#either way they remind the both of them of each other…

[copper-16]

Remind Me That There’s A Room To Grow Part 3

Broken, rueful, and mended as it should have been.

(a/n: Part 3, here we come! Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting on these, I'm so grateful! Reminder for anyone who likes a musical touch that you can find the Spotify playlist here, if you would like. Please enjoy this part, and I would love to hear your feedback about the note at the end!)

Alexia sat on that damn park bench for God knows how long. 

She didn’t care if she got no sleep or looked absolutely insane sitting there for hours on end. The things you had told her rattled around in her brain disconcertedly, unending every single thought that attempted to interrupt. The brunette had gone from feeling like she was the most stable and vindicated person on the planet to a feeling as though she were a shell of herself. 

This whole time, there had been so much more to the story than she ever could have imagined. And though she knew it really wasn’t their fault, resentment flared within her at how quick Eli and Alba were to blame you for everything. 

Everything in Alexia felt anguished. Just thinking about looking at your face made the Catalan feel nauseous, stuck on how distraught you had been. It wasn’t as though she could blame you either, not when she had been so irate. 

She had allowed herself to be influenced by every single person around her instead of trusting you, as she always had. She should have trusted herself, should have trusted the fact that she knew something was wrong. The last nine years had been spent giving you the benefit of the doubt, but when it came to it, she had treated you with such animosity. 

Never in a million years had she expected the reasoning behind all of this. 

Cancer. It seemed impossible for someone who was only eighteen years old, but it wasn’t as though stranger things hadn’t occurred. Now all Alexia managed to think of was how scared and alone you must have felt. She had lost you, but she did so when she was chasing her dreams. You had to watch her leave you behind because of a situation entirely out of your hands. 

All this time where she had felt abandoned, and in reality it was the other way around. 

What an absolutely fucked up situation. 

When the footballer finally stood, a chill wrapped around her and caused her to shiver violently. She didn’t remember it getting cold, but it wasn’t as though she cared about the temperature when her mind was a ruction of emotions. 

She booked it back to her car, driving herself toward her Mami’s house in what would have been considered a fury. The brunette knew that her sister was there as well, so she could kill two birds with one stone.  

When she arrived, the brunette barged through the door with no care at all for the hinges, her inner turmoil gathering and growing with each and every step she took. She found her family in the kitchen, enjoying some dessert with a glass of wine in each of their hands. 

“You were wrong,” Alexia seethed, almost heady with the amount of wrath she felt within her. Eli and Alba both turned to her in an instant, instantly confused at the animosity in her tone. It was so rare to hear the brunette truly upset in the way she was right now, and they glanced at each other for a second before they turned to Alexia fully. 

“What happened?” Alba asked, very confused as to what her sister was talking about. They had no idea that the pair of you had talked, but Alexia didn’t care to give them context. 

“You both blamed her for leaving me behind, you made her out to be the villain and she never was! This was all of your fault, how could you do this to me? How could you twist my mind in such a way?” Alexia snapped, her whole body tense with rage. 

“Alexia, what the hell are you talking about?” Alba demanded, understanding dawning on the subject her sister spoke about but still confused as to the circumstances. 

“She was fucking sick, you two. She let me go alone because she had cancer, and she didn’t want me to have to live through it when I was moving away. She broke up with me so I could go chase my dreams and build my career without being bogged down. She gave up her own happiness so that I could have my own,” the brunette spat, her face red with exertion. Whether it was to keep her anger inwards or to stop the tears that burned in the back of her eyes, the Catalan was unsure.   

“She did it to protect me, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt for her decision for a decade before you two got so defensive and twisted my mind. She was never the selfish person you made her out to be, she was always the most selfless, empathetic, compassionate of all of us!” Alexia argued, and she seemed only to be growing more and more in her anger. 

“Alexia–” Eli tried to interrupt, but she was quickly cut off. 

“No! I don’t even want to hear you two attempt to explain yourselves. I don’t want to hear it. I loved her, I love her now, and I’ve fucked it all up with your words in my mouth! She left the conversation in tears, she told me to leave her alone. If you two hadn’t been so horrible about the whole thing, I never would have been so skeptical in the first place!” Alexia was ready to burst at the seams, and she couldn’t handle it. 

“Now Ale, we only did that because we wanted to protect y–” Alba attempted to interject, failing just as her mother had. 

“I don’t even want to hear it! I am so angry at the two of you, especially considering that you hardly let me get a word in edgewise about her character. She grew up with us, she loves us, and she trusted you with her heart just as much as you trusted her with mine. So don’t sit there and say anything, but maybe think about your own actions!” Alexia finally demanded, her words fervent in manner. 

When her mother and sister said nothing but looked at her in shock, the brunette shook her head and chuckled austerely, not a trace of humor in her tone. 

“God, and now you don’t even have anything to say for yourselves,” she looked around at her mother’s kitchen as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. The midfielder was aware she was only redirecting her anger onto two people whose blame was minimal, but the affliction in her heart needed somewhere to go. 

“I have to go, I will talk to you two later,” Alexia said after a second, defeat heavy in her expression as the anger began to drain out of her. It was replaced by an excruciating misery that weighed on her shoulders exactingly, as though it knew that she was really the one to blame in all of this. 

She felt as though she had lead in her shoes as she walked out to her car. The drive back to her apartment was done in complete silence, the Catalan unable to deal with anything other than the chaos in her mind. 

She barely made it one step in the door before the first sob bubbled up her throat. She finally allowed herself to succumb to it, sobbing so hard that her ribs ached and her eyes swelled, and she had nobody to blame for everything except for herself. 

—

Every single person on the team could immediately tell something was wrong with Alexia when she showed up at training the next day. 

Alexia had always been the most dedicated of them all, relentless in her pursuit to be better. She was endlessly pushing herself and those around her to be their best selves, and it paid off. The team worked hard, and they looked better than ever. The Catalan had helped to lift them from relative obscurity into a team that people feared to play, and as much as Vicky was their fearless leader, every single player would tell you that the Catalan was their beating heart. 

But today? Well, today the brunette looked about two steps away from death as she walked into the changing room.  

Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Her hair was mildly unkempt, her skin sullen, the bags under her eyes endlessly listless. She kept her head down, and changed as though she wished she could curl up into a ball and never be seen again. The midfielder was usually a quiet person, but today she seemed…unobservant. 

Somehow, that made all of it seem worse. 

Jenni and Mariona were instantly alarmed because they knew what had happened, while the other girls were both confused and in a state of shock. Nobody had ever seen Alexia this clearly upset, considering the fact that she typically kept things close to her chest. 

To be this outwardly downtrodden was incomprehensible, to the point where the rest of the team wasn’t sure how to act toward her. They all seemed to avoid her as though she was radioactive, and she made no attempt to engage with any of them. 

Jenni, Mariona, and Vicky, however, had no problem marching over to the Catalan as they created a concerned cocoon around her. 

“What happened Alexia?” Vicky questioned gently, only to receive nothing short of the death glare back from Jenni and Mariona in response. 

“How did it go?” Mariona amended quietly, hopeful that they might have been able to draw out some sort of reaction from the midfielder. It was clear the conversation had not gone well, but they did not know why. 

And sure enough, Alexia’s entire face flashed into something nearly venomous, and she shook her head with what looked to be a clearly concerted effort to remain in control. 

“Nothing. I would appreciate it if everyone left me alone and we could conduct training as normal, like we are supposed to be doing,” she managed to grit out pointedly, her voice bolstered with hostility and malice. The three women looked around at each other, none of them in the least bit convinced, but the mutually agreed upon decision seemed to be that they clearly weren’t going to get anything out of the brunette right now. 

The midfielder was a monster at training that day, and not in a good way. 

Every single ball was launched with a lethal ferocity. Every single pass was too hard, every single first touch sloppy and heavy.  

None of the movements were reminiscent of the Alexia that everyone had come to know. It wasn’t great football, it wasn’t even good football. The midfielder was clearly angry at something, and the longer practice went on, the worse it got. The Catalan was frustrated with herself, bitter and enraged at how she seemed unable to play with any ounce of grace. 

It felt ironically similar to how she seemed unable to converse with you without accusation, a thought she was ruefully reminded of. 

It was when she sent a ball flying angled toward Caro’s head that Vicky and Marta finally pulled the midfielder aside brashly. The captain of the team had taken one look at their manager, whose expression agreed with her own, to know what needed to be done. 

“You’re done for the day,” Vicky stated without an ounce of discussion left in the conversation. Alexia certainly wasn’t in the mood to be ordered around as she decisively brushed them off. 

“I’m fine, we still have another half hou–” The brunette was cut off without even managing to finish her sentence. 

“No. You are done, you’re going to go back to the changing room and take a long shower. You’re going to get dressed and go home and process whatever you’re trying to avoid right now by almost murdering your teammates,” the Barcelona captain dictated with even greater finality, her eyebrow raised as though she dared the younger woman to argue with her. 

Alexia looked posed to respond, but when she caught Marta looking back at the Norwegian with worried eyes, she felt the fight drain out of her. The older Spaniard had always had a sweet spot for the nervous Wolfsburg transfer, and seeing it right in front of her eyes made her deflate like a balloon. 

She knew that look. 

She had lived that look before, when she hadn’t fucked all of this up seven ways to Sunday. 

With a reluctant, apologetic glance at Marta, the midfielder nodded her head. She turned on her heels, much to the surprise of her co-captains, who were honestly expecting more of a pushback. 

As they watched the midfielder walk off the pitch, they stared at the way her body seemed to curl in on herself, almost as though the brunette couldn’t bear to stand up straight as she stared down at her feet. 

“What the hell happened?” Marta asked Vicky as she looked over at her captain. But the Barcelona captain was unable to tear her eyes away from Alexia’s retreating form until it disappeared into the building. It was only then that she looked over at Jenni, who hovered a short distance away from them with a look of unease on her face. 

Vicky shook her head before she turned back to the pitch. 

“I honestly have no idea,” she replied curtly as she made direct eye contact with Jenni, who seemed to understand the silent request of her captain as she turned back toward practice. 

When the team filed in after training was done, Alexia and all of her stuff were gone, nowhere to be seen. 

—

Nine years. 

You had lived with the grief of losing her for nine years. You would never change your mind on the decision, but God did it feel as though you were sucking the blood out of your body. Even all of these years later, it still stung to think about how much you had lost in that moment. 

Alexia took every ounce of happiness and peace with her when she left. While you still had other friends, you were by no means alone, it was never the same without her there. You hardly had to speak a single word for the brunette to understand where your mind was at. There was a closeness to the two of you that was impossible to replace. It hadn’t been the same after she had left, no longer having a confidant who held space for you. 

Your father, while a lovely man, was never terribly involved in your life. He loved you, but having children was never his dream, and with how much he worked, you rarely saw him. It was a loss that you didn’t feel rather acutely, especially not when Jaume had swept you into his orbit through your friendship with Alexia. He had loved you like a daughter, and you cherished him for it in a way you had never managed with your own father. 

Your two younger brothers, Leo and Adan, had struggled when you had gotten sick. They always looked up to you as their protector and ring leader. Seeing you unable to help, organize, and work as you usually did was strange for them, especially considering the fact that they were only fifteen and fourteen at the time. And while you spent much of your childhood watching over them with a loving gaze, it was your mother who stepped up to take care of them more. 

Your mother Paula was a lovely, exuberant woman, if not a touch frazzled. She was a better entertainer than she was a mother, but there was no question she loved the three of you. The two of you had been a team in helping to raise the boys, because while your mother had wisdom you were steadfast in your ability to calm. You had been a significant help in raising the two boys, and your mother had come to rely on you as a result. It had all gotten thrown out of place when you had gotten sick. Your mother tried to pick up the slack, bless her, but she struggled. She did as best as she could until you were declared cancer free, and able to help pick up some of the slack that had been created. It helped that your brothers were compassionate and kind, never one to try and cause too much trouble. 

Your mother passed away just a few years ago because of a brain aneurysm, much to the devastation of your father. While you missed her terribly, you never needed her for stability and strength. That was found on your own. 

Chemo treatments were mostly done on your own, a book and a sick bag in hand. It was a tough three months, but you made it through with as big of a smile as you could muster. A friend would accompany you occasionally, but they never quite knew what to do when they were there with you. Not that you faulted them for it, but it only made you more exhausted having to entertain on top of feeling ill. 

After a grueling few months, the tumor had shrunk enough to be surgically removed, and a few rounds of radiation killed off the last of it. It had been less than a year to get rid of everything, though in your mind it had felt much longer. 

Overall, the treatment had gone well from a medical perspective. You had responded well and were declared to be in remission swiftly. You were young and otherwise healthy, making you the perfect candidate to respond to treatment. 

That didn’t seem to account for the ache that persisted deep in your chest, but it wasn’t as a result of your sickness. The sense of loss that pervaded your mind for years afterward was impossible to banish. You had not made a mistake, and yet your mind and body betrayed you with a wanton amount of unearned yearning.

There was a restlessness that existed within you, a restlessness that needed to be solved and yet had nowhere to go.  

You had begun university toward the end of your treatments and sped through a track in finance, turning heads each and every way you went. There was always a level of intelligence to you that you were aware of, but investment analysis and management came naturally to you it seemed. 

Though you had the opportunity to go earlier, you waited dutifully for your brothers to finish school and go off to university before you left your hometown. Leo ended up in Valencia for school, and a year later Adan made the decision to stay in Madrid for his degree. 

Once you were certain your brothers were settled, you began to dig for opportunities in your own career. The work you had put in paid off, and you had offers not only in Spain but France, Italy, the United States as well. 

You didn’t care about any of that, though. You took the one job that put you directly in Barcelona and decided to figure it out from there. 

There was a safety and security to being in the same city as Alexia, even if she had no clue you were there. You were thankful for the move, honestly, thankful for the opportunity to meet new friends and build your own life. The sun forever shined and the city was exciting and vibrant, devoid of the reminders that face you everywhere in Madrid. 

Both of your brothers ended up staying in or returning to Madrid, living near your mother until her death and trying to stay vaguely connected to your father. He had struggled immensely in the wake of her passing, but both Leo and Adan never seemed to mind stepping in to keep him on the right path. 

By all logical standards, you had a wonderful life. An amazing group of friends, a job you really enjoyed, hobbies you found interesting. It felt like the whole package of what someone would want in their life. 

But you found in the morning after your talk with Alexia, there was nothing you wanted to do with this life. You simply wanted to be left alone to rot, and you found that you didn’t care who disagreed. The longing in your heart threatened to swallow you whole, your hatred for your decisions every single day of the last nine years. 

You had finally been honest with Alexia, you had told her the truth…but was it worth it? 

Based on the feeling inside of you right now, it wasn’t worth it. 

You would have taken anger over devastation on her face any day. 

You loved her too much to care about your own peace of mind. 

And yet…

—

Alexia nearly jumped out of her skin when she unlocked the door of her apartment, only to find that Jenni was sitting on her couch with a glass of lemonade and a raised brow. The midfielder did a complete double take, confounded when she reminded herself that the door had in fact been locked before she came in here.  

“How the hell did you get in here?” The Catalan asked with confusion as her heart rate struggled to return to an acceptable level. She looked around her apartment with a perplexed glint to her expression, as though she expected to find the answer laying in front of her in the form of a crowbar or something. 

“Oh please, we’ve been friends for many years. We are both allowed to have our little secrets, no?” Jenni diverted, and Alexia shook her head instantly, looking toward the striker with a lost expression. 

“What – no?! That doesn’t mean you get to break into my apartment! How did you even get in her–” 

“This is not the point of this conversation, Alexia,” Jenni cut her friend off easily, ignoring how bewildered the brunette was as a result of her surprise appearance. The striker settled, a concerned look flashing across her features. “You fucked up that conversation, didn’t you?” 

“You’re not allowed to just barge in here whenever you want!” Alexia spat, a sudden rush of anger coursing through her at Jenni’s words. Defensiveness coursed through her veins with a fury, and nobody had managed to pin her down for long enough to have a real conversation with her. 

Until now, apparently. 

When the raven-haired woman leveled her with a disbelieving stare, the Catalan’s shoulders collapsed just slightly. When Jenni wanted something, she was like a dog with a bone. She would stop at absolutely nothing to get it, and the midfielder knew there was no way of getting out of this conversation with anger or deflections. She sighed forcefully, settling her keys down on her kitchen counter and pressing her head into her hands. 

“I did,” she conceded after a moment, her voice shaky and impossibly quiet. When she finally looked up, the torment inside her entire body seemed to reflect in her expression. Jenni felt horrible, seeing how torn up her friend was. 

“I fucked everything up Jenni, everything. I came into it with so much aggression and fear, and made all these accusations I don’t even really think I meant,” she admitted with a humorless chuckle, an echo of agony in her words. 

Silence cascaded around them, the air thick with regret and despondency. 

“She was sick,” Alexia revealed after a moment. She glanced up at Jenni, struggling to control herself. “She was sick, and so she broke things off because she couldn’t leave, but she wanted me to. She saved my career, made a sacrifice for my own happiness, and in return I screamed horrible things at her. What kind of person does that make me?” Alexia pleaded, her voice cracking over the last sentence. 

Jenni thought about the question for a moment before she shook her head and looked back at Alexia. There was a compassion in her expression, and the Catalan forced herself to look away in the face of it. She didn’t deserve it. 

