#could have been malo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astralaffairs · 7 days ago

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freedom of the press 09 | t. jefferson

words: 13.5k

warnings: sex

desc: the 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he’s most eager to please?

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @distinguishedpotsticker @fukaaaaaaaa @hereforthepsyche-assessment @ivetoldamillionlies @fangirl570 @thealaddinkid @lasciviouspeach @snazzydoesthings @shy-and-awkward-daveed @rachelhermionerose @soft-weeb-s @gryffinclxw @anamrnk @daveeddiggsit @ayayayayana @marinovakovich @cryinghazelnutt @thefandomgirl03 @a-hopeless-fan @cloudynblw @tinywhim @lolidunnoaboutnow @siriusorionblackiii @fanfic-addict-98 @nyxie75 @i-know-i-can @yxseminx @yavin4andor @sugacita @sstrawberry-fanta @youtxbemusic @queenwilty @someinsanefangirl @foudre-aqua @whatevs2000 @rwr-ites @maxi-ride @moose-on-the-l00se @itshaileyn @toxicidity @malos-moving @luckyfriesss @lovecass123

THOMAS HAD WOKEN up feeling sick.

At first, he couldn't place the reason. He'd been drinking enough water and taking his multivitamins, he hadn't eaten anything bad (as far as he knew), and despite what Lafayette thought, he hadn't been drinking.

It was only when he pulled himself out of bed that the prior night’s events caught up with him, the information surfing on the fresh wave of nausea that rolled over him as he stood. When he glanced over at his mirror, the face staring back looked bedraggled and gaunt.

He powered his phone off immediately after checking the time when he was met with a screen full of texts from the last person he wanted to hear from; he dragged himself through his morning routine in a haze as his thoughts spiraled, inventing increasingly creative stories for how he’d ended up at that point. Who had given the interview? What else had she been lying about?

"I got a lot more attached to you than I meant to, alright?"

What finally broke him out of his stupor was a knock at the door at half past three P.M. He cupped a hand around his mouth to check his breath; he hadn’t had anything to eat but coffee, but he was grateful to have convinced himself to take a shower and brush his teeth.

When he opened the door, Thomas furrowed his brow. “Lafayette?”

“I ‘ave come with food and cigarettes.”

“I don’t smoke cigarettes.”

“Y/N told me what happened.” His discerning gaze made Thomas hold his tongue, wavering on his intention to tell Lafayette to kick rocks. “I did not think you would want to be alone, and I assumed zat you could use a cigarette.”

When Lafayette raised his eyebrows expectantly, Thomas sighed.

“Alright, c’mon in. Can't have you stay long, though; ‘m busy getting ready for my rally tomorrow.” He stepped aside to let Lafayette by, and he started toward the kitchen as Thomas locked the door behind him.

“I am sorry to hear what happened.”

“What exactly did she tell you?”

“Zat she hurt you,” Lafayette said simply, and Thomas’s eyebrows shot up. “She told me that her editor has ze article about your past and that she told you about it. I hear you did not take it well.”

“Oh, gimme a goddamn break,” Thomas snapped. “How the hell am I supposed to take the news that the person I’m seein’ has been planning to tell the whole world I was an alcoholic?”

“Poorly. There is no other way to take it.” He put the bag he carried on Thomas’s counter and started withdrawing styrofoam boxes. “Why do you think I am here? I am on your side. And I ordered southern American food. I did not know much about it, so I ordered one of everything.”

“One of everything?” Thomas repeated curiously, reaching for a box, and Lafayette nodded. Thomas’s eyes widened when he opened it. “That’s a lotta macaroni ‘n cheese.”

“I also have fried chicken, grilled asparagus, waffles, shrimp and grubs—”

“Shrimp ‘n grits?”

“—Collard greens, cornbread, and something called a ‘hushed puppy.’”

“You didn’t need to come here ‘n do all that, Laf.” Thomas’s demeanor had softened considerably as Lafayette had withdrawn his many containers of food, laying them out on the counter. “‘S awful sweet, but I’m doin’ fine. I’m pissed, but I’ve handled a whole lotta abuse from the press already this campaign cycle.”

“Not like this, and not from her." At Lafayette's knowing look, Thomas appeared perturbed. "You may lie to yourself all you want, but you cannot lie to me about zis. I see it. I see ze two of you together, and I cannot imagine zis being anything like what you have experienced with ze media before.”

Thomas hesitated, not meeting his eyes, but as he stared down at the boxes of greasy takeout, his gaze was unfocused.

“Yeah,” Thomas finally said, pulling open a drawer to withdraw two forks. “I didn’t expect this from her. Thought she had more integrity than that.”

“Try, just for a moment, to understand ze dilemma she faces.”

His skeptical gaze shot to Lafayette. “Thought you said you didn’t come here to defend her.”

“I did not, but I do not know zat zis is a question of her integrity,” Lafayette reasoned. “Someone is out there giving interviews with ze press about your past with alcohol addiction. If she does not write zis article, someone else will.”

“She shoulda come directly to me about it, then. I coulda got out in front of it.”

“You still can, and you still should,” he said, “but her job is to write about you. She hasn’t betrayed anything you’ve shared with her in confidence, she simply interviewed someone with much to say about your past.”

“Yeah, till the article comes out and it’s everything I told her about Martha,” Thomas said cynically.

“The article does not mention Martha. It makes no reference to any past lover or to your engagement.”

“I can’t take her at her word on that anymore,” Thomas said incredulously. “Be serious, she’s gonna do whatever she wants with what she knows.”

“I can assure you, it does not even offer an implication. I ‘ave read it, Thomas.”

“You’ve read it?” His voice was stunned, and he froze as he was opening a container of food. “How long have you known about this?”

“Not much longer than you. After she wrote it, she came to me for guidance.”

“And you didn’t tell her to shut it down?”

“I advised against her publishing it, but she is not ze editor of ze Post. I am not sure how long zat remains in her power for. So I told her to talk to you.”

“Yeah, ‘n look where that got us,” Thomas grumbled, and Lafayette sighed.

“Would you not rather know?”

“I’d rather you told me the goddamn minute you found out about it,” he snapped. “God, I’ve known you for years; where the hell’s your loyalty? A pretty girl walks into the scene and all of a sudden I take a back seat?”

"You know zat is not what zis is," Lafayette shot back. “Oui, she is my friend, but I refrained from coming to you about this because I know zat she cares about you. And you care about her, so you should understand why I wanted to give her ze chance to make things right."

"Oh, please. Don't come here telling me she cares and didn't mean to hurt me." His voice was sharp and dismissive. "She knows what this article's about. She knows what she's doing."

“She is under pressure you do not understand.”

“I think I understand just fine. She’s got priorities; she’s got a career, ‘n that comes before me. Shoulda realized how far that went, but I didn’t. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“She does not have security in the way that you do, Thomas,” Lafayette reminded him. “She works two jobs and still has problems with paying her bills. She cannot afford to lose zis job.”

“She's got plenty of people she could stay with while she found another.”

“So you think zat you should be more important zan her income?” he challenged. Thomas didn't respond, only frowned. “She should be quitting her job to delay her source finding a journalist willing to publish zis story?”

“I don't mean it like that.” His frustrated voice had grown quieter. “She shoulda never let it get this far, though. She could've lied to her editor about the interview ‘n never written the article.”

“Her manager knew she was interviewing someone. What would she have written about after?”

“I don't know, alright?” His words came as an outburst, and they were followed by a huff. He continued, voice softer, “I don't know what she shoulda done. All I know is this wasn't the right answer. Y'know what she told me? Said she cared too much about me to know how to write about me, and that she got too close. But none of that stopped her from writing this, so I dunno what to believe anymore. Nobody who cared would try ‘n air this out.”

“The way she writes about it is not flippant.” Lafayette's gentle tone matched Thomas’. “She writes about you as someone who ‘as succeeded in the face of struggle, not as someone who chose a life of vices.”

“I don't wanna hear it anymore, Laf. You oughta leave if you're just here to defend her. We both know that, no matter what you say about it, telling voters a presidential candidate was an alcoholic is a nail in the coffin.”

“For whatever it is worth, I see you as someone who ‘as overcome great animosity against all odds,” Lafayette offered. Thomas shot him a sidelong glance as he closed the container of macaroni and cheese. “Truly. You have everything to be proud of. Regardless of how people may react to zis, do not forget all zat you have done to become who you are today.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said weakly. “I can only hope the voters are gonna see it that way.”

“If you do not win this election, you will still forever be who you are.” Lafayette's words made Thomas purse his lips as he reached for the small plastic container of gravy sitting atop the tin of mashed potatoes. “Remember that your whole life has not been leading up to this moment; it will continue on after it regardless of the outcome.”

A long silence passed as Thomas stared down at the gravy, visible through the barely-opaque white plastic. A dent was forming in the styrofoam container he'd placed it onto as he held it in his tense hand. The styrofoam tore, and he snapped back to the kitchen.

“I know,” he finally said. “But I do appreciate the reminder.”

“I trust that you will keep yourself reasonable throughout this election cycle. You are a smart man.”

“And if I don't, that's what I've got you for.” The smile he gave Lafayette was weak but wholehearted. “Now, we've got a whole lotta food here. You gonna hang around and help me eat it all?”

“I thought you said you needed to prepare for your rally tomorrow,” Lafayette said hesitantly, and Thomas shrugged.

“I think I could use the distraction. ‘N they just put Jurassic Park on Netflix.”

“I am glad to hear it. I cleared my calendar before I came over; I would hate for it to ‘ave been for nothing.”

Thomas' laugh was surprisingly earnest. “Would it be too on-the-nose to break out the bourbon for the occasion?”

“As someone who has written no articles about you lately, I cannot imagine why it would be.”

—---------

GIVEN WHAT SHE had told him, Thomas couldn't break his pace campaigning. He went through with his rally the next day and appeared at a nonprofit-sponsored event the day after as the keynote speaker. He shook hands and took selfies, kissed babies and signed foreheads. He politely declined one woman's request to sign her breasts as a stencil for her next tattoo.

He was playing his role as a media darling the way he always had, blithely and jovially, and his numbers were up in the polls. (James was telling him so, at least; he'd stopped checking for fear of seeing how far they might drop.) Part of that, however, was keeping the Washington Post far from his events. Regardless of who at the Post filed for press admittance, they weren't coming, and he was making sure of that himself. Besides, he had enough coverage.

He was waiting quite patiently for the other shoe to drop as he buttressed his image, though, checking Twitter between podcast interviews and university appearances. He'd become quite sly about sneaking glances at his phone as it poked just a degree out of his pocket, but all he ever saw were texts he had no intention of answering and DMs on Twitter that conferred Y/N's assumption that he'd blocked her number. James had caught on, however, to how preoccupied Thomas was. He would trail off in the middle of a sentence when he noticed his averted gaze, and he watched his eyes glaze over when interviewers made small talk before his appearances, and Thomas caught his skeptical gaze on many occasions. Thomas averted his eyes quickly when he did so.

Nothing damning ever crossed the headlines, and Thomas, too, began to realize he was operating on borrowed time. He wasn't sure how much time he'd borrowed, and he wasn't sure how much he'd have to give back. Neither realization was a relief. It only built his anticipation for the weeks that followed, and he grew more scattered and more concerned about what was to come until—

“Thomas.”

His head snapped up at the stern sound of James’ voice. It was a tone usually reserved for Charles Lee and his father, and Thomas had a hunch as to why he was hearing it just then.

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He was in his office at the space they were leasing for their campaign headquarters, a dingy old building that may have been considered glamorous in the early ‘70s, but its interior had never been renovated, so it now simply looked dated. James took a seat across from him.

“Where the hell has your head been at for the past couple weeks?”

“What do you mean?” He answered a little too quickly, and James narrowed his eyes.

“You're always on your phone. Even when you're making appearances in public, you're not entirely there, and in meetings, you definitely aren't. Something is obviously up.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes. “What're you accusing me of?”

James looked taken aback. “Nothing. I'm asking: I can tell something happened, but what? I want to know if you're okay.”

“You wanna know if I'm okay?”

“Yes. Of course I do,” he said, frowning, and Thomas’ creased brow softened a degree. “We've been friends for years. I'm worried about you, not upset.”

“Right, yeah. ‘Course.” Thomas dragged a hand through his curls as he took a deep breath, not meeting James’ gaze. “Sorry. ‘M just stressed.”

“I can tell.”

“I learned somethin’ last week that's bad for us. Bad for me, really, but it's a problem for our campaign if it pans out, y’know?” His words were agitated and scattered, and when he finally looked James in the eye, he sighed. “A friend in the press told me there's somebody out there giving interviews about my history as an alcoholic. Sounds like they claim to know more than they really do, but at any point now, that information might come out.”

“I see.” James’ lips were pursed. “Would that friend happen to be Y/N L/N?”

Thomas frowned. “Yeah. Why?”

He hesitated, looking down as he collected his thoughts. Slowly, he said, “You two seem quite close in a way that concerns me. Is there anything I should know about that?”

Thomas’ stomach had curdled. “Nah, I mean… Dunno what you mean, really. She's just a professional contact.”

“And the dynamic between you two at work events? Your choice to rent out the restaurant she works at for a rally?”

“Hey, I've been goin’ to that restaurant for a whole lot longer than she's been workin’ there.”

“That's beside the point.”

“I dunno if it is.”

“Thomas. Be straight with me.” James eyed his stiff shoulders and the way he sat rigidly upright in his chair; his stance was unnatural. “You're communicating with her outside of professional channels, and you aren't taking the things you learn straight back to us. Frankly, it's unprofessional of you.”

Thomas eyed him with a knit brow, trying to keep his surprise peripheral. “I… Yeah, sorry. Shoulda communicated better.”

“And why didn't you? Something about Y/N L/N seems to cloud your judgment, and I'm not sure where that's coming from.”

He'd have to remind himself to thank Dolley for her discretion. “Dunno what to tell you. We haven't really been communicating, it's just this, ‘n I've been distracted cause I don't know what to do about the interview somebody's been givin’ about me. You don't have to worry, either; we're not friends, ‘n she's not gonna be around in the future.”

James furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but it took him a moment to collect the words, “Just haven't seen her at our events. Her assignment must've changed.”

“...Right.”

As they looked across Thomas’ desk at one another, neither had the heart to note all the media inquiries he'd declined from the Post in the preceding weeks.

—--

Y/N WASN'T HAVING the time of her life either. In the weeks that followed, every media request she submitted was painstaking, wrenched from her hands by her manager and laced with shame and anxiety. She was having increasing trouble justifying why finding a reliable source for her article was giving her so much trouble, but her countless declined media requests had been giving her an easier out.

The closest she came to him for several weeks was his open speaking events—rallies, cocktail hours, fundraisers and the like—despite her numerous texts and calls. She even managed to get James’ and Lafayette's ears on a couple different occasions, but the only person who gave her the time of day was Dolley. Even then, in contrast to James’ and Lafayette's dismissal, all she received was passive pity. She'd asked her how she'd liked the Pacific Northwest — that was where Thomas’s campaign had led them most recently.

“Oh, you know. Lots of rain.” Dolley’s words were accompanied with a sad smile. “I'm glad to be back on the east coast, I suppose.”

“Would you really consider DC to be the east coast?”

She only shrugged. “Maybe not. But all the same, it's good to be home.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Sorry campaigning hasn't been all it's cracked up to be.”

“No, no, it's been fine. Don't worry about me, dear. How… how have you been, though?”

Y/N's hopeful expression froze, and although Dolly's was unchanged, she couldn't help but feel that something had shifted. She swallowed as she regained her warm smile.

“I've been good, Doll. Working lots of hours, but nothing too terrible.”

“Good, good. I haven't seen you at too many campaign events recently, you know.”

“Right, well. Traveling that far would just be a bit of an ordeal.”

“Of course.” Dolley touched Y/N's arm as she glanced over her shoulder. “I really can't linger, but it is good to see you. I hope you've been taking care of yourself through everything.”

“Through everything?”

Again, Dolley shrugged. “All the hours you've been working. I imagine it doesn't allow much time for you to rest.”

“Right, yeah, no, for sure.” Y/N shook her head quickly, offering a light laugh. “For sure. I've been fine.”

“Right.” Her smile was tight. “I do hope I'll see you around.”

Y/N was doing her best not to read into Dolley's words, but they occasionally floated to the forefront of her mind on her commute to work and in the shower. She couldn't help but dwell on the hesitant way she asked how she'd been as she sat at her computer redrafting articles. She couldn't gauge the sincerity in her voice when she said she'd hoped to see her around.

She found Lafayette no more than a week later, and it appeared he'd already been cornered by none other than Ben Arnold. She wasn't sure when the two had been acquainted, but Lafayette was looking rather weary as Ben grew ever-closer to him with his notepad.

While she was trying to decide whether to approach the pair, Ben noticed her over Lafayette's shoulder.

