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rainintheevening · 7 months ago

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They're his children of course. Richard still recognizes them; it's only been two years.

And yet...

Peter is a man. Still six months shy of his draft papers, but he stands, walks, sounds like a man. He always has a pocket knife, he tips his hat to all the females, he sings in a baritone that will only get deeper and richer. The tea he makes is decent, but sometimes he drinks coffee now. He talks about horses and crops and reads Augustine. He can drive a car. He gives orders, and expects them to be followed.

They all look to him, to Peter. Helen calls him to open a jar, Susan questions how her hair looks, Lucy runs to him in tears. As for Edmund, he and Peter are curiously joined, they turn to each other with their laughter, their thoughts, their books and newspapers and letters. As often as his family swirls around him, Richard sees them swirl around Peter, a habit, he knows, born of necessity, but that doesn't prevent it from being strange. Even painful.

Peter moves to take the head of table, catches himself. They both start to say grace, stop, glance at each other. Peter takes the newspaper over breakfast, and is a page in before he remembers. And every time he apologises. Each time he smiles at his father, and it is warm, glad, even benevolent.

One of the first nights, shortly after Christmas, Peter finds him sitting in his old armchair, staring into the fire, after everyone else has gone up to bed. "Dad?" comes the question, and he looks up blinking at the tall man, lamplight crowning him in gold, blue eyes deep and dark with knowledge and certainty.

"I'm not who I was," Richard says, a confession, the kind a father shouldn't burden his son with he thinks immediately, but then Peter is down on one knee, reaching for the mangled hand, tender with the three fingers as he clasps strong calloused palms around them.

"Neither am I, Dad. None of us are." Peter's gaze is earnest, bright. "But you are still my father. And I will always be your son. I am forever grateful for that."

It is as if a great burden rolls off of his shoulders, and he finds no shame in leaning on Peter's hand to rise.

When the holidays end, and the four go back to school, Peter says I love you to each of them at the station.

If Peter is a man now, Susan is a lady.

She sits straight, she walks gracefully, she can cook anything as well or better than her mother. She reads the newspapers with Peter, she scolds Lucy for coming home with twigs in her hair and a tear in her stocking and wet shoes.

She talks less than her father remembers, and there is a woman's sadness in her gazing out the window or into the fire. She is also very admiring of the boys in uniforms, and Richard requests her arm on the way out of church with a father's righteous sense of protection.

But she is also gentler than he recalls, she does not shy away from his injured hand, she takes care of him without making him feel as if he needs care. She sits on a cushion by his feet as she braids her hair in the evenings, leans on his knee as she reads aloud, and Richard thinks, Not my little princess, but a queen now.

At the train station, she kisses him goodbye, and he hugs her close, and there are tears in her eyes as she says I love you.

Edmund is the closest to unrecognizable, the once-obvious four year span between he and Peter seemingly halved. He greets his father wordlessly, all shining eyes and bright smile, and his face is so close to Richard's own it makes his heart break a little.

Ed is no more little boy, he is tall, slim, oddly graceful, but his handclasp is strong. He holds himself the same way Peter does, with squared shoulders and lifted head, but he wears that nobility in a quieter fashion. He's quick to see, quick to hear, quick with a wisecrack that makes Peter laugh out loud. He plays the violin now. He returns the family Bible to the living room with an apology for having kept it since the summer holidays. He reads Agatha Christie as a personal challenge, whispers to Susan in French, and his chess games with Peter are fierce battles of strategy that Richard cannot keep pace with.

In discussions of the war and its movements, he is sober and considerate, he meets each of Peter's moods with a balancing counter, he has a way of phrasing questions that pull out stories Richard had never planned to tell.

A few nights before the children return to school, Richard sits up in bed, certain he has heard a faint cry, and he slips away from his exhausted wife to check on his children, remembering how Edmund had suffered from night terrors as a child, imagining little Lucy inflicted with some dark dream.

But all he finds is shadows in the boys' room, and quiet whispers—Peter's apologies, Edmund's reassurance, and allusions to things Richard has no context for. He lingers by the door, an outsider in his home, until silence falls, and he returns with morning light to find them curled together in Peter's bed, Pete with an arm over Ed, and the father's love is bittersweet.

They have fought their own battle over here, on the home ground, Richard reminds himself. In their own way they have each faced terror and learned to conquer or be conquered, but perhaps he can meet them somewhere in between. Only time will tell.

On the train platform, Ed hugs his father tightly, gives him a smile, tells him to keep out of trouble.

Lucy is the least changed, though she too is taller and stronger, and her eyes are deeper. She still sings, still dances, still tries to make friends with all the animals, still smiles and speaks kind and stares dreaming at the Christmas tree.

She still gives fierce hugs, still climbs into her father's lap, though her head comes up higher on his chest, on his shoulder.

But then he finds gaps in his library, and Lucy returns the medical books with a winsome apology, she asks questions about his practices in the field, she winces but does not shy away from the blood and broken things he speaks of.

Then she recites long poems, words spinning off her tongue until they become half song; she dances swift and graceful, she and Peter laughing and stepping and clapping and spinning in intricate patterns to the swing song on the radio; and it is she who, breathless, quotes Byron: "On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined!"

Her comfort is both generous and thoughtful, and she strokes her father's hair with a motherly hand that makes his eyes sting, and he kisses her fingers, looks up at her to whisper, "Don't- don't grow up quite so fast, my darling."

When she hugs him on the platform, Susan waiting for her, the boys already gone, she doesn't want to let go, and there are tears on her cheek, that he wipes away gently. "Be careful, Daddy," she whispers. "Get strong. Take care of Mummy."

"Yes, little mother," he smiles back.

And then they are all gone, and he takes a cab home, weary of his still-recovering body.

He will have to learn his children all over again, he thinks. But he is proud of them still. That has not changed.

#mr pevensie #richard pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #pevensie siblings #fatherhood #my writing #narnia fanfiction #narnia

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oneforthemunny · 7 months ago

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november rain |ex-husband!eddie munson x ex-wife!reader|

prompt: after your divorce to eddie, you try to get back out there. but sometimes, nothing beats what you already have.

contains: smut minors dni. mom!reader x dad!eddie. divorced. mentions to past angst/ fighting. mentions of teen pregnancy. oral fem receiving, pinv sex. slightly angsty. asshole date, angsty ending. kinda a bittersweet fic. based off this ask <3

You could hear him before you could see him, speakers shaking from the noise in his car, leaving your ears buzzing at the vibrations. The swelling of your heart rose above the annoyance you tried to feign, rolling your eyes and hoping he didn’t see through it.

“You do realize I live in a subdivision? Neighbors and all?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him before he’d ever climbed out of the car, killing the engine and the music with the pull of his keys.

“Yeah? They don’t like Judas Priest?” Eddie grinned, dimples deep, and you knew under his shades his eyes were bright and wild- the way they always were when they were teasing you. “I have Metallica too. I think I still have that Blondie tape you like in here too somewhere, if they’d prefer that.”

Your heart skipped, lips twitching in a faltering snarl that was slowly turning into a blushing soft smile. “You better not play music that loud when my babies are with you.” You huffed, hands moving to rest on your hips, the denim waistband of your jeans hugging you just right in your Levi’s- Eddie’s favorite pair. You knew it, and you didn’t miss the way his tongue ran over his bottom lip.

“Did you hear me?” You snapped, swallowing a grin. You knew he hadn’t, too distracted. “Eddie, I am serious, you will bust their little ear drums-”

“-I know, sweetheart. C’mon,” Eddie shook his head, pushing his sunglasses up, pinning his curly bangs with them. “They’re my kids too. ‘M not gonna hurt them, you know that.” The sun caught a flash of gold, gleaming just for a moment off his left hand.

Eddie was still wearing his wedding band.

Your stomach sunk at the thought, thumb absentmindedly twisting your bare ring finger. The divorce had been final for months- six, to be exact. You’d stopped wearing yours after the first. It was weird, not wearing the small band and ring you’d worn since high school- since Eddie proposed with shaking hands on your front porch after you found out you were expecting. He’d dropped the ring twice, sweaty and nearly sick with anxiety. Your mother told you that should have been a sign, but you found it endearing then- maybe you did even now.

“Where’s the rugrats anyway?” Eddie hummed, catching your glass door to hold it for you, letting you slip under his arm. You caught a whiff of his cologne, faint from the day, mixed with a cigarette he tried to mask from earlier.

“Jude’s playing in the backyard.” You stepped into the small foyer. Eddie had left it to you in the divorce, saying you were the only reason they got it anyways. There was always an eerie feeling that lingered when he came inside, a haunting reminder of a forever that didn’t quite succeed.

“He’s supposed to be watching Lucy.” You hummed, craning your neck to look out the window in the living room. “They’re hunting for bugs.” Your nose crinkled, leaving Eddie laughing.

“Bug hunting? Oh, they don’t know their Mama is terrified of bugs, huh?” Eddie teased, peeking out of the window to see the two kids, perfect blends of both of your features packed into two tiny beings.

“I’m not terrified. Well, of all the bugs.” You huff, rolling your eyes. “Spiders, yes, and I told Jude those were off limits or I was giving Grandpa Wayne back the bug catching kit.”

“You’re no fun.” Eddie shook his head lightly. “Scared of a little spider?” His fingers tapped playfully in a crawling way up your arm towards your shoulder, leaving you squirming away.

“Stop.”

“God, do you remember- what was it? Junior year? When there was a spider on your desk in Geometry?” Eddie laughed, grabbing his side at the memory. “And you shoved all your books off the desk in the middle of class?”

“Yes, and you and Gareth just laughed at me.” You fought back your own smile at the memory.

“Yes!” Eddie howled in laughter. “And Mr. Browcheski got so fu-sorry- freaking mad at all of us. Did we- That was when we got detention, right?”

“Yes,” You glared at him playfully, crossing your arms. “And I was about to have a nervous breakdown thinking about how I was going to tell my parents.”

“That’s right.” Eddie nodded slowly. “That was your first detention?”

You nodded. “I was a good girl until I met you, Munson. You’re a bad influence.”

“Yeah, can’t be all bad though, right?” Eddie held your gaze, stepping close instinctively. Your breathing hitched, his hand gliding over your hip, fingertips ghosting the bare skin above your waist band. “We had some good times too.”

Your head spun, dizzy with a clouding lapse of judgment. Eddie was pulling you in, hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back, holding you so close you were flush to him. His head was already tilting, ducking towards yours, ready to capture your lips and you’d let him. Of course you’d let him, you’d be lying to say you didn’t miss his kiss- miss him.

Lucy’s high pitched shrill had you faltering, snapping out of the haze, back into a damning reality. “What- Eddie, we-we can’t.” You took a step back, knees a little weak and wobbly from the adrenaline rush that always came with his affection. “We can’t do this.”

“Right,” Eddie swallowed, hands shoving in his pockets, cheeks blooming with a pink heat that burned through his body. “S-Sorry. I just- I got caught up in the moment. Talking about that. I just-”

“-It’s fine.” You muttered, pulling the back door open, a melody of Jude and Lucy’s giggles floating in. “Guys, someone’s here to see you.” You sing-songed in a happy tune, face lighting with exaggerated excitement. You were good like that, Eddie thought, still playing nice for the kids. Maybe it wasn’t playing, Eddie really hoped it wasn’t, though the rational side of his mind (and his friends) begged to differ.

“Daddy!” A duo of squeals and shrieks blended with bounding feet up the wooden steps into the house.

Jude came bounding in first, nearly knocking Eddie over at the knees when his small frame collided with him. “Wo-oah, hey, buddy.” Eddie grinned, tousling the boy’s wild curls, frizzy and matted from playing outside.

“Hi, Dad.” Jude beamed up at Eddie. He’d gotten Eddie’s lashes but your eyes. “We’re catching bugs.”

“I heard. Catch any good ones? Any centipedes?” Eddie grinned, bending down to hug the boy.

“No,” Jude’s face fell slightly in a frown. “But I did catch a ladybug for Lucy!” Jude bounced on his toes with excitement.

Your heart swelled, trying to wrangle the small girl on your hip, passing her off to Eddie- well, passing was generous, she nearly launched off your hip into his arms. “A lady bug?” Eddie repeated in a babble he still used with Lucy. She was still small, in his eyes, though she was growing every single day, she was still his baby.

“Did Bubs get you a ladybug, Lucy?” Eddie bounced her on his hips, tickling her sides so she shrieked with laughter.

