#not even the closest people to me that see me every day in the same house where im most vulnerable could tell

[venomwrites]

Something about the dictator cape because her striding around in it like that is so fucking hot?

Vi’s world comes back in blues. 

Powder’s cyan splatters across buildings. It stains people’s hair and hands and billows into the sky through vents. It’s bright and loud and so hard to look at sometime. When Vi sees it all she hears is a scream. Like if Powder can just scream loud enough it will bring back their dad, Isha and Milo and all the others. Somewhere in that scream is Silco’s black-gold eye winks back. Nowhere in it is Caitlyn’s mom. 

Ekko’s turquoise cuts in the gaps. The tree is wilting and he’s nowhere to be found, but the Firelights flash out of her eyes sometimes. Still fighting, still holding onto what he was taught. It’s the closest echo of home Vi can find. When Powder vanishes again that’s where she shows up. They let her in with only a few questions asked. Vi pretends they don’t sting. Then she falls fast first into the softest cot she’s ever felt and sleeps for two days straight. 

Caitlyn wraps herself in midnight blue and blankets Vi’s world with it. Every time she goes outside she sees it hovering. Above the splatters and the dyed hair and all the chaos. For a moment Vi thought it was the blue of purpose, of belonging. But now things are right again. And it’s just the same blue that’s made her ache since she was a kid. Nothing good comes from that midnight shade. It’s just a bigger set of bars on a bigger cell that Vi calls home. 

Before when Caitlyn was pissed, Vi could content herself with ghosts. 

Now she won’t leave her the fuck alone. 

Every time she surfaces there’s someone there. An Enforcer who looks too long. A gutter rat whose dressed too well. She knows she’s been watched. They are running out of ways in and out. None of them come near the entrances and exits, but the speed with which they turn away is making people uncomfortable. 

“They cannot know about this place,” Chireen says.

“She’s already been here,” Vi points out. He gives her a hard look, “alright, alright. I’ll go talk to them.” 

She finds the nearest pretend gutter rat who immediately does the worst impression of a drunkard Vi has ever seen. Of course she’s something of an expert on the subject, but he’s particularly awful. Without any pretense she hauls him up and holds him against the wall. He is immediately in a defensive position.

“I need to see her,” she says. He nods and pulls out a pair of cuffs, “that’s a fucking joke right?”

“Protocol, I could—“

“Forget it,” she doesn’t have time for this Enforcer bullshit. She shoves her wrists out, “take me in.” 

There’s no color in Stillwater. 

Vi should have figured this would be how things play out. Naturally if there was a way to make Vi’s life suck more, Caitlyn was going to find it and make a protocol about it. Vi doesn’t even know why she’s surprised. At least this time she winds up in one of the interrogation cells that has a little sunlight and some stale but fresher than below air. There’s even a proper toilet and a chair and a cot. She expects to be there for a few hours since Caitlyn is so incredibly busy these days. But Vi’s barely made herself comfortable on the cot when commotion starts. 

She’s hopeful for a moment that it’s a riot. 

But it’s just Caitlyn. 

“You wanted to see me?” Caitlyn says and if Vi was wondering if she was still mad, she’s not anymore. 

When she first met Caitlyn in her blue uniform, Vi tagged her for a low level Enforcer. Sure the gun she was carrying spoke of wealth, but it wasn’t Enforcer wealth. That was family money. And even then given her willingness to break the law and run around the Undercity, Vi figured it couldn’t be that much. Not until she went to her house anyway. 

They’ve come a far cry from that. 

Caitlyn wears her wealth and influence now like she wears the cloak. She’s tall in a way that has nothing to do with her actual height. Her mouth is in a tight disapproving line and her blue eyes glare down at Vi. But it’s the cape that really sells it. It folds around her form like a barrier cutting her off from the rest of the world. She’s sure as shit the only Enforcer Vi sees wearing a cape. Even her hair is down which only serves to further make her look different. 

“You look like a statue I’d spit on,” Vi remarks. 

“What do you want?” Caitlyn repeats, her voice tighter this time. 

Yeah she’s really pissed. 

“Stop following me.” 

“I’m sorry I can’t do that,” Caitlyn says, “you’re a prime target.”

“I can take care of myself,” Vi retorts. Caitlyn just stares her down, “I’m going to lose my home.”

“Then you can come back to Piltover.”

“I’d rather stay here,” Vi shoots back. 

“As you wish,” Caitlyn says and turns on her heel. 