“Y/N!” He flagged her down with a hand, and Lafayette turned sharply in the direction he was facing. Both she and he were tense as she approached. “You know Lafayette, don't you? I can't place it, but I'm sure I've seen you both talking together before.”

“Right. Yeah, we know each other.” Her smile was tight, but Ben didn't seem to pick up on it. “What's going on over here?”

“We're talking about Adams’ speech from the other day. I wanna root for the guy, but God, he sure fumbled that.” He shook his head in disdain. “He has me starting to think he might just be too old to be the candidate.”

“Yeah, well. No candidate is perfect.”

“You're one to talk, with the way you've been tearing into Jefferson. You're doing great work, though, don't get me wrong. And don't let me dissuade you.” When Ben nudged her playfully, she pursed her lips.

“Thanks.”

“How's your day going, though? Have you gotten any content out of this rally?” The concern in his brow was aimless, and when Y/N shrugged, he frowned. He followed her gaze as she snuck glances at Lafayette.

“It's been fine. I, um, I should get going, though. It looks like you two were in the middle of an interview, and I really don't want to take your time. I have some work to get done this afternoon.”

“Will your article finally be hitting the front pages?” Y/N inhaled sharply when Lafayette spoke, and his polite tone was in contrast with his stern, knit brow.

“Not today.” She spoke softly, and when she looked him in the eye, she was almost afraid to look away. “There have been some complications.”

“Of what sort?”

“That’s somewhat confidential, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure it is.” He hesitated. She didn’t move. “Is everything alright?”

“Is everything alright?” she repeated incredulously, and he shrugged.

“I am only wondering.”

“I’m fine.” She answered the question he didn’t ask.

“Glad to hear it.” Ben nudged her with a lopsided smile, and the one she put on to match was stiff. “Looking forward to your article, then.”

She and Lafayette shared a look.

————

PER NOBODY’S WISHES, she thought dryly as she read her email, they’d be seeing her again soon. Thomas was holding a speaking event at the university she'd attended, and it was being moderated by a professor she'd had as an undergrad. Although Thomas’ campaign may have blacklisted her, her persistent participation in journalism seminars appeared to be paying off well into her career. There was, of course, a media junket in the hours that preceded the speech, and she was, of course, always welcome back at her alma mater. When she was younger, people would tell her time and time again that her GPA barely mattered if she wasn’t looking to attend graduate school, but there it was, pulling strings she figured had long since frayed.

She arrived early. She’d barely slept the night before, so she figured it wasn’t ultimately worth waiting the extra hours before leaving the house, and she showered before the sun was even up. She stopped by her old professor’s office to thank him along with an extra cold brew and her thoughts on his recent book. She lingered in the bookstore afterwards, eyeing the merchandise they’d updated since she attended. She walked by her old dorm building. She made uneasy eye contact with the security guards placed every five feet.

Vans with tinted windows went in and out of gated driveways, and she wondered which of them had reason to appear so incognito. Although she hadn’t the slightest clue, she didn’t allow her stare to linger on any of them for too long.

She checked in for her time slot four hours early.

—-------

THOMAS HAD MIXED feelings about university speaking engagements. Young people barely voted, and many of them had obviously come only to network regardless, trailing behind him with questions about his campaign staff and his cabinet. Nevertheless, the optics of caring about the next generation were helpful if not essential, so there he was in a van being driven through closed-off streets toward a university convention center.

He shook hands and learned names he had little intention of remembering for multiple hours before the event even started, and he was led by his security detail down a long hallway for the press junket that he should have anticipated.

He asked for a cup of coffee before they started, chatting idly with one of his bodyguards in the hallway outside, and then he asked for another. He arrived at the first interview thirty-eight minutes late.

He cut each interview short. They were with outlets he’d spoken to time and time again: CNN, Fox, the Associated Press, the Guardian. The questions they asked were routine.

Eight interviews took him less than an hour, ultimately, but he was informed that he’d be giving sixteen that day (it would’ve been fifteen, but the university newspaper snuck in a reservation).

After each, he took a breath, fixed his tie, and opened the next door to meet the interviewer he’d be speaking to next.

Nine was from NBC.

Ten was the Times — he shuddered when he saw Ben Arnold, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen his face before.

Eleven was the LA Times.

Twelve was NPR.

He walked out on autopilot toward the next room after shaking his interviewer’s hand and wishing her well. His eyes were glazed over as he opened the door to room thirteen.

He fixed his shirt cuffs as he walked in. “Mornin’, how’s your day—?” He stopped short when she lifted her head, eyes as wide as his. “Who the hell let you in?”

“Please, just give me five minutes.”

He looked over his shoulder to his security personnel. “Gimme the room.”

“Sir, we’re under instructions not to leave your side.”

“Instructions from who? You work for me.”

“I understand that, but our manager—”

“Wait outside. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure, Secretary Jefferson?”

He nodded before turning back toward Y/N. “I only need five minutes, hm?”

“Yes. Please.” He sat across from her as the security detail filed out into the hallway, and her hand was shaking atop her notebook when he met her eyes.

“What part of ‘stay away from me’ was unclear?” he spat.

“It’s my job; I couldn’t stop trying to get to your events.”

“And what did you think would happen when you did?” She was silent. “How the hell did you get in, anyway? My staff knows that you—”

“I went here. For college. I used to work for the professor interviewing you later, and he reached out to me, not the other way around.”

“Management and I are gonna be havin’ a serious talk about his role in organizing this event, then.”

“Hey, come on, it’s not his fault,” she protested. “You can’t ruin his credibility just for this, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” he snapped. “It’s not fair? It’s not right? All of a sudden, you’re worried about protecting somebody’s reputation?”

“Come on, you know what I’m saying. He did nothing wrong.”

“And I did then?” He raised his eyebrows, folding his arms. She sighed, shoulders dropping. “‘S that what you’re saying? Is that all you meant? He doesn’t deserve that, but I do?”

“No, of course you don’t. Please stop making this something it isn’t.”

“What is it then? Hm? If it’s not you playing favorites? You’re allowed to drag my name in the streets, but I can’t do it to somebody you care about?”

“Thomas, I do care about you; just listen to me.”

“What is there left to say?” His tone was sharp, and he didn’t go on, just watching her expectantly. The only sound was the hum of the AV equipment switched on in the corner. She hadn’t set any of it up.

“I just want you to understand that this is my job.” She spoke softly. “I didn’t know this was what I was signing up for, but I did, and it’s too late for me to back out.”

“You didn’t do this by accident. I don’t care what your assignment was; you sat down and spent hours writing down the worst things you could find about me.”

“I had to. My editor—”

“You had to? There was no other way out?”

“Yeah, maybe unemployment,” she bit back. “I need my job, Thomas. I have to work.”

“You’re a big name in media now. Don’t act like you have no sway.” He looked her up and down. “You made your choice. Now live with it.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she urged. “Someone was going to come out with this eventually. If I didn’t write it, I would’ve been scooped.”

“You always have a choice.” When he stood, he was looking down his nose at her. “Hope it was worth spending your day here just to make mine worse. I’ll be more careful about the press at my events goin’ forward.”

He started toward the door, and her hurried footsteps behind him didn’t give him pause.

“Wait, please, I—” Her fingers were soft on his forearm, and he jerked it away, turning to face her.

“Don’t you dare touch me. You hear me?” His tone was harsh, and she pulled her hand back, balling her fingers lamely in front of her. “I don’t know where you find the goddamn nerve.”

When he left, he slammed the door behind him.

——————

SHE WAS DREADING the office on Monday. The speaking event had been local, so she couldn’t skate by on travel complications for another day working remotely. She slipped into the office early so her editor wouldn’t see her come in, and when eleven AM came and went undisturbed, she found herself ticking off the minutes before she could slink away while Ashley was out on lunch.

At 11:38 AM, there was a knock at her office door.

“Coming.” Her voice was soft.

She opened the door. The usual culprit.

“Ashley,” she said, honey-sweet, “Morning. Happy Monday.”

“Good morning, Y/N.” Her smile was tight. “What do you suppose there is to be happy about today?”

“Well, the weather is beautiful, my apartment’s heating was fixed, my friends are—”

“That was rhetorical.” Ashley breezed past her into her office, and Y/N sighed. “Where the hell is my article? I know you went to the Georgetown event last weekend, and you have yet to even send me notes from it.”

“He wouldn’t speak to me.” She turned, closing the door behind her.

“And why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know, because all my writing treats him terribly?” Y/N asked. “This is your own fault. Being upset with me for not being able to get his ear when you told me to drag his name through the mud is insane.”

“I don’t need a new interview with him. I need you to finish the draft you sent me weeks ago. If you don’t, I’m giving it to another staff writer to finish.”

“You’re bluffing. It’s my intellectual property; you don’t own that article until it’s published,” Y/N said. “If you could assign it to someone else, you would’ve by now.”

“And if someone had sent me your interview tape, I could’ve had it in the paper immediately,” Ashley seethed. “Why are you holding out on me, L/N? You got this assignment because your supervisors before me believed in you. This doesn’t just reflect on you; it reflects on them now, too.”

“Yeah, and they weren’t breathing down my neck trying to push their own agendas on my writing.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Y/N paused, sucking her teeth. Ashley raised her eyebrows.

“I think Adams lied,” Y/N finally said.

“And why do you think that?”

“He has an agenda. No one will even corroborate his story.”

“He worked with Jefferson, and the facts line up.”

“How would you know if the story lines up?” Y/N asked incredulously. “You weren’t on Washington’s staff with them.”

“I don’t care. I don’t care if you don’t have a secondary source, and I don’t care if you don’t believe him,” Ashley insisted, “because you haven’t published in weeks, and this is front-page news. You never sit on a story like this.”

“Don’t you care about our integrity? This affects our reputation as a paper, too.”

“If it turns out to be false, we’ll print a retraction.”

“I don’t want my name attached to a slanderous article,” Y/N said. “We could get sued. I could get sued.”

“We have the best lawyers in the game, L/N. What you need to do is grow a pair.”

“Jesus Christ, don’t talk to me like that.” Y/N’s nose was crinkled as she eyed Ashley. “However good you think our lawyers are, you underestimate Jefferson’s.”

“I’ve been in journalism a long time. I know what we can get away with.”

“What if I don’t want to just be ‘getting away with’ things?” Y/N asked. “I came here to report the truth.”

“From what we know, this is the truth.”

“But we don’t know that.” Y/N’s firm gaze met Ashley’s narrowed eyes. “I’m not finishing the article.”

“You work for me.”

“If you press this, I’ll walk away,” Y/N warned. “You need me here this late in the game.”

“You need me a whole lot more,” Ashley said. “If you don’t get me my finished article by Friday, you’re fired.”

“Then I quit.”

Ashley’s narrowed eyes softened. “You don’t mean that.”

“I’ll pack my office. Effective immediately.” Y/N’s expression was unchanging. Ashley drew back, folding her arms.

“Fine. You have thirty minutes. After that, security will see you out.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

—————

SHE HADN’T PLANNED for that. When she went home, she was all but convinced it had been a fever dream. Was she sick? She took her temperature—98.5° F. She checked her email. It had already been disabled. Her Google Drive was gone, which meant her draft was gone, which meant her career was over.

She hadn’t given two weeks notice, and she had burned a bridge. Ashley wouldn’t be listed as a reference on her future job applications. She hadn’t published in weeks, and she had lost all her contacts on the Jefferson campaign. Who would hire her?

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot despite her nine hours of sleep. She needed to go to sleep.

Laying down didn’t help. Maybe Tums would do something, but the sinking feeling in her stomach wasn’t nausea. She figured an antacid couldn’t hurt. Maybe she was stopped up. Maybe she just needed a laxative. Maybe she needed antipsychotics. Had she gone mad?

She didn’t check her phone for three hours. She could only stare at the ceiling. She had no dental insurance, so she would need to postpone her appointment. She had no health insurance, either, so she was rather lucky that flu season was over. Her car repairs would have to wait, but the Metro reached her part of town. She didn’t have to travel for work anymore, anyway.

She had opted in on a financial nightmare. It wasn’t until later that afternoon that she even remembered why.

It was with trembling fingers that she called Lafayette. He didn’t answer, and she couldn’t blame him. She sent him a text. Quit my job. Not sure what to do. Call me back.

She couldn’t call Alex, and she couldn’t call Angelica, and she didn’t have Dolley’s number. None of her closest friends would understand the decision she’d made.

She went downstairs, and Mira was in the kitchen idly doing the dishes. The lunch rush had passed, and the dinner one hadn’t started.

“Hey, Mira,” she said softly. “Do you have a minute?”

“Dishes have to get done, mija, are you going to help me?” Her tone was all business, and it almost made Y/N smile. She had her own concerns.

“Yeah, I can. Lemme load the dishes.” And so as Mira scraped and rinsed each plate, Y/N put them one by one into the dishwasher. She fell into a rhythm so passively that it caught her off guard when Mira spoke.

“You wanted to talk about something with me?” she asked, and Y/N went still.

“Yeah,” she said, “I did.”

“I am listening.”

“I quit my other job.”

Mira turned the water off. Her brows were knit when she faced Y/N. “You quit?”

“I did.”

“You worked hard for that promotion. What happened? You were famous.”

“My editor wanted me to publish some things I didn’t quite believe in,” Y/N said quietly, and Mira nodded, turning back to the sink. She turned the water on and reached for another glass.

“Ya veo. About Thomas?”

Y/N paused. “What makes you say that?”

Mira only shot her a sidelong glance, raising one skeptical eyebrow. Y/N shrugged, and Mira turned back to the sink, shaking her head. “What did they want you to say about him?”

“I…” It occurred to her that Mira hadn’t answered her question. “Things I don’t want to repeat. I don’t want to spread rumors.”

“Are they true?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I will not repeat what you tell me,” Mira said. “Tell me.”

“There are claims he was an alcoholic,” Y/N said, and Mira pursed her lips, nodding.

“Is that just a rumor?”

“Only one person has claimed it. They say it was years ago.”

“He does not seem to me to be an alcoholic.”

“Me neither,” Y/N said. “If it’s true, he’s clearly recovered. With how much energy he has, I’d sooner believe that he does cocaine.”

Mira laughed softly at that. “He is always moving, no?”

“You’re telling me.”

Mira turned off the water as she handed Y/N the final dish. “So when did you quit?”

“This morning.”

Her eyebrows jumped. “Today?”

Y/N nodded. “I didn’t even give any notice. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were being brave,” Mira replied. “You did what you believed.”

“And now I’m paying the price.”

“What price?” Mira asked. “You left a job that you hated. You… what is it… seguiste a tu corazón.”

“Followed my heart?” Y/N repeated, and Mira nodded.

“Thomas means something to you,” —Y/N opened her mouth to protest, and Mira only raised a hand to stop her— “He is in your life, at least. He is your friend. You did what he needed.”

“I know. God, I hope so. I was just trying to do the right thing, and now I feel like I’ve blown up my life.”

“What is blown up? You have a roof over your head. You have food on your table. Also you have this job.”

“It’s not enough for me to be able to pay you rent money,” Y/N admitted. “Not with my student loan payments. I understand if I can’t stay, but when I find a new job, I can get you all the money later, and if you want interest, it’s—”

“It is not my worry,” Mira said. “We have enough money. We do not need yours. We will not remove you from your home.”

“Thank you, but I’ll pay you when I have the money. I’m sorry.”

“Do not be sorry. Be proud that you have done what you believe.” Mira took Y/N’s damp hand in her own, dishwater running down in beads from her elbow. “I am proud of you. It is allowed to feel that for yourself, too.”

—————

SHE THEN CALLED Thomas. He didn’t pick up, and she wasn’t expecting him to. He hadn’t read any of her texts in weeks, so she didn’t bother sending them anymore, but they were still marked as delivered. Lafayette didn’t call her back, but he texted— I am happy for you.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. Can you call?

He texted back immediately. Later. I am working.

Are we okay? It took her a long moment of staring to press “send.”

We will need to have a longer conversation, he sent. Her stomach turned. Then— But yes.

She called Thomas again.

That was her routine for the rest of the evening. She applied for a job at CNN, she called Thomas. She made herself dinner, she called Thomas. She took out the trash, she called Thomas. She applied for five more jobs, she called Thomas. She took a break to read through the texts she’d sent him, and she called Thomas.

She texted Lafayette again. Can you tell Thomas to call me?

I can try, was his reply. Should I tell him you quit?

I’d like to tell him myself, she sent.

Then it will be difficult.

By eight PM, he had 47 missed calls from her. It was more than she’d tried in the weeks since he had cut her off, but she supposed he would have chalked it up to the fight they’d had over the weekend. Every time the phone went to voicemail, she heard his disgusted voice ringing in her ears— I don’t know where you find the nerve.

Frankly, she wasn’t sure, either.

At 9:47, she had just finished another job application, and it was time to call Thomas again. She was sitting on her couch, and she put the phone on speaker beside her as she reached for her glass of wine. She closed tabs on her laptop as she listened to the first four rings, and she pulled up another application as the fifth went by.