“It makes you human, Alexia,” the raven-haired woman countered, her words soft and sympathetic, almost saccharine in their amount of sweetness. 

“No it doesn’t,” Alexia grumbled under her breath, but Jenni was quick to continue. 

“Yes it does. You did not have all the information at the time. And okay, you said some things you regret? Go apologize for them then! You made a mistake, and you feel remorse, Alexia. That in and of itself means that there is love and compassion in your heart.” 

“And if she doesn’t accept that apology?” Alexia shot back, fighting to be kind as she was gripped with fear. She looked over at Jenni with a flame in her eyes, anything to hide how upset she truly was. It was easier to mask it than it was to face it, after all. 

“Then she doesn’t accept the apology, and life moves on. But you won’t know if you don’t even bother to try,” Jenni offered as she walked over and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder comfortingly. 

“Forgive yourself enough to give her the opportunity to forgive you. If she was in your spot, you would do the same. If she cares as much about you as you say she does, I think you have a fighting chance,” the striker suggested, her voice gentle. The brunette remained deep in thought, thinking hard about Jenni’s words. The raven-haired woman let herself out before Alexia could even formulate a response. 

And while there were a lot of thoughts swirling around in Alexia’s mind, perhaps the top of the list was that she really, really needed to get a locksmith to her apartment. 

—

It was a thought that often consumed the brunette as her career began to take off. It had been a question, something that weighed on her mind in the dark of night when she lay alone. 

Was it worth it? 

The duty to herself, to her career pulled at her endlessly. Everyone around her was dedicated to their career, putting it above their family at nearly all cost. And she understood, she wanted to be the best. The pull to change the sport, to leave a legacy behind that made women’s football better than where she had started. 

But what was the cost? 

How many family dinners had she missed? How many birthdays? How many celebrations? 

How many moments had she missed, even just the mundane, small things in life. How many inside jokes and how much late night laughter had evaded her because of this choice? 

And she knew that her family loved her, and that they understood how important her career was to her. But it never took away from the fact that she was gone often. That unlike her teammates and peers, she spent the least amount of time with her family as the years had passed. Whereas many of her friends grew more committed to their families, getting married and even having children, football had become her sole focus in life.  

Other than you, she had never been in a committed relationship with anyone. Her friendships were from football, everything in her life had revolved around football. Protecting her image, embracing the game, doing whatever she could to advance the team and herself to perfection. 

It wasn’t until you had stumbled back into her life that suddenly she remembered what it had been like to live a life. And sure, she knew that her career was different now, much more intense. But the Catalan also knew that you never would have allowed her to become so overwhelmingly immersed into her career. 

It was less the time commitment and more the mindset she approached her career with that had changed in your absence. Alexia had always assumed that in order to be the best, she had to be so devoted to football in every aspect of her entire life. That there was no room outside of it for distractions. 

Her friends hadn’t become worse because they had loved ones, because they took a step back. They were still dedicated, but also well rested and prepared. 

The two of you had been together for so many years, and then football had been the thing to divide you. It was Alexia’s career that had been prioritized above you, a decision that you had made and believed in. 

Had you really ever thought you were more important than football? 

Had she done that? Had she felt that you were more important than football? 

All she could think of was how you were sick and alone, a burden to bear alone when you should have been loved and supported. 

Alexia was not angry that you hadn’t told her, not by a long shot. But she was furious with the circumstances, with her own choices, with everything else in the situation besides you. 

You had meant so much to her, and she had let you go without any recourse. She never even considered that there was so much depth to the decision you had made. 

And now here she stood, trying to pick up the pieces of something that had gone from broken to shattered entirely. 

Alexia knew that she loved you. 

That she still loves you, even after all this time. There were parts of a person that never changed, and she saw it in your expression. 

Even after all this time. 

Her career came first in every aspect of her life, but maybe just this once it didn’t have to. Maybe some personal happiness was deserved, maybe it could be her choice to try and fix this. 

Maybe she deserved a break, or some peace, or to undo all of the mistakes she had made in the last decade. Maybe the choice she made here would make her better, and not worse. 

The brunette had no idea if you still loved her anymore, not after the appalling things she had said, but she couldn’t let it go without at least trying to get you back. 

She had lost you once, and she wasn’t prepared to let it happen again without a fight. 

—

Alexia can’t bring herself to pick up the phone and dial, so she took the coward's way out and texted you to ask for your address. 

Much to her surprise, you answered her. It’s nothing more than the address rattled off, but it’s there. The brunette felt her heart constrict for a moment at the thought that it wasn’t really your address, that you had sent her a fake location. 

But at the same time, even if that were the case, a part of her would understand. For all the years that she had been hurt and alone and yearning desperately for you, it had been the same for you. 

The choice you had made was impossible, indescribable even, and Alexia knows in her heart that her career wouldn’t be where it was without your sacrifice. You had sacrificed your own dream so that she could live hers, and when it all came back to the two of you all these years later, she had completely desecrated that sacrifice without a second thought. 

She continued to be appalled with herself over that entire conversation. It was all she saw every time she closed her eyes, the words she had said rattling around in her brain all night long. 

The look on your face as she dug herself into a deeper hole, filled with disregard for how much care you had tried to give the situation. It was never going to be perfect, but you had tried to be perfect. And in that moment, she had acted as though it wasn’t enough. 

It was. 

You had always been more than enough for her, regardless of whether you two were together or not. 

Every single time she had laid in bed since, memories both good and bad of the two of you had pooled in her eyes, rolling down her cheek and escaping onto the pillow beneath her. 

She had lost her curiosity inside the ferocity of her own judgement, and she regretted it with every molecule inside of her. She regretted it so much that it made her feel physically ill, to the point where she no longer cared about being appropriate or saving face. 

It was late in the evening when she drove over to your apartment. She had a plan to go on Sunday morning, but it was Friday night and her self restraint had ground away until it no longer existed. 

The Catalan took the steps two at a time up to the third floor, knowing that each moment likely brought her closer to you. She hoped it did, at least. It was highly possible that you were out with friends or doing something fun, as you should be. 

But still hope gripped her with a strength she was unaware she ever had. Loving you was never the detractor she had spent the last decade convincing herself it was, but was where she got her strength. 

Loving you had breathed life into her and she was silly to have ever thought differently. 

She knocked on the door to your apartment before she could stop herself from overthinking every single one of her life choices. Her knuckles struck against the wooden door exactly three times, each one more forceful than the lost. 

The brunette waited with everything in her for the sound of anything in the wake of knocking. Any movement, any sign of life, anything. The seconds felt like hours and years as her heart rammed its way into her throat. 

And then she heard it, the softness of your voice as you called out that you were coming. 

Alexia was known for being a stoic person, never one to overly show emotion. She kept everything close to her chest, and rarely did she express how she was feeling. It took hours of knowing her, and even then she was still hesitant to show weakness. 

But the tears were pooling in her eyes even before you opened the door. 

And there you were. 

Standing in your pajamas, a book in your hand and an expression of mild surprise at the sight of Alexia nearly in tears at your door. It certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, though you knew the footballer had your address.  

“Ale?” You questioned softly, your voice barely there. The brunette swallowed thickly, trying and failing to conjure an apologetic smile. 

“I am sorry…I meant to come later but I couldn’t…wait,” she finished lamely, rather breathless as she fought to keep the pressure in her throat from turning into full blown sobs. You stared at her for a second, at how tense she was, at the anxiety written across her face. After you had tucked some of the hair away from your face, you stepped back into your apartment and widened the opening of the door. 

“Would you like to come in?” You proposed, and the footballer took your offer up with a shaky nod of her head. 

The brunette trailed after you further into the apartment. It was a large apartment, but it felt cozy and lived in. Half-burned candles and ear-marked books were strewn around the space, and a throw blanket could be found on every surface. 

She remembered that you had always run cold. When the two of you were young and in love, she would whisper to you about the warmth Barcelona would offer, even as she provided you plenty of her own body heat as she laid curled around you. 

“Alexia?” You probed lightly, and she shook her head as she glanced up, realizing that she had let her mind wander. Concern and compassion stared right back at her. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she replied harshly, trying and failing to be discreet as she wiped at her eyes. 

“You don’t have to be,” you said delicately, gesturing toward the couch. “Why don’t we sit down?” 

You couldn’t help but realize that right now with just one look at Alexia, you already forgave her. Every line etched into her skin was written with devastation and contrition. Somewhere deep within you knew how she felt, and knew that she did not mean the things she had said. 

There was so much information to process, so much confusion and chaos, that you had both lost yourselves. 

Maybe there was an opportunity to be found again. 

You weren’t going to let the weakness of one moment detract from the opportunity that lay in front of you. 

You led her over to the couch, and the pair of you settled down across from one another. You sat with your back against one arm of the couch, while Alexia was across from you, her hands on her knees. Her knuckles were nearly white, and you wished in that moment to reach out and soothe the ache in her heart, even if you knew that you couldn’t. When the midfielder turned toward you, all you found facing you was suppliance. 

“I cannot explain to you how sorry I am,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I had no idea the sacrifice you had made for me, I had no idea that there was so much more behind all of this. I was foolish to believe that you broke up with me over something selfish or petty.” 

She seemed to bite her words back, as though her self-loathing was simply too great of a burden to contain for a moment. When she settled, the Catalan continued. 

“I never should have spoken to you that way. The truth is that I’ve spent the last nine years missing you, thinking about you, unable to get myself over the years we spent together. It feels as though you’ve been out of my life as long as you were in it, and I hate that. I hate that I haven’t been able to grow with you. I hate that when I lay awake at night I miss you with an ache I cannot even begin to describe to you. I hate that I wasn’t able to be there for you when you needed me. I hate that your sacrifice probably saved my career, even though I wish with everything in me that I was there for you when you needed me,” Alexia finally admitted, deciding to be nothing but brutally honest. 

“And I won’t lie to you and say there haven’t been other women in the years without you, but God it never compared to you. I didn’t give a shit about any of them, and I never really expected to. You’re intertwined within my soul in a way I don’t even fully understand, and living without you feels like walking around missing a limb. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over you, and I tried to force football down my throat because if it was the reason I lost you, it had to be worth it.” 

“I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss the way you roll your eyes at me when I do something ridiculous, or how patient you are with me when I get frustrated. I still find myself looking for you in every crowd, at every family gathering, everywhere. When I finally did see you again, it felt like a fever dream. The one thing I’ve wanted for the last nine years was granted to me, and there you were.” 

“You were standing there so perfectly and in one piece, and inexplicably, you seem to care about me still. I never could have imagined that happening, even if I dreamt about it every single night of my life that you haven’t been in,” Alexia continued, allowing herself to take a deep breath and center herself. Frustration passed over her face for a moment, entirely  

“I fucked this up royally, I know. I let the fear in my heart and the fear that those around me held get in the way of seeing the truth, and I need you to know how sorry I am. I never should have treated you that way. I never should have acted toward you with such hostility. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know that everything I said, I don’t believe. You are brave and wonderful and empathetic, and so, so, extraordinary. Please do not let anyone else ever say that you are not,” Alexia urged, looking at you with such clear intent you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

“I still love you, Flori. I think that I always will. My heart knows what it means to love and be loved by you, and nothing will ever compare to that feeling. My heart was always yours to break, and I don’t care if you do it once or twice or a million times. All I know is that even if you don’t feel the same way, I need you to know that I love you,” Alexia said with finality, barely able to see against the blur of tears that swarmed in her eyes. 

You stood up from your end of the couch slowly while her eyes tracked every single one of your movements. You walked closer to her, settling down next to her as closely as you could while you reached over to place your shaking hands against the frame of her face. 

“You big, blithering idiot, of course I still love you,” you whispered fiercely, your face scrunched up somewhere between disbelief and teasing. Alexia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was even holding, the entire upper half of her body collapsing into you. 

It was easy for you to catch the brunette, cradling her against you as she sobbed without restraint against you. It was easy to rock her back and forth softly, while you whispered sweet nothings into her ears. And it was just as easy to pull her away from you and utter the words she never thought she would hear. 

“I forgive you, and of course I still love you Ale. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and you still are. I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere, if you’ll have me. We might have lost our chance when we were young, but maybe we can have another one?” You proposed hopefully, almost with disbelief. Neither of you ever expected for this to be anywhere near possible, but here you both were. 

The Catalan’s expression broke entirely, silent tears rolling down her cheeks in defiance as she placed a hand on your arm and held it tightly. 

“I’m here,” was all she could manage, but it was enough. 

You leaned into her slowly as you glanced down at her lips, giving her time to pull away. It was a concern you needn't be worried about when she met you halfway, the feeling one of muscle memory even after all this time. You could taste the salt from her tears and yours as you kissed her. 

“Please stay,” you murmured through the ball in your throat as you pulled away just a touch, and Alexia gripped you impossibly tighter as she pulled you into a hug. 

For the first time in nine years, you fell asleep that night with the footballer’s body curled around your own, the feel of her chest breathing steadily against your back as she held you in her arms with content. 

It was the first time in a long while that you had felt warm enough when going to sleep, and hope ballooned inside you fervently. 

(a/n: So…anyone up for parts 4-10?)

[sugurusladyknightt]

you're ill.

it's really not common occurrence for you to be looking so small, so pitiful.

the worst part of it all being that you hadn't said anything about it, to either of your lovers. you've been toughing it out, simply brushing aside how you've been feeling.

last night after you'd gotten home from work, you looked uncharacteristically tired. once again pushed off to the side as fatigue and results of build up from the last few weeks.

they know you've been busy.

coming home later, staying up at home to finish or continue on work, getting calls early in the morning and later in the evening, even getting called in on weekends. suguru and kento, as they always do, did their best to take care of you. suguru made you your breakfast and lunches, kento baked your favourite goods, they worked together to help each other with making dinners. both doing their best to ensure you were eating breakfast (skipping meals in this household is intolerable, but breakfast especially. it is the most important meal in this household), reminding you to stay hydrated, gently pulling you away from your work when things get out of hand, pulling you into their arms and leading you to bed.

suguru had half a mind to show up to your place of employment and stick one of his expensive kitchen knives straight through the head of the one responsible for your stress.

a flat "no" came from kento's lips, as he continues to arrange a sandwich for you using bread hed just made, while awaiting the water to boil. suguru, who's sat at the counter, sticker covered lighter discarded nearby, his long dark hair falling down his back and over his shoulders. he deflates.

and it's comical.

"ok ok" raising his hands in surrender, "but what about, an anonymous phone call." he hums, not entirely pleased but satisfied with the counter offer he's provided. "hmm... what do you think? i'll be very very polite while telling that ass to back off our lover."

yes his voice was calm but man that poor cigarette trapped between his fingers, being squished harder and harder as he spoke. surrendering to the pressure of his thumb and fore finger, its nearly disfigured now. the way it bent out of shape a reflection of the emotions being felt by its torturous captor.

(suguru really is very bothered by all this.)

he turned to kento to look at him with those incredibly kind violet eyes of his, flashing a soft smile to the other man, with the small tilt of his head, "please."

he's good. really good.

now, just so we're clear, having the ethereal man that we have the pleasure to know as geto suguru, look at you oh so sweetly, to like at you like with eyes that would make you believe anything he'd say and do anything he'd ask. he's pleading, ever so sweetly, in that incredibly soft voice of his, there's a slight rasp to it from the cigarette that was beth's lip's earlier, and you have to then go on to reject him?

it was no easy task. a nearly impossible feat if we were being completely honest. this isn't even something worth trying to lie about.

kento, however, prides himself for having an incredible amount of self control. he can handle suguru.

he grabs the whistling kettle, the thick heavy watch that usually occupies the same is gone, his usual attire as well, swapped out for more comfortable clothing. kento fills the three mugs he'd set out earlier with the boiling water.

(mugs you guys made and painted for each other on a pottery date, they weren't perfect yours specifically, you hated when they use it. the one you'd made. but it was so so important to them.)

kento sweetened yours and his own with honey. suguru preferred his without. he took your mug and suguru's. handing suguru his with a kiss on the temple, "no." another to his nose, then his lips before he pulled away to look into his lovers eyes, softly speaking. he's just close enough to suguru's lips that he feels his breath, "that won't help anything at all." another kiss to his nose before he pulled away and went on to find you.

kento imagines your hunched over your desk, with a few candles going

(you've complain that the lights are too much. too bright. why would you need them anyway when you have two suns all to yourself.)

leaving behind him a flushed suguru watching his back profile, he's got to pull his eyes away from kento's form, turning his head towards the now empty kitchen space. mumbling a soft "ass" to himself as the hot tea he's sipping soothes his throat and warms his heart.