“Yeah,” Lucy giggled, leaning back to look at Jude in a limp sort of backbend. “Jude’s gots me a ladybug an-and we found a lot of worms.” She grinned, eyes wide and excited. She got her cadences from Eddie, that was for sure, more exaggerated and dramatic with each passing day.

“Are you going to hunt bugs with us?” Jude asked, pulling on the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. “Will you? Please?”

“Yeah, of course, I will.” Eddie smiled, shaking his head softly. “Do you have a spare shovel for me? Can you go find the little red one?”

Jude looked at you. “I think it’s in the garage with the basketball.” You nodded towards the garage door. Jude ran off, footsteps heavy, Lucy squirming to get down and chase after him. “But- hey! Put everything back where it goes, Jude Wayne! And do not climb on anything!” You called after him, voice teetering on stern.

“I got it!” Jude called back.

Eddie’s chest puffed in boasting pride, grinning at the boy. You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Hm, wonder who that sounds like?” You said sarcastically, giving Eddie a pointed glare.

“That’s my boy. What can I say?” Eddie grinned, shrugging lightly. You grinned, shaking your head. “So, uh, where’re you going tonight?” Eddie tried not to sound so awkwardly needy, but it came out exactly like that.

“Oh,” You could feel your body stiffen, a warm embarrassed heat creeping up your spine. “I, uh, I- Well, I’m going out.” You paused, fiddling with straightening something on a shelf, anything to avoid his gaze. “I…I have a date tonight.”

Eddie’s heart sank, falling deep into the pit of his stomach. “Oh.” He swallowed the thick lump in his throat. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were… Ya know, um, gettin’ back out there.”

“Well, I- I mean it wasn’t exactly planned.” Your thumb went back to your ring finger, rubbing the bare skin there. You used to twist your ring when you were feeling anxious, a soothing mechanism.

“Lydia at work set me up on a blind date with her cousin. The-The accountant guy.” You cringed at your words, spouting in a word vomit that you couldn’t seem to stop. Your heart was racing, stuttering to a halt and rearing back with every fall of Eddie’s face.

“I-I mean, I just… She’d been asking me since-since,” Since the divorce, the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say. “A-And I figured why not. I mean…” You waved your hand between the two of you, the tension uncomfortable and thick.

“No, no, yeah,” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a burn of emotions he tried to conceal. “No, that’s- you should. Not that- I mean, you don’t need me to tell you that, but,” Eddie took a breath, finally meeting your nervous gaze. “You’ll have a good time.”

“Yeah?” You squeaked, wringing your hands anxiously. Eddie had flashbacks to years before, when you two were a lot younger, your nervous demeanor asking for his reassurance before sneaking onto the football field at midnight.

Eddie’s heart ached at the memory, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, he’s lucky to get to go out with you. You’re… You’re the best, you know that.” Eddie reassured you now just like he did then, just like he always did.

“Thank you.” You whispered, turning just as Jude and Lucy came back in, triumphantly waving the red, plastic shovel. “I, um, I’m going to get ready. There’s a frozen pizza in the freezer. I’ll preheat the oven, if you can just stick it in.”

“I got it.” Eddie waved you off, forcing a reassuring smile. “You go get ready. Have fun, sweetheart.” His smile was warm, leaving you burning in excitement. Still, when he left, you were filled with a sinking, nauseating feeling of dread, nerves.

Heidi would tell you that you were co-dependent, that Eddie had made you that way. She never liked him, not in highschool, especially not after the divorce. She was always reminding you that you could do better, that you should do better.

That always sparked a fight, one of the many that you and Eddie had over and over and over. His accusatory tongue lashing accusations at you, your defenses climbing higher and higher, both too stubborn to let it go. You were reminded of the fight that did it- that caused the divorce. Days- no, weeks of back and forth.

“You know, there’s times I wish I would have skipped school that day!” Eddie roared, voice hoarse and scratchy from the screaming match you two had been having. “I was supposed to skip with Gareth, but I fucking went, and you know what? I wish I wouldn’t have! Then we would have never gotten paired up and I wouldn’t be dragged into all this shit with you! I wouldn’t be so miserable all the goddamn time!”

His words rang in your head, stinging just as much then as they did now. You took a breath, that haunting memory was the final push you needed to step into the shower, to get ready, and to try and start something new without Eddie.

“So, Lydia tells me you have a kid.” Matthew asked, swirling his wine around in his glass.

The restaurant was obnoxiously expensive, much more stuffy than what you expected on the first date. You felt terribly underdressed, in a sundress you hadn’t worn in years, fitting a little tighter now since Lucy. Note to self, go dress shopping next time.

“Yeah, I do,” You smiled politely, the tension still a little uncomfortable, unfamiliar. “Jude and Lucy.”

“Oh,” Matthew’s brows raised, tone clipping in shock. “Two?”

“Yeah,” You swallowed back that familiar burning in your chest, the one that always came with judgment. Raised brows and pointed glares, being pregnant in highschool, you thought you’d be used to it by now.

“Uh, how-how old are they?” Matthew asked, fingers tapping nervously on the table. So much tension, and you hadn’t even gotten your food yet.

“Jude is seven, and Lucy just turned four.” You felt your chest boast with pride. Talking about your kids, that could soothe you, it always did.

“Wow,” You weren’t sure how Matthew’s brows could go any higher, but somehow they did. “That’s… I’m sorry, you just, you look really young to have kids that age.”

“I am,” You shrugged sheepishly. “I, um, I had Jude in high school. My senior year.” You tried not to flinch, to steel yourself for the inevitable look- the one that always gave you.

“High school?” Matthew’s tone skittered on a scoff, leaving you burning with embarrassment- with shame. Why’re you embarrassed about it? Best thing that ever happened to me, Eddie would always say, scoffing nonchalantly when you were younger and someone gave you a snarling glace in the supermarket, two teens pushing a baby around in a shopping cart.

“Yeah,” You looked down at your hands under the table. This was what you dreaded, the ‘getting back out there’ phase. You had forgotten how utterly painful it was, worse now than when you were a teen.

“My ex-husband and I got married out of high school.” You continued, trying to break up the uncomfortable silence. “After- Well, before we had Jude, but after I found out I was pregnant.”

“Oh,” Matthew didn’t look at you, looking anywhere but you really. “That’s why you divorced then? Makes sense.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “No, no, that’s- that’s not why.” It wasn’t entirely true, at least, part of the reason but not the whole reason.

“It’s not?” Matthew raises a brow, scoffing with unimpression before downing the rest of his wine. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you, but I’m not dumb. Pregnant in high school, married the baby daddy because it was the right thing to do, right? And then what? Had another when things got rough to try and save the marriage?”

Your heart dropped, frozen in mortification, fear maybe, in your seat. “I’m right, aren’t I? I mean, it’s a tale as old as time, Sugar.” Your cheeks burned at the nickname. That wasn’t your nickname, not what Eddie called you, and even if he did- it never sounded condescending and mean like it did when it came from Matthew.

“No shame in it, just own up to it.” Matthew scoffed, leaning back in his seat. You felt small sitting across from him, his lips pursed, rolling over your frame with such judgment it made your stomach turn. “Lying on the first date doesn’t seem like the best option.”

“Excuse me,” You swallowed, grabbing your purse with shaky, sweaty palms. “I have to go to the restroom.” You didn’t wait for his response, the sinking feeling in your stomach only worsening with every step towards the door.

The Hideout was only a block away, still standing strong on the outskirts of the newly renovated downtown. You were surprised it hadn’t conformed to the trendy chic wave that was hitting everywhere, but selfishly you were glad it stayed the same. The wooden booths and dollar drafts, just the same as they’d always been.

The corner booth in the back caught your eye, occupied by a young couple- barely legal looking. Probably snuck in here with a fake, buzzing with adrenaline and the thrill that they might be caught, sharing a pitcher. That was you and Eddie, not too long ago. He’d snuck you in on your third or fourth date. You’d never been so nervous, never felt so alive at the same time. A goody-two-shoes, Eddie called you with a sweet grin, sliding you a beer across the table and slipping in next to you in that booth.

Your heart ached at the memory, chest heavy with emotion. Why couldn’t he have just been better? Why couldn’t you just have been better? Why couldn’t both of you be better to each other, for each other?

The heavy weight of regret settled on your chest, mixing with the draining heaviness of the night. You looked at the phone on the wall, digging in your purse for quarters. You couldn’t call Lydia, not after you’d stood up her fix up, left him in the restaurant. Robin was undoubtedly not home on a Friday night.

Sighing, you cradled the phone to your ear, slipping the quarters in the slot, finger jamming the numbers. The line trilled once, twice, your fingers tapping on your crossed arm. By the third ring, you were ready to hang up, give up and call your sister.

“Munson residence,” Eddie’s voice was soft, still with that lilt of playfulness that made your heart swoon. He’d been so excited when you two got the house, when you got your own landline. He’d answered the phone all posh and silly, claiming you two were “high society” now, moving up in the world.

“Eddie,” Your breath shook, chest rattling when you heard his voice, a soothing force after the stress of the night. “It’s me.”

“What’s wrong?” Eddie snapped on the other end, not missing a beat. “What happened? You alright?”

“I’m… I’m at The Hideout.” You cupped your hand over the phone’s end, trying to muffle the loud music. “I just- Can you come get me?”

“I’m on my way.” Eddie didn’t miss a beat.

“Thank you,” You sighed in relief. “But, hey, don’t bring the kids. Please? I told them I was going out with Rob for a night out, and they’ll want to see her.”

“I won’t, sweetheart. They’re asleep anyways.” Eddie muttered. You could hear his keys rattling in the background. “Let me call Wheeler and see if he can pop over to watch them. I think he’s home for the summer. Gimme a few and I’ll be right there.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, nose burning with tears you couldn’t shed- you wouldn’t shed. Not again.

“C’mon, not a problem.” Eddie waved you off gently. “Hang tight, baby. Be there soon.”

You waited until you heard the dial line to hang up. Your heart sunk and fluttered at the same time, head reeling with a tornado of emotions that left you dizzy. Sinking onto an open stool at the end of the bar, you ordered a beer, the same one Eddie had ordered you years before. You didn’t care much for the taste now, your palette had grown and expanded since you were fifteen. But something tonight had you craving it, maybe craving the memory, the feeling that came with the first time you drank it. Chasing down a nostalgia that you didn’t want tainted.

Eddie was there before you could finish your second beer, only a few sips in. He slid into the chair beside you, hand gliding over your shoulder in greeting. He started to lean in, lips moving to brush your cheek, but he stopped himself before he could, waving down the bartender instead.

“So,” Eddie tapped the sticky wood top of the bar. “Bad date?”

“The worst.” You muttered, taking another swig of your beer. “Guy was a total ass.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s jaw ground tight, flexing with protective anger. “You want me to kill him?”

You snorted, lips curling in a small grin. “No, he’s not worth that.” You hummed, propping your head in your hand. “He was just an asshole. A total fucking asshole.”

“What’d he say?” Eddie bit, hands buzzing, though he tried to play it cool.

“Oh, the usual- teen mom, divorced, so clearly I’m the biggest loser in the world.” You muttered, lip jutting in a pout, looking down at the ring of condensation left behind by your beer.

“He said that?” Eddie snapped, eyes widening in a crazed way you hadn’t seen in a while. “Fucking piece of shit, I’ll beat the dogwalking shit out of him-”

“-No, he didn’t. He didn’t say it like that.” You shook your head, placing a calming hand on his arm. “It was implied. He was… He was just not nice, and I felt like it was getting worse, so I left. Came here instead.”

Eddie nodded, the tension between the two of you a little uncomfortable. The bartender slid him his own beer, saving the two of you from the awkward silence. Eddie took his beer, tilting it toward you with a soft smile.

“That guys a fucking idiot. Doesn’t know what he’s missed out on.” Eddie’s lips were tight in a pain-filled smile he tried to force, but his eyes gave him aways. They always gave him away.

“Thanks.” You muttered, cheeks burning with a tingling heat. “How were the kids tonight?”

“Good.” Eddie nodded, swallowing his drink. “Jude found a centipede. Lucy was not a fan.”

You grinned. “I don’t blame her. You didn’t let him bring it in?”

“No. C’mon,” Eddie scoffed lightly. “No, I made him leave it outside. He wanted to keep it in his bug catcher, but I told him if it was meant to be his, it would stay. So he put it back in the grass.”