The sixth ring never came, and the phone didn’t go to voicemail. There was faint static coming from her phone’s speaker. She froze.

Tentatively, she spoke. “Thomas?”

A beat passed. Finally, “I only picked up as a favor to Lafayette. You can tell him I did my piece.”

“Wait, no, don’t hang up,” she said frantically. “Please. Are you still there?”

“I’m done wastin’ time here. I’ve given you a whole lotta chances. Goodnight.”

“I quit my job.” Her words were rushed. Silence followed, but no dial tone.

“You what?”

“I quit my job,” she repeated. “The article’s scrapped.”

“Y’know, it’s not so easy to trust right now that you’re tellin’ me the whole truth.”

“I know,” Y/N said softly, putting down her wine glass. She picked up the phone and took it off of speaker. “But that's it.”

“You’re not goin’ back?”

“Never.”

“And that article’s never gonna see the light?”

“It would be illegal for them to publish without me on staff. They don’t even have the interview tape.”

There was a long pause. “Why’d you do it?”

“Are you serious?” she asked, huffing out a disbelieving laugh.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“Because I couldn’t publish that article. I’m sorry I ever even wrote it. My editor has been hounding me for weeks to get it finished so that they could publish, and I delayed it and delayed it, but it came down to publishing or leaving. So I finally left.”

“‘Cause I yelled at you in a conference room at your old college?”

“Because you were right when you did,” she said. “No one who cared about you would publish that article.”

“What about all those bills you have to pay?” The question was steeped in disdain.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, and her voice was shaky when she explained, “I’m applying for jobs, but I’ll take on more hours at the diner, and I can delay some of my payments. And Mira and Orlando are my landlords, so they won’t evict me, so I won’t need to couch surf. I’ll take on a little bit of debt. I’ll figure it out.”

He hesitated a moment. “Sorry for askin’. You don’t owe me all that information.”

“Right now I owe you any explanation you want.”

He sighed. “Y/N.”

“I’m serious. I’m so sorry, Thomas. This whole ordeal is finally over. You never have to think about this again.”

“Well, if somebody’s giving interviews about it, I’m sure I’m gonna have to worry about it soon enough.”

“...Right.”

“But that’s not your fault. I shouldn’t put that on you. ‘M sorry.”

“You don’t owe me any apologies,” she said softly. “I’m glad you picked up.”

“Yeah.” A beat. “I am too.”

Nearly a minute passed and neither of them spoke. Neither seemed to have the words to offer, but he didn’t hang up, and she didn’t want to.

Finally, “Can I come over?”

He hesitated. “I’m at James’ right now.”

“Oh.” Her voice went quiet. “Right. Of course. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry, I’ll let you—”

“I’ll be home in an hour,” he cut her off, and her eyebrows shot up. “Think you can wait that long?”

She checked the time. It was past ten. “I suppose I don’t have anywhere to be in the morning.”

He didn’t laugh. “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

—-

IT WAS MORE than an hour later when he texted her. In fact, it had been eighty-one minutes. She'd begun to abandon her hopes when he sent— Headed home. Come by whenever.

She didn't love being on the Metro at that hour. She couldn't call an Uber. She brought nothing but her phone, wallet, and keys.

It was nearing midnight when she arrived, and ten minutes passed between when she buzzed in and when she knocked on his door. Most of them were spent standing outside working up the courage to do so.

When she finally did, he opened the door immediately.

“Hey,” he said softly, looking her up and down.

“Were you waiting by the door?”

He frowned. “It's the middle of the night, and I buzzed you in twenty minutes ago. What else would I be doing?”

She chose not to correct him on the time. “Right, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m sure.”

She didn't respond at first, shifting her weight between her feet. “Can I come in?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Lemme take your jacket.”

“Thanks.” The brush of his fingers against hers when he took it sent chills down her arm. She followed him inside.

“Would it be too on the nose to offer you a drink?” he asked. “I think we could both use one right about now.”

“It'd be more than welcome,” she agreed weakly, and he nodded, walking toward the kitchen. She didn't follow him right away, and he glanced back at her.

“Well, c'mon in, act like you've been here before. You know where the glasses are.”

“Right. Sorry.” She slipped off her shoes before continuing toward his cabinets. “What are we drinking?”

“Wine?”

“What kind?”

“Zinfandel.”

“Right.” She handed him two wine glasses as he took a bottle from his shelf and pulled the cork.

“Thanks,” he said. She nodded.

A moment passed in silence as he poured two glasses, and he turned his head to look at her as he put the cork back on the bottle. “Take your pick.”

“Right. Thanks.” She took the glass closest to her.

“Cheers?” he said as he picked up his glass, tilting it toward her. Her smile was tight as she clinked her glass against his. He sighed. “Relax a little. You wouldn't be here if I didn't wanna see you. You're not on trial.”

“I know,” she agreed softly, “but I did fuck up. You don't have to be this nice to me right now.”

“I know.” He took a sip of his wine. “That's what makes me such a good person.”

She rolled her eyes, and his small smile was self-satisfied. “My savior.”

“Hey, I don't wanna hear any snark from you in these circumstances,” he warned, and she shrugged.

“Then you shouldn't have invited me over.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The way I remember it, you invited yourself.”

“How rude of me.”

“I oughta kick you out just for that.” She cast him a sidelong glance as she took a sip, and amusement danced in his smiling eyes. “You wanna come sit down?”

“I… yeah. I'd love to.” They both migrated to the living room, and when she took a seat on one end of the couch, he sat beside her without hesitation. “I still feel like I owe you an apology.”

“You've apologized. Not much more you can say about that.” His tone was dismissive.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, sweetheart.” He took a heavy sip of his wine, and she frowned. “What I do want, though, is an explanation.”

“I… don't think I have much of an explanation to offer. No excuses I haven't already given you.”

“I don’t want an excuse. Why’d you do it?” he asked. “When did this start, who gave the interview? How long have you been sitting on it?”

“I can't tell you who.” Her response came quickly, and he furrowed his eyebrows. “I'm sorry, I know that's unsatisfying, but it's just not something I'm willing to break. Their anonymity, I mean.”

He hesitated a moment. “Y’know it's not your job anymore, right?”

“Yes, I'm aware.” Her voice had an edge. “But… this is about my reputation as a journalist. This is an integrity thing.”

“Whoever you're interviewing doesn't seem to have a whole lotta integrity.”

“That isn't my problem.”

“You know this affects me, yeah? I'm not asking this outta spite; I need to know who's claimin’ this.”

“I can't be the one to tell you.” Y/N pursed her lips. “I'm sorry for that. Honestly. But I can't.”

Thomas took a heavy breath. “You're not makin’ it real easy to forgive you, y'know.”

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. Her ears rang in the silence that followed.

“Fine,” he finally said. “When did you write the article, then?”

She swallowed. “Shit… I… Almost three months ago? Maybe less?”

“Three months?” he repeated.

“I told you my editor was at the end of her rope with me delaying this. It wasn't for no reason.”

“So every time I've seen you for three months you've been sittin’ on this.”

“I mean… yeah.” She shrugged. He was watching her incredulously.

“That's all you've gotta say about it? Yeah?” Her nose crinkled at his pitchy impression of her voice. “Every time I've seen you you've just been pretending you weren't gonna destroy my reputation?”

She sighed. “It's not like that. I mean, it is, but c'mon. It's not like I've been putting on such a promising act as your fun hookup. All we've done for the past three months is fight.”

“What about that night at the diner?” he asked. “We did a whole lot other than fightin'.”

“Do you mean your rally?” she asked, and he nodded. “Thomas, I hadn't written it then. I didn't even have my source yet. I didn't know about any of this. I… it was the last time I woke up here that was the day I wrote it.”

“Don't sound so self-righteous about my question, then; you were still stayin’ over here when you were writing it.”

“I was not,” she defended. “I haven't even been here since I wrote it. After that morning, I barely saw you for weeks.”

“And apparently I shoulda kept it that way.”

“Do you want my side of the story or not?” Y/N asked weakly. “I know you're upset, but you asked me to explain. I'm just trying to fill in the blanks.”

His jaw ticked, and he sat back against the couch. “Yeah. ‘M sorry. Go on.”

“Well, the article was the reason I didn't try to see you in those weeks. At least not for anything more than a talk. I think some part of me knew from the jump that it was wrong.”

“Then why'd you do it?” he asked. She sighed.

“My career. My money. I really needed that job, and I worked so hard for it, and at first I thought I might be able to discard the article without it seeing the light, but my editor doubled down. It was obvious pretty early on that my job depended on it. I was hoping I would be valuable enough that they wouldn't fire me over it, but once it was drafted, there was no way to stop it and stay at the Post.”

Her voice shook, and she reached over to put her wine glass on his coffee table. She rested her forehead in her hands.

“I know I fucked up, but even now, some part of me feels like I made the wrong choice. What now? What's next for me? Who's even going to hire me after I quit the Post with no notice? What about my loans?”

She jumped at the feeling of his hand on her shoulder, and when she looked up at him, he looked as bewildered at her reaction as she felt.

“‘M sorry. Didn't mean to… scare you, it's not… Shit. Whatever. I'm sorry.” His fingers were stiff as he rubbed her upper back, and it drew a soft laugh from her.

“God, when did we get so awkward? It's okay, it's not your fault.” She took his hand from her shoulder, lacing her fingers into his.

“‘Course. Right. But y'know… if I'd never gone for you, you wouldn't be in this type of spot. I shoulda just left you alone from the jump.”

“That would've made both of our lives a hell of a lot easier,” Y/N agreed, and his smile was reluctant. “Too late, though. If I didn't care about you being in my life, I wouldn't have just thrown away my career for you.”

“Y’know, the campaign could always use more speech writers.”

“Not helpful.”

“I know. Sorry, sugar.” He squeezed her hand. “But your career's not down the drain. You're real smart, and you're real talented. Somebody else is gonna wanna hire you.”

“Maybe, but the industry is so tight. If word travels that I left the Post with no notice, I'll seem unreliable. Nobody wants that.”

“Somebody’ll hire you. I promise, alright?” His words held great conviction, and she could only sigh.

“Thanks, Thomas.”

He offered an encouraging smile. “‘Course.” He paused for a moment— “Now, I don't wanna reopen old wounds or anything, but I gotta ask.” She creased her brow. “Was the article the only reason you were avoidin’ me? Changin’ all your shifts at the diner, boltin’ for the door when I saw you at Lafayette's… was that all this?”

“I… I don't know.”

“Right. ‘Course, ‘m sorry for askin’. I shouldn't have brought that back up; it isn't even—”

“No, no, listen to me.” Her voice held traces of frustration. “I like you, you know I do, as if me quitting my job isn't evidence enough, but I just couldn't,” —her words were defeated— “let myself get attached to you. There's no good ending to this. The good ending was sex until the election and then neatly going our separate ways. And I fucked that up a couple different times.”

“So you didn't?” he asked. She frowned.

“Are you serious? Of course I got attached. You're all swagger and confidence, and suddenly the Republican presidential frontrunner wanted me, of all people. It all felt like a dream. It felt like too much of a dream. There's no room for dreaming in my future, only planning.”

“So you just saw it as temporary.”

She nodded. “I did. I fucked up by getting to know you, though, and you fucked up by being so much kinder and more complex than I took you to be. I didn't account for there being anything under the surface.”

He smiled softly. “Sorry, sweetheart. I'll try not to let it happen again.”

“You're too considerate.” She pulled her legs up onto the couch, sitting with them slanted at her side. “All of that to say, no, it wasn't just the article, but you did nothing wrong.”

“This is night ‘n day from you accusin’ me of trying to control you a couple weeks ago,” he pointed out, and she huffed.

“Hey, I was trying to keep us from having to figure all this out. It would've been easier if you'd given me a good reason to lose your number.”

“I'm glad I didn't.”

“I am too,” she agreed. She picked up her glass of wine, and she took a slow sip, choosing her words. “So, are we, like, good?”

He laughed. “Mhm, we're, like, good.” Y/N rolled her eyes at his impression of her voice, but when he squeezed her knee, her stomach turned. “C'mon, lighten up.”

“I don't think this is all that funny,” she protested, and he sighed.

“All is forgiven, alright? Relax. We'll laugh about this soon enough.”

“I'm not ready to laugh at it yet.”

“You'll get there.” His hand was creeping up her thigh, rubbing circles into her skin, and she frowned before covering it with hers.

“What exactly do you think you're doing here?”

He smiled as his hand tightened around her leg, fingertips pressing into the skin, and she gasped when he pulled her toward him. “Clearin’ the air.”

“You're so corny.”

“‘N I missed you. Gimme this.” He took her glass of wine out of her hand, placing both his and hers on his coffee table.

“I was drinking that.”

“‘N now you aren't. Y'know, alcohol really isn't good for you. Take it from somebody who knows.” Her eyes were wide as he pulled her legs over his lap, his hand settling on her lower back when her thighs were draped over his.

“You're invading my space, Jefferson.”

“You gonna write an article about it?” He held her face by the chin, then only inches from his. The mocking pout he offered made her roll her eyes. “Sick of seein’ that frown.”

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, and when she smiled at the gentle action, he turned her head to kiss her on the mouth. “There's that smile,” he said softly before kissing her again. “All I've been getting these days was your little furrowed brow,” —he swiped his thumb over the bridge of her nose— “always so angry with me. Always pouting.”

“It was for good reason.”

He snorted. “Uh huh. ‘Cause I've just been such a nuisance.”

“You've been the cause of all my stress for months now.”

“Then lemme relieve some of it.” His hand drew back to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer as he kissed across her chin and down her jaw. He hooked his other hand under her thigh. “Come here.”

She squealed when he pulled her all the way onto his lap, and she shifted to face him, tilting her head back as his lips traveled down her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck, unable to stop the little whimpers that escaped her lips as he sucked on her skin, and she squealed when he suddenly bit down hard on the skin above her collarbone.

“Thomas,” she whined as a hand flew to his hair, and she whimpered as he sucked the soft skin into his mouth, pulling her in close by the waist. The skin smarted as he pulled away, his breath heavy. “That hurt.”

“D'you mind?” He raised his eyebrows, expression flat, and she swallowed.

“No.” Her voice was small.

“Good.” His mouth returned to the skin of her chest, kissing and biting her upper breasts. He released her waist to undo the top buttons of her blouse, brow furrowed as he did so, and after a moment, he huffed and grabbed the bottom hem of her shirt. “Pick your arms up.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he said, hands slipping under the fabric around her waist, riding it up to the band of her bra. She put her arms above her head, and he immediately pulled her shirt off, discarding it absently onto the floor. He grabbed her by the waist and tossed her on her back onto the couch beside him, and she yelped when her bare back hit the cool leather, arching away from it.

When he climbed on top of her, he slipped a hand under her back to undo her bra clasp, sliding it down her obliging arms. She inhaled sharply when the cool air hit her sensitive nipples, watching him in anticipation.

“Touch yourself,” he said softly, and she raised her eyebrows.

“What?”

“C'mon, play with your tits for me. Wanna see you make yourself feel good.”

“I…” Any protest in her voice died when his lips returned to her skin, kissing down her stomach, shifting down the couch. He settled between her legs, nipping the skin above her hip lightly. He met her eyes with an expectant gaze.

She tilted her head back, arching up against her hand as she reached for her breast, pinching her nipple. Her breathing was heavy; she reached for the couch cushion behind her head with her other hand, gripping it tightly.

“Fuck.” The sound escaped her lips as a whisper as she rolled her nipple between her fingers, and her hips twitched involuntarily. Thomas’ hands ran up her bare thighs under her skirt.

“Look at me,” he demanded, and she did so with a deep breath, squeezing her breast in her hand. His heavy gaze made her squirm. “Good girl.”

The words made her groan as she took her other breast in her hand, circling the nipple with her fingertips as it hardened. Although she was watching Thomas, his eyes were fixed on her chest, and she pushed her tits together, rolling her hips toward him.

“Please touch me,” she breathed, and he smiled, pushing her skirt up to her waist.

“Do you deserve it?” He ran a finger lightly over the outside of her panties, and it brushed over her clothed clit, making her whine. She pinched both nipples, pulling her tits up her chest.

“Please. I'll behave. I'll be good for you.” She arched harder toward him. He watched with hungry eyes as she squeezed her breasts.

“Finally got tired of making trouble?” He didn't wait for an answer before pulling her panties down her legs, leaving them dangling off one of her ankles as he grabbed her by the hips and pulled her toward him. She inhaled sharply.

“So pretty,” he commented, running a finger up her slit. He smiled at the wetness that collected on his fingertip. “And so well behaved. This all for me, sweetheart?”

She moaned when he circled her clit with his thumb, and she nodded, desperately grabbing at the couch. He landed a sharp slap to her thigh, and she yelped.

“Did I say you could move your hands?” he asked, and she frowned, bringing them back to her hard nipples. “Keep ‘em there.”