--

looking back, kento should've taken up suguru's thoughtful and frankly, far too kind proposal. anything anything over seeing you this way. anything over this.

the day started of beautifully, with kentowaking up on his precious day off to suguru's alarm. your sleeping form sandwiched between their warm bodies and the heap of blankets.

safe, soft, and warm.

the glow of the morning reflected on your face, as the two exchange sleepy smiles and the first kisses of the day. while, of course, remembering to pepper a few on your face as well. your temple, your eyelids, your hair, lips, nose, wherever. you're perfect everywhere to them. the two share one last kiss, before suguru is off to freshen up and prepare to head out for the day ahead.

you and kento would be home all day, and he figured you needed the extra sleep. gazing down at you with fond eyes, you looked serene. the traces of exhaustion still etched into your face, but they've been greatly softened by the rest you've gotten. you looked ethereal, hair practically formed a halo around your head.

it's difficult for him to look away. do people just look like that as they sleep? kento gets up to make suguru breakfast and pack his lunch while he's getting ready, the question still lingering in the back of his mind.

your still asleep after the last "see you later kiss" is shared at the door. looking over to the clock, kento is thinking he'll slip out to grab some ingredients for a nice dinner. after all his darling deserved only the best. he'd missed spending time with his lovers. time that wasn't plagued with exhaustion, when you all weren't drained or busied by one thing or another. a nice warm meal, his darlings and him, in your shared home. kento couldn't dream of a better evening if he tried. so he's getting changed himself, leaving you a note at the counter, and he's out the door.

when you wake, your incredibly cold and the there's a slight tremble you feel through out your body. the home was quite, missing the strong though comforting presence of your beloveds. your bones feel heavy, eyes still tired, and breathing felt far too difficult. despite having just woken up, you fee tired still, far from refreshed. and so you figure a cold shower would do you well, movements sluggish and heavy as you make your way to the bathroom.

fresh out of the shower and your still exhausted. you feel worn. to the bone. it's as if a flesh eating beast had just finished taking all that your body had to offer.

lifeless is how you feels right now.

so you slip on a shirt and a pair of your boyfriends boxers. your not sure whether it's kento's or suguru's before you make your way to bed. your still damp hair splays over the pillows, and the last thought you have before your drifting of i how upset suguru would be to see you treating the hair he cares for so meticulously in this way.

--

upon kento's return, he calls out to you. it's almost noon, you're likely up by now. closing the door behind him with his foot, strong arms busy holding groceries that would otherwise take multiple trips to carry in.

he calls again. still asleep? setting down the keys and and the groceries on the kitchen counter, he ventures further into the home to find you.

"y/n?" he finds you in bed still, letting out a breathe he didn't even realize was begin held in.

continuing into the room he notices your wearing different clothing , suguru's shirt sits inside out on your body. your cheeks flushed, and hair a damp mess on the satin pillow cases.

you're very flushed.

he's closer to you now, hearing that your breathing comes out as short and laboured. kento places one of his hands to your forehead to feel your temperature. his eyes go wide, your so hot.

you, suguru, and kento as well, are all the kind of people how cant quite handle being cared for and can't handle not caring for those you love. kento however thought he had the skill to detect when something was wrong, even when you'd do your best to camouflage it. he's never seen you like this. his hand moved form your forehead done to hold your own, usually cold hands. they're burning and it's a scary feeling for kento.

he felt himself start spiraling, his eyes started to wet, and his hands shaking. shit, this is not the time. what happen to self control. he doesn't have any. ugly thoughts of self doubt and guilt begin to swim around in his head, their speed escalates quick. because here you, are in bed, skin flushed, sweaty, and breathing heavy.

he reaches for phone to call suguru (the contact name in his phone is "sexy bangs." no that was not a dare from gojo. he did not do it because he thought it was cute, he did it because of gojo and his stupid dare and swore to change it the next day. though he never did.)

suguru picks up quick. before he could greet his lover, he hears him say words that make him freeze for a moment, eyebrows furrowed with worry and confusion, his body frozen in place.

"come home now. please. we need you."

"i'll be there. wait for me." always, nanami wanted to say "be quick" and be safe. and the call ended. your sweating now. kento thinks he might be too.

he takes your hand in his once more, holding it to his lips planting a soft kiss before bringing your hand close to his heart. like a wet kitten he'd find alone in the rain on a walk back home. hoping to provide you with some comfort. some refuge. some relief. and selfishly hoping to feel some too.

he's resting his head the edge of the bed now. it's just a cold most likely, a little bit of a fever. he knows that much, but still he's quietly praying your back up to your normal self soon. it's not really about the cold. he feels he's let you down. failed to see, to understand how you were feeling and if not to prevent it than to help fix it. there were signs. there must have been. there had to have been some, and still he missed every one. he's revisiting the past few weeks and finds himself overthinking and analyzing every little moment. what else could be ailing you that he hasn't picked up? something beyond physical symptoms. what about suguru? what if he's been feeling unwell and just hadn't said anything. what if kento failed to have catch on to the things he worries the most about. is he failing to be there for the most important people to him when you need him most? what a joke.

suguru gets home, frenzied. rushing in through the door, impatiently removing his shoes as he's calling out "kento!y/n!" a quick peek into the living room before hastily heading to the bedroom. suguru pushes the door open with far more force than necessary, his hair a mess and skin sweaty from the rush he was just in. he finds you, his only loves, worried eyes meeting with the blonde man's. his sweat turns ice cold and it's a mix of relief and greater worry. his eyes then shift to you, and he stumbles in, putting together the pieces best he can.

"shit. shitshit. is she okay. what happen" taking his place next to kento. one of his hands finds its way to your face, brushing the damp hair from your feverish skin. the other finds nanamis face. his thumb brushing his under eye ever so gently, before kissing away the tears that threaten to streak his face following the path left for them by their now dry predecessors. "she's warm", suguru speaks into kento's skin. hand moving from his face to the back of his head and tangling into his blonde hair. suguru brings the younger man closer to himself, to rest his head onto his firm chest and kento can't bring himself to resist.

"she'll be okay. a few days at most and it'll be gone." he reassures.

suguru is incredible at expertly concealing his own anxiousness and worry using the calm of his voice, kento crying was rare sight after all.

(ignoring the times you bring him just because flowers and making love, or when baked and burnt his favourite bread for his birthday as a surprise, or when you or suguru being a little too mean to him in bed, or-)

if there is anything suguru does not play about, it's the health and happiness of his beloveds. he shouldn't have consulted kento at all and just gone through with the stabbing. at least he shouldve made that phone call. suguru's hand is still on your face, stroking gently, as the other continues to hold kento close to his chest.

your eyes flutter open, eyes slowly adjusting to the light. the first thing you see is suguru and kento. kentos crying? you sit up immediately and move to comfort your lover. before you get there though, two pairs of disgustingly attractive eyes find you and you freeze. they looked worried.

worried and relieved. you look the same. mirroring their worry and your own confusion. suguru smiles at you softly, though it looks pained as he says, "don't worry love, we've just been worried. how long have you felt.." a pensive pause before he continues, just say it like it is he decides, "sick"

as soft as his voice is and despite the kind smile on his face, his words feel strangely menacing. it's hard to hold eye contact with him for too long, you feel small and the urge to flee crawls into your lungs. it's suffocating to breathe, so you hold your breathe. it's hard to hold the connection, so you look away. "not long" and god your throat hurts so much.

suguru figures he'll interrogate more later, for now he's focusing on tackling more pressing issues. "have you eaten anything today?" no response. he figured. he looks down at kento, still in his arms though eyes now fixated on you. he looked at you with relief. and so much guilt. his eyes reddened by the tears and lashes crumpled together, his lips a bright red from how he's chewing on them. you could feel cracks forming in your chest, the sound echoing off of your ribs.

kento felt like that because of you.

suguru interrupts you and kento when he asks that kento comes to help him in the kitchen. the younger man nods. suguru extends his hands to him and helps him up. both coming to you to plant a soft kiss on your temples. one in each side of your perfect, pink, face. you could feel the wetness on kentos cheeks when his lips meet your skin, along with it comes a painful churning in your gut. the two men leave the room and your left alone once more.

in the kitchen a variety of fruit rich in vitamin c is being cut and arranged in a plate for you by kento. the kettle is on for tea. suguru is putting away the groceries kento got earlier, leaving out and grabbing from the fridge the ones he'll use to make some soup. they work in silence, it's not tense or awkward, but the air is filled with something other than the usual ease that surrounds their silence.

kento is still in his head, cutting the fruit with far too little focus and far more force than needed. he's completely zoned out. the knife slips against the cutting board and slices through the meaty part of his hand. fuck, he blurts to himself under his breathe, dropping the knife while tryna save the fruit on the cutting board with his clean hand.

what the fuck was wrong with him today?

he's been different from his usual self, tasks that he weaved through with effortless grace, patience, and precision feel impossible. he's too far in his head and he knows it. cutting fruit for gods sake.

catching suguru's attention, who was previously occupied with the ingredients in his pot, he turns to see his lovers hand bleeding.

suguru moves quickly, he pulls kento's injured hand away from the cutting board and leads him to the sink where he runs cold water over it. he's about to turn to kento to ask what the fuck is wrong. cutting his hand? letting then knife slip? it's so unlike him it's frightening. as he's about to, he sees his lovers eyes beginning to wet once again, eyebrows furrowing and his lips caught between his teeth again and sugurus own lips quickly press themselves into a firm line.

not now, it's not what he needs now.

so he closes his eyes and releases a sharp exhale through his nose. purple eyes softening as they lock themselves on kento, who is doing his best to avert his gaze from the eyes of his lover and to hold himself together. he's ashamed. of himself. and admitting it to himself feels like a weight of his shoulders but it makes him feel so small at the same time. suguru's eyes make their way back to kento's hand before he closes the tap. the ribbons of red tinting the water as the flow down the drain make him feel a sick twisting pain in his stomach.

suguru's face looked calm, if you manage to ignore the deep furrow sat between his dark thin brows. he's quite as he ever so carefully wraps kentos hand in gauze. a stray hair falls out of its arrangement at the base of sugurus neck and kento can't stop himself from carefully tugging it away behind his pierced ear with the unharmed hand.

their eyes meet, its soft. and it stings a little. kentos filled with guilt and sugurus with poorly concealed concern. kento's eyes looking into suguru's, looking form one eye to the other, fitting in a not all that subtle glance to his lips meanwhile. kento is nervous, but places a gentle kiss on the lips for suguru. he's relishing in it, his eyes fluttering closed. its grounding.

suguru's hand going up to his ear to hold kento's, a soft kiss on the knuckles of kentos opposite hand is delivered before his hand is carefully flipped and a soft kiss lands on his bandaged palm.

suguru then gets up and returns to the kitchen, washing the bloodied knife and cutting board. suguru thinks about how the two of them have swapped positions from when he shared the plan to get rid of your stupid employer, with him now standing in the kitchen and kento sat at the counter.

the kettle is done by now so he pours the water into the three mugs kento had set out earlier. suguru picks up where kento left off with the arrangement of fruit before he organizes two mugs, both sweetened with honey, and the plate of cut fruit on a tray before sliding it towards kento. suguru leans his body weight down on the counter and smiles at kento,

"would you take that to our ailing princess please?"

kento takes the treat big his hands with a roll of his eyes. he's putting up a front, but it's okay if that's what he needs right now. suguru once again is the one watching kento's ass back profile as he walks towards you, and once he's disappeared from view, suguru lingers, just for a few moments more, still leaning on the counter top before he returns to his pot, sipping on his own mug of tea.

--

kento knocks once on the door to your shared bedroom, carrying the tray in his uninjured hand, before he allows himself in when you voice emerges from the other side. he's putting didn't need to, he knows that, but felt like he did in that moment.

he feels out of place doing everything today.

"hi"

"hey"

your voice was still hoarse and his doused in hot honey. his steps were are quiet as he makes his way into the room; he's the wet kitten now he thinks. setting the tray of fruit and tea down on the night stand once he reaches it. is hand coming up to feel your temperature once again, still warm. shattering the hope to feel that you've cooled down.

you notice that bandage on his hand, on impulse you take it in your own. your eyes look darting from his own and back to his hand.

he doesn't pull away and he doesn't move his hand, he doesn't even want to. his eyes focus on yours, though they aren't looking at him now.

he could never pull himself away from your touch (to be touched by you was a gift after all, one he will never allow himself to become entitledto)

"i brought you tea. oh, and some fruit"

what is he talking about? fruit? tea? all nice things but what about his the bandages covering his palm?

he grabs the tray from the nightstand with his other hand, placing it in his lap, and he takes a piece of the cut fruit and holds it to your mouth.

and you open up to receive it, chewing thoughtfully. the juices burn you as they navigate their way down your throat.

he feeds you another piece and another after that. then he takes hold of the mug, blows on the steaming liquid and he touches the ceramic to his lips to check the temperature for you, once satisfied he brings it your lips and asks you to drink slowly.

you have questions, but the nervousness is leaving you and so is the urgency to receive answers.

they'll come.

when he's holding the mug up to you lips for the nth time and some slips out of the bounds of your lips the warm liquid streaking your face as it makes it way down your chin. kento's thumb catches it and licks it away.

and it's an odd feeling that follows. the reassurance that this is your home. here with him, and him and with suguru.

the tray is back on the nightstand, the two mugs now emptied and the plate is too. your asleep again, your head resting on kentos warm lap this time. bandaged hand running through your hair, and the feeling of dread that was so prevalent is leaving him slowly, with each stroke of his hand through your hair his chest felt lighter.

suguru peaks into the room, his hair now in a low bun at the base of his neck. he has clips in his hair, the glittering colorful kind he might be teased for by a certain blue eyed friend. they were a gift from some young girls once when he was volunteering at the elementary school one time.

his heart warms at the sight.

your head in kento's lap, bandaged hand in you hair and his glasses are perched low on his nose. how cute. kento's eyes aren't so red anymore, his eyes instead focused on reading the paperback book in his hand on a voice he can't hear from where he stands, he's sure you can though, even in your deepest sleep. he had a voice that was difficult to ignore after all.

suguru slips into the room and kento's eyes leave the words on the page, golden brown eyes quickly located the always welcome intruder. suguru smiles at him and kento returns it. he's about to close the book. to put it away when,

"will you read to me too?"

suguru's form next to those of his lovers, head resting on kentos lap, right next to yours. he touches his lips to your forehead, your still warm, but it'll pass.

a reassuring thought but an honest one.

there you all are, comfortably curled into each other as you rest in kento's lap. his low voice filling the room as he reads, the scent of suguru's cooking wafts through the house following in suit,

and this, well this is your home.

yours to love, yours to care for, yours to be cared for.

[rosedere]

Sea dew and the Benevolent Sea Witch

Sea God! Azul Ashengrotto x Shrine maiden (Afab) Reader

Summary: Every spring the benevolent Sea Witch of the Coral sea requires a young maiden to be married to as a deal for centuries to protect the small alcove hidden from the rest of the world; most women are courted and picked using a similar method to the Sea witch by recieving a Brooch from their bethrotled. Shocked when a intricate and beautiful Brooch finds itself to you the mystery deepens when said brooch is the chosen one from the one and only legendary Sea witch of the Coral sea.

Gen TW: Yandere Content, Dubious consent, Misogyny, Kidnapping, Stalking, Violence, Hypnosis.

You are here: Prologue: Tears of a Single Maiden

Next chapter: The Shrine above the Sea witch

-

My Sea star, The connection to the small world above. Will you finally come with me to the bottom of the endless Oddessy I rule?

The tide came to your feet, the brine stinging your legs as more seaweed hit between your clothed thighs.

His hand crept closer to you under the rushing waves; gently running over your own as he sat with his legs parallel to yours, currently tucked underneath you in a blanket of sea green.

“I think I love you (Name)”

You didn't bother to look at the mist-haired boy.

Enjoying the blue hour, casting upon you the distant cry of seagulls cawing to signal the return to their home in the rocky cliffs above you both.

“You love my company, not me.”

Gazing upon the horizon breaking over the water, ignoring his hand creeping to hold your left pinky fingertip, experimenting, feeling it under the waves hitting you once more.

“I do enjoy your company—but I don’t think I can part without you either.” He sighed.

“I'm sure there are other eligible brides you'd prefer over me.” You shrugged.

“Speaking of, why don’t you ever go into the village?” You looked over to the boy's ethereal face; his unnatural blue irises were already looking at the side of your own tired and worn face.

“It's like you live under the sea witch's arc or something.” 

He only chuckled, leaning into you, feeling him, his touch leaving delayed responses onto yours.

“Maybe I do—you never take me up on my offer to come over anyway.” He purred, “You know I'd love to come home with company.” 

Dismissing him, you only looked away, escaping his gaze, looking back at the sea.

“It seems next week is the start of May,” he said.

His finger running over yours in a soothing motion.

“Don’t remind me,” you exhaled.

I know I'll never be a perfect bride.

“Why so? I heard it's exciting for every woman of the village to have a chance to meet the sea witch.” He chuckled.

“Not I—do you realize it's my last year to be considered a bride to be offered to anyone?”  You felt a tear prick your tear ducts.

“I thought by now someone would have been swept off their feet and picked me.” You sniffed.

Embarrassing… crying in front of this guy

“I don't even want to try again anymore; I just want to live my life and forget about these stupid traditions.”  You swallowed the sob, focusing on the fading light on the horizon.

He didn't say anything for a long time.

You thought maybe he finally got annoyed with the theatrics, if only you found the secret to getting him to leave you alone earlier…

“What if I choose you as my bride (Name)” You felt your heart drop into your chest.

“You're worthy of being a wife to me; if all of those fools up on the mainland can't see it, that's on them.” 

He began to close the distance, his hand still clasped over your hand. The tension between him and you was boiling, trying to close the gap between you and the push and pull of the rising tide.

“I have to go,” you stuttered, standing up, letting you both part from each other.

He stood up as well, trying to match your pace as you raced back to the empty sandy shore behind you both. Making the way back over the sandbar to the shore was hard with the new shells washing up, a prime opportunity if only your strange friend wasn't here tailing behind as you looked for your ragged canvas bag still sitting against the rocks.