“Good. I’ll come looking for you if I see a centipede in the house.” You glared at him playfully. “Did you give them a bath?”

“Dinner, bath, even read them a story.” Eddie smirked at you. “I can be a good dad, sometimes, ya know. Not a total deadbeat all the time.” He teased, shoulder bumping with yours.

Your stomach twisted. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.” You muttered, looking back at your beer.

“I was kidding.” Eddie said, setting his beer down. “Hey, I was just kidding. I know you’re just looking out for the munchkins, Mama.”

You swooned under his cooing praise, heart swelling with adoration. “I didn’t- I would never say you’re a bad dad. You’re not a bad dad, Eddie.” You met his gaze. “You’re the best dad to them.”

Eddie’s cheeks pinkened under your praise, chin ducking with a blush. “Thank you,” He whispered, fingers tapping the bar top. “Just a shitty husband then?”

You rolled your eyes lightly. “No,” You clicked your tongue playfully. “Not a shitty husband. Not all the time anyways.”

Eddie grinned, dimples deep, eyes brightening. “You had your good moments.”

“Yeah?” Eddie hummed, leaning in towards you. “Like when?”

You’re body burned, electric tingles shooting to your core. The look in his eyes, squinting just barely, lips pursing, tongue rolling over his teeth- a look you were all too familiar with. You knew better, knew so much better than to let him sway you, to give into your urges.

“Hm, I can think of a few times.” You purred, leaning in closer to him, lashes batting sweetly. “Maybe you could remind me?”

Eddie’s wide grin stood the test of time. The same wild, excited grin he’d give you years ago hadn’t changed, it still left you spinning, abandoning your better judgment, following him with blinders into anything.

“Christ, I fuckin’ missed you.” Eddie moaned, breathy and quiet, lips pressing to yours in fever.

You shuddered under his touch, his fingers circling your clit perfectly, expertly- he was, after all, been with you for so long, he knew exactly how you wanted it. The house was quiet, the drone of the TV on for background noise, hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up.

“Eddie,” You whispered, eyes rolling back, clawing his shoulder at a particularly perfect rub that had you seeing stars. “Fuck, that felt good.”

“Yeah? Feels good. I can always make you feel good, sweetheart.” Eddie muttered, wet smooches trailing down your neck, down your collarbones. “Want me to make you feel better? Keep you feelin’ good? Lemme make you feel good.”

His hands moved, pushing down your dress. Eddie looked, trying to will his mind silent at the sight of your matching, lacy set. It drove Eddie to his knees to see you in it, but his heart dropped knowing you hadn’t picked it to wear it for him.

He shoved the lacy panties down, letting them pool at your ankles, hands sinking on your hips. You wiggled, stilling your hips to keep them from bucking when Eddie kissed your mound, teasing kisses all the way down to your slit.

“Spread your legs f’me.” Eddie’s breath ghosted over your skin, a half grin spreading across his features when you kicked your legs open, arching forward for him.

Eddie’s tongue ran teasingly over your left lip, your right, before licking a long stripe right through your wet folds. In the past, he would have teased you, toyed with you until you whined and begged for him to fuck you. Back when he used to have you whenever he wanted, he’d lived for that, but now, he didn’t have that luxury. He had to make the most of his time now, at your call, at your service.

You bit your fist, trying to swallow back a moan that threatened to tear out of your throat. Your vibrator, tucked away in your sock drawer, could never replace this- replace him. His touch, the rush of endorphins that came from the pleasure he gave you, always eager to please.

Finger raking through his curls, you tugged him further and further into you, hips grinding on his face. “Th-That’s it. That feels good.” You whispered.

Eddie moaned, sending waves of vibrations to your core, knees buckling under the feeling. Your breath caught, head tipping back to silence the moans, ripples of pleasure crashing over you.

“Okay, okay, stop.” You panted, pushing on the top of his head, trying to writhe out of his touch.

Eddie’s face fell in hurt, in fear, scanning your features. He knew it was coming, the inevitable that you’d change your mind, tell him you couldn’t do this. “I-I need you.” His heart leapt at your words. “I just need you right now, please.”

It felt like a dream, having you wrapped around him in every way. Buried inside you, Eddie tried to savor the feeling, really feel you in case this was the last time. Your legs tight around his hips, arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you as he fucked you into the mattress- into the bed that you both shared for so many years.

Your nails clawed down his back, biting at his shoulder to keep yourself quiet, toes curling in pleasure. Eddie’s hand slid between the two of you, circling your clit as he approached his own orgasm. He knew you were close, knew everything about you.

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good. The best, the fuckin’ best, baby.” Eddie whispered, breath hot over your ear, nipping at your ear lobe. Your body shuddered, hips bucking with pleasure.

“Fuckin’ missed you. Missed you- ah.” Eddie whined, nearly cumming when your teeth bit his shoulder, the spark of pain making his slops get sloppier and sloppier.

Eddie’s lips moved to yours, biting your bottom lip, sucking on it while his fingers slid over your clit until you were shaking, flooding over his length. Your grip loosened, melting into the mattress as he finished, drilling into you.

“Fuck, feel so good. Fuckin’ love the way you feel.” Eddie looked down at you, eyes glassy and dazed from your own orgasm, lips bitten from him.

A final pump, a final grunt, and he was spilling inside you, hips still slowly rolling inside you, dropping his face into your neck. You held him tight, muffling his moans into your skin. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Eddie rambled, chest to chest, heaving and clinging to the other.

A feeling settled around the two of you after you broke apart, laying side by side under the sheets, the house still, quiet, filled with a tension you couldn’t quite figure out.

“I’m sorry you had a shitty date.” Eddie muttered, voice a little raspy.

“‘S alright.” You sighed, stretching under the sheets. “Ended pretty good, all things considered.”

“Yeah it did.” Eddie grinned softly. “Missed you.”

Your heart ached, sinking in your chest. “I-I think you just missed having sex.”

“No,” Eddie said firmly, shaking his head. “No, I-I missed you. I missed this, us.” He rolled over, turning towards you.

“Eddie-”

“-No, I just- I’m sorry, and I know I was a dick, and I-I did some things, but, baby, we’re good. We’re so good together.” Eddie whispered, reaching for you. “We’re meant to be together. You know we are. It’s always been us, it’s always supposed to be us.”

“We’re not good together.” You pressed your lips together, shaking your head. “We’re not good for each other.”

“Don’t say that.” Eddie’s eyes shined with hurt, shaking his head. “How-How can you say that-”

“-Because, we’re good now. Right now, but… but then it’ll be just like it was, and we’ll be right back to fighting.” You pressed your palms to your eyes, chest tightening with the post orgasm clarity, the realization of your mistake. You’d never learn your lesson, no matter how many times you’d go through this.

“Baby, we could go back to counseling. I just- We should try. I want to try, I want to be a family again. I want to be better this time. I promise I’ll be better this time, please.” Eddie reached for your hand, pulling them off your eyes. “Please, sweetheart, one more chance? I won’t… I won’t fuck it up.”

You squeezed his hand, body aching, yearning to lean into him. To agree, to nod and let him love on you, love you. To give him another chance, to see him wake up in the bed next to you, back in the house with the kids all the time.

But you couldn’t.

For them. Jude and Lucy had a hard enough time with the divorce, understanding why you two were separating. How did you explain to kids that mommy and daddy were like the weather; good some days, disastrous the other?

“I-I can’t, Eddie.” You whispered, looking at him with eyes shining. “Jude and Lucy…That’s not- This isn’t good for them.” Your breath shuttered, heart breaking in your chest.

Eddie’s own heart was breaking, you could see it on his face. “I just need time. I don’t know.” You admitted, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “But now, I just can’t now.”

Eddie nodded, swallowing around his own heart breaking. “Alright,” He nodded. “Whatever you decide, I’ll… I’ll always support you. I’ll always love you, too. No matter what.”

Your lip wobbled, squeezing his hand tight in yours. “Thank you.” You whispered. “I just need some time, Eddie.”

“I’ve got time. I’ll wait.” Eddie nodded, pressing a kiss to your knuckles gently. “Always here for you.” He pulled you close to him, arms wrapped around your frame, squeezing you tight to his chest.

For a moment, you relaxed, let yourself feel at peace as he held you. Allowed yourself that selfishness in the still of the night. You’d stay like that for a while, until you sent him to the couch. “Things are confusing as it is for them. They don’t need to get their hopes up if they see us in the bed together.” And Eddie would do it, of course he would. He’d do it for you, for them, for the hope that he might one day get his family back to normal. Back to the way it should be.

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theveryworstthing · 3 months ago

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The 5th Headless Haunting: Hand Rod

No one expected Rodney to come back to the studio after the accident. Some did, jokingly, wonder about how Lucy was taking it though. She was very level headed for a goose, but she was also sensitive, with a flair for the dramatic, and grief can really run a person (or puppet) through the wringer.

They made sure she was involved of course. She sat with the family at the funeral, noticeably quiet in her tiny gold trimmed black dress. His mother had requested her presence, even though some joyless news outlets found the whole thing a little silly. The people who actually knew Rodney didn't care though. He was a silly guy! That silliness created Lucy, and Lucy and her friends had touched enough hearts over the years that everyone was starting to doubt if they'd ever get through the piles of heartfelt letters and art dropped off at the studio every day.

So. Anyway. No one expected Rodney to come back. And he didn't.

It's been 6 years now and Lucy's "new performer " never talks to the public. Eggshell Workshop says that she's a little shy and eccentric, and would rather everyone just focus on Lucy. So far these wishes have been respected. So far, they're getting away with it.

These days the fans marvel at how perfect the voice match is. It's great. Sure everyone who Knows had to get used to...how things are now. Even when the cameras aren't rolling she's up and about a lot, wandering the studio, leaving sassy little notes in the writer's room, psychologically torturing that one executive maybe they don't know and also he definitely deserved it.

Once a year she has a nice mother daughter memorial brunch with Rodney's mom.

Everyone who Knows has vowed to guard Lucy's...private life. their goal is to keep lazy youtubers and ghost hunters focused on whatever gory creepypasta baby show fanfic they come up with this week instead of their actual haunted fleece-skinned coworker. Lucy finds all that fuss hilarious of course, she's never shied away from the spotlight, and she wouldn't mind a small role as the worlds most glamorous horror icon, but she appreciates how offended her studio family gets for her.

Maybe the truth will be revealed when (if) she ever decides to retire.

#ghost story #ghost

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syddsatyrn · 1 year ago

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⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter One: A Sleepless Sovereign

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 3.3k

⛧Summary: As Lucifer's advisor you are required to assist him with a number of things. That includes his schedule, many chores, and the occasional middle of the night panic attack.

⛧Notes: This is my first Hazbin Hotel fic! I hope you all like it because Alastor is my next victim. I just want to give poor Luci some love, he is such a cutie and he's been through enough! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and we love her for that.

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The sun rises and a soft glow illuminates the kitchen. Faint streaks of dawn get brighter as time goes by, the sky is painted with hues of pink and gold. Every day you wake before him and make his coffee. It was a morning ritual you’ve come to enjoy. The silence allowed you time to think and plan your day. As you fill a cup full of coffee, the smell permeates the air.

You carefully take the cup upstairs on a tray and down a long hallway. The air hummed with a faint scent of luxury. It's grandiose and extravagant manor, with gold trim in the hallway. Apples and angelic wings decorate the molding. Your footsteps echo against the marble floors until you stop at the large double doors. You open the right side of the door quietly. The room is dark, some light peeked through the window, but the long velvet curtains block out most of it.

He's so peaceful, lying there, the silk sheets covering his midsection leave little to the imagination. His messy blonde hair and soft face has always made your heart skip a beat. Soft snores escape his lips, you almost feel bad for waking him up while he’s in such a state.

“Your majesty?” You finally speak. The King stirs and covers his face with his hands. He lets out a small groan in response.

*It's time to get up, sir.” You say as Lucifer slowly and reluctantly sits up. You hand him his coffee with a smile, he looks up at you with drowsy eyes.

“Thank you, y/n.” He replied, taking a sip of the warm and bitter drink.

You start to stroll around his room, picking up clothes that have been tossed and putting them in the laundry basket. Lucifer watches as you pick up his messy room, sipping his coffee occasionally.

“You don't have to do all that y’know.” Lucifer says, feeling a little guilty about his disorganization.

“Oh but I do, sir.” You said with a straight face.

“Y/N, I don't know what I would do without you.” He admits with a soft chuckle.

