite conversation just to put people at ease?

i spy with my little eye... something that begins with... "G"

are you talking to me?

are we under attack?

i don't have to prove anything to you.

we're not exactly traveling in the lap of luxury here.

can you mend it? when we get back to camp?

i might catch a cold.

that's... one way of looking at it.

i have a hard time believing that.

it's not an outlandish question.

you know, of all the mages i've met you have to be the first one i can honestly say i've really liked.

why are you smiling like that?

i wasn't looking at... you know her... hind-quarters... i gazed. glanced... in that direction, maybe, but i wasn't staring... or really seeing anything even.

i hate you. you're a bad person.

i'm not an idiot. well, not most of the time.

you didn't answer my question.

if you aren't telling me, there must be a reason.

do you mind if i ask you a personal question?

have you... had many women in your time?

how do you... woo them? is there a technique?

i like my hair the way it is, thank you.

we aren't talking about this, are we? did i hit my head?

is that a smirk? are you smirking at me?

well aren't you just chock full of useless trivia today.

i suppose you don't care.

so when this is over, what do you intend to do with yourself?

[greensagephase]

For Better or Worse - Part Two

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: Overwhelmed, you seek a moment of solitude on your sister's wedding day at the garden, but you can't even have that thanks to your sister's now brother-in-law, Miguel. Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: use of y/n; no name for your sister still (I think we're just going to go with a nickname); some cussing; alcohol consumption; pesky aunts and a divorced man offer unsolicited opinions; some Spanish but translations are provided in text; a bit of arguing; suggestive content, so MDNI, please!; reader is fluent in Spanish; I think that's all A/N: hiiii, finally updating this after two months 🫠 But anyway, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @lauraolar14 for the amazing fanart she made from part 1!! Found here ! Thank you, Lara!! 🥰 Pls go and support her!! Masterlist | Spotify

You down a glass with water and place it on a tray just as a waiter offers you another drink. You politely decline before letting your gaze wander around the elegant venue your sister and Gabriel chose for the reception, thinking how it’s truly beautiful and perfect for the wedding they both envisioned.

Your eyes eventually land on the newlyweds as they dance, a smile tugging at your lips. They’ve been dancing nonstop since their first dance, which means their feet will likely be sore tomorrow. However, by tomorrow afternoon they should be in their honeymoon destination, relaxing from the last couple of days of last minute wedding shenanigans and basking in their newlywed energy.

“Aww, sweetie,” someone says, ripping your attention from your sister and now brother-in-law. It’s one of your aunts. You offer a polite smile as she approaches, your gut warning you about her intentions. “Look at you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Look at me…?” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“This must be so hard for you,” your aunt says, taking your arm and holding it, with a sad tone that matches the frown on her face.

You hold back from sighing in annoyance, recognizing where this is going. You’ve heard it twice already from two other aunts.

“Not really. I know she’s the baby of the family, but well, we all grow up, right?” you reply, forcing a smile. You hope your words will deter your aunt from explaining what she truly means, but unfortunately for you, it doesn’t.

“Aw, not that, sweetie. I mean, yes, but I was referring to how hard it must be for you as the eldest. Seeing your younger sister get married before you - it must be so hard. You should’ve been married by now, maybe with a little toddler at your side. Instead, you’ve found yourself witnessing your younger sister marry first, and who knows, maybe pregnant in a few months, but cheer up, sweetie. Don’t let this make you feel less, okay? Sometimes… Not everyone has the pleasure of marrying and experiencing motherhood, but that’s alright. I’m sure you have other… things that bring happiness to you, like… your job?” your aunt says, giving your arm what she thinks is a reassuring squeeze, but is rather an uncomfortable one. On top of that, she’s delivering another jab at you she doesn’t even know she’s making. “I’m sure that brings a lot of satisfaction to you.”

“Thank you for your kind words,” you force yourself to say with a fake smile that seems to go past your aunt. You silently pray she leaves you alone and that this is the last time you have to hear the same “comforting” and “reassuring” words for the night. You hope so, or you’ll slap someone. Mentally, of course. You’d never cause any kind of commotion publicly, much less at your sister’s wedding when you care so deeply about her and Gabriel. Besides, that’d give the people a field day and fill their minds with thoughts of you being “jealous” or “resentful” about your sister marrying before you.