“(Name), just consider it; I don't want to see you sad like this during a joyous month,” he called over the rushing waves.

You didn't bother answering, only grabbing your canvas bag and drying the worn, frayed ends of your shorts from the salty water.

“You realize even if I wanted to, I couldn’t—” 

“But why? You dont care that much for rules of your town here instead of being in the village” he snided

“Or is it because you want to win the sea witch's heart?” His lips curled into a smile, the beauty mark on his chin stretching.

“No—” you exhaled a breath you didn't realize you were holding. “I just want to leave this island.” 

You looked back at the boy, who was now clearly unamused. “I've already made myself a fool for a long time, hoping to be picked by anyone.” You looked out at the changing dark obsidian water now out on the horizon.

“I want to see the world beyond the coral sea. I heard there's actual music you can listen to whenever you want and actual things called phones I want to try,” you dreamily sighed.

“Here it's just so boring.”

He only watched and didn't say anything else, his bare feet still as a statue.

“You understand, right? I'm not alone in my thoughts." You merrily grabbed your hair tie, taking care to twist it into a low bun.

“You are alone.” 

He gazed harder at you, his pale crystal eyes boring into you.

“The outside world is even more brutal than here—at least you're protected from danger and can live properly here.” "You can say that because you're young; there's still hope you can pick a maiden whenever you want.” You rolled your eyes. Slipping your sandals next to you, you checked all of your things were still in there bag, His eyes watchful over you as he stood with his bare feet on the shore.

“Goodnight, I've got a long day tomorrow scavenging.” You turned around to face him, giving a wave.

You were about to walk towards the cliff climbing back up to the rocky path leading to your small hut a few miles nearby.

His hands brushed over your outstretched wrist. Stunned, you looked over your shoulder to see him confused, mostly by how strange he was being.

“(Name)”

He pulled you away from the cliffs to face him under the moonlit sky.

You could see his cheeks flushed as he held onto the sleeve of the thin cotton shirt. The way he maneuvered awkwardly, his eyes focusing hard over your face. Slightly parting his lips to say something before restarting and then finally taking a deep inhale. “Please come with me to my home, just one night.”

Bewildered, you only felt your face frown immediately, not portraying the true feeling of discomfort to him.

“Maybe another time.” You truly didn't even mean those words, but if it meant you could go back home and forget whatever was going on with your nameless friend.

His eyes gazing hard into your own, but he decided to let go.

And with that you climbed back home to the lonely coast path into the young night.

-

…

He was able to slip his skin off with ease, under the solace of the arc that protected his kingdom and people from intruders.

His long tendrils uncurling around him, the true size of his body being revealed underneath the large pool leading to the tunnel of his kingdom only he knew.

“Eh, back already, Azul?” the nasally voice belonging to his twin eels.

His lazy eyes watched as he transformed into his mythical form, the large spidery arms he took on crawling underneath him as he made his way into the burrow further into his private chambers.

The eel followed behind with curiosity; his brother was most likely somewhere tending to his royal garden off in the surface of hollow coral reefs.

“So did you convince her to become a mer yet?” The twin twirled underneath the large, colossal-sized tentacles waving to be in front of him in the rocky crystal hall.

Azul didn't say anything, only weaving past the eel mer gliding to the large open cavern that was his room; the piles of gold shipwrecked treasure and the large amount of gems sparkled a path leading to the large shelf wall enough to fit his large body inside, his prized treasure hidden underneath the blinding treasure and relics.

The one he was supposed to give to you when you stopped being so stubborn.

“Floyd, I need you and Jade to do something important for me.” He stopped in front of a large bubble in the middle of the room; flicking a hand over the ball, an image was cast all around the room. Azul peered into your eyes; you were almost home, sneaking back into your temple without any of the sisters knowing you were with Azul.

He'd only smile to himself; let them catch him with his bride-to-be. He was also done with traditions passed from his grandmother and mother for generations.

It simply wasn't going to work to have a disposable maiden he didn't want to entertain and pretend to play husband and wife with only for the sake of tradition.

“How do you feel about having two legs instead of a tail?” Azul's beauty mark curled higher up his cheek, the grin of pure glee.

“What? Like we can go up to the surface?” Floyd excitedly swam in a circle. “Oh, I'm not falling for it; what's the catch, Azul?” Floyd narrowed his eyes at the giant being.

“You may or may not like being in disguises, but I'm sending you to capture my bride.” Azul bluntly ordered, conjuring a gold magic to his fingertips. A vial was revealed after the flicker was done.

The liquid is a bright gold, shining like shimmery sand under a blue sky.

“(Name) is who I need you to do anything to bring her to me before the ceremony in May.” He shifted a large eye down to the patiently wagging eel below him.

“Do you think you could do me this one favor? I can let you two go out to the surface more often if you succeed.”

“I'm in,” Floyd excitedly swam by

"Besides, “you don't even have to ask Azul; we just want you to be happy, he chirped before clicking back into Mermish.

Azul couldn't hold back his powerful smile; he knew that his two confidants from childhood would be the ones to fulfill his desire.

He just had to sit a thousand leagues under the sea for you to return to him.

-

Note: btw forgor insp by these few Request if unaware for the real inspiration of this series 🖤

The Pearl Brooch

The Fisherman

Eclipse (havent posted on this blog as of posting but will update the link for the Tumblr post once I catch up with crossposting ✊)

[meadowfics]

soha shop

kang sae byeok x smallbusinessowner!reader

this is how you and sae-byeok run your store together

apart of the small business owner series

you and sae-byeok run the boutique together, the two of you being the only employees.

at first, when sae-byeok started working for you, things were strictly professional.

well, obviously since the both of you were still friends.

plus, you didn't really forget about your first encounter with her at this point.

now during each shift when there are no customers she leans against the counter beside you, sipping her coffee as she watches you rearrange the display with a small, amused smirk.

"you're such a perfectionist," she teases, crossing her arms as you frown, stepping back to observe the placement of the mannequins.

"and yet, everything always looks good," you retort, nudging her side arm over the counter.

she rolls her eyes, but you catch the fond glint in them before she looks away.

the boutique is moderately busy most days, steady but never overwhelming.

there are quiet mornings where the two of you just chat in between organizing clothes, and then there are rushes.

especially when tourists wander in.

sae-byeok is incredible at recommending things.

she has a sharp eye, always knowing what would suit someone the moment they walk through the door.

"well, I believe this jacket would look good on you," she tells a customer, holding up a sleek black coat with a confidence that makes people trust her.

she’s right. when they try it on, they look at themselves in the mirror, nodding.

"i love it," they say, smiling at her.

"told you," sae-byeok smirks.

you, on the other hand, are excellent at upselling, especially with tourists.

you know exactly how to phrase things, making them feel like they need that matching scarf with the coat they just picked out.

"you know, this is a limited local brand," you say, holding up a soft cashmere scarf, your voice smooth and convincing.

"it pairs perfectly with the jacket you just got. plus, the color brings out your features."

the customer hesitates for only a second before nodding.

"alright, i’ll take it."

sae-byeok watches this happen more times than she can count, shaking her head in quiet admiration.

"you’re kind of scary," she mutters when the customer leaves, grinning at you.

"what? it’s a skill," you joke, bumping her hip with yours.

despite working with your girlfriend, you and sae-byeok always take a lunch break at the same time.

every day, from 13:00 to 14:30, you close the shop and sit together in the back room or sometimes just outside the boutique, sharing food and enjoying the brief moment of peace before reopening.

sometimes, lunch is homemade, either something you packed or something sae-byeok prepared the night before.

other times, you both order takeout, debating over what to get.

"we had bibimbap yesterday," you remind her.

"so? i could eat it every day," she argues, taking a sip of her iced tea.

you shake your head, smiling.

"how about ramen today?"

she considers it before shrugging.

"fine. but i'm picking the place."

during these breaks, you both unwind, sae-byeok stretching her arms above her head while you lean against the counter, scrolling through your phone.

sometimes, she sneaks glances at you, a small smile tugging at her lips when she thinks you don’t notice.

"what?" you ask when you catch her staring.

"nothing," she says, looking away, but you know better.

even though you’re the owner, sae-byeok treats you like an equal at work.

you treat her like she is above you a lot.

she doesn’t let you carry all the responsibility alone, making sure to handle the inventory, fold clothes, and keep everything organized.

she’s meticulous in a way you appreciate, her attention to detail showing in how neatly she arranges items.

you both move effortlessly around each other in the shop.

when there’s a rush, it’s like a silent dance.

she rings up customers while you help others on the floor, or vice versa.

when one of you gets caught up, the other picks up the slack without needing to be asked.

sometimes, when there are no customers, sae-byeok sneaks up behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist as you check the store’s finances.

"sae," you warn, trying to sound serious, but you melt immediately when she rests her chin on your shoulder.

"hm?" she hums, pressing a small kiss to your cheek before pulling away.

you sigh, shaking your head but smiling.

"you're lucky you're cute."

the boutique is small, but it’s home to both of you. customers love the cozy, curated vibe of the shop, often commenting on how welcoming it feels.

one regular, an older woman, once smiled knowingly at the two of you as sae-byeok helped her pick out a new sweater.

when she was checking out, she looked between you both and said, "you two make a good team."

sae-byeok nodded, completely agreeing.

"yeah, we do."

more in this series

[vcepsis]

Saw this fantastic post from @thebigchoo and it would NOT leave me alone so I had to put my beautiful boy into a Situation. I've been going insane about JJK for the past few months so here is 3.5k of Gojo suffering!! Set in some kind of future AU where nothing bad happens <3

----

Satoru shifted against the chair, the thin felt covering doing nothing to stop the cheap plastic from digging into his back. Even with three layers on, he could feel every sharp, uneven edge, each dull bump and knob. 

Shifting again, his glasses fell just slightly down his nose, letting in the faintest beam of light from the overhead fluorescents. With a bitten off groan, he shoved them back against his eyes with more force than necessary, wincing as the headache spiked anew. 

This had been such a good idea–two weeks ago, when Suguru had first suggested it. He'd asked, then, if Satoru was interested in going with him to some mall in Tokyo with a new clothing store. And Satoru, ever ready to give his opinion on things, solicited or not, had happily agreed. Having Suguru as his own personal model to dress up had sounded like the perfect way to spend their day off. Of course, that had been before Satoru had managed to somehow catch the damn plague.

It had been over a week and things were not improving. Typically his immune system was better than this. He had hoped he'd be on the mend by now, but it had been so busy–his usual three hour, four a.m. nap had been cut to barely thirty minutes between missions. It wasn't surprising that he'd only managed to get worse.

Unfortunately, today was the only day their schedules lined up for a day off for another month. Suguru had offered to take a rain check that morning, frowning at the dark smudges under Satoru’s eyes and the skin rubbed raw around his nose, but Satoru had waved him off. It was fine. He was fine. 

Now, two train rides and three hours later, Satoru wished he'd taken the out when it was offered. 

Sniffling into the dark face mask–swiped from the infirmary on their way out; hopefully Shoko wouldn't mind–Satoru let his eyes flutter shut. Not that it helped; Six Eyes continued to feed him information, stimuli that was very much not asked for. They tended to act up when he was sick, either taking in too much or not enough. Today they were somehow doing both at the same time. The noise of the store pounded at his senses, and he was actually glad he couldn't smell anything–one less thing for his overstimulated brain to deal with.

Something in his chest shifted, and then he was coughing again, the sound ratty and violent. He pressed a shaking hand to his face mask, hoping to smother the sound–because Suguru did not need a reminder of just how sick Satoru was–but it was no use. They could probably hear him three stores down. He cringed at the thought.

Sensing Suguru’s cursed energy, he managed to sit up in time for the door to the changing room to open, Suguru stepping out. Part of the reason he'd invited Satoru in the first place was to get an unfiltered opinion, which Satoru absolutely excelled at. He willed the perpetual fog in his head to clear long enough to at least be somewhat helpful. 

Suguru looked almost embarrassed, though Satoru couldn't understand why. His latest outfit was a crop top that showed off just enough of his abs to be tasteful, the hem of the high waisted pants creating something almost teasing. Satoru could feel how the three other people in the store stopped dead at the sight, and Satoru couldn't blame them one bit.

Clearing his throat, Suguru raised an eyebrow, though there was a faint blush across his cheeks. “Well?” 

“You look hot,” Satoru rasped and–yikes. Suguru winced.

“Were those even words?” he asked, though the spreading blush suggested he heard it perfectly well. 

Satoru coughed again, trying to clear the gunk out of his chest without devolving into another full fit. But his throat was on fire, like it was coated in glass wrapped in barbed wire.

“We'll go to that juice stall you like after this,” Suguru suggested, and Satoru flashed a quick thumbs up. Truthfully, the idea of any kind of food made him nauseous, but he wasn't about to mention that. Not that he would be able to taste it anyway.

“Seriously,” Satoru said after a minute, trying to push past all the crap in his lungs, “it looks good. You should buy it.”

Suguru hummed in response, still distracted. His enthusiasm for this trip seemed to be dissipating at the same rate as Satoru’s deteriorating condition, and it made something like guilt pool in his stomach. This was supposed to be fun, Satoru reminded himself. He tried to sit up straighter, tried to conjure up some more of his usual energy, but his head was pounding and he couldn't breathe through his nose which was somehow running and congested and everything hurt. 

But dammit, it was their day off. “Try the blue one next.”

Suguru frowned, not looking convinced, but Satoru waved him off with a flap of his hand. 

He leaned his head back against the chair as the door to Suguru’s changing room closed. Letting his eyes shut, he sniffled again, groaning softly as it did nothing to help the congestion. His head felt like it was stuffed with concrete, and he rubbed his nose through the mask with the palm of his hand, grimacing as it only exacerbated the wet feeling around his nostrils. A sneeze had been hovering somewhere in his sinuses since the morning, and he took a hitching breath in anticipation as the feeling surged, but it backed off at the last second, somehow adding to the congestion.

Letting out a sharp sigh, Satoru blinked his eyes open, shifting against the chair again in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. But every notch and groove was digging into his skin, the fluorescent lights were like needles in his eyes even through his blacked out glasses, and every spike of cursed energy around him was clocked by Six Eyes in excruciating detail. Maybe this was hell.

The door to the changing room swung open then, Suguru stepping out in his street clothes. Picking up his head where it was still resting on the back of the uncomfortable chair, Satoru raised his eyebrows. “What–”

“I'm over this,” Suguru cut him off, a few of the things he'd tried on draped over his arm, including that crop top, Satoru noted. “Let's pay and get out of here.” 

“If you're sure,” Satoru replied after a beat, too tired to argue. The relief at leaving mixed with the guilt of cutting the trip short, causing his stomach to churn. 

At the counter, he offered to pay, but Suguru just scowled at him. “I didn't bring you here for your money,” he said sullenly.

Satoru didn't know how to express that he knew that. He wasn't trying to baby Suguru or patronize him. It was just the only way he knew how to apologize for forcing them to leave early. Originally he'd planned on hitting a few more stores, then getting dinner together, somewhere nice, but that plan had been thrown out the window when he'd barely been able to drag himself out the door that morning.

So instead, he just shrugged, stepping away from the counter so the clerk wouldn't have to hear his incessant sniffling. 

The cough snuck up on him this time, and he stumbled out of the store as it ripped through him, pressing his fist against the mask. His lungs burned with the effort, the coughs crackling and painful. Leaning against a wall, he desperately tried to catch his breath as the fit subsided, pushing up his glasses to wipe at his watery eyes.

A hand touched his back, making him jump. Whirling, he turned to see Suguru, hand still outstretched and eyebrows raised in surprise. 

Ugh. So Six Eyes had to tell him that there were exactly four people in the store across the way, but not that someone was coming up behind him? What the fuck. 

“I–uh–are you okay?” Suguru seemed at a loss, and Satoru couldn't really blame him. When was the last time anyone–anything–had gotten the jump on him? 

God, he was tired. The noise of cursed energy surged around them, smothering him like a tidal wave, pounding relentlessly against him. Somewhere nearby, a glass broke, and he winced as it felt like the shards were lodging into his brain.

The bag from the clothing store crinkled in Suguru’s hand as he took a step towards him. Suguru touched his elbow, and Satoru tried to focus on it, letting it anchor him in a sea of stimuli. 

“Come on,” Suguru said softly, wrapping his long fingers around Satoru's arm in a loose hold, gently tugging him along. Satoru went willingly, doing his best not to trip over his own feet.

The noise started to fade as Suguru led him away from the busiest stores, taking him towards a more secluded part of the mall. They passed a bathroom, and Satoru took his arm back. Turning, Suguru raised an eyebrow in question.

“I'm gonna–” Satoru jerked a thumb towards the bathroom, not waiting for Suguru’s response before making his way in. Six Eyes told him it was empty–he could only hope it was right, though he didn't fully trust them today. Wasting no time, he practically ran inside, desperate for a moment to himself.

He pulled down his mask, relieved as the sensation of material on his face eased. Swiping a few paper towels, he blew his nose, though it didn't put a dent in the congestion and just made him cough in the aftermath. The paper towel was rough, scraping across the sensitive skin. Why hadn't he thought to bring tissues? 