You smile, your face turns a little pink but it's hard to tell with the lights off. You walk over to the curtains and draw them open. Lucifer doesn't look too pleased with how bright it is. You walk over to his wardrobe and shuffle through the many different articles of clothing until you find his white suit with red accents.

“Your daughter called, there are documents you need to look over and you have a meeting this afternoon.” You remind him as you place his clothes on the corner of his large bed.

“Can I just go back to sleep?” Lucifer pleads with you and you let out a small sigh.

“Every day you ask me the same question and every day I tell you the same answer…”

“So that's a no…?” He chuckles softly.

That is correct, your majesty.” You roll your eyes as you leave him to get dressed for the day.

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

The relationship between you two has always been a little strange. You were hired many years ago as a maid for his estate. But after a small while grew to be his right hand, now you’re titled as his “advisor”. You take your job very seriously, everyday you make his coffee, bring him his meals, complete household chores, chauffeur him around, you even attend his meetings for him occasionally. Your entire life is devoted to your King, you felt it was a respectable title. You've worked hard to get to this point, and recognize the power that comes with that. After many years of proving yourself, Hell sees you as an extension of the royal family.

Lucifer had quite a soft spot for you, he offered you a room in his home so you can do your job without the bothersome commute. He pays you well and allows you access to many of his personal assets. The free room and board, along with never having to cook for yourself made it all worth it.

After some time you developed some feelings for him, but you would never admit that. You’re not up to that societal standard. You’ve always told yourself he could have anyone he wanted, which is true. The King of Hell was dashing and charming, but also extremely powerful. Despite all that he doesn't seem to fraternize with anyone, ever since Lilith left, it’s like he's lost that part of himself.

It was time for you to get yourself a cup of coffee and bring his breakfast to the dining hall. After finishing your task you sit down at the dining table and enjoy your coffee. Not long after, Lucifer emerges, dressed, but still looking rather fatigued.

“Did you not sleep well, sir?” You ask and bring your cup to your lips.

“No, I was tossing and turning all night.” He grumbles, the dark bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway.

“Hmm…you’ve been doing that quite a bit more often than usual.” You remark.

“I know! What is up with that? It's ridiculous.” The king says with a huff.

“Ridiculous indeed, sir.”

Lucifer called Charlie on his cellphone, and talked about the Hotel she was running. Charlie says he is due for a visit so you make a mental note to schedule that later. Your mind wanders as he talks on the phone while eating various fruits. The last time Lucifer wasn’t sleeping well he was having nightmares. You remember one awful night in particular, you were up late finishing some paperwork for him when suddenly you hear a scream coming from his room. You rush in and he's curled up in a ball, sobbing. You immediately crawl into his bed to comfort him, he laid his head in your lap and you played with his blonde hair until he fell back to sleep.

“Y/N…?” Lucifer says and tilts his head slightly. Looks like he finished his phone call while you were lost in thought. You shake yourself from your memories, a pink tint spreads across your face.

“Yes?”

“Something on your mind, my dear?” He asks with a look of concern on his face.

“No sir, it's nothing.” You assure him. Neither of you have spoken of that night since.

You continue to drink your coffee, Lucifer gives you a skeptical look and continues his breakfast. The day was a very average day. After breakfast Lucifer went to his study to read over some documents and sign a few things. You took his almost empty plate and cup to the kitchen and placed it in the sink for the staff to deal with. You text Charlie with a list of dates to choose from to schedule a visit, reassuring her that you’ll make it happen.

Next is time to clean Lucifer’s room. It's not disgusting by any means, more like cluttered. He tosses stuff on the floor absentmindedly and you always end up tidying the place at some point. Besides, you are the only one allowed in his room, who else is going to do it?

You collect all the empty liquor glasses and place them on a silver tray along with the empty decanter. Making his bed was rather difficult due to it being so large, but you manage like you always do. You tidy up his bathroom, finding more clothes tossed on the floor, you put them in the laundry hamper as well. You leave his room with the silver tray and take it to the kitchen. The staff fill the decanter and give you clean crystal glasses. You return to his room and set the tray on his desk. After that, you take the basket of clothes to the laundry room.

Before you know it, the clock strikes one and you make your way to Lucifer's study. You open the door softly and enter, you set down a small tray with a cup of tea and a plate of cookies on his desk. He picks up the cup and takes a sip, the tea is exactly how he likes it.

“Are you here to tell me I have to attend another one of those annoying meetings?” Lucifer asks in a slightly irritable tone. He spins the chair around to face you, his yellow eyes fixate on yours.

“I’m afraid so, your majesty.” You reply. Lucifer groans and slumps back in his chair. Sometimes he can be a little childish, you cover your mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Y/N, I can’t sit through another one of those meetings. I will literally wilt away into nothing.” Lucifer says, he turns to face you and takes your hand in his. He softly squeezes it, your face turns a little pink as you look down and meet his begging eyes with yours.

“Can you go instead? Pretty please?” You can never resist those eyes and he knows it. Your face softens and you squeeze his hand back.

“Okay, but don't make this a habit.” You say you let go of his hand. Still trying to retain some sort of professionalism.

“Thanks doll, I owe you one.” He says with a warm smile, the same smile that makes your heart skip a beat every single time. You bow and leave him to his work, once you get behind closed doors you let out a long sigh, you truly don't want to attend this meeting either. But it can’t be helped, the show must go on.

You grab your overcoat, cellphone, keys, and meet the driver out front. It didn't take long to arrive at Carmilla’s manor. You have been asked to attend a meeting with the overlords and report back to Lucifer. The guards led you through the manor to a large meeting room, you open the door and it seems everyone is in attendance.

The V’s, Zestial, Alastor, Rosie, Zeezi and Ms Carmilla Carmine herself. You take the empty seat next to Zestial.

“My my, I didn't think Lucifer would send his pet, but Miss Carmine, I thought there was a No Dogs Allowed sign out front?” Alastor immediately starts with the catty behavior. You don't have time for any of this, you need to be home soon to serve supper.

"Your words are like a bad song on repeat. Spare us." You retort with your arms folded. The Radio Demon gives you a sinister stare and you roll your eyes at his half baked attempt at scaring you.

“Please, can we start this stupid meeting? I have somewhere to be.” Velvet says looking at her phone, not paying much attention to anything else. Vox agrees with her and Carmilla begins to speak on various topics.

The meeting felt like it ran longer than expected, it was concerning how we move forward now that exterminations are no longer an issue. They spoke of which towns were hit the hardest by the attack, what kind of ongoing plans they have and how to proceed with caution, for we do not trust the Angels and their hidden intentions. After a while, the conversations started to devolve into personal ones.

“Lucifer will be assisting the Pride Ring as best he can, any requests for aid on his part can go through me for approval. Trust that they will be hand delivered to him in person. The King wants nothing more to provide relief for his people.” Was the last thing you said before getting up and excusing yourself from the meeting, politely.

When you make it back to the car, you let out a sigh of relief. It's finally over, time to head back to the manor. When you returned it was already late into the afternoon. You hang up your coat and head to the kitchen, you pour Lucifer a small glass full of whiskey and ice. Before you put the bottle back in its place you take a quick swig, that meeting was just agonizing. You needed something to take the edge off.

You walk to the study with the glass on a silver tray, as you open the door, she sees Lucifer in his chair, reading.

“Good afternoon, your majesty.” You greet him with a smile and a short bow.

“Ah good, you’re back. How was the meeting?” He asks, genuinely curious.

“It was…interesting, to say the least.” You reply while handing him the glass. “I can see why you did not want to attend.”

“They are so insufferable, right?” He says and takes a sip.

“Indeed, sir.” You don't wish to mention Alastor’s comment from earlier, the last thing you need to do is give him something to be cross about.

“Dinner will be ready soon. Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?” You ask politely.

“Oh no, you always do so much. Thank you Y/N.” Lucifer takes another sip of his whiskey.

You dismiss yourself and head down to the kitchen to help prepare dinner for yourself and Lucifer.

Lucifer spins around in his chair and takes a sip of the drink you left him with. He’s trying to hide it but he’s absolutely exhausted. Lately when he’s tried to sleep, memories flood his mind like ghosts of the past. The absence of warmth beside him was a void he could not fill. When he will be free from the torment, he is unsure. But every day he wakes up and there you are, right beside him as always. He knows you try to put off a cold exterior, you’re the king's guard dog after all. You were always one to never indulge your secrets but he knew a few things about you that no one else did.

The night you held him in your lap it looked as though he had fallen asleep. While you carded your fingers through his hair you whispered “I wish you knew how remarkable I think you are.” He heard you loud and clear. The King always had a space in his heart dedicated to you, but you’re his advisor, consultant, and au pair. How would the world see you both as a couple? It was certainly something that would be looked down upon by most. A bell rings and pulls him from his thoughts, dinner is ready.

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He sits in his usual spot and you always sit on his right side. Dinner was a mix of high grade meats and vegetables. You cut into your food and display proper table manners, Lucifer sneaks glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

“I scheduled a time for you to visit your daughter's hotel this Thursday.” You remark and Lucifer nods with food in his mouth.

“Good, I’ve been meaning to visit, I’ve just been so tired lately, and If I’m not tired I’m busy.”

“You need some proper rest, sir.” You state the obvious. You wish there was something else you could do to assist him with this.

“Trust me, if I had the choice I’d be asleep right now, my dear.” He takes another bite, his face looks a little forlorn. Usually you would keep to yourself unless Lucifer would outright say something is wrong, but this is different.

“Is there something wrong, sir?”

“No, it's nothing, Y/N. I’m just tired, I swear.” He says, trying to brush off any depressive feelings. You give him a bit of side eye but decide to let it go. But deep down you knew something was troubling him. It was just a matter of if and when he will tell you. You both continue eating, he tells you about the book he's reading in hopes to clear the melancholy vibe in the room. You sit and listen to him ramble on like any other normal day.

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

It was getting late, Lucifer was in his room, drink in hand. Outside, the world slumbered beneath a blanket of stars, oblivious to his pain. With the window open he seeks solace in the cold night air. But the chill only served to remind him of the emptiness inside. He downs the rest of his drinks and sets it on the nightstand. He crawls under the covers and closes his eyes and wraps his arms around himself as he tries to get some rest.

But all he could see is her, walking away, leaving him heartbroken and devastated. A single tear falls down his cheek. He buries his face in the pillow and tries to forget these memories, good and bad. The minutes pass like fleeting shadows, and Lucifer finally starts to fall asleep. But not long after he wakes up in a cold sweat with a scream. His chest heaves and he feels like he can’t breathe, he looks down at his shaking hands.

You were doing your rounds in your silk pajamas, locking doors and shutting windows. You said goodnight to the kitchen staff and headed upstairs. Then suddenly you hear a loud scream come from Lucifer's bedroom, you immediately rush up the stairs to the door and open it.

He’s sitting upright in his bed, knees against his chest, holding his face in his hands. Tears streaming down his cheeks as he recalls the haunting memories. You don't say anything, you quickly sit beside him and place your hand on his back. He immediately pulls you in for a hug, you’re surprised at first but you hug him back. He buries his face in your shoulder, letting out soft muffled sobs.

“Shhhh…it's going to be okay…I’m here…I’ve got you.” You whisper soft words of reassurance in his ear, he just hugs you tighter.

“I’m so sorry…” He says between sniffles and you start to gently rub his back. You wished there was a way to stop him from feeling so miserable, but all you can do is sit and comfort him for as long as he needs. In the safety of your arms, the remnants of the dream began to dissipate. Your familiar voice and smell provided a soothing counterpoint to the chaos of his mind.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, my dear.” You say as you pet the back of his head, his face finally emerges from your shoulder and meets your gaze. You gently wipe away any stray tears with your thumb and give him a soft smile. “Tough times don’t last, tough people do, and you’re one of the strongest people I know.” You say just barely above a whisper.

A small smile appears on his face and you brush away a few stray hairs, glad that your king is feeling a little better. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel more at ease?”

“I do have one request…But I’m not sure how you’re gonna feel about it.” He says, while looking away, he’s definitely embarrassed by his own question.

“Try me.” You reply, it can’t be that bad, he’s never asked you to do anything you’re not okay with.

“I would really appreciate it if I didn't have to sleep alone tonight…” He finally asks, he blushes a little, unsure if that's even okay to ask. You can't help but also turn a little red, this is absolutely not allowed, but maybe the rules have exceptions in times of crisis.

“Yeah…I can do that.” You agree.