Thankfully, your aunt leaves, off to offer more unsolicited advice and words of comfort, probably.

“Mierda [shit],” you sigh just as you hear a man somewhere behind you.

“Ah, Miguel! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Working all the time, huh?”

Subtly, you glance behind you at the man’s words. You didn’t even know Miguel was nearby, but now knowing he is, you wonder if he heard your aunt. You hope he didn’t as the last thing you want is Miguel to think you were looking at the newlyweds with jealously and that that was the reason your aunt felt the need to provide those “reassuring��� words.

“Yes, yes. I stay busy working,” you hear Miguel reply.

“Good for you. And you’re still single?” the man asks.

“Si. No tengo pareja [Yes. I don’t have a partner],” Miguel replies, a hint of humor in his tone.

“That’s good, that’s good! No plans of marriage in sight for you. It’s better that way. You can spend your money how you want to, no children involved, no woman bothering you about grand gestures, or making you spend money. Enjoy your youth, have your fun. Maybe later on, you can settle down.”

You continue to watch the people on the dance floor, but you can’t help but scoff to yourself at the difference.

Your aunt was just pitying you about not being married and having children, but Miguel is being celebrated for the same thing by this man when he’s a few years older than you. You grab a glass from a waiter’s tray, thanking him. “I need one, or two after the crap I’m hearing,” you murmur to yourself as he walks away.

“You think so?” Miguel asks. “At my age, people think I ought to be married. Maybe with a kid or two.”

“No, no. Trust me, it’s better. That’s why I divorced.”

“I thought it was your wife who divorced you,” Miguel says gently. Despite the gentleness, Miguel’s words tear down the man’s attempt to make it seem like he had been the one to make the decision, and had you been watching Miguel, you would’ve noticed his raised brow to go along with it.

“Ah - well. Yes… But who cares? I’m divorced and free. I’m doing better than I was.” The man laughs. “I’m doing so, so, so great...” he says trailing off before chugging down some alcohol, a sign of a man who is most definitely doing great.

You roll your eyes. God bless that woman, she made the right choice divorcing the idiot behind you.

“Yeah, well…” you hear Miguel start. “I guess marriage is not for everyone. I’m not going to say it’s not for me, though. Who knows? Maybe one day a woman catches my attention.”

“You’ll be a miserable man, trust me. Don’t let any woman lure you into the marriage trap. You’re too young. Enjoy your youth. Go on dates. Have fun, if you know what I mean,” the man says, using a tone that leaves no doubt about what he’s referring to.

You decide you’ve heard enough, so you walk away, glass in hand. You glance at your sister and Gabriel from the sidelines of the dance floor, still dancing and lost in their own little and magical bubble. The sight brings a smile to your face once more before you turn, seeking a moment to yourself.

You step out of the venue, sighing deeply as you walk into a garden area where photos were taken earlier in the day. You briefly recall the photo session and how you were forced to take some photographs with the groom’s best man, who looked equally displeased to stand next to you, the maid of honor. You stood next to each other, stiff as surf boards and hands clasped in front of you with the most serious faces.

“This is the most scoffs, eye rolls, and scowls I’ve ever seen in a photo shoot. C’mon, guys! You’re the maid of honor and the best man. And -” Arturo, the cameraman, paused, walking closer. “Respective eldest siblings to the bride and groom. You should be acting like - a family. Here, let’s just move a little closer,” he said, finding it easier to move you instead of Miguel, and moving you closer to him.

You stiffened even more at that and Miguel scoffed at the way you were acting, like he had some incurable disease.

“You, too, señor [sir]. Please step closer,” Arturo gently demanded.

That earned Arturo a scoff and a glare.

“Yeah, O’Hara. Move closer and stop wasting time,” you added, innocently.

“Thank you, señorita [miss],” Arturo replied happily, believing he had at least turned your attitude around when in reality, you were simply taking the opportunity to poke fun at Miguel. It was the only way to make the photo session bearable.

With an eye roll, Miguel stepped closer until his arm brushed against yours. “Better?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Better,” Arturo confirmed. “Though…” he trailed off, frowning.