The urge to sneeze spiked again, and he tilted his head back to–nothing. Not even pushing his glasses onto his head to look into the ugly lights of the bathroom helped tease it out. 

Tossing the paper towel into the garbage with more force than necessary, he caught his reflection in the mirror. No wonder Suguru had volunteered to leave early. His already pale complexion was a shade or two lighter, making him look downright lifeless, though there was a faint flush developing high on his cheeks. His nose was pink, except for around his nostrils, which was an angry red. And his eyes–ugh. Red rimmed and watery, their usually bright sheen was now dull and dark, which was obvious even behind his glasses. 

Fuck. He shouldn't be out in public like this. 

It was embarrassing, honestly, how easily he was falling apart. He was supposed to be the strongest. How his family would sneer at him if they saw him now, undone by something as mundane as a cold. 

He sniffled aggressively, but still had to snag another paper towel to angrily swipe at his nose as it threatened to run down his lip. His throat burned, his eyes throbbed, he couldn't breathe right, his chest felt heavy, he'd been on the edge of a sneeze since he woke up and it was all driving. Him. Crazy.

A door in the women's bathroom slammed, and Satoru had to bite back a groan. The surge of cursed energy was back, and even if this part of the mall had fewer stores, it was enough to overwhelm him. Three teenagers walking by, their energy wild and unrestrained. Low level curses crawling around the women’s changing room twenty feet away. A child crying across the hall a spike in energy two stores down as a couple bickered the dripping water of the faucet in front of him the rattle of the pipes in the walls a sudden wave of energy from the food court–

“Satoru?”

Whipping his head up, he saw Suguru standing by the entrance to the bathroom, concern in his dark eyes. 

“You've been gone for a while,” Suguru said, gaze flickering from his face to his hands as he walked slowly towards him.

It was only then Satoru realized he was gripping the edge of the sink hard enough to turn his knuckles white. 

Something wet rolled down his face, and he only had a second to be horrified at the idea of his nose running before Suguru’s hand cupped his cheek, his thumb wiping away–a tear, it was a tear. Oh. Was he crying? 

“Satoru?” Suguru said his name so tenderly. When was the last time he was treated softly when he was sick? He remembered being ill as a child, receiving the best medicine and the finest doctors, every need taken care of. But had anyone held him, or offered any kind of comfort? Maybe a few of the maids, if they were feeling particularly sorry for him, but never his parents. Had anyone touched him with gentle hands the way Suguru was now, like he was something precious? Not a commodity to be cultivated or a god to be shaped?

“You're a bit warm,” Suguru murmured, brows furrowed. 

Satoru went to reply–maybe with something cheeky like I'm always hot or something embarrassing like can we please go home–but instead, all that came out was a choked sound. He felt another tear run down his cheek, and Suguru dropped the bag he was holding, bringing up his other hand to fully hold Satoru’s face, eyes wide in alarm.

“Satoru?!” he said again, more urgently.

“I–” The cursed energy surged again as a group of people walked by the bathroom, and it was all too much. He wanted to scream, but his throat was too raw to handle it. His hands flew to his head, knocking his glasses off in the process, and he couldn't hold back a frustrated sob.

Suguru acted immediately, wrapping a hand around his arm and tugging him into the bathroom stall, bag forgotten on the ground. Kicking the door shut and throwing the lock closed, Suguru yanked the cover of the toilet down before pulling them down to sit on the top. Despite Satoru being taller, Suguru managed to maneuver them so his face was pressed into Suguru’s chest, one hand on the back of his head, the other around his shoulders.

The tears came hot and fast. Satoru surprised himself by how many he had to shed, sobbing into Suguru’s shirt, clutching chunks of fabric like a lifeline. Suguru just held him, saying nothing, not even as Satoru stained his shirt with a disgusting mix of bodily fluids. But he couldn't stop, too miserable to even try. The noise was endless, his eyes throbbed, his head was too heavy to lift. His sobs burned through his scratchy throat, quiet and painful. Everything felt wrong, and even his clothes–his softest shirt, his most comfortable sweater, his warmest hoodie–were like sandpaper against his skin. 

The only thing that felt right was Suguru’s hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, the other holding his head gently but firmly. Satoru tried to focus on that. He practically begged Six Eyed to cool it for a goddamn second, tried to direct their perception to hone in on the warmth of Suguru’s arms around him, but it only marginally succeeded. 

The crying was not helping his congestion in the slightest, his whole face feeling gross. And wet. Suguru would need to burn this shirt, fuck. Satoru would buy him a replacement. Or ten replacements. Whatever he wanted.

It took a few long minutes, but the tears eventually slowed, Satoru left making sad, broken noises as he tried to breathe through the gunk in his head. 

“Let's get you cleaned up,” Suguru said softly, “and then we'll get out of here, ok?”

Satoru could only groan at the thought of the train. Another three hours to get back. The idea made him dizzy.

“I called the school,” Suguru said, as if reading his thoughts. Satoru looked up at him, lashes wet, trying not to think about how pathetic he must look. “They'll send someone to pick us up.”

Satoru nodded, running the back of his hand across his runny nose, trying in vain to fix himself up at least a bit. Thankfully, Suguru’s shirt was black, any gross stains that Satoru left behind hidden. Not that Suguru seemed to mind. 

Chuckling softly, Suguru reached over and unlocked the stall door with one hand, pulling Satoru up with the other. 

“Come on, I got you.” With the patience of a saint–or maybe God himself, at this point–Suguru led him to the sink, but Satoru pulled back.

“S-Suguru, wait–” The crying had shifted the congestion just right, finally, and he was spinning away from Suguru to catch the resulting sneeze in his cupped hands. Then another, and another. The groan he let out afterwards was half disgusted, half relieved. He winced at the wet feeling in his palms, then shivered as a sudden chill went through him.

Behind him, Suguru sighed, but it sounded affectionate. “Come on, let's make sure your brains are still in your head.” 

“Gross,” Satoru replied, voice crackling with the effort.

Suguru touched his back with one hand, guiding him towards the sink. Digging into his pocket with the other, he fished out a travel pack of tissues, peeling open the package and pulling one out. 

“Here.” He offered it to Satoru, who was still hiding behind his cupped hands. 

“Why d’you have this?” Satoru asked, snatching it out of Suguru’s hand as fast as possible. His shoulders hunched as he blew his nose again, the soft material of the tissue leagues better than the rough, horrible texture of the paper towels.

“Because you're sick,” Suguru replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Oh. Satoru held his hand out for another one silently, hoping Suguru couldn't see the way the blush extended all the way to his ears. 

It took half the package before Satoru felt somewhat human again, though his reflection in the mirror told a different story. His eyes and nose were even redder, his cheeks ruddy from crying. 

Ugh. He felt disgusting. All he wanted was to take a hot shower and then pass out. 

It was only when he was washing his hands, with Suguru retrieving his glasses and the dropped bag, when he saw it–the cursed spirit at the entrance to the bathroom. Once again, Six Eyes couldn't be bothered to let him know. Before he could completely freak out, though, he finally noticed Suguru’s residuals on it.

“One of yours?” Satoru asked, somewhat unnecessarily. Ugh, his voice was officially shredded.

Suguru raised an eyebrow. “Just noticing now?” he asked playfully, the smile dropping off his face when Satoru didn't react. “Holy shit, are you seriously just noticing now?” 

Scowling, Satoru returned his attention to washing his hands, scrubbing a bit more aggressively than necessary. It was embarrassing to be so caught off guard, even worse to be so called out about it. The cursed energy was all mixing into a confusing mess in his sludgy brain, making it harder to tell everything apart. Turning off the water, he flicked his hands into the sink, snagging a paper towel and refusing to meet Suguru’s eyes.

“Hey.” Suguru touched his cheek, pulling his face towards him. Satoru went willingly, despite his annoyance. “Sorry. I was just surprised.” Suguru touched Satoru’s forehead with the back of his hand, frowning. “You're really not well, Satoru.”

Satoru just shrugged, tossing the paper towel over his shoulder, where it landed in the garbage can despite the fact that his vision was going fuzzy. 

Suguru was beside him before he could sway, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I got you.”

He shook out Satoru’s glasses with his other hand, gently sliding them into his face. They rested just the wrong way on the bridge of his nose, igniting the lingering tickle, and he just managed to pull the mask up in time to sneeze into it.

“Ugh”, he couldn't help but moan. 

“Bless you,” Suguru said, amusement in his voice, though he squeezed his arm tighter around Satoru’s waist. “Let's get out of here.”

-----

“I'm sorry.”

Satoru blinked his eyes open, looking up at Suguru from where he was nuzzled into his side, Suguru’s arm around him in a way that could almost be called protective. The drive so far had been quiet, save for Satoru’s sniffling. Luckily the driver hadn't said anything when they came to pick them up, even if this was a gross misuse of school time and property. “For what?”

“I should have insisted we stay home,” Suguru said, sighing softly, the guilt in his voice unmistakable. “I shouldn't have dragged you out like this.”

Satoru hummed softly. “It's okay,” he said, hardly even audible with the way his voice kept cutting out. He coughed softly into the mask, but snuggled up closer. “I like spending time with you.”

Suguru’s arm tightened around him.

“Y-yeah,” Suguru said, a bit breathless. Then he smiled down at Satoru, warm and affectionate. “I like spending time with you, too.”

“Even when I'm all gross like this?” It was supposed to be a joke, but it came out more sincere than Satoru meant.

“Always,” Suguru responded, without hesitation. “Though I would rather you weren't feeling so shitty.”

Satoru hummed in response, letting his eyes close again. He rested his head on Suguru’s shoulder, and Suguru’s hand came up to card through his hair. 

“It was worth it to see that crop top,” Satoru murmured, and Suguru just laughed, the sound low and affectionate. 

[solitaryearthperson]

Overprotective

Summary: Even though you can take care of yourself, Levi can't help but be protective of you.

(The reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns. The ethnicity/race is preferably Black/person of color.)

(The reader is a Titan like Eren.)

Levi watched you in mesmerized silence, his face still stoic and unreadable, as you shifted into a Titan, your form standing near the same height as Eren’s. 

Be careful, (Y/N), he begged you in his mind. He knew that you could take care of yourself, in Titan form or human form, and although this was just practice to see how far Eren’s fighting skills had improved, he didn’t like the thought of you up against the hotheaded cadet. 

An excited squeal came from his left and he saw an ecstatic and almost enraptured expression upon Hange’s face, the crazed scientist almost trembling with excitement at seeing you both in your Titan forms. 

“I have got to run tests on them someday,” Hange exclaimed, their smile almost splitting their face. 

“No, you don’t,” Levi responded, shocking them, and they were quickly reminded that other people were around. 

“Right,” They said, nodding their head towards him, hoping that would placate him. “I’ll ask them without you around, lover boy,” they mumbled under their breath, before yelling out the order to begin the (fake) fighting. Levi had heard them, but chose not to comment, not wanting to prove the ‘loverboy’ title true.

It wasn’t exactly a secret that there was something going on between Levi and their new Titan-shifter. Mostly everyone had theorized that either you and him were already a thing or at the very least you two had fooled around with each other. Neither mattered as everyone noticed the overprotectiveness that Levi showed you and didn’t want to risk a brutal ass-kicking or worse. 

As you and Eren tussled with each other, Levi placed a hand on his blades, ready to cut you out of the nape or deal with Eren if he needed to. 

“Captain Levi, we have reports that-”

“Not right now,” Levi said, not taking his eyes off your fighting figures, watching every punch and throw you and Eren made. “Take it to Erwin and I’ll deal with it later.” 

The soldier didn’t bother responding, only nodding his head, and left. 

You and Eren were good friends, both of you helping each other when it comes to fighting off Reiner and Bertholdt, so it wasn’t much trouble for you two to be practicing fighting, knowing that neither one of you would literally hurt each other. But today was a surprise for you both. While it was somewhat improving, his fighting skills usually left him being defeated during practice, but today he surprised you with his speed. Using Reiner’s technique, Eren had pulled you to the ground, wrapping his arm tightly around your middle, not using his whole strength, while wrapping his legs around yours, preventing you from escaping.

“Wow! Good Eren!” A nearby soldier yelled. 

Everyone was shocked and proud that the young cadet had finally beat you, except a certain, petite captain, who looked at you both with wide eyes and his hand on his blades, ready to use them.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled.

Wiggling in his hold, you tried to find a way out, but couldn’t. Both your arms and legs were trapped in his hold. Seeing that you were defeated, you let out a roar towards Eren and shimmied your shoulders, letting him know that you were conceding. 

But Levi saw your trapped form and heard your roar as something else.

Pulling the blades out, he began to make his way towards you both, not hesitating to cut you out or deal with Eren. 

“Wait, Levi, they’re fine,” Hange began to say, but Levi had already passed them. “(Y/N)!”

Hearing Hange yell your name, you looked over your shoulder to see Levi’s small figure coming, retracted blades shining brightly in the sunlight. You hurriedly detached your human body from the Titan form, the steam from the body bursting out blinding Eren momentarily and making him let you go finally. 

“Levi,” You called him, stepping out of the body. Your legs were slightly weak as you jumped to the ground, almost falling as your feet touched the ground, but before you could, Levi had hurried to you, placing your arm over his shoulder and placed his arm around you, making sure to not cut you with the blades. 

“Are you okay,” he asked, holding you tightly to him, not caring about how warm your body was. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired is all.” 

“Come on. We’re done today.” Levi began walking you both away from Eren, who began to leave his Titan body as well. 

“Levi, I’m fine. I promise.” Despite you saying this, you did feel a little more tired than usual, probably from being with him all night.

“Well…,” he was quiet for a second, trying to come up with an excuse good enough to use instead of admitting how he didn’t want to see you getting hurt, even if it was an accident or just some practicing. “I need your help with something, so you’re leaving.”

“Really, Ackerman,” you said, knowing what his true reasons were. You didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended about his overprotectiveness, especially since you and him haven’t made anything official yet. 

“Yep,” he replied.

“Hey, where’re you going?! We’re not done!” You could hear Hange yelling as you both passed them. 

“They’re tired. Play with just Eren today.” 

Rolling your eyes, you thought about how you were going to have to apologize to Eren later on for being left in the care of Hange. 

“You know that I was safe,” you told him, holding on to him while your legs recovered their strength. 

“Don’t care, I need you today,” he said. 

“For?”

“For whatever I say I need you for,” he glanced towards you, and you could see that one corner of his mouth was lifted up in a small grin, making your face warm up. 

“Sure,” you replied, not minding the thought of spending the rest of the day with Levi. 

[hitlikehammers]

wouldn’t it be WILD if steddie were heartbroken 💔 without each other (steve thinking eddie’s dead 💀 post s4/eddie in super intense secret WITSEC and couldn’t find steve if he tried 🫥) but they’re both actually secretly making 🎶music🎶 ABOUT EACH OTHER & THEIR BROKEN HEARTS?!?!?!????

…and both of them are hearing it?

Today for @steddielovemonth y’all are going to be subjected to a very indulgent snippet for a fic I have about a million words of headcanon and backstory for, but can never be allowed to write.  EVER.  Quick summary for the context: post S4, Eddie’s whisked away for treatment and healing and then given a new identity so everyone who ever knew him thinks he’s dead. This is not appreciated by Eddie at all bc he thought he and Steve were…that they had a ✨SPARK✨ He eventually settles; finds musical success in paving the way in some metal-adjacent genre fusion (can’t outright be as he was, ofc, he is IN WITSEC) Weird, then, when a masked, intentionally anonymous and deeply private metal-fusion-y group (think 🎵🎸Ghost meets Sleep Token🎵🎹) start climbing the charts to encroach on join his territory. Extra weird that their lyrics are all about either metaphors that only barely hide viscerally-disturbing violence that sometimes ping Eddie’s nightmares a little close to home, or even more often: love. Lost love. Lovesickness because of the lost love.  So much love. Again: weird.  The fact that the lead singer reminds Eddie of Steve from the first roll of his hips onstage means nothing; to this day, everything reminds Eddie of Steve.

rating: t ♥️ my only remaining note is to encourage that you listen to the link in the prompt 🎶

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: 🎵 I wanna dance with somebody - Sleep Token

Eddie had done the calculus in this head. No one had seen him in public for years, now. He’s far from Hawkins, and the government locked the truth down hard: there hadn’t been coverage that went widespread. He’d fought them on the whole fucking thing as soon as he was conscious and understood they’d taken him to treat him, but had no intentions of letting him go back.

Disappearing under interdimensional-WITSEC was one thing. One already unacceptable thing he never agreed to. But…when he found out everyone thought he was dead?

That…that—

Even take out the way things had, like, Eddie could have sworn there was something real sparking between him and Steve—not just because the way he held himself back from kissing him goodbye luck, good luck when they split up in that last stand would not have been their first, Eddie’d gotten actual proof that all the taffy-thick tension and the fucking looks weren’t just things he was weighing up with his own want in the shape of Steve’s lips on his own. In the knowledge of what Steve Harrington fucking tastes like.

It was an all around dick move, is the point.

And he misses his people. His friends.

For the way he’s yet to pass a day without thinking of Steve: he misses the man he was already most of the way in love with.

But that’s how it ends up even being a question: can he risk leaving the house and entering a place so crowded and contextually ‘risky’ as a fucking concert.