Lucifer’s golden eyes widen and he perks up a bit. “R-Really?”

“Yes, really.” You chuckle softly.

Lucifer crawls back under the covers and opens his arms for you to join him. You crawl over to him and settle in, his arms wrap around you and you lace your fingers with his hand, allowing him to spoon you. His body heat and the chill night air was the perfect combination to lull you to sleep.

“Goodnight Luci~” You say before sleep starts to drag you away from this world. A nickname you lovingly use very rarely. He nuzzles your shoulder and drifts off rather quickly with nothing but a content smile on his face. When you two will admit your feelings for each other is a mystery, but for now, you’re happy just to be his biggest support system. If there's one thing you’ve learned living with Lucifer, it's that devotion in any form, is love with wings.

#lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin spoilers #hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor

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comfortscripts · 3 months ago

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A Glimpse Of What I'd Do For You l Coriolanus Snow

Plot - As the First Lady of Panem, it is your duty to protect your husband. Even if it means dirtying your hands. But what is a little blood when the reward is so sweet? Pairing - Young!President!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Female!Reader Warnings - Heavy plot + light porn. They are both mad, but sweet for each other. Murder/execution with guns, blood, body worship (??), nipple play, toxic language (??), light aspects of oral (fem receiving), softdom!corio. I fully believe he would be a total simp for someone on his wavelength Word Count - 1,288

Check out the rest of my kinktober fics

“Darling, could I trouble you for a moment?”

Words breaking through the tense atmosphere that Coriolanus has cultivated in his private office. Harsh oak furniture, meticulously organised bookcases, swirls of browns and reds with faint hints of a cool gold. The help liked to say the cold of the room matched Mr. Snow’s frozen heart, but even the ruthless President of Panem couldn’t help the way his shoulders relaxed at his wife’s delicate words.

“You are never a trouble,” he spoke with the push of his sturdy throne-like chair against the floor, punctuating his words. “Come in, my snowdrop.”.

The First Lady of Panem was nothing if not obedient. Perhaps that’s why Coriolanus allowed you into his kingdom after six months of marriage.

Wordlessly, you rounded the desk to perch yourself upon his navy-blue-clad leg and perfectly placed a light kiss against his lips. The kind of kiss that tempted him to become entangled in your sweet web regardless of duties. Piercing blues too busy consuming his prize, thinking of all the ways to corrupt his pretty petal. Not even noticing you slide a sleek silver tablet onto the desk.

“I have a gift for you, Corio.”

A glossy black screen stared back at him with a barely visible play button. Those pale digits broke from your waist to start the show before returning to their previous position. He could feel the shift of your body and took close note of how you were biting back a smile.

Suddenly a face that has haunted his dreams appeared: Lucy Gray Baird. Coriolanus could feel the bile rising in his throat at the sight of that traitor. Despite the fact she was strapped to a chair with thick masking tape covering her sickening mouth, he felt uneasy.

“What is this?”

“Freedom. Keep watching, my love.”

The tense grasp on your waist must have been aching, almost as if he was punishing you for showing him this she-devil. But it was soon alleviated as he saw your graceful figure walk into the cell of Lucy Gray. Stark white gown, as pure as snow, standing there inches away from her. Stoic guards either side of your regal stance, part of Coriolanus compared your image to the Queen being flanked by knights on his chessboard staring down a lowly pawn.

“Firstly, I'd like to say thank you, Lucy Gray. If you hadn’t betrayed the only good thing in your life, I wouldn’t have my darling husband. Truly, I appreciate it.”

This wasn’t his snowdrop. Never had he heard your voice that dominant and cold. Part of him preened at the words being spoken, yet he feared what was to come. Who had he married?

“You were very difficult to track down. See, originally, I wanted you gone because I knew he loved you, and I don’t like sharing. But then I found out that you wanted to destroy him. Drive him insane with your silly little tweety songs. And, well, no one can drive him crazy except me.”

Just as his mind caught up with the intentions of your words, a glistening of his father’s legendary pistol came into focus. Pointed between the eyes of the witch who once trapped his heart.

“Goodbye Lucy Gray. No one will remember you, and the Snow family will live forever.”

The bang of the bullet felt like an earthquake, but the image of you, his innocent little petal, with blood seeping into your porcelain dress was enough to silence all thoughts. Screen fading to black as the guards moved to remove the body.

“Did you like my gift?”

It was so small, as if you had made him a cake and were afraid that you’d added too little sugar. This was the wife he knew, and the wife he was growing to love. He always knew you were perfect; that is why he agreed to his marriage, but this was more than he could ask for.

He craved loyalty, obsession, ruthlessness, and compliance. You were everything he would ever need, wrapped in a pink bow. Finally, an equal, someone to love him the way he wished to be loved. Coriolanus would get rid of anyone you wished, and to know he has your devotion makes him feel invincible.

“It may be the best present anyone has ever given me. Let me thank you for it properly.”

Spider-like touches tingled down your spine before feeling the cool air prick your skin as Corio relieved the zip of its job, allowing your dress to pool in your lap. Three abrupt taps on the desk said everything, and within moments, you settled your bare body against the chill of the wood. There was nothing better than feeling his eyes map your body with such hunger. Swirls of lust flush through his eyes as he lightly runs his long digits over the exposed skin.

“Who knew my sweetheart could be so fierce? Those hands weren’t made for killing; they are far too pretty. And who would have expected those callous words to come from such beautiful lips? But you did it for me. Everything you do is for me.”

Standing to attention, he traced the expanse of your collarbone with featherlight touches. Eyes wide watching him in anticipation, every touch made your arousal swell. Never would you rush him; he ruled Panem and your heart. He was your purpose. He was yours. Coriolanus intoxicated you. Faint scents of leather and brandy washed over your senses; the heat of his body against your as he placed calculated kisses against your skin made you dizzy. With so little, he made you feel so much.

A gentle moan fell from your lips as the young president found his mouth on your taunt nipple, carefully flicking the tip with his talented tongue. Oh, how you wish that scandalous mouth was somewhere else right now. His appreciation was felt full force. Those large hands groped at your skin as if he were trying to consume you. Leaving a litter of marks and nips across your chest, as if he were an artist and you, his canvas.

“I would do anything for you, my dear. You gave me freedom from that whore, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to have your love. You are my only obsession. So tell me. Name it, and it is yours.”

A sense of shock washes over you; he has never once asked what you wanted in the bedroom. As with many things in his life, Coriolanus was not open to advice or direction. Images flashed of what you wanted but your tongue tangled as you went to voice it. So caught in the moment, it felt impossible to string a coherent sentence.

“I want- I want you.”

“Be specific, my snowdrop.”

He knew what you wanted. Sinking to the floor as one arm curls around the thickness of your thigh, pulling you closer to his body. That smile told you that he knew, he always knows. Coriolanus wanted to see whether your boldness extended past the video.

“Tell me, Mrs. Snow, how can I please you? You have pleased me so, and I want to show my appreciation, so tell me. Now.”

The feeling of his breath against the wet patch growing on your panties sent a shiver down your spine, feeding the need for his mouth on you. You needed him carnally. Hands wrapped in those icy locks, pale fingers curling inside, and him acting as if he were a man starved.

“I need your mouth- your fingers. Please Corio. Thank me with your mouth. Worship my pussy with those fingers, please, my love.”

Fingers hooking the corners of your underwear, gently discarding the elegant lace. Stormy blues and a haunting smirk told you that he'd be thanking you for hours to come.

“As you wish, my love. I am yours to use, as you are mine.”

A King is only as good as his Queen.

#kinktober 2024 #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth smut #corio snow #kinktober

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koolades-world · 7 months ago

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Hiii I love your blog

Can you do the brothers reacting to Mc bringing back abandoned baby they found in the ally and they felt bad and want to raise it. And how will they raise the baby too

Sorry if it dosent make sense but take your time❤️❤️❤️

hello! sure thing :)

enjoy <3

Mc finds an abandoned baby and brings it home

Lucifer

he's probably the most shocked haha

after questioning you a little bit, he's on board

he’s a father at heart and it’s probably a nice change of pace taking care of a child rather than his adult brothers haha

always have your camera ready to take cute photos of luci with the newest edition of the family together <3

Mammon

like you, he has a heart of gold, and of course he's going to accept this child as his own

as soon as possible, he's going to get pictures of the both of you to keep in his wallet <3

he's actually pretty responsible when he wants to be, so he will step up to the plate, since it's you

however, he may start to use the little one in his various schemes and teach them his sticky fingered ways, so he sure to keep an eye on the new dynamic duo haha

Levi

this is something right out of one of his favorite animes! that ends with the two main characters falling in love... he shut up the moment he realized what he was saying to you haha

he's nervous with the fact that you're entrusting such a role with little old him

but he's going to make it his goal to do his best! he's actually excited to teach the kid about all his favorite games despite the fact that they're still very young haha

he's not sure how it'll go, but as long as you're by his side, he has nothing to worry about

Satan

he's worried about both you and this child you'd just come home with

because why were they in an alley and why were you in an alley?

after he gets past that, he gets to work with purchasing everything you'll both need to take care of the child

what? did you think he'd let you raise them all by yourself?

Asmo

he's half excited half alarmed haha

excited because that means he gets to decorate a nursery and shop for the cutest little clothes for this baby

alarmed because he knows how time consuming babies can be

but, he's ready to help out because he trusts you and your judgment

Beel

he immediately accepts this baby as part of his family now

he's not sure how good of a father figure he might be, but he'd do anything for you

he always makes sure the baby is eating enough

anything you do, he'll do too, because it's you <3

Belphie

shake him first to make sure he's awake

then just show him the baby and call it your baby

that'll get his attention for sure haha

he'll do anything for you, he just didn't expect that to be raise a child with you haha

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #obey me leviathan

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fantastic-nonsense · 2 years ago

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My hottake is that people are trying to fit Lockwood into character archetypes he doesn't fit, because they see "traumatized teen boy with a big ego and a passive death wish" and go "oh. emotionally unavailable asshole character" when that's.....not actually the character we're shown.

He's constantly praising Lucy and George. He's often the first one to try and apologize when he gets into a fight with them. The second he clocks Lucy as a "safe person" he becomes super touchy and holds her hand constantly. He compliments George's cooking. He's visibly proud of the people he cares about and publicly defends them on multiple occasions. He repeatedly asks his team if they're okay and tries to get them to open up when they're having issues. He makes an obvious, conscious effort to repeatedly tell Lucy he believes in her and wants her to stay at Portland Row. He smiles and jokes and laughs around with them on a pretty regular basis. He's also emotionally aware enough to tell Lucy "the reason I haven't talked about this subject with you is because it's relevant my childhood, which I don't like to talk about because it's pretty traumatic" when she questions him ahout Jessica's door, and he's kind of astonishingly open about his trauma with Lucy and George despite generally being unwilling to actually talk about the details.

And this applies to characters other than Lucy and George, too. He compliments Kipps' team during the graveyard fight and clearly respects Flo, for example. He's kind to Winkman's son, is generally polite to his clients, and is affected by the death of the undercover agent to the point of having a panic attack. It's pretty clear he cares deeply about the people around him even as he tries to push those closest to him away so they won't mourn him if (when) he dies.

Like yeah, Lockwood has an ego the size of Manhattan, has enough trauma to fill a boat, and is worryingly flippant about the worth of his own life, but he's not the Asshole With a Heart of Gold archetype. He's not cruel or deliberately mean (at least, not to anyone who's not Kipps). He's friendly and pretty kind to most people most of the time, and he openly cares about his team. And it's a little weird that I'm seeing so many people talk about him like he's not.

#lockwood and co #lockwood meta #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #george karim #hashtag not all egotistical and emotionally constipated teenage boys are the same!

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cooneyscross · 8 months ago

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I loved you Leah Williamson fic! I was wondering if you could do a Lucy Bronze x matildas reader where reader and lucy both player for barca and then they verse each other in the world cup semi final

Don't Be Sorry - Lucy Bronze

Lucy bronze x matildas!reader

summary - the Matildas lose to England in the semi final of the womens world cup and you take the blame.

warnings - death threats and hate comments

90+ minutes of you playing your heart out, the hope of a World Cup final promised if your team could get the result you desperately wanted slipped through your fingers as the dreaded sound of the full-time whistle rang through your mind. You collapse to the floor, face buried in your hands as you feel your tears wet the floor around you. The salty taste burned your already parched throat as you sobbed into your hand.