“You look like a three-day old piece of bolillo [savory bread in MX + other Latin countries],” you said all too seriously. “Stiff.”

Arturo, bless his heart, turned away and attempted to hide his shock.

With a poker face, you turned to look at Miguel and found a scowl, his eyes on you already.

“A three-day old piece of bolillo?” he repeated, annoyance dripping from his mouth. “And what are you? A fresh, sweet, soft piece of cortadillo [a kind of pan dulce; Mexican pastry], I suppose?”

You snorted at that. “I’m flattered you think of me like that. Cortadillo is so good,” you replied, smirking softly.

“Dios mio [my God], I’m just trying to do my job and those two are talking about pan dulce [Mexican pastries],” Arturo complained from somewhere, thinking he was quiet enough that he wasn’t going to be heard, but he was.

Miguel and you stared at each other as the cameraman’s words of frustration rang in your heads. You held each other’s gazes and as much as you both wanted to keep the glares and scowls, Arturo made both of you smile and then burst into quiet laughter.

In the end, Arturo got his opportunity with that moment of laughter and managed to capture the best man and maid of honor smiling in each other’s presence before you both ran off to get other duties done once the photographs were done.

You shake your head from the memory and look up at the garden lights hanging over you, giving the area a whimsical look, before you walk further away from the door and into a less well-lit area.

You sigh deeply again, something you’ve found yourself doing too much lately. The comments from your pesky aunts and the conversation you overheard have caused you some irritation, but it’s not just that. You’ve been trying to ignore a problem that’s been weighting on you all day. You’ve tried not to let it dampen your mood, today being your sister’s wedding, and you had succeeded until now. On a normal day, those conversations with your aunts and the man’s words to Miguel would’ve mattered little to you, but with the big issue in your life right now, they’ve managed to put you in a bad mood.

The big issue?

You were forced to resign from your job two days ago, leaving you unemployed.

It wasn’t anything that you did, but rather what you refused to do that led to the decision. You grimace in disgust just thinking about it all over again. You started working at the company two years ago and everything was great with you rising up the ranks quickly due to your hard work and determination, but as you rose higher and higher, you were warned.

You were told to be cautious of your boss and his wandering hands. You did your best to avoid him on your own and always kept a professional attitude to set clear boundaries. Foolishly, you thought you were safe with two years in and no impropriety on your boss’s side, but you were wrong.

Two days ago, he cornered you in his office to make his move. Of course, you made it known you weren’t interested nor willing to do anything beyond what is professional. Even when you were promised a promotion if you “played” the game, you refused - something that angered your boss. Apparently, the disgusting man believed you’d accept his advances. Despite taking it to HR, nothing was done because of the position and status your boss holds within the company. You knew then that you needed to leave the company, so you did.

You don’t regret it. You’ll never give yourself away like that to some disgusting and horrible man, even if you’re unemployed now.

However, you don’t look forward to job searching and all that it entails. Thinking about it makes you feel stressed and even some anxiety. Then, there’s also the words from your ex-boss, his promise to make it hard for you to find a job within your field.

You wonder. Surely he doesn’t have that much power, right?

You hope not.

You down the rest of the drink, briefly thinking about how you should probably stop drinking by now, but the unexpected change, one you’re carrying on your own because you refused to tell your family about it with the wedding coming up, is weighing heavily on you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the door open, follow by footsteps. You recognize it’s not a woman’s, at least you don’t think so since there’s no sounds of heels, but either way, you can’t help but feel annoyed that someone has stepped out and taken your small moment of solitude. You just wanted a moment to yourself, but it seems that whoever stepped out, decided otherwise.

“Ah, you’re here, too?”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face Miguel O’Hara. Of course, it had to be him of all people.

Miguel stands a few feet from the door, hands inside the pockets of his perfectly tailored pants while staring at you. For some reason, your annoyance grows at the way it hugs him in what women would say the “right way,” which you’re certain many women did comment on tonight, considering you caught many staring at him like he’s a piece of candy. You’re sure many are probably having little fantasies of him now; recalling how tall he is for a Mexican man, his wide shoulders only enhanced by his suit jacket, and the way his hair frames his chiseled face so well like God himself styled it for him.

And if they shook his hand, they may be thinking about how large and warm it was, how it felt against their own.