She’s dead serious, Vi realizes. Of course she is, Caitlyn always gets what she wants. And she gets pissed off when she doesn’t. Vi is learning that really quickly. 

“Wait!” She grinds out. Caitlyn stops, “how long are you going to punish me?” Vi demands, “I told you I was trying to save my dad.”

“With your sister!” Caitlyn spits, turning so fast the cape billows, “you forgot to mention that part.”

“Sorry I didn’t have time to go over every little detail with your goons about to invade!” 

“That is not a little detail!” Caitlyn counters. Vi knows she’s right. Caitlyn balls her fist, takes a breath and looks at her, “now you’re a target. The Noxians know how to navigate the Undercity. You cannot be left unguarded.” 

“So you just want me guarded but you don’t want to see me?” Vi demands.

“Exactly.” 

“Who the fuck put you in charge?” Vi demands. Caitlyn stiffens, “oh wait--“

“I suggest you do not finish that sentence,” Caitlyn says. 

“I suggest you stop putting guards around me. I’d rather take my chances with Ambessa. At least she looked me in the eye when she tried to gut me.” 

Caitlyn is suddenly too close and there’s a blue that Vi forgot.

She can never pin down the blue of Caitlyn’s eyes. It shifts from midnight to teal to cyan. Sometimes Vi thinks they are blue-grey, shades darker than her own. But they are always impossible to look away from. Sometimes its annoying. Right now it’s downright infuriating. But Vi’s already damned so she’s definitely not backing down from this one. Caitlyn stares at her long and hard, her eyes bearing down. Then she presses her lips tightly again and straightens up. 

“Guards or Piltover, your choice.”

“Neither!”

“Guards it is,” she says. 

“You and that stupid cape can’t ignore me forever!” Vi shouts after her.

But Caitlyn’s the General wrapped in the night sky, and as much as it pains her to admit it, Vi knows she probably can. 

&&&&

The guards start turning up drunk. 

They always stagger back, bottle in hand and eyes clouded with merriment. They sleep it off and wake with apologies and explanations. Neither interest Caitlyn. She knows this is Vi sending a message, even if they say sometimes it was a red head and sometimes her hair was black. Sometimes it’s blue. Those times infuriate Caitlyn the most. She’s knows Vi has been locked up for longer than she’s been free. She knows this is excessively reckless but also understandable. 

She also doesn’t care. 

At best Vi is going to get herself killed. Caitlyn doesn’t want to think about what the worst case scenario looks like. It’s so easy to picture Vi in that green tank. Caitlyn grinds her teeth. She will not let that happen. She’s a Kiramman for Gods sakes. Vi seems to be the only one who keeps her from getting her way. She’s not going to let Ambessa also have that distinction. 

“General? They’re back.”

“They?”

This time Vi and her guard come in arm in arm. Because this time Caitlyn sent Loris. Vi’s taken care to send her guards back very drunk but also safe. But she never goes inside. Loris though keeps his arm around her shoulders like they are old friends. Caitlyn straightens up as they come fully into the garrison. Vi glances around but Loris keeps a fist of her jacket as he steers them in. 

“Well look who it is, General sneers a lot and her stupid cape,” Vi slurs.

“Bring her—“

Loris heaves Vi forward and Caitlyn has no choice but to catch her. It’s almost automatic to sling one of Vi’s arms over her shoulder. Vi grips her ‘stupid’ cape and looks up at her, blowing a piece of red hair up in a way that would be almost difficult to ignore. If her breath didn’t smell like something that makes Caitlyn’s eyes water. She’s very, very drunk. 

“I gotta go back.”

“That is not an option tonight,” Caitlyn says. 

“You kidnapping me? Again?” Vi frowns, “lawbreaker.” 

Caitlyn ignores her and steers them up the steps and through the private entrance she rarely uses. Caitlyn’s a fool in many ways, but she’s not enough of a fool to trust all the Enforcers. There are definitely moles. Which is one of the reasons she implemented the protocols. If Vi comes up here she’s supposed to be in cuffs. The guards that watch her are ones Caitlyn actually trusts. And despite all of that Vi manages to saunter in without a second thought. 

“This is nice, this yours?” Vi says looking around the office. Some schematic draws her eye and she sets off, “what’s—“

“Would you sit down?” Caitlyn snaps, batting her hand away before she can pull the string pinned there. 

“Who are you tracking?” She asks and glances up at Jinx’s headshot. She snorts, “still?”

“Yes—“ there’s a sound of ripping, “Vi!” 