He sells it mostly as market research, rather than him just trying to the fuck out of the house. It can be both, really, but in reality? It’s not a threat to him directly—sure as shit couldn’t convince his G-man handler out the gate to try and be a metal musician the way he’d always wanted to, but he’s found (not easily, <i>not</i> easily) a way to weave genres so he’s as unrecognizable now in his discography as he’s been forced to be physically: scruff on his cheeks, head always covered in some absurd new hat, part of the bit, part of how he gets away with being too lazy, still to maudlin to keep his hair shorn tight—he needs something to tear at on the worst nights or he will fucking lose what laughable grasp on sanity he has left, so.

But the whole multi-genre thing’s kinda his corner. So he tells himself that’s the real reason he’s here. At this show, in public. For a metal-adjacent fusion act that’s rocketing up the charts for their cross-genre innovations, not to mention their rip-your-heart-out approach to lyrics.

So maybe part of Eddie’d come to size up the competition in person, seeing as these motherfuckers are the gods of anonymity—paint and masks like KISS on steroids, but a little flair of mystique, like robes and veils and just…drama that walks the tightrope of being too much in a way that’d ruin it, that’d take them down hard just as they’re still on the rise but they…they manage it.

Fuck if Eddie knows how, walking in to the venue that night.

By the encore, though, now?

Well, shit.

They don’t talk on stage—Eddie’s heard they don’t talk at all, the bare number of interviews they give all being written exchanges, save for who he thinks is one of the two fucking drummers, but they use some kind of voice alternation like they’re the motherfucking FBI and this is Deep Throat calling. Eddie gets that it adds to the drama, but also their claim to not want the attention on themselves, only their music: good or bad. And if that’s honest, Eddie can respect it.

And in person, after this: he can certainly respect the effect that it has on the music itself in how it’s received on the ground, Jesus.

The whole thing is a well oiled machine made of human fucking emotion, which is kind of goddamn absurd. But the impact, the fact that it works, feels like it’s mainly credit to the lead singer—he’s got a code name thingy but fuck if Eddie remembers it; fuck if Eddie remembers anything with that figure, not even a face, but that body mostly hidden by paint and a robe he could swear had a twin he used for Hellfire in the old theatre room—but the lead singer. He’s conducted the stage for the whole fucking show less like a director with their annoying pointy stick and more…more half like a king, but higher, a nameless deity, and god-emperor with no face but then at the very same time, leaping in like a battle master, a general rallying troops he will die for before he loses, and so will push them past the brink to keep them safe, no matter the costs. He seems to push himself the hardest, by far.

Maybe too far.

There’s a danger in the whole display, that way—something spellbinding; riveting. It grasps Eddie from the inside, those big hands on the microphone reaching to squeeze his heart and stroke his lungs as much as to stroke something lower, lower, harder—

Fuck. Well.

Here he is. And if the lights weren’t still down, he’d think the set was over.

But then Mr. Lead(-me-down-a-dark-alleyway-and-have-your-way-with-me) swaggers back on from the wings, to the kind of insanity, the pitch of screaming and applause that Eddie thinks requires ear protection all on its own. And the Lead has been keeping the crowd in order as much as his band, the mastermind behind the offensive, with the protective drive he exudes, this weird feeling like he’s…proud when the fans move and sway and push and break and sing and sob—like they matter. Like he cares, without saying a goddamn word.

Now he hold his hands up: peace, still, quiet, and they obey. Everyone. It’s…uncanny.

A piano appears behind him, and anarchy unfolds again in an instant.

Eddie noticed a lot of piano, especially from the Lead-man, and how it’s been used in unexpected ways, especially with the doubled-up drums, hell, the multiple players on various instruments, the way they’ve put together an orchestra without it sounding forced or overcrowded, pretentious or unnecessary.

The lone figure walks toward the edge of the stage, away from the baby grand, and tilts his head, extends a hand again but only one this time—it quiets but doesn’t wholly quell the noise and then he shifts his body weight, a hand settling on his hip; his judgement playful but powerful.

Everyone is silent again. Eddie is���fucking floored.

The Lead waits, surveys every inch of the crowd in a way that feels like he actually sees everyone from behind his mask, Eddie included, and isn’t that a thought for lonely night in the near future, goddamn.

Eventually, though, he nods, satisfied with..something, and struts to his piano.

Eddie is left in those moments being too fixated on how unsatisfied he is by comparison, in very specific ways, until the keys ring out.

Like starlight. Like drops made of angel tears or some shit.

And then Eddie recognizes the song.

It’s all over the fucking radio—the original—so much even he can’t avoid it, but in truth he doesn’t really want to. Whitney is a massive fucking talent and the song’s catchy as hell.

But this man. This man.

He’s reshaping it into something deeply other.

And maybe later Eddie will marvel at how the song’s being reimagined, at the technical level. Will pick apart the genius, wonder at the inspiration of transforming what’s on the charts into this.

But for now he can only watch. Jaw dropped. People around him are actually crying for the feeling in this man’s voice, spare and personal and otherworldly—and Jesus H., Eddie feels fucking close to tears himself, what the actual fuck.

He doesn’t play the whole thing—ends. Stands. Bows. The crowd erupts on a delay as the Lead’s mostly out of sight. Eddie…

Eddie is still stuck on what he just witnessed.

Mainly—unexpectedly—the words.

He says man, like the radio version: need a man who’ll take a chance—

Which could mean nothing. Could just be respecting the masterpiece as written.

But then Eddie, replaying it all in his head, doesn’t think he’s making up that the Lead on stage just now failed to change up the lyrics, as the original did intend in one specific place.

He’s clear about the call of his loneliness. Fuck, half their songs make that real clear. But.

He never once sang this song—picked deliberately, crafted so elegant and raw—but never once did follow the original and sing about his lonely heart.

But again.

Could just mean nothing.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @disrespectedgoatman @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here

[911buddieweek]

Buddie AU Bingo

It's here! I made this based on your responses about your favorite AU tropes.

Reminder: this is a casual event! You don't have to complete it. If you write just one, that is completely fine. If you write 6 for the same prompt? Great! If you mix 2 or more prompts together? Awesome!

In the boxes with a / between tropes, it means the tropes are too similar to have their own boxes - but you don't have to include both! You can just pick one to be able to tick it off.

There is now also a collection up on AO3!

Trope explanations:

Different firehouses - Both Buck and Eddie are firefighters, but they are not working at the same firehouse

Social media - anything to do with (meeting on) social media

Sports - doesn't matter if it's professional or amateur or casual, sports is included

Not a firefighter - often this is used with one character not being a firefighter and the other is still a firefighter. But you can also do both not as a firefighter if you want

What-if/canon divergence - this follows canon, except there is one (major) difference. How big that is is up to you!

Bodyguard - one is the bodyguard for the other

Roommates - they share the same house/apartment or share a dormroom

Omegaverse - alpha/beta/omega dynamics, this doesn't necessarily have to be smut by the way!

Coffee shop/Cafe/Bakery - these three felt similar enough to combine them in one box. They could either meet there or one of them works there

Neighbors - they live in the same street or apartment building. Or maybe you want to change it up and they're neighbors in a different way, like assigned parking spots, rooms at a hotel or campus, or maybe just locker neighbors

Supernatural/fantasy/mythological creatures: anything not human! For example, but not limited to: werewolves, vampires, demigods, fae, mermaids, sirens, etc.

Library/bookstore/author - these also felt similar enough to be included in one box. It takes place in a library or bookstore or they just meet there, or one of them is an author

Fighter Eddie - could be about streetfighting or maybe he is a boxer/mma fighter, or maybe you find a different way he could be a fighter

Royalty/historical - either in a royal setting (doesn’t have to be king or prince, lords etc can be counted too - hehe, get it? Count?) Or in a historical setting (Idk how far counts as historical. Maybe given their canon birth years at least pre 1970s?)

Meet cute - they have a different first meeting, but it's memorable. Usually meet cutes use cliché/cheesy tropes that make you smile, but sometimes a meet cute is actually a very awkward one 😂

Superheroes/villains/criminals - doesn't have to be with superpowers! Could be vigilantes as well. I just didn't have enough space to add it haha.

Hospital - could be one or both of them are a nurse or a doctor, or maybe they're both patients

Famous - one, or both, are famous

Based on another show/movie/book - either taking the plot and putting Buddie into it, or just basing it on that show's vibes and making your own plot for Buddie. You can also do a crossover if you want!

Teatcher(s)/PTA - maybe one or both are a teacher, or they're both PTA dads. PTA stands for parent teacher association (i definitely did not think the a was for alliance or anything...)

Army - one or both are in the army, or in Buck’s case was. Often it's written with one of them out on tour and the other in LA. Or it takes place while they are in the army. It can be whatever you want!

Spy/assassin/secret agent - secretive stuff!

Coworkers in a different career - maybe they both work an office job, or they are colleagues in a grocery store, or they're both cops, any other career is optional

Enemies or rivals to lovers - this usually means they dislike each other first or stand on opposite sides of something but they fall in love anyway.

If you have any questions, let me know!

[princess-of-the-corner]

Public Divorce AU - Early Timeline

(Note: I am reblogging most of these, tagged as “public divorce au”, if you need help finding them)

So, I was trying to puzzle out how this starts. I ended up looking up Paris school years, and it seems they start September 2nd-ish, and end around July 6th. So, for an early timeline, André finds out about the Lees in…let’s say, early to mid-June. Maybe even late May. Again, finds out about them, in just. The worst way you can imagine. So, the beginning of the Public Divorce shit happens while Cholé is still in school. & at first, it doesn’t actually involve her much? Like, she knows what’s happening and WHY, but André and Audrey are more focused on mudslinging at each other. It shows up on the news and stuff, but it’s all early days, so nothing is TOO crazy. Chloé is kind of watching from the sidelines, trying to figure out what to do. 

Around early July is when André suddenly remembers/gets reminded “Oh! We have a kid!” and starts using Chloé as a way to slander Audrey by pointing out what a shitty mother she was/is. This is also where Chloé starts realizing Audrey sucks, because André - despite everything else - is, ya know, right that Audrey is a shit mother here. Like, I’m not sure how to explain this properly? Cause from André’s perspective, it’s “convincing the world that Audrey is a terrible person to destroy her career”, while from Chloé’s perspective, it looks like her dad is almost…standing up for her?? Like, he may not be going around it the right way, but that’s what it feels like to her. So, at the beginning, she’s mostly on her dad’s side.

Then, the beginning of August is when André posts a younger Chloé’s breakdown to “prove” how awful Audrey is. Where he tries to gloss over this MASSIVE invasion of privacy and decency, pin the blame on Audrey, even though HE is the one who posted this footage. Who KEPT IT in the first place. This is where Chloé realizes her dad’s intentions have nothing to do with her. The only thing that matters is taking down Audrey, and Chloé is just a pawn in that scheme. This is where she basically stops going home, really. The hotel becomes a glorified closet. She’s staying at either Adrien’s or Sabrina’s, rarely going to the hotel. She’s switching between rage and tears, realizing that NEITHER of her parents actually care about her. That they most likely never have, that Chloé was always a pawn, or a doll, or whatever they needed to make them look good. It’s all Sabrina and Adrien can do to try and keep her head above water, cause fuck any adult trying to help right now, Chloé won’t let them close. The closest any adult can get to Chloé is (ironically) Gabriel or Roger, and they are both VERY OUT OF THEIR DEPTH.

(Roger is watching all of this with shock and disgust, cause say what you will about him, his biggest redeeming trait is loving his daughter fiercely, and despite not always succeeding, always doing his best to put Sabrina first. Watching André and Audrey use Chloé like this horrifies him.

Gabriel is staring at Audrey and André, getting an unnerving feeling he’s seeing a dark warning about his future.)

By the time school starts again, Chloé has settled into a bitter, numb acceptance. Her parents don’t care about her, why should she care about anything? Most of her classmates don’t recognize her - gone is the put together, fashionable, bratty Queen Bitch ™. In its place is an exhausted girl in mismatched hoodies and sweat pants, little to no makeup, who looks like she got dressed in the dark. Instead of Chloé strutting around, followed by ever-faithful Sabrina, it’s Sabrina taking the lead most of the time, making sure Chloé goes to class, does the work, eats lunch. Sabrina and Adrien both attempt to get Chloé to engage with ANYTHING - honestly, at this point, forget participating in things, they’re thrilled if they invite her to something and she SHOWS UP. The class is floundering, because it’s such a drastic change from even a month ago, they don’t know what to do.

On the flip side, this “Fuck it” attitude does have an effect, even when Chloé isn’t numb and tired. The moment Chloé gets even a SLIVER of motivation, heaven help you if you’re in her way. She is out of fucks to give, so will mow down anything between her and her goal.

It means, oddly enough, that she would be the most powerful Akuma, if Hawk Moth could catch her at the right time. Most of the time? Dull, numb, doesn’t care. Those moments of motivation? Emotion so intense it eclipses all of Paris.

-

I think the real fun part is that on top of this, Emilie has just gone missing.

Hell maybe that’s what uncovers the affair! When Gabriel reported Emilie missing(because he can’t say what really happened) the cops investigate and one uncovers Audrey’s second family while looking into people Emilie might have run away to but in this au the cop isn’t exactly discrete about this discovery!

(Also yeah I gotta. I gotta tag these.)

[midnight-mourning]

Sharing Isn't Caring

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 13💘💘

Hello! Finally finishing these up, bit of a busy weekend and this one in particular got VERY long lol, that being said hope you enjoy!

Prompt: i really liked that one promptober you made about the reader having robophobia ( cause sun killed a few workers and has been avoiding him ever since, scary ass animatronic) is it possible to have a prompt where yn is doing better, has work besties. Aside from the constant threat of being brutally murdered by a friendly animatronic, theyre work life is chill. Its around valintines day where y/n has made friends with the cute new girl. Both have platonic feelings for each other while also being flirty (satire, gotta kiss the homies goodnight) with each other, kissing cheeks, hold hands, other friendly touches. However this does not go unnoticed by our favorite daycare attendants. They too try to be playfully flirty and touches yn any chance they get. However envy gets the better of them when they want to be yn's valentine...

Word Count: 3475

Content warning: non-graphic mentions of death, dying, violence, etc.

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

"Good morning!" A voice greets as you walk into the break room. 

You look up from your phone, small, tired smile on your features. "Ah, morning Jaz."

"You sleep alright?" She asks, taking a sip of her coffee. "You look exhausted."

You wince, a reminder of your nightmare last night coming forth. 

Running, running, running, tripping, falling. Claws sinking in, a scream ripped from your throat, cruel laughter ringing in your mind as it happens and being able to do nothing to stop it—

You shake your head. It was just a dream. They hadn't figured you out. At this point, you don't know if they ever would. Lucky, you'd been so, very lucky so far that they were solely focused on being your friend. Not a bit of suspicion in either of them as to what you knew. 

You hoped to god it'd stay that way, too.

Several months have passed, and you haven't beared witness to anything quite so terrifying since. Though, you'd made sure you wouldn't. You never let yourself get caught up in the evening hours, and you never let yourself be alone with either Sun or Moon. 

Save for the few times they'd managed to make such a scenario happen themselves, however.

Sun had meant it when he said he'd cure your 'robophobia'. They were sure trying their hardest, at least. 

Chatting with you every time you came to drop off a delivery or supplies, dragging you along to partake in some on days they were—suspiciously—lacking a helper. Sun particularly like to play hide and seek or house, whereas Moon wouldn't let you leave until you took a nap. 

Both made it their mission to be as up close and personal as they could too. Touches lingering just a tad too long, cornering you in one way or another, tones playful, cheeky. To an outsider it would seem like harmless fun, but to you, all it did was make you keep your guard up more. Which in turn, only made them try that much harder. 

It was a vicious cycle, but after the incident that occurred a little or a month ago, you could at least say—for now—that your chances of dying were significantly lower than you'd have thought otherwise. 

You'd forgotten your keys. Or maybe lost them, you still weren't entirely sure. You'd gone through every inch of the Plex where you'd been working that day, without a sign of them. There was only one place you hadn't checked, and it scared you to your core. 

You had debated whether to knock on the doors or not. Ultimately deciding that you'd rather take your chances slipping in and out unnoticed then actively invite the devil to your doorstep. Or you to the devil's, you realize there's little point to figuring it out much further. 

The speakers play the usual tune, the space is empty as can be as you peek inside. 

A quick glance around and you spy your keys on the desk. It takes everything in you to not make a beeline for them, instead walking calmly over and picking them up. You're about to turn back around when—

*Thump!*

Directly. Behind you. 

"Hello Sunshine! What brings you here so late? Did you stop by just to see little ol' me?" Again, that cheeky voice that perhaps only you can hear the sinister undertones of.

You suppress the scream and the shiver you want to let out. Instead, you turn around with a small, forced, smile. "H-hi Sun! I was just um, looking for my keys. And what do you know, they were in here all along!" You lift them up, making yourself laugh to keep your nerves in check. "I'll get out of your hair now."

"Silly, silly, I don't have any hair! And besides,"—a hand to your wrist, tone dropping just a tad—"You just got here. Would be a shame to leave so soon, hm?"

You start to falter. "I—"

"So come on then! You look ready to fall apart at the seams, and I can't have that happening to my favorite little assistant!" Sun shifts his grip to your hand, pulling you further along into the Daycare. "Don't you worry, I have just the thing to ease that tension."