There may even be some women imagining making their parents suegros [parents-in-laws] and planning some elaborate wedding in their heads, thinking the bride today will be like a sister to them.

“Yes,” you simply reply, turning away again and making it known you don’t wish to talk. He can stay over there, on his own little spot, and let you be over here, unbothered.

“Needed some fresh air?”

Great.

“Yes.”

Miguel snorts, decreasing the distance between you. He’s still not in your space, but he’s significantly closer now. “One-word answers. You must be having a night.”

You don’t reply. Maybe if you don’t he’ll go back inside, but with your luck recently, doubtful.

“Did the comments from your aunts get to you?” he asks suddenly when you say nothing else.

“What comments?”

“You know very well which ones. I happened to be there, you know. When the first aunt went over, the second one, and then, the third and last one.”

You scoff. “Didn’t know you were a chismoso [gossiper; masculine noun].”

Miguel snorts again. “It’s not my fault they talk so loudly and I happened to be there.”

True on the talking too loud, but you still wish he hadn’t heard, just like you wish you hadn’t heard him being celebrated for the same things you were being pitied on.

“Right, and are you here to offer words of comfort, too?” you reply in a snappy tone. “Or, are you out here to celebrate how you were recommended to stay clear from commitment by your friend?”

Miguel scoffs. You really think he’s that kind of man?

“If you heard the conversation, surely you heard what I said,” he replies defensively turning his body to face you now. “I don’t agree with that mindset.”

“You know -” you step back and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second. “I don’t care. Can you just - leave me alone?” you snap, stepping away. You don’t care about the topic anyway, it’s not the reason why you’re truly upset. Miguel O’Hara can do whatever he wants with his life and your aunts can nag and pity you, you don’t care. What you care about is the fact you lost your job the way you did and that now you’re unemployed.

“No,” Miguel says, upset. “I’m not. You seem to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? Just because we’ve never been two to get along. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I don’t care what kind of man you are. This isn’t about you.”

Miguel steps forward, his body brushing against your arm making you turn to face him, too. You glare at him.

“This isn’t about me, but I’m receiving the brunt of your anger.”

“I’m not angry about what you think I am, alright? I could care less what my aunts said, what that man said to you, though it’s unfair, but it’s not what’s on my mind. So, do me a favor and drop it. Leave me alone. You’re not the center of my world,” you reply with a scoff before turning away from him.

“What a shame,” Miguel murmurs following you. He grabs your arm and pulls you back, his hand wrapping around your flesh with enough force to keep you still without hurting you. “¿Que te pasa [what’s the matter]? Why are you so upset if it’s not that, then?”

You tug at your arm, a fruitless attempt to free yourself since Miguel doesn’t let go.

“Answer the question,” he demands, those deep brown eyes looking straight at you.

“It’s none of your business,” you answer, still glaring at Miguel.

He scoffs, holding your gaze as you look at him like he’s the most disgusting thing your eyes could ever lay upon.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he mumbles, his grip tightening around your arm slightly, tugging you closer to him. With narrowed eyes, he holds your gaze for a few seconds before images of your lips flash in his mind from the dance lessons.

He had never been that close to you before, never held nor touched you.

Miguel had never noticed the way your eyelashes framed your eyes, the shape of your lips, nor had he ever noticed your scent, a mixture of your very own essence and perfume. It’s the kind of scent that makes a man weak in the knees and wish for a closer inhale. No, Miguel had never noticed those things about you and it was to his great annoyance that not only had he noted them, but that those details had also made him feel weird afterwards.

Miguel felt so off that he had to make up the excuse about having a call to make. In reality, all he did was step out and take some fresh air, his mind boggled with the entire situation from the comments the dance instructor made about the two of you being in love and sharing passion to his little stunt after your two left feet comment and your payback, which left an ache on his foot, to the details he had never noticed about you. His mind was boggled and yet, you were the same as always with him; annoyed by, distant from, and uninterested in him.

And for some reason, it bothered him that day.

When he went back inside, he found you on the other side of the dance studio, looking closely at the couple and offering some advice to help them, ignoring his presence. Even when the four of you met up at the parking lot once again after the dance lesson, your attitude was the same. Your sister and Gabriel asked if either of you were interesting in grabbing something to eat, but you declined so fast and stated you had other things to do before the wedding, “maid of honor duties” you called them.