You were never an emotional person over football, but you had the weight of an entire country resting on your shoulders and you had let them down.

This was the moment you had spent your life working towards, ever since you were 4 years old, when you first watched a game of women's football you had made it your goal to one day be like the women you had seen on your screen. You promised yourself that one day you would represent your country in a World Cup, and now that dream had become reality you had stuffed everything up.

The haunting images of the ball flying past you and into the net still haunts you. You had the chance to stop the ball from going in but stuck your leg out too far and the ball went right past.

Not only did you feel like you had let down your fans, you had let down your teammates as well. It was your job as the team's main center-back to stop the goals and you failed. It was a stupid mistake for Tony to pick you to start, even more stupid that he'd kept you on the full game.

You felt the England player's hands patting you softly on the back, but you didn't bother getting up to congratulate them on their success not feeling up to facing other people.

'Hey, it's going to be ok y/n/n.' You hear the soft, comforting whisper of your captain, whose voice makes you sob even harder. You roll over onto your back so you can see her properly, out of everyone on this pitch you knew you owed her a proper apology.

'I'm so sorry Sam.' Your voice is hoarse and it pains you to see her tear-stained cheeks 'I let the whole team down, I know how much this meant to you. I'm sorry for ruining it, you deserved the win.' You burst into tears again as your captain pulled you into a warm embrace, rubbing your back to try and calm you down.

'This is not your fault.' She says, her voice is stern but you know she's not using the tone in a mean way, 'You played your heart out. I'm not allowing you or anyone to take the blame for the result. Every single person who has pulled on the green and gold jersey this tournament needs to be proud of everything they have done. We've made history this World Cup and that can't be forgotten because of one game. We still have the bronze medal match, we need to dust ourselves off and focus on winning that.' Your breathing slows down, knowing you were overreacting and that Sam was right. You needed to concentrate on the third-place game, there was still a chance to bring home some silverware for your country.

As you rose from the ground, extending congratulations to several of the Lionesses for their victory, you found yourself mid-conversation with Kyra and Mini. Suddenly, you felt the gentle embrace of two arms encircling your waist and a head nestling into the curve of your neck.

You turn around, enveloping your girlfriend in an embrace, the silent language of your intertwined bodies speaks more than any words could in the moment. It was a relief to be in the arms that felt more like home than anywhere else, her presence was all you needed to feel slightly better. Tears trickle down your cheeks again, a release from the flood of emotions that have become too overwhelming.

After a while the silence is broken 'I'm so sorry,' Lucy whispers into your ear 'I know how much this meant to you baby, I wish it didn't have to end this way.' You shake your head at her words, not wanting to ruin the special moment that she had also worked so hard for.

'Luc, don't be sorry. I'm not hearing it. Go and make the most of this moment. You deserve it.' You say pulling out of the hug, not wanting your disappointment to ruin her occasion, you knew better than anyone how much effort Lucy put into getting here in her career.

Lucy looks at you with sincerity in her eyes, you can see how excited she is to have made it to a World Cup final, but she still stays with you instead of celebrating with her team. You know you would've done the same thing if the roles were reversed but you still feel bad for keeping her away. 'Babe, go celebrate, I know you want to.' You tell her, your tone almost demanding.

But she doesn't leave your side and for the next 15 minutes she's constantly peppering your face with kisses and expressing words of admiration and respect, acknowledging the relentless dedication you had put into getting here. You keep trying to push her away but she refuses to leave, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and keeping you tucked as close to her as she possibly could not letting you free anytime soon.

Whilst you walk around the pitch together the fact that you two are rivals dissolves, no one would know that one of you had just lost to the other in a World Cup semi-final if it wasn't for the two different jerseys the two of you were wearing.

You gaze at her, and you know that you look like the biggest simp for her as you send her a loving look. The fan's edits after this match would be crazy.

The two of you were a popular couple that the fans adored even though you two had never properly gone public with your relationship, you just weren't the best at keeping it much of a secret.

Neither of you minded though, you found both the tiktoks quite funny.

After a little more walking around with Lucy, you know you can't let her stay with you any longer. 'You've poured your heart into every match, every training session,' you murmur, your voice barely a whisper against the loud atmosphere. 'You deserve this win more than anyone. This victory is yours, you've earned it through all your determination and hard work. Now please go and celebrate, I know that you'll be greatly missed in the changing rooms. I refuse to keep you to myself anymore, we'll have so much time just the two of us back in Barca. I love you, now enjoy your win' You tell her managing to wriggle free from her tight grip and place a light kiss on her lips, which she tries to deepen before you pull away laughing lightly at her clinginess.

'I love you sunshine.' She tells you blowing you a kiss before running over to her teammates who all bring her in for a large group hug. You smile at her almost forgetting how you'd felt only a short time ago.

Seeing Lucy happy made you happy.

'Hello, Miss Bronze.' Caitlin says standing beside you and you can hear the smirk in her voice. 'Care to join your team anytime soon or are you going to keep staring at your girl like a freak for the rest of the night?' She laughs and you shove her slightly.

'I'm coming, you can piss off now.' You tell the brunette, following her towards the team huddle not too far away from where you were. Steph and Kyra wrap their arms around you as you squeeze into the team circle.

The circle is quieter than your previous huddles, the energy gone from the disappointing loss and everyone exhausted from the game you'd just played.

Tony speaks to everyone, telling us it's not over yet and we can't stop working. The talk is coming to an end when he begins to talk about how we should all be very proud of ourselves 'You girls should all be extremely proud of what you have done,' he waves his hand across the sea of fans in green and gold, still screaming and cheering despite the loss. 'Every single one of you has won the hearts of a nation, you have inspired generations to come, and have changed the future of women's football in Australia. That is an incredible achievement.' A small round of applause echoes throughout the group and Tony finishes up the talk letting everyone head off.

All the girls do one more lap of the field, thanking the fans for their support before quickly getting changed and heading back to the hotel, everyone wanting a good nights rest after the long day.

The next day, the bright sun and Kyra's snoring wakes you up. You chuck a pillow at her, laughing at her annoyed grunts and swearing before getting out of bed, showering, and getting changed. You're quick, not wanting to be late for Lucy as the two of you had planned to go out for coffee this morning. You were excited to see how hungover she would be, you'd be surprised if she even managed to get out of bed this morning.

You weren't meant to be meeting Lucy until 10 and it was only 9:15 when you got out of the shower, so you took the extra time to scroll on your phone.

You had hardly thought about the game last night, knowing it would only affect your upcoming game if you worried about that too much. But as you open your phone, which you hadn't been on since before the game, your stomach twists and you feel like you're going to be sick.

A million notifications pop up on your screen. DM's of people telling you to kill yourself and posts that tagged you showing the two goals you couldn't stop yesterday. You tried not to read them but there were too many and you couldn't stop yourself.

Y/N L/N can go fucking throw herself off the Sydney Harbor Bridge for all I care. What a fucking joke this is, I knew women's football would suck. You're telling me that a 'professional' fullback can't stop the easiest goals. hope she fucking dies, let down a whole country.

Morning Y/N, hope you slept terribly last night. Let down a whole country with your shit performance. I'm sure many people would appreciate it if you took a break from football and found a job you're good at. I don't want to see you step foot on a pitch ever again and if you do I'll make sure you're sorry for it.

L/N just proves that female athletes are all just sluts, lost her team a world cup semi-final and all she did after the game was eye fuck Lucy Bronze, what happened to being a team player?

Hi Y/N, thanks to you my daughter cried herself to sleep last night, what happened to inspiring all the young girls, get a fucking life and get back into the kitchen. women like you don't belong on a football pitch. Never touch a football again thanks.

There were so many, all saying the same kind of things that it all just blurred together. Your thoughts from yesterday returned and all you could think about was about how all these people were right. You let down your country and you were a joke.

You were so caught up in everything that you hardly noticed the time slowly tick past 10:15 and all the notifications from Lucy asking where you were. You just sat on your bed, not quite sure what to do. You'd never felt more like a failure in your life, tears poured down your face they were practically choking you but you didn't mind.

You had let down your country and thousands of people agreed with you.

When you didn't answer Lucy's fifth call she got seriously worried. You always had your phone on you and you never ignored Lucy's calls. She called you one more time and when you didn't answer, she took matters into her own hands.

As soon as the Uber arrived outside your hotel, Lucy sprinted up to your room. Until security stopped her at the front desk, demanding that she prove that she was staying at the hotel before they let her in.

She was begging them for a good five minutes until it got to the point when she was offering money for them to let her in. Fortunately, Alanna spotted Lucy at the desk and after seeing her desperate expression she decided to go over and see what was happening.

'Is everything all right?' She asked both the receptionist and Lucy.

'She's not letting me see y/n/n' Lucy snapped shooting the desk lady a dirty glare.

'I need proof, I can't just let anyone in.' She says matter-of-factly causing Lucy to roll her eyes. Alanna ignores the lady giving Lucy all her attention.

'I thought she was going out to see you?' Alanna asked confused 'That's what Kyra told everyone.'

'She was meant to, but she didn't show up and hasn't been answering my calls, I need to know if she's ok.' Lucy's forehead creased with worry, her girlfriend was never late and always picked up the phone.

'I'm sure she'll be fine, I'll take you to go and check her room and see if she's there.' Alanna tells the brunette before turning around having a quick word with the receptionist who mumbles something under her breath before turning to Lucy and allowing her to go up, apologising for the trouble.

Her words aren't heard by the English footballer who is already speed-walking up the hallway despite having no clue where she is going. Alanna jogs lightly to catch up to her grabbing her wrist to stop her from walking. At first, Lucy tries to pull her wrist away but stops when Alanna drops it.

'Her rooms the other way.' Alanna says softly, causing Lucy to turn around and start power walking in the opposite direction. Alanna laughs lightly at her. 'Slow down, you're just going to get lost. I'll take you to her.'

You're curled up under the blankets in your bed. You'd been lying there for almost an hour. Your phone was on silent so you hadn't seen all the missed calls from Lucy, you felt guilty for not showing up but surely she wouldn't care too much. No one in their right mind would want to be seen with a mess like you, especially not the Lucy Bronze.

You lay in silence for a while longer, nobody disrupting you as the do not disturb sign was up and all the girls were out for the off day. You were almost too caught up in your thoughts to hear the knocking on the door and Alanna's voice calling out your name.

'Y/N, are you in there?' She asked again 'Y/N?' You groaned pulling the blankets up so they were almost covering your head.

'Go away Lani.' You mumble only just loud enough for her to hear. You are shocked when she agrees and you hear her footsteps getting further away.

You roll further into your bed, groaning when you hear another knock on the door. 'Baby, are you alright?' Your girlfriend asks, your stomach flips with guilt.

'I don't want to talk right now Luce.' You tell her even though you know that's not going to stop her from coming to see you.

'I need to know that my girlfriends ok.' She tells you and you hear the doorknob twist, the bright light that fills your room makes your head pound and you bury your face into the pillow.

When Lucy sees you lying in the darkness she immediately rushes to your side and places a hand on your forehead, probably checking to see if you had a temperature.

'What's wrong my love?' She asks sitting next to you on the bed and stroking your back. 'Are you sick? Do you need me to get anything for you?' The brunette asks the worry evident in her tone. You turn around to face her, only seeing her concerned face makes you burst out crying.

As tears streamed down your cheeks, you poured your heart out to your girlfriend, the weight of disappointment and guilt heavy on your shoulders, you couldn't not tell her about what was going on.

The two of you told each other everything.

In the quiet of the hotel room, you confessed her insecurities, voice choking with emotion. 'I'm a failure,' you whispered, hands trembling as you recounted the mistakes that haunted you from the semi-finals and all the awful messages you'd received after the game. With each word, Lucy listened intently, offering comforting words of reassurance. 'You're not a failure,' she whispered back, gently wiping away your tears. 'You're brave for putting yourself out there, for giving it your all. Football doesn't define you; your resilience does. You are the best player I know, you didn't win Player of the Year for nothing. All the girls were talking about how well you played last night, just because the result didn't go your way it doesn't mean you're a failure.' She places light kisses over your face 'The people hating are all just dickheads, I can't imagine them doing even half of what you've achieved. Don't let them get to you.' She tells you, midway through your conversation she had laid down beside you, wrapping you in her arms. You had your head lying on her chest, the beat of her heart helping calm you down.

You don't know how you got a girlfriend like Lucy. But you were undeniably grateful for her no matter what. She'd been there for you through the worst and best parts of your life.