He pulls you over a set of beanbags, he guides you to sit down in one, while he does in the other. Before you can blink, there's a coloring book and crayons in your lap. 

"Coloring is always soothing for the soul!" He states, finger pointing up in an affirming manner, then gets to work on his own book. 

There's only one thought in your head at that moment; you're going to die here. 

But, you're not quick enough to make a break for the door, so you have no choice but to accept your fate. Shaky hands gripping crayons in an attempt to distract yourself from your impending doom. 

As you go along, Sun pesters you constantly with conversation and questions. It confuses you, does he just like playing with his food or what? 

You answer best you can, but all the air leaves your lungs when he pops a question you were more than simply fearing. 

"—since we're such good friends, right?"

You freeze, and curse yourself for it, mouth feeling like glue as you tumble out a stuttered response. "Y-yeah. We're friends."

"Best friends?" Sun presses, leaning in close, you're waiting for him to take hold of you and slam your face into the mats just like—

"A-ah. Um, I don't know, I-I guess so? Sorry, I've um, not really had a best friend before..."

You were so screwed. 

Yet, Sun doesn't miss a beat, words a light as ever as he pouts. "Oh, well that won't do. I'll just have to keep trying until you feel completely confident in the notion that we are!"

And you were still standing the next morning. You don't know if it was a fluke, or what, but it certainly didn't seem that way. You'd take what you could get, though, and double, triple checked that you had all your belongings in their proper places from then on. 

Jaz clears her throat. Right. Back to the present. 

She'd been a nice change of pace over the last month or so. A fresh face to help you with things or pass in the hall. You were the same age, and related to each other a lot. It was… nice. To have someone to talk to, even if she couldn't know even the beginning of what you'd witnessed. 

But, you could tell her little things, insignificant, things that nobody could pick up on. 

"I had a nightmare, is all. I'll be alright." You sit down in the chair beside her, sighing. 

She tsks. "You seem to have a lot of those."

"It's not a willing participation, I assure you." You're rubbing your eyes when you spy a steaming mug being held in front of you. "Oh, you didn't have to do that."

A shrug. "Wanted to. Now drink up, I heard from Gary that we've got a lot of inventory to move today."

"Going to be a great morning then." You mutter into your cup as she snickers. 

Work had in general been a lot easier with the additional help, and just in general because of your new friend. She made you laugh, cheered you up on your rougher days, and was just in general a light in your life as of late. Not to mention, she'd inadvertently managed to help you overcome your fear of being touched you'd developed from witnessing the Attendants' actions. 

It was simple things, like touches to your shoulder and arm. Holding your hand and dancing around at the end of the work day, jokingly flirting and cheek kisses and the likes. No double meaning or the likes either, Jaz was just like that with everyone, you'd soon found. It eased you in a way you couldn't describe. You could relax around her and it felt like you'd gotten a bit of normalcy back into your day to day. 

Not to mention, through getting to know Jazz you'd gotten a bit more confidence in talking to others at work, and now had several coworkers you'd consider friends both in and outside of work. Things were… weird beyond that, but at least for the moment they were going alright. 

"So then I finally just told him, 'boy if you don't get your act together, she's going to leave you' and do you know what he said?" 

You snicker, adjusting the boxes in your arms. "What?"

"'But that's so much work'" She exaggerates the tone, with an extended groan and you let out a shocked laugh. "Like? Excuse me? You can't be serious right now."

You're still laughing hard as she pushes the roll cart through the Daycare doors. "That's insane. Does he just not care or is he stupid?"

"Between you and me,"—she leans in, voice low—"I think it's both. Fu-freakin' moron."

You giggle, about to give a quip in response when a loud voice interrupts.

"Good morning Starshine! Oh, and hello Jaz!" Sun stands just to your left, you don't know how you didn't hear him. "I didn't know you knew each other!"

Jaz lets go of the cart, arm wrapping around your shoulder. "Sure do! We're stuck being storage monkeys together. They've been a big help in showing me the ropes."

"As if you needed help, it's pretty straightforward." You set down the boxes in your arms finally. 

You glance over and see Jaz put her hand to her chest, feigning misery. "Oh, but if it weren't for you, i'd be completely and utterly lost! I don't know what I'd do without you, my best friend." She makes kissing noises at you as you laugh, gagging. 

"Knock it off." You swat at her lightly, then you look up to Sun. "If you just tell us where you want everything, we'll move it, Sun. Stop it!" You shove Jaz away as she pretends to try and kiss you cheek again. 

There's a snap then, drawing your attention to the attendant, you see the marker he'd been holding is broken in half, movements stiff as he glances down to look at it. 

"Oh. What a shame. Follow me, I'll show you exactly where to put everything." He turns, steps precise as he marches across the Daycare. 

While you pick up on the shift, Jaz doesn't seem to, simply taking hold of the cart again and following after him. You debate for a moment, and against your better judgement, swipe a wet wipe from the desk. The supply closet is tucked away in a hallway lacking light. So much so that it's Moon who finishes leading you. 

While Jaz starts to unload things in the closet, Moon waits at the doorway, attentive, unyielding in his gaze.

You clear your throat. "Um, need some help with that?"

His faceplate snaps to look at you and you swallow. It clicks to the side a few times as he examines you.

You nod to his hand, which you've no doubt is stained a deep purple by now. "I meant with the um, marker."

"Ah, thank you, Star." Moon snickers, opening his hand for you to wipe it off. 

You take his hand in both your own, wiping off where the marker has changed the color. It's a bit harder to do in this low light, but you manage. 

You don't expect Moon to speak up again. "Best friends?"

It takes a moment to click to you. "Ah. Yeah. We are."

Moon makes a noise then, grating, you can't make sense of it. So, you just ignore it and finish cleaning him up before going to help Jaz. Had you paid closer attention, you'd have noticed how tightly his hand grips the doorway, making it creak under the pressure. 

After that day, you notice that both Sun and Moon have somehow become more clingy. 

It wasn't just short conversations and little activities anymore. It was full blown discussions and non-stop things to do. Anytime you tried to protest that you were far too busy to spend so much time with them, they simply argued that nobody would say a thing. Which, they were right, your manager didn't seem to care in the slightest. 

Those touches from before were ramped up, in that there was more hand-holding, more hugs, more everything, that you'd let them get by with, that is. All of their previous efforts from before felt ramped up, and you had no idea as to why. Not to mention that they appeared to be more flirty as well.

And then came February. 

Right from the start of the month, something was different with them, you could tell instantly. And you soon found out what. 

When you came in to drop off supplies or such, there'd be little notes or doodles waiting for you. You'd find their comments going from less friendly to having a more flirtatious connotation. And all of it only got worse the closer you got to Valentine's Day. 

"Sunshine, come dance with me!" Sun would say, dragging you with him to spin through several songs. Hand on your hip and words soft as he gave you compliment after compliment.

Moon would do similar, asking you to sit with him and read the children stories at naptime, watching over your shoulder and softly singing your praises. Or even better, acting out the stories with you, especially enjoying the more romantic fairy tales in particular. 

And the thing was, much like their attempts at friendship, all this doting felt genuine. 

It confused you beyond belief, besides the fact that it concerned you deeply. You were already struggling enough with this 'friendship' you'd been cornered into with the murder robots, the fact that they were acting as if they were romantically interested was only making things worse. 

The morning of Valentine's you were a ball of nerves. You were hoping—praying, really—that they wouldn't try anything, though you knew the unlikelihood of that happening. At this point, your feelings were so confusing, twisted. You thought they'd approached you because they knew you knew what they'd done. And yet, countlessly time and time again you'd been—seemingly—proven wrong. 

"You alright over there, Sunshine?" 

You jolt at the nickname, sending a scowl Jaz's way. "Not cute."

"I think it suits you well." She snickers, checking her phone. "What's on the agenda for today, boss?"

You tsk. "Not your boss. And I have no idea, I haven't checked yet." You rub your face, pulling up your schedule, only to find it's blank. You sit up, muttering. "That can't be right..."

"Something wrong?"

You try refreshing the page, no luck. "Yeah, my schedule's empty. See if you can pull up yours."

After a moment, Jaz holds up her phone, her own schedule showing up without issue. 

You both share a confused look. 

"Dude, did you get fired?"

You feel flustered fear build up in you then. "Better not of. They have no reason to get rid of me."

It's then that you notice an email in your inbox. Clicking on it, you see it's from your manager, telling you to see him in his office about a 'change of location'.

"I don't remember you saying anything about wanting to transfer." Jaz comments as you stand up. 

You shake your head, grabbing your jacket. "I didn't."

On your way to your manager's office, passing by the Daycare, you hear a low whistle calling out to you. 

You turn, it's dark, the only light is glowing red eyes on the top of the wall. Knowing you don't have much a choice, you walk over. 

"Hi, Moon." You say, unsure. "How's um, naptime?"

He twists, hanging upside down from the wall. "Boring. No one to talk to."

"Well what about Jean—" You cut yourself off, words dying in your throat with realization. 

Moon doesn't catch it, instead snickering to himself. "Sick."

Something in your gut tells you that's not in the slightest bit the truth. 

"Ah. Gotcha. Well, I should get going now." You wave and turn around. "See you later."

*Thump!*

A hand resting on your shoulder, and the sudden up close and personal presence behind you startles you, to say the least. 

"Wait. Have something for you."

You swallow the urge to run away. "Oh?"

"Mmhmm." Moon hums, right beside your ear. "Close your eyes."

You do, it's not as if there's a scenario where you don't. 

A pause. You're half-expecting something terrible, be it something grotesque or even something as cruel as your own end—

"Open."

Flowers. It's flowers. 

Origami flowers, at that. You're impressed by the intricacy of the folding, they're delicate, precise. Something that would have taken even the most skilled of individuals genuine time and care to make. 

And you're being presented a massive bouquet of them.

"Wow..." You trail off, consumed with genuine awe. "I, for me?"

Moon snickers, faceplate spinning once. "Happy Valentine's, Little Star."

Right, Valentine's. You'd entirely forgotten for a moment. 

While you're in your daze, Moon plucks a flower from the bouquet and tucks it behind your ear. He then sets the bouquet into your arms with a gentle pat, then hops back up on the ledge. 

"See you later~" Another giggle, and he's gone, leaving you dumbfounded. 

Your boss hardly glances up at you when you step into his office. "Ah, finally. Sit down, let's make this quick."

You sit down, still not quite thinking clearly as a stack of papers is tossed in front of you. 

"Sign these, and then I'll switch you over to the Daycare in the system. Their liability and the likes since you're working one-on-one with the Attendant. Fionna will be in charge of you from now on, paychecks, etc. Think she lets the robot pick the schedules, for whatever reason. Any questions?" He finally looks at you then, raising a brow. "Quite the bouquet you got there. Do I need to get you a relationship form from HR too?"

You shake your head. "I, no. No, not at all. I, why am I being transferred?"

"Well, you asked." Your manager states plainly, then shrugs. "And you got a couple good recommendations so I figured 'eh, whatever'. You can start today once you're done here. Or take the day off, I don't care, not my problem."

You just sit there a moment, taking it all in. 

'You asked.'

You, asked.

You know a sign when you see it. And you know when an alarm bell is blaring in your head, it's best not to ignore it. 

But when you've got a gun to the back of your head, that's much harder to ignore. 

You pick up the pen, and sign. 

Your steps are heavy as you walk back to the Daycare. Jaz has texted you a couple times, your like a zombie as you type by brief responses. You don't know what to think. Should you be relieved, or counting your days? 

They wouldn't have put in this much effort if they weren't genuine. Surely they weren't running this long of a con. But then that meant they were genuine. The killer robots were infatuated with you. 

You don't know which is worse, you don't know which is worse, you don't know which is worse—

"Hello Sunbeam! I'm so happy to see you!" 

You look up, Sun stands before you, rays spinning gleefully. You didn't even realize you'd walked into the Daycare. 

He claps his hands. "Oh! We're going to have so much fun, fun, fun! We get to spend all day long together! Just you and me! And well, the children too. But still, isn't it great?"

"I, um sure. I guess so." You mumble out. 

The slight twitch to his rays doesn't go unnoticed by you. The slightest of shifts in his tone as he glares down at you.

"Come now, friend. Aren't you excited? After all,"—He suddenly bends to your height, leaving you face-to-face and inches apart—"Aren't we best. friends?"

You struggle to maintain eye contact, focusing slipping to the bundle in your arms as you try to think up a way to respond. 

A low chuckle interrupts your racing thoughts. "Ah, but maybe that's not enough for you either?"

"I, um." It is a miracle you've lasted this long with how you're fumbling over your words.

Sun's hands cup your cheeks, tone still a hum. "Love, all you had to do was say so. In fact, we wish you'd done so sooner." His smile presses to your forehead. "Not to worry, we're more than happy to make up for lost time."

You can only stare up at him with smothered horror as his thumb strokes your cheek.

"And now, there's nothing that's going to get in the way of that."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @pip-plz for the request!! As you can see I had a lot of fun brining these two back lol

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@machopeach @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[joelalorian]

Under False Pretenses - Chapter Nine

Stepdad!Dave York x f!reader | wc: 3212 | masterlist

Summary: A challenging mission, whirlwind marriage, and an unexpected yet captivating stepdaughter push Dave York to the brink as secrets, feelings, and loyalties collide.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ mdni. Stepdad trope. Unspecified age gap. Soft, sexy, and intense Dave. Nicknames and terms of endearment. Cursing. Video voyeurism. Riding Dave in an office chair. Secret spy shit. More mentions of McCall.

Series Masterlist

“The guys are gonna be here soon,” Dave said before pressing one last kiss to your lips. After yesterday, he was more delicate with you, not wanting to see that lancing hurt flash across your face again. He swore to himself to tell you what he could when he could. “Promise me you’ll stay down here until I text you.”

He knew you didn’t like it, but he tried his best to keep you out of this mess.

“Can I at least say hi when they get here?” you questioned. Dave relented, soaking in the smile that spread across your pretty lips. “Ok. I have some jobs I want to apply to. That will keep me occupied while you boys talk about secret spy shit.”

Swatting your ass playfully and admiring the resultant jiggle of the bare skin, Dave laughed. “Come on, Firecracker. Best get dressed before they arrive.” He slid from your bed, pulling on the jeans and sweater you’d peeled from his body an hour ago after dropping the girls off at school.

He smirked when he caught you staring as he dressed, and it gave him an idea. “Remind me to show you something later.”

You perked up at that, sliding across the bed to steal another kiss. “Oh, what is it?”

“Patience. I’ll show you later. I think it’s something you’ll enjoy,” Dave replied before helping you get dressed. The pair of you had a hard time keeping your hands off each other since yesterday.

Insatiable. That’s the word for it. You were both insatiable.

The doorbell rang as you reached the top of the stairs, and you went to answer it with Ranger dancing at your heels while Dave set up in the living room. He heard you greet the guys, your laughter carrying down the hall when Resnik attempted to flirt with you. He couldn’t blame the guy for trying but smirked to himself when Ranger growled at the man. Good dog.

“Well, you boys have fun! I’ll be down in the basement if you need me, Dave.” He mouthed a silent thanks, lips curling in a lopsided smile as you sauntered down the hall. He hated to see you go but loved to watch you walk away. The way your hips and ass swayed always got his blood flowing.

“How did you get so lucky, York?” Resnik asked, his eyes lingering on your ass just as intently as Dave’s were.

Dave grunted in response, his demeanor shifting to pure focus. “Let’s get to work.”

Resnik sat cross-legged on the living room floor, his laptop balanced on his knees. Ari and Kovac flanked the coffee table, papers spread out in front of them – notes on Anna, McCall, and the tangled web of the operation.

Dave paced the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “What do you have so far?”

Resnik tapped a few keys, his brows knitting together. “We’ve been cross-referencing the message encryption with known protocols. This type of tech is used by high-level operators, typical military and spy shit that could point to either McCall or Anna’s people.”

“So, what’s the smoking gun?” Dave asked, pausing mid-step.

“Patience,” Resnik muttered, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’m still searching for a fingerprint.”

Ari sifted through a stack of photos, laying them out on the table. “McCall’s been off the radar even after returning from the dead, as we know. The timing of these texts is too convenient. He’s got the motive – if he’s working with the Russians, this op threatens whatever deal he’s trying to make.”

“Anna has the motive, too,” Kovac countered. “If she suspects you’re not what you seem, she could be baiting you. Testing your reactions.”

Dave huffed, his index finger tapping at his bottom lip in thought. “We’re just talking in circles again. I need something that definitively points to one of them.”

Resnik suddenly leaned forward, eyes narrowing toward his laptop screen. “Got something.”

The room fell silent as the team gathered around the laptop he placed on the coffee table. Pointing to a line of code on the screen, Resnik explained. “The message originated from a ghost server linked to a military contractor – a company McCall was known to consult during his DIA days.”

“Not exactly a smoking gun. Anna could still be involved,” Ari said, his tone cautious.

“True, but this is McCall’s style,” Resnik replied. “The encryption is layered, designed to misdirect. It’s like he’s daring us to figure it out.”

Kovac crossed his arms with a grim expression. “So, he’s playin’ games.”

“Games or a warning,” Dave added, his jaw tightening until pain lanced through his head. He could feel a migraine threatening.

Ari glanced at the laptop, then back at Dave. “Either way, it’s about as much confirmation as we’re likely to get. McCall’s in this. And if he’s watching you, he’s a step ahead.”