He watched with a scowl as you got in your car and left, only having said bye to the couple while barely giving him a glance of acknowledgement despite the conversation you had just had about making things work for the sake of your sister and Gabriel.

Of course, Miguel declined the invitation, too. He was in no mood to be third wheeling and he did have some things to do for work, so he, too, left with thoughts of your annoying self on his mind.

He eventually placated his thoughts with work, including dealing with his team and the fact that his current assistant put in their four weeks. Thankfully, he still has some time left before his assistant leaves, which he hopes is enough time to find someone to fill in the position. Either way, his work helped him set his thoughts about you aside that day.

Now, Miguel pushes past his thoughts and focuses on you, still holding your arm.

“And what of it?” you reply to his comment about you being a brat, still glaring at him so fiercely and angrily about whatever you’re upset about, proving Miguel you can be such a brat sometimes.

For two seconds Miguel has a thought - bending you over his knee and teaching you a lesson to tame that bratty attitude of yours. Then, his brain betrays him and he imagines what you’d sound like if he did. Would you still be a little brat when his heavy palm makes contact with your rear, or would you whimper and -

“You’re so upset,” Miguel says in an almost breathless way, his mind blanking for a second. “If it’s not your aunts’ comments, then what is it? It must be something of importance, if it has you like this on your sister’s wedding day,” Miguel adds, trying to focus on the moment at hand and not on whatever the hell his brain is going on about. He decides, quickly, that he’s probably had a few too many tequila shots. That’s probably why his brain is acting up. Surely.

“As I said earlier, it’s none of your business,” you reply, once again trying to free your arm, but to no avail. The giant man has you rooted to his side.

“Bullshit,” Miguel replies. His brother married into your family and your sister into his, that makes the two of you something now, doesn’t it? You’re tied for life now, for better or worse, in this way thanks to your siblings. And, the two of you did agree to get along for their sake.

“No te metas en lo que no te importa [don’t get involved in what doesn’t bother you],” you snap. “Mind your business. We may have agreed to be civil, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be besties.”

“As if, princesita [little princess],” Miguel responds with a scoff. “I wouldn’t be able to take your little attitude for two hours, even if I was paid, much less be ‘besties’ with you.”

“We have that in common, at least. I wouldn’t spend a day with you, even for a million dollars,” you reply, even though you could really use a million dollars, especially now.

Miguel smirks, amused by your response, and pulls you closer. “Not even if I paid you two million?”

“Not even five.”

Lies, lies, lies. You wouldn’t be worrying about being unemployed if you had even just one million dollars in the bank right now.

Miguel shrugs. “Maybe it’s too little, they’re little numbers after all,” he replies with a cocky smirk, for some reason bragging about his wealth to you now, something he’s never done before to anyone, but then again, his brain is not working accordingly right now.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. You know Miguel is a CEO for a company you’ve never bothered to learn the name of, so you’re not surprised he has money, but saying five million dollars is “too little” is aggravating, and kind of shocking.

“Whatever, let go of me. Now,” you demand.

Miguel now scoffs at your demanding tone as if he couldn’t easily throw you over his shoulder and carry you off, or pin you against a wall.

“¿Qué tal si te digo que no? ¿Qué vas a hacer entonces, princesita? [What if I tell you no? What are you doing then, princess?]” Miguel replies, pulling you closer, so much closer his expensive cologne surrounds you.

You breathe it in, subtly of course. It’s rich, warm, and woody mixed in with his own scent. It’s the kind that sends a pool of warmth to your very core if allowed to inhale straight from a man’s neck with your nose pressed to his sensitive and warm flesh. You freeze for a second, the very thought almost makes you grimace, the fact that you’ve thought of such thing with Miguel of all men.

“You’re gonna slam your foot on mine again like the other day?” he asks mockingly, bringing you back to your senses.

“And mess your pretty, expensive shoes?”

Miguel snorts. “I can easily replace them.”

“So, you want me to slam my foot on yours? Is that what you’re saying?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel grins, leaning closer, so much closer. He continues to hold your gaze, holding you still.

You scoff, your gaze unwavering.