She swallowed hard when he returned to her sensitive clit, rubbing it in light strokes. Her breathing was heavy, and any movement from her hands was absentminded as her chest heaved. His fingers dipped down, teasing her entrance, and when his tongue flicked her clit, she stiffened, arching involuntarily as she rolled her hips toward him. When his lips wrapped gently around her clit, his teeth scraped it, and her legs jerked. She whined.

“Fuck, please, Thomas.”

“Be patient.” His hands moved to her hips, arms hooked under her thighs to hold her legs open, and he sucked hard on her throbbing clit. She moaned, and he didn’t stop her when one of her hands flew down to the back of his head, knotting her fingers in his hair.

“Oh, god,” she groaned, and she could feel his smile grow against her skin as his tongue traced patterns on her clit. “Fuck, you’re good at that.”

“Mhm.” Her legs shook under the vibrations of his voice on his tongue.

Her eyes fell shut as her body tensed and twitched, and he didn’t let up, pushing her hips down into the couch as he worked her up. She whimpered when he released her thigh to slip a finger into her ignored pussy, curling it gently inside her.

“I need more.” Her voice was needy when she eventually spoke, her orgasm starting to build inside her. Everything was just shy of enough—his lips were too gentle, his fingers too slow, and all it did was frustrate her. Thomas didn’t respond. She huffed, but she could only stay quiet another moment. “Please?”

He pursed his lips as he lifted his head to look up at her. “You think you need more?”

“Yes, I do,” she whined. “I can’t cum like this.”

“What d’you need?”

“Just… more, please,” she said desperately. “Harder, or faster, or… something. Just… more.”

“Oh yeah?” He added another finger to her dripping pussy, and she gasped. His fingers pumped quickly in and out of her. “You need more?”

“Yeah, yeah, just like that. Oh, god.” She moaned, dropping her head back onto the couch, and his lips returned to her clit. She squealed. “That’s so good. Just like that.”

He sucked her clit hard into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, and her hips jerked uncontrollably against him, chasing her orgasm. Her eyes rolled back when he curled his fingers inside her. “Fuck, Thomas, I’m close.”

“Yeah?” he murmured against her, and he lifted his head. “You gonna cum for me? You almost there?”

“Yeah,” she moaned, and his tongue returned to her clit. Her legs were shaking in his grasp, and one of her hands gripped his hair while the other sank into the couch cushions, scrambling to ground her. “I’m so close, fuck, don’t stop, I’m gonna—”

She was cut off abruptly by her own loud whine as he pulled back from her entirely, and she could feel her building orgasm dissipate. “No, no, no, please, I need—”

“Who said any of this was about you, hm?” He raised an eyebrow as he lifted his head between her legs, and her hold on his hair loosened. Her deep-seated pout didn’t stop him. “Do you think you deserve to cum right now? After everything you did?”

“You said we were all good,” she protested, and he hummed in agreement.

“‘N I feel great right now. Don’t think I see the issue.” She groaned when he sat up, running his hands up her thighs. “Should be real grateful I’m not still upset with you. I could be doin’ a whole lot worse than this right now.”

“What, you want me to thank you?” she said dryly, propping herself on her hands as she sat up. Thomas pulled her closer by the thighs as he raised his eyebrows. “...Do you?”

“I mean, some manners would go a long way. I’ve been awful generous toward you, sweetheart.”

“I’ve said please.”

“‘N I don’t owe you anything for that,” he said, looking her in the eye as his thumb circled her clit. “You don’t have any kinda control over me. You don’t own me.”

If it weren’t for the punch in his tone, she wouldn’t have realized he was throwing her own words back at her, and she exhaled heavily. “C’mon, play nice.”

“I’ve been plenty nice to you.” His hands ghosted down her legs to her calves, and she sighed. “If anybody has reason to be upset, I’m pretty damn sure it’s me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. He looked her over for a moment, and he swung his legs over the side of the couch to stand, making her furrow her brow. When he reached his feet, she followed suit, “Hey, wait don’t—” She squealed when he leaned down suddenly to throw her over his shoulder, holding her by her legs.

“It’s alright sugar, I know you’re sorry. Think it’s my job to make you sorry, though.”

She groaned. “Put me down, let’s just talk about this first.”

“Don’t think so.” She squeaked when he pinched the back of her bare thigh, reaching around to swat his hand away. Her eyes widened as she recognized the door to his room retreating behind them as he walked through his apartment, and she yelped when he threw her down onto his mattress. “We’ve talked plenty, haven’t we?”

He didn’t waste any time before loosening his tie, and when she scrambled backwards on the mattress, he grabbed her by the ankle to pull her toward him. “Where the hell d’you think you’re going?”

“I don’t want this to be how we resolve this; we should—”

“D’you know your safeword?”

“...Red.”

“Then shut the hell up.”

Her chest heaved as she watched him undo the buttons on his shirt, but her gaze fell to the growing bulge in his crotch all the while. He seemed to pay her little mind, barely sparing her a glance as he pushed his shirt down his shoulders. His undershirt was tight, and when he joined her on the mattress, climbing atop her, her hands drifted to its lower hem, pulling it out of the waist of his pants.

“You should take this off,” she said softly, and he kissed her bare shoulder.

“Don't think I will.”

She huffed, and he reached for the waistband of her skirt. When he tried to pull it down, it caught on her hips, and he furrowed his brow. “Where the hell's the zipper on this thing?”

It was without warning when he grabbed her hips to flip her onto her stomach, and she yelped when he immediately pulled her hips back toward him to pull down the zipper of her skirt. He pushed her flat on her stomach to pull it down her legs, and when he did, she pushed her torso up to turn and look at him.

“Why am I the only one naked?” she asked, and he pushed her chest back down onto the bed with a firm hand between her shoulder blades. He slapped her ass absentmindedly.

“Relax. I'll take care of you.”

Although she huffed, her heart was racing as he ran a hand down her bare back. She twitched when his fingers dipped between her bare legs, and she parted them reflexively. The pads of his fingers were warm as they ran up her slit.

“So wet.” His tone was condescending. “So pretty.”

It was abrupt when he grabbed her by the thighs, pushing her to her knees, and he parted her legs by the calves. She braced herself on her forearms, arching her back, and he hummed agreeably. It was nervously that she glanced back at him, and she found him settling on his knees between her legs.

“You okay?” he asked softly. He kissed her bare lower back, and her tense shoulders softened. He leaned over her to kiss the back of her shoulder, and she felt his hard, clothed dick against her ass. She whined.

“Thomas, please, just fuck me.” She pushed herself back against him, shaking her hips. She dragged her ass down against his boner. “Don’t you want to?”

He hummed absently. “I’ll think about it.”

“Come on,” she pleaded, voice breaking. “Don’t make me wait any longer; I need you, I need you now.”

He laughed. “Aw, sugar, that badly?”

“Please?” she said softly.

“Yeah, alright.” The clang of him undoing his belt made her heart rate jump. The smooth sound of leather against fabric, and then the muted thud of the buckle hitting the floor. When she felt his dick tap her clit, sliding against her center, her hips twitched, and when his tip gently nudged her entrance, she pushed her hips desperately back against his, and he let her.

She could only take half of him on her own, and with a hand on the small of her back, he pushed himself the rest of the way in. She groaned.

“Fuck, that’s deep,” she said. He hummed in amusement, rolling his hips against hers, and she whimpered. “God, please move. Please?”

“Mhm.” When he began to thrust into her, it was shallow at first, and his pace was slow. Impatient, she snapped her hips back against his, fucking herself on his dick, and he moaned. “Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. Keep going.”

Although she did so vigorously, fists twisting in the sheets to brace herself to feel him deeper, he grabbed her by the hips, pulling them back at his own pace. As it quickened, she went limp in his grasp, doing her best to keep matching his movements, but her actions grew increasingly pathetic as he took control. He slapped her ass, gripping the meat of it.

It was a moment later when he grew impatient, grabbing her by the waist to push her down into the mattress. She squeaked as she lost her hold on the sheets she had been gripping for leverage, her cheek squished into the mattress beside her hands.

“Jesus, you feel good,” he grunted, leaning over her. His pace quickened, and she gasped. “You like that? You like it when I hold you down and fuck you?”

“Yeah,” she whined. “‘S good.”

“Yeah? You missed me blowing your back out? Huh?” He slapped her ass, and she squealed. “Say it.”

“Missed it. Fuck, please, I missed you,” she said. “So good. You’re so good.”

“Yeah, good girl,” he cooed, leaning over her back. He kissed her shoulder as he weaved a hand into her hair, and she whimpered when he pulled it back with a tight grip at the roots. Her head lifted off the mattress, mouth agape. “Taking it so good for me. So well behaved.”

His lips latched onto her shoulder, sucking her skin into his mouth, and she sagged against the mattress, eyes rolling back when his teeth sank lightly into it. When he pulled away, the skin was red and smarting. He kissed the resultant mark.

“Thomas, I need more,” she pleaded. “I can’t cum like this. Please, touch me.”

“Beg for it,” he said, releasing her hair, and she groaned.

“Please, please, I’ve been so good. I’ll be good for you, Thomas, anything you want,” she pleaded, and he hummed, his thrusts growing increasingly aggressive. His grip returned to her waist, pushing her down. “Need you, need you, need you.”

Her words were muffled as her face was against the sheets, and the movement of his hips against hers was becoming frantic.

“Keep going,” he panted, accelerating his thrusts, and she could feel that he was growing sloppy, beginning to lose his rhythm.

“Fuck, I’m desperate, touch me, make me come. You’re the only one I need; you’re the only one I want, but please, I need you.”

“Yeah? You need me? How bad?”

“So badly.” Her words were nearly a cry. “Please?”

“Fuck, I’m close,” he groaned, and she let out a broken whine.

“Please, let me cum, touch me,” she begged, and he leaned forward, pushing her down by her upper back. For only a moment, she could barely breathe as his hips hammered against hers.

“Oh, god, sweetheart.” His hips stilled against hers as he came, and after a moment, he released his hold on her back, leaning over her to kiss down her spine. She let out a shaky breath as he ran a gentle hand across her hip. “That was so good.”

“Mhm.” Her response was bitter and short, and he chuckled.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” He kissed her shoulder as he pulled out, and she didn’t respond, only going limp as she lay on the mattress. “Cat got your tongue?”

“‘M fine,” she said roughly. He hummed skeptically.

“Yeah?” His hands ran up her lower back, and he grabbed her by the hips to turn her over on the bed. She met his eyes with an impatient gaze. “C’mon, what’s the problem?”

As he settled between her legs on the mattress, she tensed, and his grip on her thighs was gentle.

“Thomas.” Her voice was warning.

“Mhm?” He blinked up at her innocently as he grabbed her hips, pushing them back.

“Please don’t tease,” she breathed, and he kissed her stomach softly, moving toward her center.

“When have I ever?” he asked, and when she rolled her eyes, he grinned. “Relax. I didn’t forget about you.”

“Thank god,” she murmured, and she jerked when his thumb brushed over her already-sensitive clit. She whimpered when he rolled it under the pad of his finger.

“This what you meant when you said you wanted me to touch you?” His fingers dipped down to her soaked entrance, gathering both their cum before returning to her slick clit. Her hips twitched away from his hand, and he frowned mockingly. “Aw, sweetheart, are you sure you're not too sensitive? Maybe I should stop, I don't wanna push your limits.”

“No,” she groaned. “No more teasing. I need to cum.”

“You're making demands now?” His thumb was flicking her clit back and forth as he raised an eyebrow at her, and she pouted. Her hips rolled against the pattern of his movement.

“Please. I've been good.”

“Yeah, you have.” He kissed her thigh, and when his tongue took the place of his fingers on her clit, she let out a heavy sigh.

“Oh, fuck.” Her voice shook. He pushed one tentative finger inside her, but she was sore enough that she barely felt it. “Keep going.”

It was easy to lose herself in the feeling as he picked and sucked at her clit, curling his fingers inside her, and with how sensitive she already was, her orgasm built quickly. She could feel her pulse in her center, and her cunt tightened sporadically around his long fingers.

“So tight,” he commented, moving a finger back to her clit, and she groaned at the loss of feeling. “Such a perfect cunt. And you've been so good, so obedient.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, hands twisting into his sheets as he worked her over.

“You gonna keep being good for me if I let you cum, sweetheart?” he asked, flicking the tip of her clit lightly, and her breathing was short. She nodded frantically.

“I'm close, I'm close, I'm close.” The words were a whine, and when he returned to rubbing circles into her clit, she let out a squeak.

“That feel good?”

“So good,” she whimpered.

“Cum for me, then.” His grip on her hip tightened; the pace of his finger accelerated, and that was all she needed to send her over the edge. Her whole body tensed, back arching and legs stiffening as she came, and she was panting as she came down from it.

He didn't stop the movement of his hand against her. As she squirmed under his touch, she had to reach down and take him by the wrist.

“No more,” she pleaded breathlessly. “I can't take any more.”

He chuckled as he moved away, kissing down her leg. “Alright. No more. You were good for me.”

She hummed softly in response, and his hands came to rest on her calves just below her knees as her eyelids drooped.

“You okay?” he asked, and she sighed.

“I'm okay.” She rolled her head to one side to look down at him. “Does this mean we're good?”

He chuckled and kissed her knee. “I'll get over it.”

“Yeah?” She reached for his hand when he came to sit beside her on the mattress, and he turned his head to look at her when she gave it a squeeze. His smile was halfhearted.

“Yeah.” He turned back to look at the ceiling. “I did miss you. It's worth having you back.”

“I feel the same,” she said softly.

“‘M gonna find some pajamas and a rag real quick; you want me to grab you something to wear?”

She sighed, pushing herself off of the bed to sit up. “Yeah. Thanks. Don't bother with a rag, though, I should pee anyway.”

“Alright. Be back in a minute.” He sat up to kiss her forehead, taking her face in his hands as he did so, but when he pulled back, he didn't move for a moment, just watching her. His thumb swept over her cheek. “Alright.”

She swallowed when he stood to go to his closet, and she followed suit, heading to the bathroom. After she used it, she eyed her mussed hair in the mirror while she washed her hands, and her gaze settled on the hickies on her neck. She sighed and turned the water off.

Thomas wasn't back yet when she went to bed, but she was cold and so burrowed into one side of the sheets regardless. He would return minutes later with clothes for them both, but she was already beginning to drift off, the fatigue of the day weighing her down.

It was at the corner of her consciousness that she heard him come in and chuckle when he saw her. The sheets were pulled up to her cheekbone. She didn't stir when he dipped down to kiss the side of her head, taking his spot in the bed beside her.

“G’night, sweetheart,” he whispered. She didn't move. Her breathing was slow. “Love you.”

The words didn't break her rest, but she heard them. She also heard him hesitate and inhale harshly, and she heard the way his voice slowed when he, again, said, “I love you.”

She would wake up and write it off as a dream.

#hamilton x reader #hamilton #hamilton fic #hamilton fanfic #freedom of the press #thomas jefferson imagines #thomas jefferson fic #thomas jefferson fanfiction #thomas jefferson fanfic #thomas jefferson #daveed diggs scenario #daveed imagine #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs fanfic

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i9messi · 2 years ago

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hiiii 🩵 could i request a mason imagine where he’s dating the daughter of messi??? and let’s say that leo has invited him over at their house for a vacation but little ciro is really close with reader so he gets a little jealous :’)) all fluff please tysm i love ur imagines 🥺

Summer trip — Mason Mount

Word count — 1,3k

mason’s masterlist

"Vamos, Ciro, sonreí un poco." (Come on, Ciro, smile a little.)

Your brother however continued with that angry face, no smile appeared on his lips. The thing was, you had a boyfriend, a lovely boyfriend. Mason and you had been dating for a while now, your family already knew him and they liked each other. This summer was the first time you decided to go on vacation together but your younger brother hated the idea. Ciro was overprotective over you, you were his older sister and he didn’t like your boyfriend’s presence there.

Ever since your boyfriend showed up with his travel bags, he was even more childish and angry. Ciro made mean comments in spanish and even reproached you for bringing Mason on a family trip.

Your boyfriend appeared with a glass full of cold water and you thanked him, giving him a short kiss on the lips. He was so cute you could kiss him every single damn minute, but your family was there too, so you had to be more private with your affection.

"I love you." He kissed you again and then he looked at the child, smiling at him.

"Que asco." (How disgusting) Ciro complained, knowing that Mason couldn't understand him.

"No seas malo." (Don’t be mean.)

"What’s wrong?" Mason tried to understand what you were saying but his level of Spanish was not good.

"¿Cuándo se va a ir?" (When is he leaving?) Your brother kept asking the same question.

"Ciro! Es mi novio y tenes que tolerarlo por el resto del viaje." (He’s my boyfriend and you have to tolerate him for the rest of the trip.)

"¿Quién lo dice?" (Who says it?)