'I'm sorry Lucy.' You whisper to her.

'Don't be sorry.' She tells you placing a light kiss on your forehead 'You've done nothing wrong.'

'You're meant to be enjoying making it to the final, but instead you're stuck looking after me.'

'Yeah, but being stuck with my favorite person in the world is my kind of heaven.' She tells you softly causing a small smile to break out on your face 'I love you y/n/n.'

'Love you more.' You say back to her.

'That's impossible baby.' A small smirk appears on her face 'I'll always love you the most.'

#woso #woso community #lionesses #matildas #woso fanfics #woso x reader #lucy bronze times reader #lucy bronze #matildas x reader #sam kerr #kyra cooney cross

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codiinsight · 21 days ago

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Champions Of Her Heart | L.Bronze x O.Batlle

Summary: Lucy leaves Barcelona before Ona can admit she's in love with the English girl. What happens when both girls meet again in the Champions League final.

A/N: Requests open, 4.8K words

The pitch stretched endlessly before Ona Batlle, a sea of green bordered by roaring fans draped in Barcelona and Chelsea colours. Every warm-up sprint felt heavier than usual; every practised pass was a little slower. She was in the biggest match of her life, and yet her mind wasn’t on the game. It was on her.

Lucy Bronze.

Ona’s gaze darted across the field, her heart betraying her as it sought out the unmistakable figure in Chelsea’s neon away kit. Lucy moved with grace, her every movement sharp, deliberate, and powerful. She hadn’t changed—not in her stride or quiet confidence. It was infuriating.

“Focus,” Ona muttered to herself, forcing her eyes back to her own team. The pressure of the Champions League final was enough without her letting old, unresolved feelings cloud her judgment. But even as she tried to shake the thoughts away, Lucy’s laugh—low and effortless—floated across the field, teasing her resolve.

22 months had passed since Lucy left Barcelona, 22 months since Ona had watched her walk away, taking a piece of Ona’s heart with her. She’d wanted to say something then, to stop her, to admit the truth she had been too scared to face. But she hadn’t. And now, here they were—not friends or teammates, but enemies in a match that demanded nothing less than perfection.

“Ona,” Alexia’s voice broke her thoughts, the captain’s steady presence grounding her. “Are you with us?”

“Yes,” Ona replied quickly, adjusting her shin pads as if the superstitious ritual would somehow refocus her mind. Alexia remained silent, but her eyes spoke volumes.

Ona was distracted. And distraction in a game like this could be deadly.

————-

June 17th. 2024, One day after Barcelona’s final match day of the season.

The Joan Gamper training ground hummed with a quiet energy. A mix of routine and recovery drills echoed in the background as the weight of Lucy Bronze’s departure hung in the air.

Moving from teammate to teammate, Lucy shared hugs, laughs, and casual promises to stay in touch. Each is filled with the weight of unspoken emotion. The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the field in warm golds and long shadows. From afar, Ona Batlle stood with her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

Lucy’s departure wasn’t a surprise—well, not anymore. The headlines had splashed across every sports site in the last week, announcing her move to Chelsea. When Ona first read the news she stared at her phone in disbelief, hoping and praying it was a mistake.

But the unexpected confirmation came swiftly.

Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze was leaving sunny Barcelona for Chelsea.

The last Ona had heard, Lucy was extending her contract with Barca. So the fact that Lucy hadn't told her before it was announced to the public gnawed at Ona, leaving a dull ache in her stomach.

As Lucy embraced their Captain, Alexia Putellas, the sound of her carefree laugh only sharpened the ache in Ona’s chest. She wasn’t truly angry, not entirely—but the sting of disappointment was undeniable, raw, and lingering. Lucy had been her rock, her mentor, the steady hand guiding her through the chaos of football and fame. Yet, in this pivotal moment, Ona had been sidelined, finding out about Lucy’s decision as though she were nothing more than a bystander.

When Lucy’s gaze finally turned to Ona, she froze, suddenly unsure what to say. Lucy’s expression softened, and a small, almost apologetic smile graced her lips as she closed the distance between them. For a moment, Ona considered walking away, but her feet stayed rooted.

“Ona,” Lucy said gently, her voice warm, familiar, and far too casual for the moment. “I was waiting for you to come over.”

Ona blinked, her throat tightening. She opened her mouth to reply, but the words tangled and twisted before they could form. Instead, something quiet, almost instinctive, slipped out: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lucy frowned slightly, leaning closer as if she hadn’t heard. “What was that?”

Ona dropped her gaze, feeling her cheeks flush. Her voice sank to a near whisper, barely audible even to herself. “You didn’t tell me. I wanted you to tell me. Before everyone else.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed, the initial confusion contorting to realisation. “I…” she began, but whatever explanation she had planned dissolved into the space between them. Instead, she reached out, pulling Ona into a tight embrace.

The warmth of Lucy’s arms around her was both comforting and unbearable. Ona’s hands hovered awkwardly at first, but instinct took over, and she clung to Lucy as if she could stop her from leaving.

“You’ll be fine,” Lucy said softly, her words meant to reassure. “Take care of this place for me, okay? Make sure Capi doesn’t make Mapi run too many laps” Her hand lingered on Ona’s shoulder, a gesture that felt far too final.

Ona wanted to say something, anything to stop her, make her stay, and admit what she had been too scared to voice before. But the words lodged in her throat as Lucy stepped back, her gaze filled with a mix of fondness and regret.

Lucy turned, walking toward the locker room for the last time, her figure fading into the golden light. Ona stood there, rooted to the ground, watching her leave. And for the first time in years, she felt utterly alone.

She stayed there long after Lucy disappeared. The muted sounds of her teammates continued around her, but it felt distant, like background noise in a dream. The weight of the moment pressed on her chest, a heavy reminder of all the things she hadn’t said.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the overwhelming urge to cry. This wasn’t how she had imagined things. When the rumours about Lucy’s transfer started circulating, Ona had brushed them off as mild gossip. Lucy belonged here, at Barcelona, with her. The thought of Lucy leaving had always seemed impossible—until it wasn’t.

“Ona, ¿estás bien?” a voice called out from nearby. It was Alexia, jogging over with a concerned look. “You’ve been standing there for a while.”

Ona forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, brushing invisible dirt off her training shorts. “Just thinking.”

Alexia studied her for a moment, her eyes clearly seeing through the facade, but she didn’t press. Instead, she slung an arm around Ona’s shoulder. “Vamos, let’s go home”.

Ona let herself be guided back to the rest of the team, her movements automatic. But her mind stayed elsewhere, replaying Lucy’s goodbye repeatedly and with it, the ache of words left unsaid.

————-

Thursday 21st May 2026 (matchday -1)

The hotel lobby was dimly lit, the hum of soft jazz music playing over the speakers. Ona had just come from a final team meeting, her mind buzzing with strategies and set pieces for tomorrow’s Champions League final. The stakes were high, the tension even higher, but none of it compared to the jolt that shot through her when she saw Lucy standing by the reception desk.

Lucy’s back was to her, her familiar silhouette unmistakable even after all these months. She was dressed casually, in a hoodie and track pants, her posture relaxed as she chatted with the receptionist. Ona’s heart skipped, her pulse quickening.

She hesitated, silently debating whether or not she should leave before Lucy noticed her. Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of her hands as Lucy turned, her eyes meeting Ona's almost instantly.

A brief flicker of surprise on Lucy’s face was quickly replaced by a soft smile. “Ona,” she said, her voice carrying across the room.

Ona swallowed hard, her feet moving toward Lucy before her brain had a chance to protest. “Hola,” she managed, her voice quieter than she intended. “I mean. Uh.. hi” she coughed softly.

For a moment, they just stood there, awkwardly searching for the right words. The last time they had seen each other, Lucy had been walking away, and Ona had been too afraid to stop her. Now, here they were, brought together by chance—or maybe by fate.

“You look good,” Lucy said finally, breaking the silence.

“Gracias,” Ona replied, shifting to her feet. “You too.”

The conversation felt awkward and unnatural as if the months of distance had built a wall between them that neither knew how to climb. Ona wanted to ask so many things—how Lucy had been, if she was happy at Chelsea, and if she had ever thought about what she left behind—but all she could manage was, “How’s Chelsea treating you?”

Lucy gave a small shrug. “Good. Different, but good.” She paused, her eyes flicking over Ona’s face. “And you? How’s Barça?”

“Same,” Ona said, her tone clipped. She wasn’t sure why the conversation felt so forced.

Another beat of silence passed, heavy and loaded. Lucy cleared her throat. “Well, I guess I’ll see you out there tomorrow,”

“Yeah,” Ona said, her voice almost a whisper. “See you out there.”

As Lucy turned and walked away, Ona’s chest tightened. It felt like their goodbye all over again—unfinished, unresolved. And yet, deep down, Ona knew tomorrow wasn’t just about the game. It was about Lucy. About the chance to finally say everything she couldn’t before.

————-

The stadium hummed with anticipation as fans flooded the stands, their chants echoing across the pitch. The Champions League final between Barcelona and Chelsea was set to be a clash of titans, but for Ona Batlle, a storm was brewing inside her chest. She stood on the pitch during the pre-match inspection, the watered grass dampening her trainers, her gaze scanning the familiar faces of her teammates.

And then she saw her.

Lucy Bronze. Lucy stood on the opposite side of the pitch, laughing at something one of her Chelsea teammates had said. Even in the midst of a team huddle, Lucy’s presence seemed larger than life, magnetic in a way that Ona couldn’t ignore. Her carefree movements, the way she threw her head back in laughter—it all made Ona’s heartache with an intensity she wasn’t prepared for.

As the two teams drifted closer, mingling briefly in the spirit of sportsmanship, Lucy’s gaze found Ona’s. It was only a second, but the look was loaded, carrying the weight of their history.

“Lucia!” Alexia called, pulling Lucy into a quick hug. One by one, other Barcelona players greeted their former teammate with smiles and light-hearted jabs about her “traitorous” move to Chelsea. Ona stayed at the edges of the group, torn between approaching and staying invisible.

But Lucy noticed her anyway.

“Ona,” Lucy said, her tone soft as she broke away from the others. “Hey.”

“Hi.” The word came out too quick, too stiff.

Lucy’s brow furrowed slightly as if sensing the awkwardness. “You ready for this?”

Ona shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Always.”

There was a pause, the noise of the other players fading into the background. For a brief moment, it was just the two of them standing in the middle of the field, the enormity of the game overshadowed by the unspoken tension between them.

“You’ve been playing well this season,” Lucy said, her voice laced with genuine happiness.

“Thanks.” Ona hesitated, then added, “So have you.”

Lucy smiled; it was the kind of smile that made Ona’s stomach flutter and her confidence shatter. “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

Ona bit her lip, debating whether to say what was on her mind. But before she could muster the courage, the moment was interrupted by a call from Lucy’s coach, Sonia Bompastor.

“Guess we’ll finish this on the pitch,” Lucy winked, her tone lighter now.

Ona nodded, her throat tight as she watched Lucy jog away. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It hadn’t been the moment she saw Lucy in the hotel lobby.

————-

The match was everything the fans had hoped for—intense, aggressive, and impossibly tight. Both teams were evenly matched, and every touch of the ball felt like a battle.

Ona had spent most of the game locked in focus, shutting out everything except the play unfolding around her. But when Lucy came barrelling down the right flank, the ball at her feet, Ona felt her stomach tighten. She had watched this play countless of times in training and studied Lucy’s every move. But knowing what made Lucy tick didn’t make her any less dangerous.

As Lucy advanced, Ona made her move, stepping in to block her path. But Lucy was quicker, her body driving forward with an unrelenting force. The tackle came harder than necessary, sending Ona sprawling to the ground.

Pain flared up her side, spreading like wildfire as the impact angered the small Spaniard. For a moment, she remained motionless, her mind struggling to catch up with the shock.

When she pushed herself up, Lucy was standing over her, her breathing heavy, a flicker of concern in her eyes. But Ona’s frustration boiled over and before Lucy could say anything.

“¡Eres una idiota! ¿Qué te pasa?” Ona snapped, the words sharp and cutting.

Lucy blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Ona, I—”

“No, me hables,” Ona interrupted, her voice low but seething as she climbed to her feet. She brushed off the dirt on her kit, glaring at Lucy as if daring her to respond.

Lucy hesitated, her jaw tightening. “It’s a game, Ona,” she said finally, her tone defensive but laced with something else: guilt, maybe.