You’re such a little brat, Miguel thinks again, his hand tightening around your arm just a tad more.

“What? Can’t make up your mind now?” you ask with a smug smile.

He scowls, pulling you so much closer. Your breath fans his face and he finds himself growing still when he feels it against lips especially. He swallows deeply while holding your gaze, your scent filling his nostrils and making him lean almost instinctively.

“You can ruin the shoes, I’ll simply buy new ones. I’ll even get you some pretty heels for your trouble. ¿Trato [Deal]?” he asks quietly, his gaze flickering to your lips for a second.

And God, maybe it really is all the drinks you’ve both had tonight because you lean closer, too.

Suddenly, it feels like two rocks rubbing against each other, a spark of fire made beneath the moonlight.

“¿Que pasa [What’s wrong]? Cat got your tongue?” Miguel whispers with a smirk.

“No. I was just thinking about the color I'd like the heels,” you reply, sarcastically.

“Ah, the color. Don't worry, you can choose whatever color you like. Whatever brand. Saint Laurent, Burberry, Gucci…”

You snort. “Didn't know you were so giving, O’Hara.”

“You don't know me” Miguel replies, tilting his head a little.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a smirk that makes Miguel's heart skip a beat. He leans slightly closer, further decreasing the distance between your faces.

“I’m a man that likes to give - to provide,” Miguel continues, his hand tightening around your arm, his gaze flickering to your lips once more.

“Ah, interesting. You're the tree that keeps on giving, hm?”

“Such a smartass,” Miguel mumbles, eyes narrowing and meeting yours again. “One of these days that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

“I can't wait,” you reply defiantly.

Miguel scowls, your little defiance stirring something in him once more. He huffs, eyes moving to your lips yet again, not thinking straight. All he’s suddenly thinking about is closing the distance and shutting your mouth - with his own. He thinks about his mouth pressed against yours, about slipping his tongue in and swirling it around yours to taste you, to make you whine.

Meanwhile, you look at him, noticing his gaze on your lower face. You find yourself doing the same, your eyes landing on his full lips specifically. You silently wonder, despite yourself, what they’d feel like against yours and against your skin. The thought creates a fluttering feeling inside your chest, one that Miguel shares.

His heart races, his mind clouded with these strange thoughts. Miguel thinks about leaning in all the way and doing it, kissing you once and for all to satisfy a hunger and craving he’s suddenly overwhelmed with.

And he would've, if only the door leading to the garden hadn’t suddenly swung open before you both register voices.

You both pull away instantly, staring at each other like two deer caught in headlights. The realization hits the two of you like a ton of feathers at once, the truth echoing in your heads over and over again.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

You were going to kiss.

The only thing that breaks Miguel and you from your shock are the sudden intimate noises, tearing your gazes from each other to see what’s the matter. It’s then that you both see a couple making out against the wall, totally unaware that Miguel and you are there due to the poor lighting.

Seeing the intimacy and hearing their noises of passion is all you need before you walk past Miguel, fleeing the garden area wordlessly to pull yourself together.

Miguel doesn’t try to stop you, not even when you brush past him. He stands there for a second or two before he, too, walks off in the opposite direction, hands clenched.

It’s not until you find yourself utterly alone once more that you stop walking. You stare at the ground, your heart racing while your mind plays the last few minutes over and over again. It makes no sense. There’s no way Miguel was about to kiss you, right? You huff in frustration and begin to pace back and forth, one hand clenched tightly around the glass you brought out with you as you try to make sense of the situation.

“Alcohol,” you say quickly to yourself, nodding. “Too much alcohol. It makes people do stupid things.” You nod once more, slowly calming yourself as you repeat this in your head.

At last, you stop pacing when you find reason for that near mistake.

Alcohol, which messes with your brain. Nothing more.

“Hey!”

Startled, you jump and let out a small gasp before turning. You find your mom, happily smiling.

“Come on! What are you doing out here all alone, mija [my daughter]?”

“Just - taking some fresh air,” you answer, walking over to her.

“Your sister and Gabrielito are about to cut the cake. They were wondering where you were,” your mom informs you, offering her arm to you.

You smile and accept your mom’s arm, embracing her comforting presence as you both head back inside the party.