"Yo." (Me)

Ciro got up from his chair and gave you one last look, until he went to play football with his brothers. You let out a sigh, your brother was making it hard to stay calm during your trip. You loved him, but you just wanted your boyfriend and your brother to get along for a few hours.

"What's wrong, lovely?"

You took the chance of the fact that your brother left you alone and you told him what was going on. Once you explained Ciro was jealous, Mason laughed.

"Oh, everything makes sense now."

"What?"

"This morning I poured myself a glass of water and it was very salty, your little brother was smiling weirdly at me. Also, I can’t find my shoes anywhere and I think my toothbrush has a weird taste— like, a taste of soap. I think perhaps someone is doing things to upset me."

"Oh lord."

"It’s fine, he’s your brother and it’s okay that he wants to protect you, he sees me as a treat."

"You're not a treat, Mase."

"Well, I'm stealing his favourite girl. I get it, if someone stole you from me, I would be mad."

You smiled, Mason knew how to make you feel things in your chest. In a second you were mad at your little brother and now you were smiling at what your boyfriend said.

"But I love you, he has to get used to your presence."

"I take the consequences of falling in love with you. I don’t care if the little Messi tries to kill me, I’m gonna stay by your side."

"Will you? Are you sure? My brother can be very stubborn when he wants to."

Mason laughed again at your drama. Little did you know that your brother never gave up.

"I can also be very stubborn when I want to, and I love you, so that little boy has to get used to my presence."

"Good luck trying to fight with my brother, he will win."

You were totally sure that your brother was able to piss off even the quietest person in the world, your brother might look cute and all, but he was a devil.

"Fight? Who says I'm gonna fight with him? That kid will love me."

You both got up from the chair to go back to the water, your dad was taking care of your brothers as your mom was taking pictures of them at the beach. Your dad was Lionel Messi, Mason admired him and he was like a little boy when he met him the very first time. It still seemed a little unreal that he had fallen in love with the daughter of his greatest idol.

You went into the water for a while with your surfboards, Mason didn’t know how to surf so you had to explain a little and help him. It was too much fun, so much so that you didn’t realize how long it had taken you. The sunset had arrived and when you came out of the water, your parents and brothers had already left the beach.

"Babe, have you seen my towel? I swear I left it here."

"Oh no."

"Your brother."

You both came to the same conclusion. Ciro must have taken Mason’s towel to piss him off. The british made a pot and you offered him your towel. He took it and put it on his shoulders, then extended his arms to you.

"Come here, we’ll dry together."

Mason left you a kiss on your lips and you looked into his eyes. It was a little cold now that you were wet and it was getting dark, but his hot arms made you feel better. As you were alone, you allowed ourselves to show your love. With the kids around, you and Mason tried to not show signs of affection around them.

"I love you, darling."

Mason was so sweet, he made your heart beat as if you were on a roller coaster. He was so attentive and affectionate that every day you fell more in love.

"I know this trip may seem a little weird and my brother is trying to make your life miserable, but I really enjoy being here with you, Mase."

"I enjoy being here with you, love. I don’t want to be anywhere else, you’re my home."

"And you're my everything."

You and Mason had a good time on the beach, kissing and holding hands. There were plenty of beautiful seashells in the sand. Once it was late enough, you returned home and put on dry clothes. You went to the living room and found Ciro looking at Mason with a malevolent smile. Your brother returned the gaze at your boyfriend and with his best attempt at spanish, he spoke with the boy.

"¿Quieres jugar un juego?" (Do you want to play a game?)

Ciro looked at you first and then looked at him. A naughty smile intensified in his mouth.

"Voy a ganar." (I’m gonna win)

"Let's see."

Mason sat next to your brother and the two started playing FIFA. You saw them, not before telling them both to behave, as if they were kids. Your dad was sitting in an armchair a few feet away, so you came over and stood beside him.

"¿Crees que algún día se van a llevar bien?" (Do you think they’ll ever get along?)

"Miralos, parecen empezar a llevarse bien." (Look at them, they seem to be getting along.)

You followed his gaze, your brother was laughing at something Mason said. When Mason looked at you again, he winked at you. His lips whispered a ‘trust me.’

Later on, the game was won by your brother and Mason made a pot, sitting next to you.

"He is good."

"He is."

"Little by little I'll make your brother love me, it's impossible to not love me."

"You’re a bit smug."

"Don’t ya love me?"

Truth was, you really love him. And he knew it.

"I do."

"Now I need to make another Messi to love me. It was incredibly hard to catch your attention, I hope he's easier."

Mason was already thinking of all the ways he could make your brother feel comfortable with him. He made a mental list of what they had in common with the little boy, in order to try to find a connection between the two.

"Dummy."

"I love you, princess."

He kissed you and again, Ciro appeared to make a disgusting gesture.

"Que asco." (How disgusting.)

"Ciro!"

Mason little did he know that your brother was going to play another prank on him that night. After all, the Messis never gave up.

#mason mount x reader #mason mount drabble #mason mount fluff #mason mount #mason mount imagine #mount #chelsea #chelsea fc #football imagines #football player fanfic #football players #mason mount x you #mason mount x y/n

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kyoshitargaryen · 12 days ago

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how my guides send messages through dreams + signs they send me to shift

to call these "dreams" is a bit inaccurate — it's something more like a mix of astral travelling, lucid dreaming, and shifting (I've done all three). I do have a special word I call them, but I'd prefer to keep it private for now. my guides use this "tristate" of consciousness for me to learn lessons and heal past trauma.

my guides weren't always so communicative, but I've gotten to a point where I've developed in my spirituality and my abilities (and perhaps my relationship with them) that communication become easy.

...that doesn't mean my guides are speaking english though.

understanding what the signs meant took a lot of time, patience, and introspection. it was a lot of frustrating tarot readings and even more frustrating dreams. but eventually, I understood, and you will too. just because these are my signs doesn't mean they will be the same for you, or that they will mean the same thing. this post is just meant to example how bizarre messages in dreams can be, and give you an idea of what to look out for.

absolutely read the italicized sections in the toc below

table of contents: when I need to stop sharing information ; when I need to heal from trauma or I am at risk of being triggered by it in the upcoming days ; signs that I'm able to shift ; signs regarding relationships like partners/family/friends/frenemies ; telling when someone from your past is coming back or if you have a soul tie with them ; how you know you're making the wrong decision in these experiences

when I need to stop sharing information

I just made a post all about making moves in silence and mal de ojo, which you can read here. this particular sign can happen if I've shared too much info, made a fool of myself in a social situation, or I shared a success to someone who throws me malo. (I swear to god if I have this dream after I post this I'm gonna be upset lol)

for absolutely no reason at all, my mouth will endlessly fill with debris. it's not vomit or bile, it's not spit, it doesn't taste bad — it's just some sort of mush. sometimes it's unchewed food just...spawning in my mouth. I can lean over and open my mouth, only to have a waterfall of debris come out seemingly infinitely.

only when I acknowledge the fact that I overshared will it stop. sometimes it will persist through the entire dream until I wake up or force myself awake.

in the times where I made a fool of myself socially, the sign manifests as my teeth falling out. I often use harry potter spells in my dreams, so I try to cast the spell dental reparo to fix them. I find that if the situation wasn't too serious, my fallen teeth will return to place and heal, but if it's serious, the teeth will simply fall out again.

when I need to heal from trauma or I am at risk of being triggered by it in the upcoming days

this one, I'll have to be a bit conservative in what I share as the dreams itself are very uncomfortable and could be triggering to others. essentially, I am put into situations where members of my family will mistreat me in the same way I have been in the past or act out a social fear of mine (being bullied, cheated on, etc) — this though is not triggering or scary for me even in the dream, because my subconscious recognizes the people involved as being safe for me, so even when my dreams involve triggering matters, I know I am always safe with the people in actuality.

it's basically a way for my guides to recreate experiences for me and help me process them. it's a sort of exposure therapy. it's actually gotten a lot better and I appreciate the unconventional ways my guides are helping me heal.

signs that I'm able to shift

there are two ways my guides let me know that I'm able to shift were I to try immediately. it's taken me ages to finally decipher them, but finally I have!

water leaks from my fingertips, palms, from my whole body really

this one is a sign that I need to close my eyes in my dream and feel gratitude for my DR and my shifting journey. I typically affirm through this about my DR. it's pretty similar to the lullaby method, which you can read here. sometimes it takes me straight to a new reality, other times it makes me start falling in the void which can take me to another dream or to a new reality, it just depends.

I typically have more control in this dream versus the next example.

2. a physical sensation of energy leaving my body

if I had to describe it, it'd be like a vending machine popping out sodas or like when a baby is finally born (without the pain obviously). this one is a sign that I need to sit, close my eyes, cover my ears, and just affirm that I'm in my DR. the plot of these dreams are usually very hard to move against, so it's important that I don't even try to, I just completely disengage and focus only on my DR

signs my partner / family / friends has lied to me about something in my CR or I need healing surrounding that relationship

let me tell you, my guides and ancestors are SNITCHES. no one can get away with anything. my family and my partner know they can't hide anything from me, because one way or another, I will find out.

how to discern whether this is a trauma dream or a healing/prophetic dream — in my experience, the dreams that are meant to heal or give signs do not have any emotional harm. I will not wake up sad, hurt, or angry from them. they are not nightmares and do not negatively affect my emotional or mental health. you will notice a feeling like apathy during it.

the first dream of this kind can be very startling but they more often then not leave you with questions rather than problems. they are also extremely vivid and I personally believe they lie somewhere between lucid dreaming, reality shifting, and astral projecting.

also be aware of the fact that significant people in your life can pop up in these healing experiences doing some sort of harm to you — it's not a reflection of them, but rather your subconscious protecting you from being retraumatized by the experience, as you subconsciously know that these people care about you and would not harm you.

my partner

in the case of my partner, I'll have dreams that involve them cheating on me, which is something they have never done and would never do. it's an example of how messages from my guides are more symbolic than a one-to-one translation. essentially, my guides take any sort of lie to be a betrayal (for example, if my partner relapsed on nicotine and lied about it) and send me a dream that will reflect that betrayal.

family

for my family — and by family I mean people besides my parents, I'm fortunate to have a great relationship with them — I'll have dreams of arguing with or physically fighting them.

friends / frenemies / bullies

for friends, they are generally sweet, but they can and will represent your own insecurities in these healing experiences. if you find yourself being jealous of these friends in your daily life, they will pop up here in ways that bring that into focus. these will teach you how to confront your own insecurities, learn how to not hold them against others, and learn how to heal or move past them.

for frenemies or bullies — just generally people who don't treat you well — they will also be exaggerated in these tristate experiences. these are meant to teach you how to brush rudeness off your shoulder, and how to stand up for yourself.

how to tell when someone is coming back into your life, or if you have a soul contract / tie with them

these tristate experiences can also mean someone from your past is thinking of you, thinking of you in intimate ways, in your energy, dreaming of you, or going to reunite with you in the 3D soon in some way (in person, through text, through social media, etc).

it can feel as though you are speaking with them, the real them that exists in your life, not just a character in a dream. these dreams can be mundane, sexual — anything. sometimes people will check up on you, or they use these experiences to tell things or do things with you that they would not let themselves in person.

how you know you've done it wrong

at first, your guides may give you an easier time, letting you get used to these experiences before "punishing" you. these dreams are meant to align you with your highest self, your highest potential, so when you're acting out of ego or acting at low vibrations, you're doing it wrong.

once you've made some progress and learned what's going on, you'll notice a "punishment" for the times you act as your ego. for me, I'm immediately woken up or shifted back to my CR. it's genuinely instantaneous. this usually happens when I become physically aggressive in the dreams.

your meanings and signs may be different, but use mine as guidelines for just how weird and abstract they can be.

hope you enjoyed!

yoshi!!

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sword-is-bored · 2 years ago

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Remember me?

(Hello! I wrote this as a start of a sequel to my Fic A Breath of You

Link and (Y/n) are married <3)

"I'll be back before you know it." Link smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. I sighed and pulled him in for a hug. Finding it hard to feel any of him through the armor. He hugged back, holding me close. Our embrace was intimate and warm. I always got anxious when he left for the castle. I knew it was his duty, and it's been years. But... I still fear. I can't shake the anxious feeling within my heart. "I know." I murmured and looked up at him. He wore a gentle expression as I pulled myself off of him. He held out his hand, and I placed mine within it my ring glinting in the soft light. "As long as you wear this ring, I will always come back to you. Always." He promised. I nodded, a sad sigh escaping my lips

Link placed a finger under my chin, gently tilting my face up to look in his eyes. They were filled with love and kindness. He pulled me in, giving me a soft kiss. "Before you know it, (Y/n). Zelda wanted to see what's under the Castle. It shouldn't be anything but research, alright?" He whispered. I nodded, feeling his hands leave me. "Why don't you visit Impa? I heard she's giving the title of Chief to Paya. Go congratulate her. Support her, you know? Take Sky on a trip. So you don't have to be alone here. If I take longer than a day, I'll meet you back here. Alright, love?" He opened the door, tilting his head. I sighed and turned, looking at my traveling stuff hung up. "Yeah. I guess. I haven't seen Impa in a while." I mumbled.

Link gave a wink as he exited the door. "That's my girl. Go see them. I'll see you there, or here. Okay? Before you know it." He repeated and slowly shut the door. I sighed and listened to the sounds of him grabbing his horse, Malo, and taking him to ride away to the castle. I stood in our house, the sounds of emptiness filling me with dread. I sighed and walked up the stairs. I sat in our bed and laid back, already missing him. He was right. I should go see Impa. And Paya.

After another moment I pulled myself out of bed and gathered my traveling gear. I pulled on my things, taking Link's hood and wrapping it around myself. He wore it when tending to the animals so I could smell him on it. I smiled, grabbing my satchel and a weapon. And a bow, and I stole some arrows from Link's stash.

Technically since we were married now, it's my stash too.

I laughed at my own little joke. I turned and looked at myself in the mirror. Wow. I haven't worn this stuff since... the events. Since Link and I first moved in. We built our house to be cozy, and warm. A couch, a table and chairs. Our bed upstairs, with a vanity and some more things scattered here and there. For our wedding gift Link had a print of him and I painted in our wedding outfits. Flowers and white and he looked dazzling in the royal guard uniform. I loved it. Our horses were even in the picture behind us.

I turned to the door, opening it and looking left. Sky was happily munching on grass in the field beside our house. "You." I called out, finding her looking up at me tiredly. "We're going on an adventure." I smiled, pulling the door shut and walking over. She seemed to stare at what I was wearing and slowly walked away from me. "That's... you asshole. Get back here. Lazy whore." I muttered, walking behind the house to the shed. I opened the door, finding her reigns and saddle. I pulled them off their place, finding the saddle especially dusty. I brushed it off, walking over to Sky. She eyed me suspiciously, I smiled holding up the supplies. "I hope you're not too fat to wear this. Hylia knows all you do is sit and eat. I thought you used to be wild."

Sky snorted, turning to walk away again. "Don't you dare." I muttered, pulling out the reigns. I reached out and gently tugged at her halter. "I understand you haven't walked more than a few steps a day," That was a lie I took her out on rides weekly. "But, today you are looking pretty. We're going to see Impa." I said, reaching up to pull off the halter. I took the bit of her bridle and coaxed it into her mouth. Sky watched me with a glare, stubbornly going along with this. I smiled and gave her a pat. "I will give you all the apples we find. As soon as you start behaving." I hummed, putting the rest of the bridle on.

I gently tugged, making sure everything was secure. Sky, however, swung her head a bit faster than I expected when I tugged. I grunted and pulled back, so she didn't head but me. "You will be meat if you don't stop acting up." I muttered, tying her reigns to the fence. She snorted at me, as I placed the saddle pad on. I threw her saddle on top, reaching under her and pulling the straps tight. I continued to make sure she was travel ready and gave her reassuring pats. After the uncomfortable stuff was done, I untied her reigns and tossed them over her head. "That's my pretty girl, look at you." I whispered, petting her happily. Sky was not impressed, but I don't think there was much for her to complain about. I placed my foot in the stirrups and pulled myself up on her back. I situated myself on the saddle, patting her softly. "Good girl. Thank you." I said softly, steering her reigns towards the gate. We pushed out, and began making our way to Kakariko.

"(Y/n)!" Paya cheered, as I stepped through the doors of Impa's house. I giggled feeling her squeeze me into a tight hug. I gently wrapped my arms around her and placed a kiss on her cheek. "Paya, I heard Impa was giving you title of chief. Congratulations dear! You're going to do amazing." She grinned and blushed embarrassed. "Oh, yeah. That's what she says." She mumbled and backed away. I turned to my old friend and smiled. "Impa!" She opened her arms and I gave her a hug. "(Y/n), it's so good to see you. How are you? How's Link?" She asked, taking my hands. "Oh, I'm well. Link is too. He's on his way to the castle to help Zelda and her research."