Vi fixes her with that hard grey stare and rips again. There are moments when longing for her overtakes Caitlyn’s senses. And then there are these moments when she never wants to lay eyes on her again. She has half a mind to throw Vi out and make her stagger back to the Undercity. But from the way Vi is looking at her, that’s what she wants. And Caitlyn would rather hang herself with her cape than give her that as she shreds months of work. 

“I’ll see myself out.”

“You will not!” Caitlyn storms over, “sit down.”

“Or what? You’ll make me?”

“Easily.” 

Caitlyn’s never been much of a brawler but Ambessa’s changed that. Vi gives her a hard, silent look. Then she drops the pages into the fire and walks over to the couch. Caitlyn watches the pages burn. The search for Jinx has been half hearted at best these past few months. There are other things to be concerned with. Ambessa, Jayce, the golden light Mel seems to conjure whenever she’s angry. Even though every flash of blue hair makes her want to redirect people, at the moment Jinx isn’t the priority for anyone else. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“Wouldn’t tell you if I did,” Vi says, her tone cutting deeper than Caitlyn wishes it did.

“After everything, you’re just going to walk away?” Caitlyn turns, “how?” 

It still hurts that Vi can just walk away. 

Caitlyn’s been here before. Torn between never letting Vi out of her sight and never setting eyes on her again. She’s not proud of how desperately she listened to the wind those first few nights. Just waiting for Vi to climb up her balcony and tell her off. Tell her she misunderstood something. Make it all make sense in that terrible, infuriating, brilliant way of hers. But Vi never came. One day Ambessa locked the window, posted a guard and that was the end of it. 

“You look like her,” Vi says. 

Caitlyn feels like she’s been slapped. 

“Sometimes she’s still that kid, too smart for her own good,” she throws an arm over her eyes, “still standing in that room with those things in her hand—.”

The comparison stings, the way only a truthful one can. Again. How many ways has she played it over in her head. All she had to do was pull the trigger. She had the shot. So many shots, the weight of that magazine was impossible. She could have emptied every one into Jinx’s chest. Jinx was evil back then, she deserved it back then. If she had taken the shot her mother would be alive. Piltover, the Undercity, they would all be different. Instead she hesitates and Jinx knocks her out and the next thing she knows her mother is dying a city away. 

“And yet you walk away,” she says.

“Leaders don’t get to be selfish,” she says.

Vi is drunkenly sprawled out on her couch, she doesn’t look like she’s leading much of anything. Caitlyn doubts those are her words. 

“You don’t know the first thing about leadership,” she says.

“No, but my dad did,” Vi says. 

Of course it would be her father’s words. The father Caitlyn led Ambessa right to. No-one knew they were down there, they had been manipulated into a trap. Or she had. Caitlyn doesn’t want to think too hard on it. If she does, she starts to consider that maybe Jinx didn’t know her mother was a Counselor. Didn’t know who she was aiming that rocket towards. And that makes it very hard to swallow anything, even her own spit. Behind her she hears Vi stretch out on the leather, perhaps she’s too drunk to reason this either. 

She pulls out a throw blanket she keeps for nights in the office and drags it over Vi. One of Vi’s hands catches her fingers. 

“Leave,” she says. Caitlyn frowns, “wherever you are, leave,” she drops he hand, “I hate it when you look like her.” 

&&&&

When Vi opens her eyes she realizes it wasn’t a dream. 

She’s in Caitlyn’s fancy office. She very clearly tore down some map she worked hard on. And she’s under a very fancy blanket that might be the warmest, softest thing she’s ever felt. Her mouth feels like sandpaper though and her head is definitely trying to crack open with every pulse of her heart. She shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes. Loris is the best and the worst drinking buddy a girl could ask for. 

“You’re awake,” Caitlyn says, stepping fully into the room carrying a tray with two steaming mugs and a plate of sandwiches.

“Yeah,” Vi says, pushing herself up.

Caitlyn presses her lips together and sets the tray down. She’s wearing her usual Enforcer gear, her hair is tucked into its usual bun. She’s still imposing but she doesn’t look comical anymore. It makes it easier and harder to sit next to her and take the mug she hands her. 

“It’s tea,” Caitlyn says, “I haven’t poisoned it.”

“I didn’t think you had,” Vi says quickly, “did I—“ she motions to the wall. Caitlyn glares, “sorry.”

“Was that your intention in coming here?” She asks. 

“Huh? No!” Vi is surprised that it kind of hurts to have Caitlyn look at her with such mistrust, “I wasn’t ‘intending’ to come here at all.” 