Ona’s glare didn’t change. “Sí, pero necesitas calmarte,” she spat before turning on her heel and jogging back into position.

Lucy stayed rooted for a moment, watching her go. The frustration between them crackled like a live wire, but there was no time to resolve it—not now. The game was still on, and the stakes were too high to let personal feelings take over.

———-

The scoreboard read 2-2, the match teetering on a knife’s edge as the final minutes ticked away. Both teams pushed with everything they had left, bodies flying, boots colliding, the intensity electrified the stadium.

Ona sprinted down the left flank, chasing a long ball that skidded across the grass. Her legs burned, and her lungs begged for air, but she didn’t let up. She couldn’t. This was her moment—a chance to tip the game in Barcelona’s favour.

But as always, Lucy Bronze was there. Ona had barely taken two touches when Lucy closed the gap, her presence looming like a shadow.

Ona tried to cut inside, but Lucy anticipated it, stepping in with precision. The two collided again, this time with even more force. Lucy’s tackle was clean but aggressive, and Ona hit the turf hard.

This time, the frustration that had been simmering since the last tackle boiled over. Ona scrambled to her feet, shoving Lucy back with both hands.

“¡No vuelvas a tocarme así!” Ona shouted, her spanish cutting through the noise of the crowd. Her chest heaved, eyes blazing with anger.

Lucy stood her ground, her jaw clenched, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “It’s football, Ona,” she shot back, her tone sharp. “What do you want me to do? Let you score?”

“¡No necesito tu permiso para ganar!” Ona snapped, her words fiery and unrestrained. Her accent thickened with her rage, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people on the pitch.

The referee was quick to intervene, stepping between them with a sharp whistle and a warning glance. The crowd roared in anticipation of a yellow card, but the referee kept the cards in her pocket, urging them to keep playing.

As they moved back into position, Lucy leaned closer, her voice low so only Ona could hear. “I’m not your enemy, Ona.”

Ona shot her a withering glare, her voice just as quiet but seething. “You left, Lucy. What does that make you?”

Before Lucy could respond, the game resumed, forcing them both back into the fray. But the tension between them was far from over.

The match pressed on with relentless energy, both teams desperate to break the deadlock. Lucy and Ona seemed drawn to each other like magnets, with every play pulling them into another clash and every collision sparking unspoken tension.

Midfield chaos erupted as Aitana Bonmatí darted through Chelsea’s lines, her footwork impeccable. Just as she prepared to deliver a decisive pass, she was caught from behind by a mistimed tackle. The crowd gasped collectively as Aitana crumpled to the ground, clutching her ankle.

The referee’s whistle blared, and players from both teams rushed to her side. Medical staff hurried onto the field, creating a circle around Aitana as murmurs of worry spread through the stands.

Ona hovered nearby, her heart in her throat. Aitana was one of their strongest players, a leader on and off the pitch. If she couldn’t continue, Barcelona’s chances would take a severe hit.

Lucy stood on the edge of the group, her face tight with concern. Despite the rivalry between their teams, her respect for Aitana was clear. But as the medics worked, her eyes found Ona.

It was a quiet moment in the chaos. The shouts of coaches and the buzz of the crowd felt distant as Lucy stepped closer.

“Ona,” she said softly, her voice carrying despite the noise.

Ona didn’t turn, her gaze fixed on Aitana. “What?” she muttered, her tone clipped.

Lucy hesitated, then took another step, her voice lowering. “I never meant to hurt you. You know that, right?”

Ona stiffened, her hands balling into fists. “Why now, Lucy? Why say this now?”

“Because I didn’t have the courage before,” Lucy admitted, her voice unsteady. “Leaving Barcelona was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I didn’t tell you because… I was scared.”

Ona finally looked at her, her expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Scared of what?”

Lucy’s gaze dropped for a moment, the vulnerability in her eyes unmistakable. “Of staying. Of what that would mean—for me, for us. It was easier to run.”

Ona’s breath caught, her mind racing. The confession felt like a crack in the armour Lucy always wore, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt. “You didn’t even give me a chance,” Ona whispered, her voice trembling. “I—”

But before she could finish, the referee signalled for the game to resume. Aitana was being helped off the field, her injury serious enough to force a substitution.

Ona and Lucy stood frozen for a moment longer, the world moving around them. Finally, Ona shook her head, stepping back. “We’re not finished,” she said quietly, her voice resolute.

Lucy nodded, her jaw tightening. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

And with that, they returned to their positions, the weight of their unfinished conversation hanging in the air as the game surged forward.

Extra time loomed on the horizon. Every touch on the ball, every run, every tackle carried the weight of a Champions League final.

Ona Batlle’s legs burned as she tracked Lucy Bronze down the right flank, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Chelsea had just gained possession, and Lucy was charging forward with relentless determination, the ball glued to her feet.

Ona didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, her timing impeccable as she slid in for a clean tackle, sending the ball spinning out of bounds. The crowd erupted, but neither player celebrated. Lucy rose first, offering Ona a quick glance, something between respect and acknowledgement flickering in her eyes. Ona ignored it, her focus unyielding.

With 10 minutes left in regular time, Chelsea launched a desperate attack. Lucy pushed higher up the field, her eyes scanning for an opening. When the ball came to her, her touch was perfect, setting her up for a long-range strike. But Ona was there again, darting in to close the space.

This time, the collision was harder. Lucy’s momentum carried her forward, tangling her legs with Ona’s. Both went down with a thud, the impact drawing gasps from the crowd and groans from the players on the pitch.

Ona winced as she hit the turf, her arms bracing her fall. Lucy was beside her, her chest heaving, her face etched with frustration and something deeper—something only Ona could see.

The referee blew her whistle, signalling a free kick for Barcelona. Lucy sat up, running a hand through her damp hair, clearly annoyed but not arguing the decision.

As Ona pushed herself up, she couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her lips. “That the best you’ve got?” she said, her voice low, her Spanish accent thick.

Lucy let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You’ve always been impossible,” she muttered, though there was no malice in her tone.

“Someone has to keep you in check,” Ona shot back, her expression softening despite herself.

Before Lucy could respond, the referee’s sharp whistle urged them back into position. The brief exchange hung between them like a truce, unspoken but undeniable.

———-

With less than a minute on the clock, it was Barcelona’s turn to make a desperate push. Ona sprinted down the left flank, her eyes on the ball as Alexia threaded a perfect pass into her path. The Chelsea defence scrambled to close the gap, but Ona was too quick, cutting inside the box.

Lucy was there.

The moment felt inevitable, their paths colliding one final time. Ona made a last-ditch effort to cross the ball, but Lucy’s challenge came fast and hard. The two went down together, the ball ricocheting off Lucy’s foot and into the net.

The stadium erupted around her, a deafening wave of sound crashed around her, but all Ona could hear was the sharp beating of her heart.

Colours of blue and red filled her eyes as her teammates came rushing towards her, but her eyes weren’t on them.

Her eyes reached Lucy’s, devastation of the own goal clear on her face. Her hands rested on her head as she tried to regulate her breathing. Their stare lasted for a second, a small underlining tone of acknowledgment.

Ona felt a swirl of emotion reach her chest as the small Spaniard jumps to her feet, her teammates crashing into her with their arms wide. Smiles stretched across their faces, their cheers drowning out the small twinge of sadness for Lucy in her heart. This was more than a game- it always had been.

———-

The whistle blew, signalling full time.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as the Barcelona players erupted into celebration, their elation palpable as they embraced, collapsed onto the pitch and raised their arms to the heavens.

Ona Batlle stood amidst the chaos, her heart pounding for reasons unrelated to the game. The weight of the match began to lift, replaced by the lingering tension from her encounters with Lucy.

Lucy stood at the edge of the pitch, watching the estatic Barcelona players with a disappointed expression. Her teammates consoled each other, pats on the back and murmured words of encouragement passing between them. Lucy accepted them with a nod but quickly slipped away from the crowd.

Ona saw her retreat, the familiar figure moving toward the quiet of the tunnel. Her body moved before her mind caught up, her boots crunching against the turf as she followed.

She found Lucy leaning against the cool concrete wall, her head tilted back, her eyes closed as she took deep breaths. Ona hesitated, the noise from the stadium fading behind her, leaving only the thundering rhythm of her own heartbeat.

“You always disappear when it gets hard,” Ona said, her voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside her.

Lucy’s eyes snapped open, her expression guarded. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Ona admitted, stepping closer. “Because I can’t let it end like this.”

Lucy straightened, crossing her arms over her chest. “End like what?”

“Like we’re strangers,” Ona said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Like there’s nothing between us when there’s… everything.”

Lucy’s shoulders sagged slightly, her defences cracking. “Ona…”

“Let me finish,” Ona interrupted, her voice firm but soft. “I’ve spent the last twenty two months wondering why you didn’t tell me you were leaving. Why you didn’t give me the chance to say anything.”

Lucy sighed, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I told you—I was scared.”

“You’ve said that,” Ona said, stepping even closer now, her tone gentler. “But what were you scared of? Because I’m standing here now, Lucy. I’m not running.”

The vulnerability in her words cut through Lucy’s armour, her jaw tightening as she fought to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to break free. “I was scared of how much I felt for you,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared that if I stayed, I’d mess it all up. That I’d lose you completely.”

Ona’s breath caught, the truth settling between them like a fragile glass waiting to shatter. “You almost lost me anyway,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

Lucy looked up, her eyes locking onto Ona’s. “I know. And it’s my fault. But I’m here now, Ona. If you’ll let me be.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Ona hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, her fingers brushing against Lucy’s. “Don’t run again,” she whispered.

Lucy shook her head, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Not from you. Never again.”

And then, in the quiet of the empty tunnel, away from the noise and chaos of the world, Ona reached for Lucy, pulling her into an embrace that spoke of forgiveness, longing, and a promise for what was to come.

_____

A few months had passed since the Champions League final, and with the season over, the weight of the world seemed lighter. Barcelona had won the trophy, and Lucy and Ona spent that summer reflecting on everything—their careers, their emotions, and the unspoken connection that had finally been brought into the light.

Now, they found themselves on a quiet beach, far from the flashing cameras and the pressure of the pitch. The gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air as they sat side by side, their toes buried in the warm sand. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and for the first time in a long while, neither of the girls felt the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Lucy glanced over at Ona, her lips curving into a small smile. It had been a long time since she’d felt this at peace.

Ona, her sunglasses perched atop her head, looked back at Lucy, her expression soft. “Can you believe this is our reality now?” she asked quietly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard over the waves.

Lucy shook her head, letting out a slow breath. “No. It’s been… a whirlwind.”

They sat in comfortable silence, fingers intertwined as the air between them was thick with unspoken understanding. The tension of their previous encounters, the questions and fears that had loomed over them, now felt like distant memories, fading with each passing day they spent together.

“I never thought I’d be here with you.”

Ona turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Because I didn’t know if I’d ever have the courage to actually be with you,” Lucy admitted, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were afraid to disturb the moment. “I was so caught up in the fear of losing everything... I almost let it slip away.”

Ona reached out, her hand gently brushing against Lucy’s. “You didn’t. We didn’t.”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat at the touch, and she met Ona’s gaze. “You really meant it, didn’t you? When you said, we’re not finished.”

Ona smiled softly, her eyes shining with affection. “Yeah. I did.”

The connection between them was undeniable. In the peacefulness of this vacation, surrounded only by the vast ocean and the sky above, their bond had become something real, something worth fighting for.

Lucy reached out, her fingers threading through Ona’s hair. “You know,” she said with a smirk, “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.”

Ona chuckled, her heart lighter than it had been in ages. “Starting to, huh?”

Lucy shrugged playfully. “Hey, one step at a time.”

“Just don’t run off again,” Ona teased, her voice full of affection.

Lucy’s smile softened. “Never again.”

They sat there for a moment longer, the sun sinking lower in the sky, the world slowing down around them. For the first time in months, there were no games to play, no expectations to meet—only the feeling of each other’s presence, grounding them both.

Then, as the sun finally dipped beneath the horizon, Lucy leaned in, her lips brushing softly against Ona’s.

The kiss was slow and tender—a promise in the quiet night. When they pulled away, Ona spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper.

“This is it, isn’t it?”

Lucy smiled, her eyes full of warmth. “This is it.”

They leaned back against each other, the cool breeze from the ocean wrapping around them like a blanket. There was no more uncertainty, no more fear. They had each other, and that was enough.

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