Impa's eyes searched mine for a moment before relaxing. "Alright. I see why you're here now. Come, my dear. Let's go out and wander the town. Paya, you're in charge." Impa called. Paya squeaked out, scrambling for something. I laughed softly as the old woman led me outside. "You've prepped her for being leader so soon?" I asked softly. "Oh, yes. I'm old. I'm tired, and I don't want to lead anymore. I wish to relax and do what I want. You've been able to, so why don't I?" I laughed softly, allowing her to lead me around town. We spoke to the other townsfolk, everyone greeting me with a smile and open arms. I've gotten more hugs in the past years than I ever did. It's nice.

We toured around some more, Impa making conversation with everyone we met. I watched and night drew near. We returned to her home and sat in the living room. I undressed from my armor, leaving only a shirt I stole from Link and some comfy pants to rest in. This was heaven. Life was great. "Have you two been planning for children?" Impa asked after a long night of conversation. "Honestly," I murmured, leaning back on my hands. "I don't know. I've brought it up to Link, and we've been... you know." I blushed. "I think he wants to make sure Hyrule is completely safe before he wants to bring children into the world. I respect that. I would like some children though. Hopefully once he's done examining the castle, everything will be perfect." I said. Impa laughed and shook her head. "Of course. I understand. A warrior simply wants his children to grow up with peace. How noble of him. You're still young." She said, using quotation marks around that word.

I hummed in agreement. "Yeah, I worry though." I said softly. "He has night terrors. Stress and trauma from everything he's been through. I've woken up to him screaming, and fighting the blankets. By the time I get him to calm down he's wide awake. Sometimes I'll wake up and find him standing in the living room with the master sword in hand. I know everything's still effected him, but I hope it begins to dwindle soon. I think he's coping with it better, though." I thought back to the first night I found him like that.

I woke up to his spot cold. I crawled out of bed, and he was marching downstairs. Like he was in a trance of some sort. "Link?" I had whispered, reaching out to tap his shoulder. His hand snapped up, grabbing my wrist. His eyes locked with mine and he seemed to break. Tears ran down his face and fear swirled in his eyes. I held him as he shook, crying into my shoulder.

"I worry if we have children, he'll be even more stressed. So I hope this will put him at ease." Impa nodded her head solemnly. "Yes. It's hard watching someone go through the after effects of a great ordeal. You're doing the best you can to support him. I know it." I smiled and nodded to myself. Link knows I've went through this as well. After reading my journal he took a long, long look at me. I was worried he'd be upset but instead he pulled me in to a hug and cried with me. Apologizing for everything I'd been through, and what I was put through.

"(Y/n), there's a huge herd of horses behind Kakariko. Would you like to go see them tomorrow? There's a beautiful stallion within them, and I think he'd really catch your eye." Impa suggested. I smiled, being pulled out of my sad thoughts. "Absolutely. I'd love to." With that, Impa helped me get my things together for bed and we slept. The silent house creaked in the night, but it seemed to lull me to sleep.

"Woah." I whispered, standing atop the hill of Kakariko. The city below me as I watched the herd of horses grazing. I smiled, standing tall and feeling the wind wrap around me. Suddenly, I heard soft whispers. I turned around, finding the Great Fairy fountain glittering. It seemed to beckon me. I wandered over, climbing up the petals and resting myself on the pad. Slowly, the fairy emerged. Cotera took a long look at me as she exited the fountain. "Why hello dear, why are you here?" She hummed, a sing song voice. I smiled and shrugged. "It's a beautiful place to relax, you've made it quite the home." I complimented. She let out a soft laugh, and it sounded almost sad. "Yes, well, I'm moving."

"Moving?" I asked abruptly, blinking quickly. She nodded slowly. "I sense a great evil. It's coming." She whispered fearfully. "Run child, save yourself." I shook my head, my eyes widening. "No." I cried out softly. "No, please you can't say that. Hyrule is at peace." He hands reached out and pushed me, suddenly I felt the ground rumble beneath me. Within a moment her bloom vanished, as did the rest of the fairies. I was falling, and the ground began to lift from beneath me. I screamed, tilting back with nothing to hold onto me. Suddenly I was caught between the sky and the ground. I watched as it lifted up, leaving me. Falling. One last scream escaped from my mouth.

"Link!"

Impa was close behind (Y/n), but not enough. She felt the rumbles and heard her scream. She climbed up the mountain as fast as she could. There, she found a darkness as the ground lifted. On the edge was (Y/n), laying crumbled on the ground. Unconscious. She ran over, pulling her away from the darkness. "Somebody help!" She screamed, her voice echoing through the hills. (Y/n)'s arm was the wrong way, obviously broken from trying to catch herself. She had blood oozing from the back of her head. "(Y/n), wake up." Impa whispered, shaking her body. Paya and a few other villagers had rushed to them. They saw (Y/n) and Impa, taking (Y/n) and helping Impa down the hill.

They laid her on a medical bed as they wrapped her arm and her head wound. She seemed to be breathing fine, but whatever happened knocked her out cold. "Grandma, what happened?" Paya asked softly. "(Y/n) was watching the horses, and then it looked like she went to visit the Great Fairy. I wasn't far behind, but then the ground began to rise and," Impa sucked in a breath. "I heard her scream. I've... never heard her scream like that." She whispered fearfully. "We have to find Link. We have to let him know (Y/n)'s been injured." Her arm was broken, and they thought some of her ribs might've as well. Her head... oh goddess her head. They worried. (Y/n) rested peacefully and Impa watched over her, with baited breath. A letter for Link was sent out to Purah, where Impa was informed Link and Zelda were missing.

"Link, your wife needs you." Impa whispered, holding (Y/n)'s good hand. (Y/n) woke up in the night, gasping for water. She was given it and immediately fell back into a slumber. Her eyes rolling back and her body slumping. After another day, she awoke. Confusion danced in her eyes, and she squinted around.

—

"Where am I?" I breathed out, my eyes fluttering as they adjusted to the sights around me. My chest hurt, my arm hurt and my head was hammering. I groaned, closing my eyes tightly. It felt like someone was taking a stick and slamming it into my skull. "(Y/n), you're awake." An old woman sitting beside my bed squeezed my shoulder. I looked at her, tilting my head. "You're in my house." The woman whispered. I looked at her with wide eyes, nodding slowly. "(Y/n)? You look pale." I leaned back, sucking in a breath. The urge to vomit was strong, but I knew I could hold it back. I was fine.

"Can... can I have something to write with?" I asked softly. "Of course. Are you sure you're feeling okay?" I nodded slowly. "Yes. I am." I clenched my right hand, feeling tingling building it's way up my wrist. "Goddess, what did I do to this hand?" I asked. The woman was searching for something for me, and came back with a book and a pen. "Did you injure it during your fall as well? We couldn't find anything broken. Just your nerve damage." I blinked, staring at my hand. A ring sat on my finger. "I... I'm... married? I have nerve damage? I fell?" I whispered to myself.

Where was I?

Who was that?

When... when did I get married?

She placed the book and pen in my lap. I nodded a thanks, taking it and using my bad arm to hold open the page. "(Y/n)?" The woman whispered. I refused to look at her. Shame washed through me. "I'm sorry... I don't know who you are." I said quietly. The woman seemed to still. "I see." She squeaked. She watched me for a moment before patting my arm. "It's alright, dear. Rest. We'll talk later." I nodded and stared down at the pages of the book. Empty. Blank.

Dear Journal,

Who am I?

"Paya." Impa hissed, grabbing her granddaughter's arm. "We need to talk." Paya turned to Impa. "What is it?" She asked softly. "Go inside and introduce yourself to (Y/n). She'll be less scared with someone who she thinks is her age." Impa urged. Paya made a face. "What are you talking about?" She asked. Impa shook her head, her grip tightening on Paya's arm. "Do what I say, now. As your grandmother, listen to me." Paya swallowed before opening the door to Impa's home, finding (Y/n) staring at the book in her lap.

—

"Hello there. I heard your name is (Y/n). I'm Paya, the leader of this village you're in. Kakariko." I stared at the girl who wandered in. She may be a bit younger than me, but she was comforting. "Oh. Okay." I murmured. "It's nice to meet you." Paya smiled softly and looked at my journal. "What are you writing there?" I looked at it and sighed. "I need to get my feelings out somehow. I... don't know anyone who I can talk to about my feelings. Am... do you know me?" I whispered. Paya looked at me carefully. "Maybe." She murmured. "Why?" I sighed and looked down at my journal. "I wake up, shirtless and wrapped in bandages. A strange woman beside me holding my hand, and a ring on my finger. My head is pounding, it hurts to sit up and... I can't remember anything. My head hurts so bad." I whispered.

Paya sat beside me, looking into my eyes. "I know a friend who went through something similar. That woman is Impa. She's my grandmother. She's a very kind and gentle woman, who helps anyone in need. We found you and figure you'd fallen. Taken a big hit too. We have a friend who would be more than willing to help you with your memory loss. He's suffered through it as well, and he's the kindest and most genuine man I know. He'll take you around Hyrule with him. It'll be an adventure. Does that sound like something you'd want?" Paya asked softly. I thought for a moment, slowly nodding. "I think I'd like that. What's his name?" I asked. "Link. His name is Link."

—

"She doesn't remember anything. Or anyone." Paya said shakily, stepping out of the house. She slowly broke down into tears in front of Impa. "Grandma, what are we going to do? How are we going to tell Link?" Paya whispered. Impa held her granddaughter, pain flowed through her. She began to cry as well, holding Paya close. "My dear... I don't know." She whispered. "I don't... know."

—

"Linky!" Purah gasped, seeing the man again for the first time. Link stood in front of her, his arm was different and he looked disheveled. She helped him, and before she set him out on the task of the four villages. "Your wife..." She whispered softly. "(Y/n).. there's been an accident." Link snapped his head to Purah.

"What?"

#the legend of zelda #link legend of zelda #link is a softie and i stand by that #x reader #tloz #legend of zelda #link x reader #link x you #i love him #breath of the wild #tears of the kingdom

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vviipers · 3 months ago

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880 words. (loz: tp) malo, talo, beth, colin & fem! reader. (loz: tp) mentioned link/fem! reader.

"C'mon down, Miss Priss!"

The nickname was cute and the children's Ordanian drawl would have made you bow in any other situation, but you were more than happy sitting on the porch of Link's home as you flipped through your book.

It'd rained all day long for three days. While today had lightened up to a simple spring shower, the ground was still soaked through until it became mud. You'd gotten the displeasure of watching several villagers slip and slide as they traveled between Ordon and Ordona's spring, most of which involved the children. While you were morally obligated, you hated making the trek down the ladder and into the mud whenever you heard a yelp.

"She's made outta crystal, y'know! Those city folk weren't meant for down here!"

They were right. It was a miracle you even survived your first few months of living in the village. You never minded helping around the farm or doing some yard work for the ladies, but that was the extent of outdoor work you did.

It wasn't that you were completely useless. The guilt of sitting pretty at home would guilt you the same way it did in Castletown.

Germs were gross. Your research (and overall feeling of ick after touching something dirty) had taught you as much. It's what made you made you so good at your job.

"Maybe when the grass comes back," you gently try to placate them. The comment makes them look down at the mud to fact-check you, Talo stomping and jumping around to shove the remaining blades down. "I'm always here if you have a boo-boo, though!"

"Boo-boo," Malo mimics, rubbing his thumb against his lips before sucking it into his mouth. Even without your grimace, he's quick to spit it out after discovering the mud covering it made it less appetizing. "Blegh! What's that?"

Beth shakes her head in disapproval and looks up from the drawing she and Colin are currently coloring. There's a pile of them carefully arranged around the porch, most held in your lap so they don't spill out from under the protection of the umbrella. "It's a cut, isn't it?"

You nod and she brushes hair over her shoulder in pride. A giggle leaves her when you brush a stray from over her ear, crying that it was ticklish.

She was your student, used loosely, so of course she picked up on the strange words you used in your day-to-day. If you thought back hard enough, you could remember the way she looked when you offhandedly repeated a few sayings she'd never heard.

(If you thought even further, you could recall the way Beth glared at you when Link had brought you to Kakariko. She'd hated you even more when all was said and done, pulling you aside and giving you empty threats when he'd formerly introduced you as his lover.)

(You'd never taken her seriously. It had taken some time, but she quickly warmed up after you cared for her while her parents visited Castletown for a week.)

Something in the conversation makes Colin perk up, leaning off of his stomach and onto his side. "Missus," he starts before adding your name, brows furrowed as he tries remembering if he was supposed to use it or miss. "Can you bring us some more stuff you keep in that box? Link 'n' Fado keep using it all."

It's not a shocking bit of information. In the year and a half you've known Link, he's been more than risky in all his endeavors. It's only natural he'd find a way to get himself hurt herding goats, collecting cuckoos, and harvesting pumpkins.

"Of course," you hum, slipping your bookmark between the pages and folding it closed. Standing, you gesture for Talo and Malo to come up the ladder and ignore the way they stomp their feet in argument. "You all must be hungry, right? Beth, why don't you help Colin make a new kit— pack it full— and I can make you all something to eat."

That gets the boys to lighten up, Talo helping Malo clamber up the ladder before following close on his tail. They shed their jackets and dirty pants, donning the shorts beneath while rubbing their stomachs as though starved.

"Can you make those soup 'n' sandwiches you make when we're sick? The red one that you can put the cheesy ones in!" Colin's suggestion is one all the kids agree with, stopping by the fireplace to warm their hands before scattering.

It takes you a moment to figure out what he's talking about, taking until you finish washing your hands to clarify. "Tomato soup and melted cheese?"

"Yeah! That!" Malo hisses and pushes his chair away from the fire once he gets too hot too fast, wrapping the blanket he snagged from the recliner tightly around his shoulders. "And that juice too!"

"Maybe," you laugh, retrieving the ingredients from the newly installed cooler. "Any last requests for my royal highnesses?"

There's a few more thrown into the air, a couple in your ear and the other from the basement. You don't think you had anything to bake their sweet-tooth cravings, but you're sure the rainy day would be enough to make you all creative.

#loz x reader #legend of zelda x reader #link x reader

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zepskies · 1 year ago

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Midnight Espresso || Series Masterlist

In honor of Hispanic Heritage Month, here's a Masterlist for all stories in the "Midnight Espresso"-verse! ❤️‍🔥☕

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-size Latina!Reader

Stories:

(**Notes 18+ only and/or smut)

Midnight Espresso** You’ve never taken Dean’s flirting seriously…until he asks you for an impromptu Spanish lesson.

🎙️ Podcast Fic:

Want to listen to Midnight Espresso in podfic form, narrated by @talltalesandbedtimestories? Check it out below:

Then keep reading...

Touch Me** Dean isn’t used to how “touchy” you can be, but he never said he didn’t like it.

Devour Me** - Complete! When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for.

Part 1 - A Takeover Part 2 - Telenovela Style

Bad Boy (Chico Malo)** You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

Show Me** - Complete! Dean meets your infamous ex-boyfriend at a fallen hunter’s funeral. You just forgot to mention that he’s a hunter as well. Maybe because he still has the power to get under your skin…in the worst of ways.

Part 1 - Objects Are Closer Than They Appear Part 2 - A Thorough Reminder

🎙️ Podcast Fic:

Get Stuffed Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

A Wish to Build a Dream On** Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

A Little Danger** While relaxing together in the bunker, Dean takes your playful teasing to a new level. (And he’s too horny to care about the consequences.)

In Bad Weather** You and Dean tackle the biggest possible monkey wrench in your relationship yet: could Chuck have been manipulating you two all along?

[Set in S15 - "Fix It" for season finale]

Dream With Me** - Complete! When your ex-boyfriend calls for help on a case, you have a tough decision to make. But Dean isn’t going to let you do anything alone. (AKA: The last hunt you, Sam, and Dean will ever go on together.)

[Set in 15x20 - The true "Fix It" story]

Part 1 - On the Drop of a Dime Part 2 - We Can Fix This Part 3 - What is Deserved

Dean Winchester Series

Dean Winchester One-Shots

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

✍️ Writer Support:

Have you enjoyed the Midnight Espresso-verse? If you’d like to keep supporting me as I continue writing, you can:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Become a Patreon Member 🌟

💌 Get Notified

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story.

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stargirlposts · 2 years ago

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El Malo

Chapter 3

I sat on my bed that night looking at the moon through my window. Tony is a good man and he loves me and maybe I can love him, but I have doubts. Fuck. I’m such a bad person.

It's been six weeks since Oscar got out. I've been keeping myself busy by working at my sister’s beauty store and avoiding Oscar. And I’m doing a pretty good job at avoiding him, if I do say so myself. I was finally walking home after I finished helping my sister with her store when I spotted Jamal, Ruby, and Monse.

“Monse!” I shouted her name with a smile and sped up to greet them.

“Hey, when did you get back?”