“Right,” Caitlyn says shortly pushes herself up, “you need to stop getting your guards drunk.”

“You need to stop sending them,” Vi retorts. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Caitlyn tells her, busying herself with some of the endless papers strewn about, “not until we defeat the threat.”

“Powder isn’t a threat,” she says automatically. Caitlyns’ eyes narrow. 

“I was talking about Ambessa,” she says, “Jinx isn’t a threat to you, she is a threat to Piltover.”

The name makes Vi think of that stupid party with those stupid chairs. When she told her she could have Powder back. When she chose to be Jinx after Caitlyn didn’t shoot her. She hates the thoughts of that room. But she refuses to linger in them. 

“She goes by Powder now.”

“Maybe to you!” Caitlyn says and the indignant anger is back, “to the rest of us she’s Jinx.”

“And what are you to them?” Vi demands before she can stop herself. Caitlyn stiffens and sucks in a breath. But if Vi’s going to stick her foot in her mouth, she’s going to get it all the way up there, “the people you swore to protect are afraid of you.”

“I know that!” Caitlyn argues, wrapping her arms around herself, “I hate it—“

“So change it!” 

“I don’t know how!”

Vi glares at her and walks over to the wardrobe, yanking it open and ripping down that stupid fucking cloak. Caitlyn watches her as she strides over to her and shoves the cloak in her face. 

“Start by burning this stupid thing and try being a fucking human being again!” she spits.

Caitlyn looks outraged but Vi doesn’t care. There’s so much shit going on but Caitlyn’s still hunting Powder. Still enacting martial law. Still traipsing around cloaked in Ambessa’s authority and her mother’s money. 

“I am,” Caitlyn says and Vi can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Why am I wasting my breath? Of course you are,” she says, “General.” 

Caitlyn stares furiously at her in silence for a moment. 

“You don’t know me,” Caitlyn says. 

“And whose fault is that?” Vi throws up her hands,” you know what? Do what you want, I’m out.” 

She leaves before Caitlyn can say anything.

&&&&

 Martial law lifts the next day.

It’s three days before Vi wakes from her bender to find Loris back.

She lets him stay.

&&&&

She’s thumbing through her notecards for the morning speech, trying to find the right words.

“You’re sounding almost human again, Cupcake.”

Her fingertips tighten on the cards but she doesn’t dare turn around. It’s been a month since she saw her last. Vi eases herself into the room and approaches. Caitlyn finally lets herself appraise her. She’s wary but she’s here. The anger has a cautious edge. Her hair is long enough now to touch her shoulders on the side she grows out. The other side has been freshly shaved. She smells less like a bottle and more like a person. 

“That almost sounds like a compliment.”

Vi shrugs and walks over to the wall. Caitlyn feels the start of her own panic and shoves it aside. She doesn’t want Vi to see, she wants her stay. But she’ll see eventually and Caitlyn knows she’ll be more upset about the betrayal than the new map trying to track her sister. She lets out a deep breath. Caitlyn looks down at her notes. If they start to fight she’ll never have time to properly prepare. 

“What are you going to do with her?” 

The genuineness of the question makes Caitlyn pause. She would love to see Jinx dead. She deserves to see it properly. Finally. She’s seen Jinx almost dead. Seen her sprawled out completely still. And every time she does she sees Vi curled over her. She feels Vi shove her away to grab Jinx. The part of her that screams for blood is not one that cares about justice. That part of her screams in a child’s voice that she is a Kiramman. What she wants is the only thing that matters. She wishes it wasn’t so loud. She wishes she didn’t give in every time she sees the order to shoot her on sight.  

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says, “why?”

Vi leans forward and presses her forehead to the wall. 

“She’s getting bad again.” 

Caitlyn tries not to think about the room, the rocket, her mother. She forces herself to be grounded in the present. Vi still has her forehead against the wall. One of her hands curls into a fist. There are so many scars on her hands. She presses her knuckles into the wall. Caitlyn expects her to put her fist through it. Something sets in Vi’s shoulders and she turns around. Caitlyn’s aware of a paper fluttering to the ground but she just focuses on Vi’s clear eyes. 

“I want the same protections on her,” she says, “taken alive, that nice cell, only I get to see her.”

“You’e giving her up?” Caitlyn can barely hear her. 

“I don’t know where she is,” Vi says, “she keeps appearing and doing stupid shit. She won’t let me near her,” her fists ball by her sides, “she keeps trying to get shot. Your guys, suck by the way, but she’s not thinking.”