“They were also looking for Miguel. You haven’t seen him, have you?” your mom asks, nearly making you trip.

“N - No, I haven’t,” you lie, clearing your throat and checking your shoe to pretend something is wrong with it to make up for you nearly tripping. “He’s probably talking with the men. They all seem like big fans of him.”

Your mom smiles, nodding. She hums softly as you both enter the venue again, the kind of hum that only moms can muster when they know something you don’t.

“I’m sure Miguelito is somewhere around here. Maybe he needed some fresh air, too,” your mom continues, patting your forearm as you fully enter the reception room now. “Let’s go get some cake.”

After eating cake and making toasts with your family and the guests, you stick near your parents’ side for the rest of the night, as a distraction to forget what almost happened earlier, until it’s time to see your sister and Gabriel off. You watch next to your parents as the newlyweds walk out of the venue, saying bye to the guests and other family members until it’s the immediate families’ turn at the end.

You hug your sister and Gabriel goodbye when it’s your turn, wishing them a great time and congratulating them yet again.

At last, the couple makes it to the car and gets settled. You smile softly as they wave goodbye one more time before the car departs. Watching the car grow smaller and smaller, the realization that your baby sister is married dawns on you. In the blink of an eye, she grew up and turned into a wonderful young woman. You briefly recall when she was a little girl, when she used to follow you everywhere because she wanted to do everything with you. And now, she’s all grown up and starting a new life with the love of her life.

A few feet away from you, Miguel does the same with a thoughtful expression on his face. He can’t believe Gabriel is now a married man, that he’s all grown up. He sighs, wondering where time went before he turns sideways, finding you staring in the direction of the car. He has no doubt you’re having similar thoughts like his, the two of you being the eldest siblings.

Sensing someone’s gaze, you turn, only to meet Miguel’s eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds, the moment at the garden flashing through your minds like the highlights of a video with one particular part in replay: that moment when Miguel leaned forward and his gaze fell on your lips before you allowed yourself the same with his.

Your senses, both Miguel’s and yours, are overwhelmed in seconds. You easily recall each other’s scents, the warmth from your bodies, and the angry energy that slowly turned into something different due to the shoe talk before you fell into whatever that was at the end.

You blink at last and swallow deeply, pushing the memory away. You scoff at yourself, still holding Miguel’s gaze.

Damn alcohol and the things it makes you do and feel. Right?

You finally look away and walk off to meet your parents, not sparing Miguel another glance.

Miguel’s eyes follow you until you disappear from his sight. He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, frustrated. He doesn’t even know if it’s at you or himself, or both. Or, maybe he’s just exhausted form the wedding planning and the actual wedding activities.

He doesn’t know anymore, just like he doesn’t know what he was thinking back at the garden. He turns away and scowls at himself. Okay, fine. He knew exactly what he was thinking: kissing and tasting you.

“Miguel-”

“What?” Miguel snaps, turning. He clears his throat when he finds Daniel, the man from earlier who was boasting about being divorced and advising Miguel to stay single for a while longer. He sighs and shakes his head. “Forgive me, Daniel. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s alright. You’re probably tired from the wedding. These things are always exhausting. I was just going to ask if you are interested in joining me and some of the other guys to a bar. It’s still early,” Daniel says before three other young men reach them.

Knowing the men, Miguel knows what kind of night they hope to have; one with no attachments but filled with carnal pleasure.

Miguel shakes his head. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m too tired. And besides, I still have to wrap up some things here regarding the venue. You guys have fun.”

The other men boo him and one even dares to call him “old fashioned” since they know Miguel isn’t interested in those type of nights with strangers. They eventually walk away, leaving Miguel alone once more. He shakes his head as he sees them pull out of the parking lot before fishing for his own car keys inside his pockets.

The truth is, Miguel has no tasks related to the venue left. A cleaning crew was hired to take care of everything so neither families would have to worry about it. The food situation was handled and the gifts have been collected to be stored for now until the couple comes back from their honeymoon.

All Miguel needs to do is wish everyone a good night and head home. That’s it. Yet… His thoughts are a storm and you’re at the center of it, the culprit.