“I just got back today, hey do you know why Ruby and Jamal aren’t talking to Cesar, he tells you everything cause these shitheads won’t tell me anything” She walked next to me to look at Jamal and Ruby with an eye roll. Just when I was going to answer, we heard someone blasting their music and when we turned to look, it was the familiar red impala coming down the street.

Ruby shook his head, “We can’t tell you what Cesar said.”

“Fine, then I’ll ask myself”

She walked on the street and stopped right in front of the Impala, forcing Oscar to stop the car.

“Hey, you crazy!”

I turned to Jamal and Ruby.

“What did Cesar say?” I asked. I was curious to know why Monse was so upset and why they weren’t talking to him.

“Cesar said he hit it” I gasped and turned to look at Monse leaned over talking to Oscar.

“Jamal!” Ruby yelled and Jamal quickly covered his mouth with his hand. He turned to me”, look just don’t tell Monse”

“I won’t, but you know the truth always comes out, I’ll talk to-“

“Hey Y/N! Get in the car, I’ll take you home”

I turned to look at Oscar and crossed my arms.

“No, I’m perfectly fine with walking.”

Cesar turned to look at me with desperation in his eyes. I sighed and bid my goodbyes as I got in next to Cesar.

Oscar drove me to his house and asked me to stay for a while. But I declined and told him I was gonna pass to the bathroom and get some of my stuff, although I left out the second part. I was only gone for six weeks and the house is already a mess. Ugh, men. By the time I walked out, I saw Cesar sitting on the couch and Oscar sitting behind him on a crate, with Monse standing in front of him.

“We can go inside-“ Oscar cut him off by clearing his throat “, But uh if you wanna sit on my face, you gotta put that mouth on pause so I can concentrate”

All of the Santos laughed and he fist bumped Oscar. Poor Monse had the look of humiliation on her face.

“What the fuck? You put him up to this didn’t you!”

“Hey,” Oscar stood up and tried to get in my face “,don’t start shit.”

“Fuck you Oscar”

I was beyond pissed. How dare he try to intimidate me in front of his puto friends. I wanted to release some steam by hanging out with my friends but they were on the clock so that was a no and my mom went to visit family in Mexico, so I’m in a house all by myself . You must be wondering what happened to Tony. Let’s just say he could see I wasn’t Interested and he wasn’t mad. He told me he loved me and he’d be willing to wait for me when I realize Oscar ain’t shit.

I was watching tv in the living room when I heard movement in my room. I could feel my heart start racing. I sped tip-toed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. I stood beside my closed bedroom door and waited for whoever was in there to come out. My heart sped as the door opened and I put the knife against the throat of the perpetrator. Only it wasn’t, it was Oscar. I let out a sigh of relief.

“What the fuck Oscar? You could’ve knocked on the door”

I walked to the kitchen with him following behind me and put the knife away.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to talk.”

“ I don’t have anything to say to you’’

“Haven’t seen you with that guy”

“What’s it to you?” I asked as I leaned on the kitchen counter. I watched as he stepped closer to me.

“I failed you a thousand times, yet you’re still mine”

He walked closer so our chests were touching, he held my chin up gently forcing me to look up at him.

“He seemed sincere unlike my flaws, but I’m the bad guy you don’t stop loving. You’re like Cinderella and he’s the pitiful fool and even though I’m not Prince Charming, I’m still the love of your life”

My eyes started to water and I tried to look down but he wouldn’t let me.

“Oscar- please”

“I love you, Y/N”

I felt a tear run down my face and Oscar leaned his forehead against mine touching my nose with his.

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leclsrc · 2 years ago

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heyy, could u write the "resting the head on their shoulder" prompt? or the five fights, whatever u prefer 🩷

last anon was for charles, sorry! 🩷

felt the rush – cl16

genre: fluff (no bluff. like dont b fooled this is not angst for once..!), slight nsfw tonesss, sainz!reader

auds here… multitasked & combined like 3 reqs to make this omds… so it runs a tad long. title from this

send for the five times they almost get into a fight and the one time they do.

You squeak when you exit your closet, still in the middle of zipping up your dress. “What are you doing here?!”

Charles is lying on your bed, wearing your robe that looks entirely too tight on him and makes him look like a stripper, eating a chunk of chocolate. He spots you and gets up quickly, before you can utter another word—before he gets any nearer, you raise a stiff hand.

“Step any closer and I’ll yell.”

“You’re no fun.” He pops the chocolate into his mouth. “I like your dress. And new nail colour?”

It’s a Dior dress. And deep red. “We’re supposed to be avoiding each other,” you retort instead, rolling your eyes. If the last few times you’d almost been caught being fucked within an inch of your life by your brother’s teammate were any indication, the sneaking around was getting too risky to bear for either of you.

“Like I said! You’re no fun.” Charles tuts.

“Well, a sex fast isn’t supposed to be fun, tonto.” You tap your pointer finger against the temple of your head. “Think about it. It’s supposed to be effective.”

“The real effective thing is…” he hums, murmuring something in Italian, lost momentarily in thought.

You clear your throat. “Yeah, the real effective thing is you wearing my robe. You look like my abuela.”

He haughtily crosses his arms. “I was going to say that the method that’s most effective is just having sex until neither of us can.”

An irritated (but still as beautiful, he thinks) face stares him down, despite the height difference. “I am not getting an STD.”

“They say too much of anything is bad for you,” he elaborates. “The more sex we have, the less we’ll end up wanting each other.” He nears you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “You know this is a good idea.”

The logic is so stupid it seems to work, but before you can even voice assent, your maid Bianca pushes the door open, her eyes wide with the reaction that comes from evident eavesdropping. “No! Miss, no. Él es malo para ti. Carlito se pondrá furioso!”

You squeeze your eyes shut, letting the voice of reason wash over you. Before this escalates into a fight even further, you resolve it yourself. “Get out. And take off my robe, abuela.”

—

How things came to be with him, you can barely even remember. It started when he became teammates with your brother, and all of a sudden everything was confusingly imprecise, a mess of sex and alcohol and bad decisions, quickly followed by kisses and cuddles and sweet moments. You can’t even blame yourself for not being able to label the relationship, even having to consult Bianca to help out (to no avail).

But whatever the relationship is, you know Carlos won’t be happy if he finds out there’s something between you and Charles. Charles, who is buckling his belt and picking up a bundle of lace from the floor. You adjust your tiny skirt, eye his hand, make a dive for your underwear. But he’s quicker, making sure you can’t reach them.

“Give them back,” you demand firmly. “Those cost 200 euros.”

“For this?” He dangles the flimsy material in between you both. “This is like a scrap of fabric. Well, they are very pretty. Though not as pretty as what’s undern—”

“Shut up!” Your face burns with embarrassment and irritation, hands still fruitlessly attempting to grab the panties from his. “You’re so annoying.”

“I will shut up,” he says, “and you and I can stop fighting like this, if you just let me keep them.”

“Perv.” You cross your arms, eyebrows arched.

He pockets them, watches you remain quiet but annoyed. “See? Fight resolved, principessa.” He pecks a quick kiss to your cheek and you gasp with surprise as he ducks out of your hotel room.

—

You’re watching the race when Charles gets P1 and your brother gets P2. Reasonably, the garage is bubbling with excitement and alcohol, your and Charles’ families join the throng on the paddock congratulating them both for a race well done.

Somewhere in the middle of celebrations you’re pulled into an empty closet, populated only by oil and cleaning supplies, feverish kisses pressed all over your neck. You gasp into his mouth, hurried by his hands sneaking up your dress. “Careful with the”—you gasp, his lips against your inner thigh—“dress, it’s Hermés.” He nods.

“I—” You pause, breath hitching. “I saw on F1 Gossip, you have a new girlfriend.” The image of her selfie flashes white hot in your head and you roll your eyes.

“Rumors.” Charles grunts irritably, burying his face in between your tits.

You knot lithe fingers into his fluffy hair, pull him toward your face so you can let him kiss you again. It moves fast, like all your trysts do. “You follow her,” you pant after two kisses, “you follow her on Instagram.” Your legs wrap loosely around him, your hips bucking up to seek friction.

There is a silent question hanging like rain clouds over both your heads: why are you so worked up? After all, hadn’t you both agreed to keep labels off the relationship? Still, you’re petty, a bit jealous, and the emotions incite your best detective tendencies. He just makes disapproving noises, moving onto his knees to lift the hem of your already short dress higher.

His eyes meet yours, fingers at the waistband of your panties. Clearly you refuse to let the issue die. “We’re just friends,” he says.

“And I’m just a teammate’s sister,” you quip sharply. “No sex. Until I get the truth.”

He laughs against your thigh, shaking his head as he stands up. “You overreact. You are jealous.”

“I’m not.” You insist petulantly, crossing your arms over your chest because you can feel his eyes flickering toward it. “Spill!”

To shut down the pending fight, he does. “We really are just friends—fans need drama. You’re my only principessa, okay?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll fuck you another time.”

Despite yourself, you ask: “Promise?”

—

“Te gusta él,” Bianca says when she’s depositing your clean laundry into your wardrobe. You bite on a chocolate, stockings-clad legs bending as you adjust yourself on your bed to answer her statement.

“Qué quieres decir?” You pause, angry. “Bianca, you’re going crazy. I don’t like Charles, for your information. It’d be wrong. Do you have any idea how angry Carlos would be?”

Shame and anxiety boil low in your stomach. She tuts and right as she’s exiting—“I never even said his name, amor.”

—

You realize things have changed when he’s helping you clasp your bra back on and kissing you the entire time. When you’re whispering good luck to him before he’s off to race, in your illicit hiding places. When he kisses not your lips, not your neck or cheek—but your forehead, the small of your back, your shoulder.

When you can successfully pull off telepathic conversations, across meeting halls or dining tables. What are you doing later? I’ll text you my room. Okay. Stop staring. No, you. Want a drink? Wanna sneak off? It’s a talent, a skill you’ve honed from the periods of secret sex.

You’re laughing into his mouth, brushing your hair into a neater mess, when someone knocks on the bathroom door. “Hello?” Carlos calls.

Your eyes widen. Let me do the talking.

Okay. He nods briefly. “Just a minute!” You both yell, at the same time. And you’re fucked. So is the telepathy, apparently.

Carlos pushes the flimsy lock open, enters with a bewildered expression on his face—one belonging to perhaps the only clueless person in the entire garage; nay, the entire fucking paddock. All at once, random expletives and questions leave him in Spanish, but you answer just as quickly, and the whole thing escalates into a quickfire question and answer.

“You stay away from my sister.” He points at his teammate, aghast. “Ella es mi hermana pequeña! Ay, dios mio. Ay! You’re a man-whore. A man-whore—!”

Ten minutes later they’re reluctantly getting along, both sipping water to calm them down. The anger is replaced by awkwardness at that point, and you’re in the thick of it, reassuring your brother in calm tones to make sure he doesn’t start throwing around the word man-whore ever again. After his brief burst of frustration that Bianca got to know before he did, he eventually quiets down himself.

“So?” Carlos asks, shrugging. “Qué tipo de relación tienes?” He cocks his head to the side, gesturing to the awkward Charles a few feet away. It’s a loaded question, one you’ve asked yourself a million times since you started fooling around. You’d felt something then, and God if you don’t feel it all now, a rush of emotion when you see him across the garage or pressed up against you in ratty closets.

The connection might’ve been hasty, spontaneous, illicit, but it will always remain there even if you try to deny it. So even if it’s difficult to admit—you know the answer. It’s so easy you could answer Carlos’ question in your sleep. You could tell him how often you think of Charles, how sweet he is, how his kisses stick themselves onto you like invisible lovebites, and how you hope you’ll never stop thinking and feeling. But for now, one label is enough.

You stare, and Charles smiles. “He’s my boyfriend.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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sleepingdayaway · 1 year ago

Note

Ohh could you do Poly! Chain minus Wind because he’s a minor!

Like the reader Is non binary and likes to dye their hair and have a bunch of tattoos and piercings! How would the chain react to that?

If you can’t do that then:

Reader who is obsessed with the chains ears? Like they have a love for elves in fantasy so they are obsessed with the chains ears?

I can absolutely do the first one! Just a heads up part of this will be a short story that will lead into headcanons format! Hope you don't mind. Thank you for requesting :)

Warnings: Mentions of needles and piercings if not a big fan.

The group of traveling hero's were heading towards a certain village that was thankfully wasn't too far. It was also relieving since youngest of the group was getting a bit antsy; they've been walking non-stop for hours. More than what they usually do.

Their outer-worldly friend was also reaching their limit, but from what the group has been told. They aren't used to walking such long distances; they're only able to keep going this far because of the view.

Twilight lightly snorts at the thought. There isn't a pretty view in Hyrule Field, especially his Hyrule in his opinion, Wild's version of Hyrule is much more beautiful. Although [Name] has adamantly denied his wording, speaking on how they never thought they would even see any version Hyrule.

A small bashful smile appears on his lips as he recalls the conversation. Honestly how did they all end up with someone who isn't afraid to speak openly to them?

Twilight shakes his head lightly before facing forward, gently leading Epona to a familiar route. Kakariko Village. Yet one thing still remains in his mind, the type of clothing [Name] is wearing.

Said person is happily following others to the village. A decent pace for themselves so they won't collapse when they finally stop, but being completely honest they feel like they might at any moment. Why didn't they accept Legend's insistence on changing clothing at their last stop?

A black baggy hoodie with a comfortable shirt underneath and casual jeans. It was an outfit that they wore back home before ending up here which in all fairness was something that was normal! It was getting fresher since winter is coming up, so it wasn't their fault that they were wearing a warm outfit.

Finally, did the familiar gates of Kakariko village appear. It was sort of like someone did magic on the group as visibly their shoulders stopped tensing. Their voices gained a bit more volume as they all walked the path.

Wind rushed forward and headed straight for the spring that is off to the side. A smile formed on Time's lips as he watched over the younger one; he was going to follow until [Name] also ran past everyone to follow after him.

Time held a bit of fondness for them. Although he refuses to say anything outwardly, merely enjoying the rest of the boys look of shock whenever he does a 'charming' act towards [Name].

A small exhale left from Time before turning away from the duo, he trust that the both of you will be able to take care of each other. Instead he called for the his descendant and asked if there were any place that could provide for the group.

The two went further into the village with Twilight leading. The rest of the group went off into separate directions, a bit curious to how the village was different.

Sky and Wild walked off to the bomb shop that's still up and running. They both heard Twilight speak of a certain bomb that can go off underwater.

Four and Legened went to the 1st ever shop of Malo Mart. They wanted to see what was for sale, and if the shop was actually run by a child.

Meanwhile Hyrule simply decided to follow [Name] and Wind to the spring. He did wanted to clean up his face a bit after all that traveling. Hyrule's eyes squinted in fondness as he spots the two near the edge of the spring. They were laughing at each other as well as splashing water on their clothes until it got a bit more intense which derailed into the both of them tackling each other into the water.

Hyrule hurried over and helped Wind up with [Name] also pushing the boy up. The duo giggling at their actions without a care. "Honestly, did you two really had to go that far?" spoke Hyrule as he grabbed Wind's bag from his hands. The young sailor had handed it to him as he tried wringing the water from his clothes.

"Of course! The little devil insulted me," [Name] said with a bit of snark, "you think I was going to let that slide?" They removed their hoodie and tied it around their waist, thank goodness it was only that got drenched.

"Holy shit! Those are so cool! Are those permanent?!"

Hyrule:

Shocked to the fucking core when he saw your tattoos for the first time.

He thought they were so interesting and hesitantly asked if he could look at your arm.

When you say yes??

Yall he is looking at them like they were drawn by hylia herself.

He enjoys tracing them with his fingers

When you explain how they were made he was lowkey concerned

Wdym it’s a bunch of needles piercing your skin with ink??

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT TOOK A FEW DAYS FOR THEM TO BE DONE???

He almost fainted when you showed him your tongue piercing

There was no way he would willingly poke a hole into his own tongue

Sees you in a different light now

But like also curious if he could get a piercing as well-

YOUR HAIR MAKES HIM STARE A LOT

Currently it's dyed a lilac color and seriously believes that it suits you very much

dyes a small part of his hair the same as yours

Time:

Impressed-

Knows damn well those things hurt

Really loves the way everything was shaded in

Also loves the way you had your entire arm covered

Respects the amount of hours you put aside to make sure it came out well

Thoroughly enjoys your piercing in reality

First one to notice the one in your tongue

Totally didn’t fall in love even further when you told him the process

teehee 100% loves you with snake bites

Also impressed with your pain tolerance

You changed your hair to a soft pink

Honestly entranced with your hair

Reminds him of the fairies from one of the Great Fairies from Termina

Legend:

Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat

When did you get those???

Do they still hurt??

Why did you get those??

Who made them for you??