Dave’s eyes grew cold, and distant, as he thought through his next move. “Not for long. We need to push harder. If McCall’s involved, he’s definitely the asset working with Anna and Roger. I need to force their hand and put an end to this shit now.”

The other three men exchanged glances. “You force their hand, and you’re exposing yourself. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Resnik asked, his head tilting as he darted his eyes toward the basement.

Dave’s expression darkened. No, he was not fucking ready but what choice did he have. He needed this shit over with already. He was tired of all the bullshit, lies, and subterfuge. He didn’t want to lie to you anymore. He wanted you to know all of him.

“I don’t have a fucking choice. The longer this drags on, the more danger we’re in – that my family is in.”

Kovac understood. He had a wife and kids. He knew the pressure Dave was under. “So, what’s the move?”

“Roger’s been hinting at a big meeting,” Dave said. “He’s careful – never named names, keeps the details vague. But if McCall’s the one pulling the strings, he’ll want to make an appearance sooner or later.”

“Betting a lot on that ‘sooner’, don’t you think?” Ari questioned with a raised brow. Dave ignored him, focused on sending Roger a text insisting on a meeting ASAP.

“There, now let’s plan our strategy,” Dave said with finality.

Long after the girls and your mom went to bed, you and Dave lounged on the couch in the basement. The two of you chatted for hours, a rom-com movie playing on the television but neither of you paid it any mind. You loved hearing stories from his youth and the rare ones he’d share about his military days. Alternatively, his eyes lit up when you told him more about your life. More often than not, he steered the conversation back to you when you closed in on things he couldn’t share.

“You mentioned searching for jobs earlier,” Dave said during a lull in conversation. He turned to lean back against the arm of the couch, pulling you with him as he stretched out across the cushions. “Did you find anything?”

“A few remote options, but nothing special,” you replied with a sigh. “I’m not hurting for money, but I also don’t want to freeload off you.”

Strong arms wrapped tighter around you as Dave pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re not freeloading, I promise. Don’t rush back into something you won’t find fulfillment in.”

You hummed in response, feeling like a burden no matter what he said. You both fell quiet for a while, watching the movie without really paying attention. When he finally spoke again, you felt more than heard the rumble of his voice with your head lying against his chest.

“I think I may leave the agency after this case.”

Your head lifted at that admission; your eyes wide with surprise as you met his earnest gaze. “Why would you do that?”

“I’ve spent my entire adulthood fighting battles for others, doing any number of things I never dreamed I’d have to do as a kid.” He paused, his chest rising as he took a deep breath. “I’m tired. The danger isn’t as thrilling as it used to be. Now it’s just exhausting.”

You nodded, but stayed quiet, not knowing what to say.

“With the girls having already lost their mom, I’m terrified of failing them by not coming home one day. As you know, I can’t say much about this operation, but I can tell you it’s becoming more complicated and dangerous than we accounted for. It’s making me rethink things.”

Dave’s voice had turned softer and more uncertain than you’d ever heard before, the underlying fear pulling at your heart. Shifting so that you laid atop him, chest to chest, your fingers danced along the strong lines of his face as you stared into his warm chocolate eyes.

“What would you do instead?”

His arms tightened around you as he gave it some thought. “The boys and I used to talk about starting our own security consulting business. We could put our real-world experience to good use without doing the dirty work ourselves.”

A soft smile spread across your lips at the thoughtful gleam in his eyes. “You’d be good at that, I imagine.”

He hummed in response and pressed his lips against your forehead. “I’d make more money in the private sector, too. Could buy an even bigger house,” he joked.

“Do they make houses bigger than this?” you teased, loving how his eyes sparkled. Happiness was a good look on him.

Soon, the soft look in Dave’s eyes turned heated and the two of you came together like magnets, all lips and tongues as you licked into each other’s mouths. You loved how he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough of your taste, your touch. His hands caressed your curves as you lay atop him until settling firmly on the plumpness of your dimpled ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulled you down against the hardness growing beneath you.

Too soon for your liking, Dave eased back leaving you gasping for breath. “Get up for a sec. I want to show you something.”

You eased off of him, his large hands helping to steady you as you stood on shaky legs. Grasping your hand once he stood, Dave led you to his office. In seconds, he unlocked the door, eased you through it, and relocked it behind him. “Come on,” he murmured as he sat in the large, leather desk chair, pulling you down onto his lap.

Facing the desk with your back pressed to Dave’s firm chest, your interest was piqued when the monitor turned on. Two rows of video footage from cameras you never knew were there played onscreen, showing all angles of the house and perimeter of the property.

“You record everything?” you questioned warily, heat rushing up your neck as you remembered that night in the yard, the one where you touched yourself as you watched him in the hot tub. Did he know? Had he watched the footage? Fuck, what else did he see? Were there cameras in the house, too?

“Everything outside, but nothing inside. Except for this office,” Dave’s voice rumbled behind you, hot breath sending a ripple of gooseflesh cascading down your neck. “Can’t be too careful in my line of work.”

There was something in his voice – a knowing, teasing lilt – that had your thighs clenching. Oh, he definitely knew what you’d done. The thought was thrilling as much as it embarrassed you. Did he enjoy what he saw, you wondered.

As if reading your mind, Dave clicked the mouse, video of that night taking up the entire monitor screen. You watched yourself walk through the gate along the side of the house, stopping at the corner. The view switched to another camera, one with a better angle.

The video quality was high definition, with small details visible even in the low lighting. Heat rushed through your cheeks – and elsewhere – as you watched yourself spy on Dave. You’d never experienced this before, watching yourself on video like this. It was simultaneously hot and fucking weird.

Dave’s hands roamed your hips as you watched, toying with the waistband of your pajama pants until one hand slipped under the material. His movements were timed perfectly with the ones onscreen, and he worked your nub with the same urgency as you did that night. His fingers felt like heaven, plucking and rubbing and teasing until you panted desperately in his lap.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned when Dave slipped two fingers inside you, thumb pressing against your clit.

“Come for me, kitten,” he commanded, voice raspy in your ear, his fingers moving faster, harder.

And, oh boy, did you fucking come.

You were still a trembling mess when Dave shifted, sliding the pants from your body and easing his sweatpants down his hips until the fullness of his cock pressed against your bare skin. Another shift had his cock nudging insistently at your dripping cunt, ready to fill you.

The video changed to a different view – this one showing Dave in the foreground – and you moaned at the sight of him with his head tilted back in pleasure. He slid inside you then, pulling a gasp from your lungs as he fucked into you.

You could only clutch at the desk, the armrests, his knees, whatever you could reach as he fucked you, panting and keening at the pleasure he wrought from your body.

“You like watching me, huh?” Dave asked, the question ending in a grunt as your pussy clenched around him.

“Yeah,” you whispered, bereft of the breath needed for more sound.

“Me, too,” he admitted. “I came in this very chair watching this recording. You looked so beautiful being naughty, spying on me, and touching this pretty little pussy while you did.”

The picture he painted had you on the verge of coming again, babbling nonsense as he continued working your body with finesse.

“That’s it, my sexy little firecracker,” Dave encouraged, voice tight as he, too, neared the edge. “Come for me.”

You did, like a Pavlovian response. Dave followed you, filling you to the brim with cum, your pussy so full it dribbled out around his cock.

“Fuck,” you breathed, falling backward against his chest in a boneless heap, his chuckle rustling your sweat-damp hair.

When the tremors settled and you both found your breath again, Dave led you to your room.

“Stay with me?” you whispered in the dark, grasping needily at his hand.

“Of course,” Dave rumbled in response as he climbed into bed with you.

In the back of your mind, you wondered how he explained these nights when he didn’t sleep in their room, to your mom. The thought dissipated as soon as his arms wrapped around you, pulling your body snugly against his.

 Once again, you ignored all those niggling thoughts about unanswered questions like you always did when you were with Dave, unwilling to consider the alternative – of not being with him at all.

The meeting was set at a private country club, nestled just outside town. The sprawling grounds were pristine, the kind of place where power brokers gathered under the guise of leisure. This is what made it perfect for what Roger and Anna had planned: a meeting that appeared casual and was anything but.

Dave arrived early, dressed in a tailored suit to play the part, the fit snug enough to hint at his lithe build. He exuded confidence, every step calculated. The guys had already taken up their positions – Ari was stationed in the parking lot with a listening device rigged to a long-range microphone, Resnik hacked the club’s security cameras on a tablet while posing as an employee, and Kovac was stationed inside as a club guest, ready to provide backup if things went south.

The dining room, where the meeting was to take place, overlooked the golf course. Massive windows framing the normally lush green of the course showcased a sea of snow-covered ground while soft classical music played in the background.

Dave spotted Roger at a table near a window, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. Anna sat beside him; her red lips curved into a faint smile as her fingers toyed with the rim of her glass.

“York,” Roger called out as Dave approached. “We wondered when you’d show up.”

“Traffic again?” Anna sassed, green eyes raking in the cut of his suit.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said by way of greeting, easing into the open seat at the table.

Anna’s brows arched delicately. “Oh?”

Dave’s expression darkened, his voice dropping as he leaned forward. “I’m getting messages. Anonymous, encrypted, and very specific. Someone’s watching me.”

Roger’s grin faltered, his fingers tightening around his highball glass. “That’s… unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” Dave’s voice sharpened, the edge cutting through the room. “If someone’s leaking information, this whole operation is compromised.”

Anna tilted her head, her smile never wavering as one delicate hand twirled the cocktail straw in her drink. “And you think it’s one of us?”

He didn’t like how calmly, nonchalantly she was handling this information. “I think it’s someone close to you,” Dave countered, his eyes narrowing. “If this deal is as important as you’ve made it out to be, you need to clean house. Fast.”

Roger shifted uncomfortably, his arrogant façade slipping as his gaze darted to Anna. “We’ve been careful. No one outside our circle knows the details.”

“Then explain these texts,” Dave pressed, pulling his phone from his pocket and sliding it across the table. The screen displayed the cryptic messages, beginning with the first: I know what you’re hiding.

Anna’s smile faltered for the first time, her eyes flicking from the phone to Roger and back. “This could be anyone,” she hedged.

“Could it?” Dave challenged; brow quirked as he leaned forward. “You want me to trust you and your ‘mutual friend’? Fine. But I need to meet him. Now.”

Roger hesitated, his eyes flicking nervously to Anna. A silent exchange passed between the two.

“It’s not that simple,” Anna finally admitted, her voice tight.

“Make it simple,” Dave snapped. He was in no mood for arguments. It was time to put an end to this shit.

After several minutes of tense silence, Roger finally sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. But you’d better be ready to prove yourself.”

“I’m always ready,” Dave replied coldly, the former assassin in him ready to come out to play.

Anna leaned back, her predatory smile returning. “I’ll make the arrangements. But if you’re as good as they say, Mr. York, this won’t be a problem.”

Dave pocketed his phone, inwardly satisfied yet his outward expression remained unreadable. “Just tell your friend to show up. I’ll handle the rest.”

Dave’s heart pounded heavily in his chest as he exited the club. The trap was set, but with the danger of McCall being involved, the game was only beginning.

His earpiece buzzed to life and Ari’s voice came through. “Nice work, boss.”

Dave exhaled slowly, his mind already racing ahead. “Now let’s see if McCall takes the bait.”

tbc

Chapter Ten

tag list: @imdrinkingpedro @lillaydee @ppascalrain @yorksgirl @missladym1981 @baronessvonglitter @slimybeth69 @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @inept-the-magnificent @wannab-urs @thundermartini @peelieblue @harriedandharassed @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @sunnytuliptime @vie-is-punk

[htchnr]

ᰔ COMFORT FICS, various characters.

a collection of all the comfort fics i've got posted all in one place, so that if you're down you can easily find something that'll hopefully cheer you up a little. ⓲ nsfw. ᰔ sfw.

contents in order,, Frank Castle, Aaron Hotchner, Ash Williams, Sam Axe, Logan Howlett & Porter Gage.

ᰔ FRANK CASTLE | not now, but one day.

it's one of those weeks. so Frank reminds you very clearly, that it will be okay. not today, not tomorrow, but it will be soon.

ᰔ AARON HOTCHNER | gentle hands.

you've always had issues with food, you either eat too much, or not enough, or not at all. you've always struggled with it yourself, but now that you live together with Aaron it's a little difficult to avoid or hide. so when you tell him about your struggles, he comforts you.

⓲ ASH WILLIAMS | yourself, just you. 01

bad dreams had been creeping up on you after you, Ash and Pablo left for Jacksonville. so you try and relieve them by doing the only thing you think that might help you ; Ash.

⓲ ASH WILLIAMS | purest hell. 02

after that first night together, the two of you have found sense of comfort in each other. not in the most healthiest of ways — but after all that you've both been through, who can really blame you two?

ᰔ ASH WILLIAMS | unsure touches.

comforting is something Ash has never learned or mastered. but when you come home worn out, he sucks it up and tries his best.

ᰔ SAM AXE | chamber of reflections.

a heavy case leaves your mind drifting to places. maybe it's time to take some time away from work. or, Sam comforts you and lets you talk

ᰔ SAM AXE | butterflies repose.

(Sam version of the Hotch fic) you've got a complicated thing between you and food. Sam might not completely understand it, but he's there for you.

ᰔ COOPER HOWARD | right here.

requested by a lovely anon, can you write something with prewar!Cooper where he comforts you after you've lost a beloved pet?

ᰔ LOGAN HOWLETT | turn into the noise.

after a long and difficult day, all you want is Logan. so he takes care of you, gently rubbing away at your worries until you feel a little better.

ᰔ LOGAN HOWLETT | silver soul.

all you need after an awful week is to lay in Logan's arms. tightly wrapped around you to let you heal a little before the next day starts again.

ᰔ PORTER GAGE | stupid sweet spot.

he doesn't know when he got this soft and sappy, maybe it all started with the nightmares, maybe it's the shared trauma from an old raider gang the two of you happened to be in together years and years ago. he'll never know.

[lovedrunked]

jackson let her words settle, let them sit between them like a challenge. "it never meant anything." he almost laughed. almost. instead, he just watched her, head tilting slightly, gaze dragging over every tell she thought she was hiding. the tightness in her jaw. the way her fingers twitched like she wanted to reach for him but wouldn’t let herself. the way her breath wasn’t nearly as steady as she wanted it to be. her words cut deep, and god, he was bleeding. but he knew she didn't mean it. she was scared, he understood that, he was too. but jackson didn't want to regret letting her slip away, and doom them to long for each other from afar and in secret. so he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, crowding into her space, forcing her to either stand her ground or run. his hand came up, fingers grazing just under her jaw, tilting her chin ever so slightly. not holding her there, not yet—just enough to remind her that she hadn’t actually pulled away. "say it again," he murmured, voice low, rough around the edges. his lips hovered just a breath away from hers, almost brushing against her lips as she spoke. "look me in the eye and tell me it was nothing." his thumb brushed along the hinge of her jaw, barely-there, just enough to test her. jackson allowed his lips to ghost over hers as he spoke, "because you and i both know, nothing doesn't feel like this."

she hated him for this. hated the way his touch sent a shiver down her spine, how his fingers wrapped around her wrist like he was trying to anchor her to something she couldn’t afford to hold onto. hated that he was making her feel when all she wanted was to shut this down before it destroyed everything. her pulse pounded beneath his fingertips, matching the frantic rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. it would be so easy to give in. to stop fighting. to let herself believe, just for a moment, that they could have this without consequences. but she knew better. her throat tightened as she forced herself to breathe, to think, to ignore the warmth of him surrounding her. jackson was giving her an out. one simple sentence, and he would walk away. all she had to do was say it. tell him it wasn’t real. tell him it never meant anything. her lips parted, but the words refused to come. she closed her eyes for a brief second, gathering whatever strength she had left, then slowly pulled her hand away from his chest. the loss of contact sent a sharp ache through her, but she ignored it, forcing herself to take a step back. then another. arden felt the words building like poison in her throat, burning, suffocating, but she swallowed them down. this was the only way. the only way to end this before it tore her apart. so she did the only thing she could do. she lied. “it never meant anything.” the words tasted like glass, sharp and cruel, cutting her from the inside out. but she said them anyway. because she had to. she could barely breathe past the weight of what she’d just done, but she held her ground. “it was a mistake.” she added, twisting the knife deeper, her voice as steady as she could make it. “a moment of weakness. that’s all.” she needed him to believe her. she needed him to walk away.

[archersartcorner]

Yall want my pokemon top ranger spirk AU with matching lunatone and solrock partner pokemon. This is not a question.

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[cornertheculprit]

thinking about what apollo and nahyuta's relationship would be like immediately post-aa6 is funny because yes they haven't seen each other in over a decade and when they did finally meet again nahyuta was acting like a total dick but. while i think things would be awkward (sometimes extremely so) at first, i don't think there would be any, like, coldness to the distance between them. maybe there would've been if they didn't find out dhurke was dead together and then also got held at gunpoint (during which apollo kept trying to run his mouth until nahyuta in particular begged him to stop) but considering All Of That Happened.....i think there would be a sort of frankness between them. like yeah they still have to tackle the whole "apart for over a decade" thing but unsurprisingly it's a lot easier to do so when the absolute terror of potentially losing each other, so soon after dhurke's death, is recent enough to still be breathing down their necks