His gaze, despite himself, searches for you. He finally spots you several feet away talking with a man, one he doesn’t know personally. Miguel watches the interaction, noticing the closeness and the way you seem at ease with the individual. Hell, you’re even laughing at something the man says.

He looks away when the man places a hand on your forearm while talking, opting to gaze at the venue’s front gardens with trimmed bushes and perfectly aligned flowers.

Miguel suddenly realizes it. He’s stalling, but why? He turns to look your way again, discreetly, and the need to talk to you suddenly hits him. He needs to talk to you about what almost happened at the garden earlier. So, Miguel takes a few steps your way.

As he approaches you, he’s unsure of what he’d even say. I’m sorry for almost kissing you? Miguel cringes internally. Should he even bring it up? Talking about it makes it more real. It means acknowledging that that almost happened between you along with admitting some level of vulnerability, something neither of you have ever shared with each other.

He suddenly finds himself standing next to you and the man, his large strides making the walk a short one. The man stops talking and looks over at him, a look of confusion at Miguel’s sudden appearance. On the other hand, to Miguel’s annoyance, you give him a look of nonchalance.

“Excuse me,” Miguel starts, acknowledging the man. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need a word with Ms. Y/N.”

The man nods, looking somewhat disappointed. “I see. I’ll give you two a moment,” the man says despite you beginning to protest.

You watch the man, a son of one of your dad’s friends from work, walk away. Slowly, you turn to face Miguel, keeping a neutral expression. “Yes?”

“We need to talk about what happened,” Miguel says quietly, meeting your gaze.

“What happened?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

Miguel scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t give me that attitude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At the garden,” Miguel continues through gritted teeth in disbelief at your nonchalance.

You hum, tilting your head. “Nothing happened,” you respond.

“Are you kiddi-” Miguel starts but stops, his frustration mounting. He lowers his voice. “Don’t play stupid with me, princesita [little princess]. We both know you’re far from it.”

“You know what I know?” you ask quietly. “There’s nothing to discuss. Don’t make a storm in a glass of water, okay?” With that, you walk around him.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done talking,” Miguel replies, following you.

“As far as I’m concern, we have nothing to talk about. So, I’ll see you around, Mr. O’Hara,” you say, ending the conversation as you head to your car.

“Dammit,” Miguel murmurs, still following you.

You quickly unlock your car and get inside, slamming the door close. You start the car even when you see Miguel standing next to it, trying to talk to you. Sighing, you consider rolling your window down for a few seconds to let him talk, but at the same time you don’t wish to hear him out. A part of you knows that talking about what nearly happened will make it feel important when it’s not. Or, at least you’ve made yourself believe it’s not.

You shift the car’s gear, ready to drive off, but at the last second, you roll your window down. Facing forward and with your foot on the brake, you speak. “We’ve both had drinks. Alcohol makes people do things that they wouldn’t do when they’re fully sober, even with a little bit in their system. There’s nothing to discuss nor explain. Nothing happened and that’s what matters. I’m certainly not making a big deal out of it, nor have I been offended by what nearly happened, so if that’s what you’re trying to do - apologize - save it. Have a good night,” you state firmly before driving off, leaving a frustrated Miguel in the parking lot.

Through your rear view mirror, you look at him one more time. You find him watching you drive off, his arms at his sides in a stance that lets you detect his frustration clearly. At last, you look away, certain you’ve handled the situation accordingly.

Previous Part ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next Part

A/N: Hiii, I'm sorry for how long it took me to update, but life got crazy in August due to a family member's death and then sickness. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed part 2! When I wrote part 1, I wasn't planning on this being a multiple parts fic, but with writing part 2, I guess I am now.

I'm unsure of how long this will be. Tbh, I'm hoping for it to be short 😭🙏🏼 Like, 10 chapters or so? Maybe less. I need to sit down and plan accordingly! As you can probably guess, this will transition into a CEO!Miguel x Assistant!female reader who are also now connected because of your sister and Gabriel, so I'm just letting you guys know the forced proximity will increase! 🙂‍↕️

Thank you for reading, and I hope you're having a great day/night!!

Alondra❤️

p.s. I have attached my side Spotify account in case you guys are interested in keeping up with the music I listened to while writing this chapter.

for the people that asked me to notify them for part 2: @vera4luv @safixiovi