Also does not like your piercing

DON'T BLAME THE GUY FOR SOME REASON HE JUST DOESN'T

Ofc he won’t make you take them off

Aint no way he letting your money go to waste

Only thing he does like are your tattoos and the regular ear piercings you have

Lowkey cries when you pierce his and Ravio’s ears

Cries again when he realizes that all three of you have matching jewelry

Now its a nice teal color that Legend really loves too

He helps with you taking care of it and keep its color

Ravio helps you redye so that your hair stays

Twilight:

BARKING LIKE THE DOG HE IS

FUCKING LOVES EVERYTHING

THE TATTOOS AND THE PIERCING

PACKAGE DEAL BABY

Definitely whines when you refuse to do matching tattoos with him

Only because he chooses the ugly designs

Also because you don’t trust the way people do tattoos in hyrule

Enjoys switching out the jewelry for the ones that can be switched out

Buys you the good quality gems honestly-

Twilight always questions how you were able to get your hair silver

Seriously how many tries did you have to do to get that color??

Four:

Move out of the way yall it's his turn

Asks about your favorite piece that’s on your arm

Makes notes about your likes and dislikes and hears about the one that really hurt

He makes little items that are similar in design that you have

Each of the colors have their own personal preference

But yknow combined they love you either way

Violet loves your snake bites <33

Red sometimes pokes at the industrial piercing that you have

Blue finds different designs for your helix piercing

Cherry Red

Your hair is cherry red

You can imagine who's really happy that you changed your hair to that color huh?

Sky:

Colors in your tattoos-

Yall laying together and your arm is exposed?

He’s pulling out paint to go in a fill in the blanks

Goes into extreme detail when painting on your arm

Feels like you deserve only the best

Does get a bit sad when you have to wash it away

Although he doesn’t mind since he gets to redo it

Really wants to match tongue piercings with you tbh

Thinks they’re pretty and bc why not?

He loves the color you chose this time

The baby blue really reminds him of the sky that he was used to seeing back home

Wild:

Probably the only one that actually goes through with it

You have to stop him from going diy everything

Mans lives in the woods half of the time

You know damn well he will forget to clean and sanitize the wounds

To make up for it you probably make him temporary tattoos

LIGHT GREEEEN

Always teases that each strand of your hair is worth 1 rupee

It's actually a really pretty color and when it does fades it goes nicely

Probably the only time you'll let him match with you

You dye a small chuck on his fair to make him happy

Warriors:

Down so bad tbh

First time he spots the tongue piercing when you teased him by sticking your tongue out?

Literally folded so fast

Goes hands first on your face and softly touches the snake bites near your lips

Doesn't pay attention to anything else

Only focuses on making sure he doesn't hurt you when he does messes with the jewels

You have split hair with him

Half side is black and the other is white

Definitely messes up your hair on purpose whenever he sees you perfectly separate them

but eventually does help you part it bc he'll do anything to make you happy

#linked universe imagine #lu x reader #link x reader #linked universe x reader #lu time x reader #lu legend x reader #lu wild x reader #lu four x reader #lu warriors x reader #sleepingdayawaywrites

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hadesknockedupintheunderworld · 1 month ago

Text

Thinking of the end of Zelda Twilight Princess and TP Link again

Since the start of your journey, all you've tried to do is keep your home and your loved ones safe. You hardly understood your own destiny at first, the major role you were to play in this world. Though you could never have refused the future that lay before you, it remains that it's this wish to protect your home, your loved ones, and to bring everything back to normalcy that drove you in the beginning. And it, too, remains that even though you found others to care for and had accepted your destiny (that there became a point where you embraced your role in fixing everything), that original goal still remained. After all, you, the people you care about, none of you can go home or live in safety until the threat is defeated.

What if you'd started out as a boy from a small, rural town, one who'd hardly dreamed large, but couldn't shake his curiosity in the world outside. You never wanted to leave your village for long, but you were interested in getting a chance to see Hyrule's capital, meet those people your older friend had told stories of. And then, when the monkey's paw curled and the goddesses gave you a grand adventure, all you wanted was to pave the way for everyone to be able to go home, including yourself. Once it was all over, you and everyone else could finally relax, right? Things would finally go back to normal, wouldn't they? And the children could forget the horrors they'd seen, like none of it ever happened.

But after all that... Even after shedding the hero's tunic, returning the sword of evil's bane to its resting place, and finally returning home with everyone...home is not the same anymore. You were supposed to feel safe again, comforted by the sounds of the nearby wood, the smell of the goats, and the rough texture of the pumpkins that grow in the village, but even lying in your own bed makes you restless and feel on edge. Sometimes, the children still run around the village like they used to, playing pranks on each other and playing hero, but each one of them has an air of...maturity that wasn't there before.

Colin is more confident. He doesn't follow you around or spend as much of his time watching the other kids play. He spends time telling his baby sister stories and training with his father (like you once had) to learn the way of the sword. The other kids don't pick on him as much anymore either.

And Talo. Talo thinks the village is much too defenseless now, especially after everything he's been through. He never really left the rooftops of Kakariko Village, the village lookout who was trying to protect everyone the only way he could. He's even confided in you before that he's trying to learn a weapon too, and trying to convince Colin to join forces with him as village protectors. According to Talo, Colin says there's no need to worry with you and his dad around. No better protection than a hero, right? But Talo says he knows you and Rusl won't always be around. And...maybe that's true. One day, you too will grow old with time, but something about the way Talo says it makes you feel...uneasy. As if he was seeing right through you. Was he seeing something you were ignoring, or was he really truly talking about the day in which you are no longer able to protect anyone?

Beth is still a bit boy crazy, still fancies herself more mature than the others as she had before, but there's some respect there now when she interacts with them. She refuses to tell you what she's been up to, but you've seen her working in her mother's shop, talking to Uli as she feeds her baby, reading with her father, and helping Ilia wash Epona in the spirit's spring. Ilia seems to know more than she lets on when telling you that it's a casual hangout, but you have an inkling of what it's about. Given the others, it's no surprise if Beth, too, is trying to find her place here, trying to help in some way.

Malo is perhaps the one who'd changed most obviously. While everyone had been happy to go home after the defeat of Ganondorf, Malo couldn’t simply stay the same quiet kid who'd followed his brother around. He'd built a growing business back in Kakariko, dedicated to making goods affordable to the common person and raising funds to fix up local infrastructure. He couldn’t continue to run it from Ordon (though Sera's told you that he'd made an offer on her shop). You've even been able to hear him muttering under his breath about the state of Malo Mart management, and plotting to skip town (after all, young as he is, and after everything that's happened, there's no way his parents would just let him go back on his own). As before, Malo doesn't speak to you often, but he had...said something that shook you not long ago. He'd not so subtly "hinted" that you could make an excuse to leave, and that it wouldn't be hard for him to stow away as you went on your trip. You didn't know quite what to say, but when you began to mention his parents he'd cut you off. "So you're too scared to leave."

(Are you too scared? No, of course you could leave if you wanted to. And you don't want to, do you? You're home again, which is the only place you've wanted to be since the world went to shit. It'll just take...time for you to feel okay again. No better place than home to heal, right?)

But it's...not just the kids who've changed. Fado was happy to have you back, of course (he's always said no one wrangles the goats quite like you), but he’d... Well, even though he was the one who extended the offer, he seems to fear this is beneath you, that he's tying you down, keeping you from a grander life. No matter how much you assure him this is exactly where you want to be, that you just want things to return to normal, he doesn't seem convinced.

Not to mention the rumors in the village of your feats, all the talking behind your back. You'd been celebrated as a hero when you and Rusl returned back with the missing children, and now, since you've been trying to return to normalcy, others continue to be weird around you. You're a hero (were at least), yes, but are you not the same Link the villagers have known as long as you've lived here? Do you not occasionally assist with their troubles. Do you not try to make occasional small talk as before? So why do they seem to have trouble talking to you? Why do they have so much to say, and yet none of it said to your face?

Home has changed. And even that which has stayed the same doesn't feel...correct. That which is still familiar feels like nostalgia slipping through your fingers, not the reality before you.

But then again, when you spend weeks following your old routine, trying to act as you did before, and nothing seems to get better. When you lay in a bed (your bed) that's the same as it was when you first left it, you wake up sweaty and fearful from nightmares, and you feel exposed when you should feel safe, is it home that's the problem? What about when you look at the sunset and dream of places faraway, of the people you met and the things you've seen, and it feels like something's missing (something, perhaps, not wholly unrelated to the person people you'll probably never see again)?

Ilia was the one who first assured you that this path was the right one. When she finally had a chance to relax, deal with her amnesia head on, it was reminders of home and her past which comforted her, allowed her to get better. Of course, you know she'd never just forget everything she'd been through before, and she wouldn't expect you to either, but she'd agreed that being home would allow you to heal too. That's...that's what you've been hoping.

On many occasions you think about confiding it all in her, telling her what you've been going through, but you can't go through with it. Not when she seems...happy again.

So, after weeks of letting bits and pieces slip, you finally confide in Rusl. It's a day similar to all those months ago. The sun is setting as you and he sit at the spirit's spring after a long day, and he tells you about his week. You tell him that even as things get better, they don't really get better. When you don't have nightmares of tragedy and never ending battles and failure, you're dreaming of the people and places you met during your journey. No matter how much time you spend there, or how much furniture you move around to your liking, or decorations you add to the walls, the idea of your home being home feels like you and the feeling are separated by an impenetrable wall of glass. You can see that feeling of comfort, of home, of familiarity, but you just can't quite touch it. Your house is yours, and yet you can't seem to fit in it anymore. You've gone back to normal, and yet everyone is treating you differently. You try to relax, and you just can't quite sit still, feeling like...

You finally admit that feeling you've been stuffing down to him as you ramble (something rare for you to begin with). It's not just that you can't feel safe at home, that healing is a tough process, but that you feel like there's something yet you need to do. It doesn't feel right trying to be the person you were before. The routine which should be great for its simplicity and famliliarity feels wrong, almost stifling.

Did you really think you could just go home after all you'd seen and been through, go back to that small world and cut off the rest of it, just so things could be like they were before?

Maybe it's you who's wrong. Maybe you're broken and your edges dulled and chipped so the old pieces don't fit back together anymore–

But Rusl, ever a comforting presence in your life, just hugs you. He says he cannot even begin to comprehend the things you've been through. He acknowledges how hard it is to heal. Both things you already knew.

Then...he tells you his story, that he knows how hard it is to return to all of this after such an ordeal. You are not the only person who must deal with it now. You're not alone.

And then, as you consider telling him that if everyone is dealing with this, then surely they're handling it better than you, he tells you something that causes you to freeze.

"If you need to leave, you can."

"Of course," Rusl continues, "if you want to stay, we'll support you. You don't have to pretend everything is normal. And even if you go, it's not like you'll be banished. You can always come back here, even if you can't stay."

And so you speak the words you've thought every time someone suggests leaving here, or suggests that you won't stay. "Do I have to go? Is...does everyone just want me gone?"

Rusl shakes his head. "Of course not. We all love and care about you like we always have, hero or not."

Then...why do I feel like...this around everyone? you think.

"The question is...it's not whether anyone wants to you go or thinks you should go." Then, Rusl places a hand on your shoulder, face deeply serious as his eyes lock onto yours.

"The question is: Do you want to go? Do you need to go?"

For a moment...you're speechless. You know what you want, you think. You've wanted to return home all along, haven't you? That's...all You've been trying to do since you defeated Ganondorf, lost bid Midna farewell, shed the garb of the hero and returned the master sword to its grove. But...what do you need?

"I don't...I don't know what I need," is all you say.

"...Well," Rusl says, after a moment of contemplation. "I can't tell you what you want any more than I can accurately guess what you need. And I can't make your decision for you."

"...Right." So that's it then. Either you go, admit that there's no fixing you, no point trying to fit a misshapen puzzle piece in an old hole, or you stay, keep trying to move on and get things as close to normal as you can as you have been for weeks.

"Hey," Rusl says after a moment. "Hey, listen to me for a second."

You raise your head, shift your eyes from where you'd cast them at your sandals.

"You'll be okay, Link. You've been through a lot, and it's changed you—like it's changed all of us. But, you have your whole life ahead of you, and I suspect you have more choices than you even believe."

"...Yeah."

"I may not be able to tell you what you need, but I can tell you to follow your heart. If you listen to it, it'll lead you where you need to go."

"My heart?" You sound a bit skeptical.

"I mean...isn't it your heart that got you here? You didn't undertake the journey and save your loved ones by being weak of heart did you?"

And that...that's true. With everything that was at stake (especially that which you cared about most), it was your heart that wouldn't allow you to back down, wasn't it?

In the end, you nod.

Rusl smiles. "Then why ignore it now?"

"Why ignore it now?"

The rest of what Rusl has to say goes unsaid, but...you think you get it anyways.

"Why ignore it now? Has it ever lead you astray?"

"...Thanks, Rusl," you say, finally. You don't tell him that you feel a bit better now, but his smile grows regardless.

"It's no problem, Link. Anytime you need."

And so the sunset passes into night passes into morning, and there's a weight on you when you wake up. You know, somehow, in this moment, that a decision has to be made, a potential path chosen. There's no ignoring it.

And you find her—Ilia—in the spring.

"You're...leaving, aren't you."

"I..." You haven't even put on any gear, nor unearthed that special tunic tucked in your basement, nor have you saddled Epona up yet. When you woke up, you still didn't know what it is you need.

"...I am," you say finally.

There's a moment of silence.

"I...some part of me knew you would." Then, she adds, "One day."

"...Why?"

She shakes her head. "I can't explain it. You just...you haven't seemed...quite right lately."

I haven't?

You thought you must've seemed at least fairly normal, must have with all the effort you put in.

"You're... You weren’t..." Ilia hesitates for a moment, as if afraid to say the words at the edge of her tongue. But then, she sighs.

"You don't seem happy here."

"I-I've...I've tried to–"

"I know," she says, cutting you off. "I know. I have..."

You wait for her to finish her thought, but she never does.

"Hey, Link, before...before you go... Come back to this spring. I'll wash Epona for you."

There's a bit of strain in the smile Ilia gives you, but you nod, smiling back.

It's...it's not easy to leave. It never is, and it never gets easier, no matter how many times you have to do it. And so, as you gather some final supplies, thank Rusl for his advice, and put on your gear (finally unearth the tunic you'd hidden away), you remind yourself that this isn't truly goodbye. You're just...going on a little trip, chasing your heart. You'll visit sometimes, right? It's just a little trip.

And eventually, geared up, you make your way to the spring. As expected, Ilia is there, grooming Epona when you arrive.

Out of everyone, you feel Ilia has been both the easiest and the hardest to read. Ever since everyone returned to Ordon, it made sense the way she stuck right back to the comforts of home and her old routine. She's...not all okay, but it's seemed to make her happy. And yet...there's something else about her. There's a bit of weirdness there you can't parse out, and there's something in the way she speaks that always feels like there's something going unsaid. You feel it more than ever as she turns to face you in the spring, seems hesitant about giving Epona over, even as she says that Epona is washed and ready.

Although, then again, there's something nostalgic about this moment. As you mount up Epona and Ilia asks you to take care of her, and not to take on more than you can handle.

You know the moment is here. You can feel it. It's time to go.

And yet, there's one last thing holding you back. You look down at Ilia as she begins to speak again.

"...Link, I–"

"Hm?"

Silence.

"I...never mind." Ilia waves you off, mustering up a smile. "You should... You should go. Don't let me hold you back."

You nod in response. Her expression is a bit bittersweet, although perhaps the smile you return her is just the same.

And so you take off with Epona, galloping across the bridge between Ordon and Faron. You leave her standing outside the spring, and you make a beeline for Hyrule Field, craving to feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your face.

Your wants, your desires...those deep down ones may be impossible. But it's something. Traveling, following where your heart leads, it feels familiar. It feels...right.

And once your journey begins, you think it's almost laughable that you thought that you could just go back home after all that you'd seen and experienced and...lost. At least now, though your future is uncertain, though you still can't quite feel safe, though you still can't banish the nightmares, at least you no longer feel...stifled.

At least you can be free now.

#legend of zelda twilight princess #twilight princess #loz twilight princess #loz tp #link #tp link #link tp #long post #i just be ramblin #there's some ililink/lilia and midlink in there if you squint #sorry I wrote most of this weeks ago and left it in my drafts cause I couldn't seem to finish #and then a few days ago I beat TP again...so I finished this with the ending fairly fresh on my mind #Though most of this is self indulgent‚ originally I had wanted Ilia to go with him somehow‚#(that's originally where I got stuck writing this) but it was not to be #And in the original game's ending‚ when Link leaves‚ he leaves on a completely normal day without fanfare. and he leaves Ilia standing there #outside the spring #So I knew I had to depict that instead. that bittersweet feeling of pursuing the life you need right now while leaving those important to #you behind. And of feelings unsaid #something fitting about the idea that neither Midna nor Ilia could bear to confess what was in their heart in the end.#So idk it's both self indulgent and canon compliant and built to hurt me in a good way #I love this game so so so freaking much #And if you can't tell I'm also really emotional about the idea of Link never truly being able to go home again after such a large journey

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