Caitlyn swallows against the tightness in her throat. Vi is asking her to protect Jinx. It’s a barbed compromise, one she never expected to be offered. Self loathing radiates off Vi. She’s desperate. Like she was back in that cell when she saw the drawing. Just like that she struggles for a mask of indifference. But it’s a poor one now. Caitlyn can see right through it. She commands Caitlyn’s attention and stares her down. 

“If you do it I’ll stay here with you.” 

The nausea steals her breath away. Something lights in Vi’s eyes and she steps forward. She’s offering what Caitlyn wants and all Caitlyn can think is if she vomits on her desk there’s going to be so much paperwork to redo. She clings to that thought as Vi takes another step forward. 

“I’ll say here and I’ll be an Enforcer again.”

“Stop!” Caitlyn tastes bile. Vi’s eyes widen and Caitlyn knows she’s thinking this is about Jinx. Maybe it is, maybe some part of it is. But all Caitlyn can think is that Vi would do anything she asked in that moment. And Vi believes it would work, “Just—“ Caitlyn scrambles for the order, for her seal. She can barely see as she scrawls out what Vi wants and seals it, “get out,” she says. 

“Huh?” Vi’s features twist.

“This is the order for her protection. Give it to the commander and just—“ her stomach rolls, “just get out.”

Vi’s lip curls but she takes the order. Caitlyn counts her breath until she hears the door close. Then she flies over to the bathroom and looses whatever she’s eaten that day. 

&&&&

Turns out, not everything’s blue. 

That’s all Vi thinks as she holds back Caitlyn’s hair while she vomits. She was fine five minutes ago and then she went pale and now she’s tossing her cookies. Vi keeps her hair back as she finishes, her shoulders shaking. She stiffens when she seems to realize she’s not alone. 

“Get it all out, Cupcake,” Vi says, trying for levity. 

“You thought I would take you for her,” Caitlyn says, finally looking up at her, “after everything—“

“Hey—“

“Do you really think so little of me?” 

Caitlyn appraises her as sharply as anyone can in that position and Vi doesn’t know what to say. Caitlyn interprets her silence as the complete answer, not the conflict. She moves away, straightening up and tugging her jacket back to perfection. Vi gets up but it’s not like it makes a ton of difference. Caitlyn rinses her mouth and pulls back her hair. She meets Vi’s eyes in the mirror, looking more collected than anyone whose been vomiting has a right to. 

“I don’t want you here,” she lies, her eyes narrowing at Vi’s scoff, “you don’t trust me to honor the order.”

“It’s not that simple,” Vi argues, unable to look away from Caitlyn’s gaze as her eyes harden, “Cait we gassed the Undercity. You were shipping people in trains off to Stillwater—“ she can see Caitlyn throwing up every wall until her eyes are flat, “yeah,” the truth tastes barbed, “you’re right, I don’t trust you to honor this.”

Caitlyn breaks their eye contact and leaves the bathroom without a word. So much blue covers her world, all of it is unyielding. Jinx think’s she’s fine and won’t let Vi within ten feet of her. Won’t let her touch her for anything. Caitlyn will watch her from someone else’s eyes and agree to shit she doesn’t want to, but she won’t let Vi be around. Vi knows the world kept spinning when she went away but she doesn’t get how she’s supposed to be around all these people who want her safe but don’t want her around. 

She forces herself out as Caitlyn sets down her pen and picks up her seal. She holds out the paper, though Vi is pretty sure she knows what it is. 

“Thanks,” she says, the words leaden in her mouth.

“I’ve kept my orders regarding you,” Caitlyn points out. 

Vi’s used to being short but she feels about ten inches tall. 

“Yeah,” she says finally. Caitlyn keeps staring her down. Like she’s waiting for something. Vi hopes it’s not an apology, she isn’t getting one, “still want me to—“

“Yes. Go.” 

&&&&

Caitlyn wears the cloak during her next speech. 

Vi is sober when she helps Loris back to the hideout.

&&&&

There is a lot of paperwork that comes with stripping someone of being an Enforcer. 

Caitlyn never got around to it. 

She couldn’t bring herself to put pen to paper and make things real. Then things got busy. It never seemed like it was ever going to be a problem, not considering how things occurred. At some point Maddie had filled out the forms and left them ‘just needs you seal’. She still didn’t. She just put them in the bottom of the pile and resolved to file them when she got around to it. 

It’s only when she comes back to Vi sitting in her office, rolling her badge across her knuckles, that she remembers where the papers even are. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says. 

“You know when I flashed this at the door, they just let me in,” Vi muses, “I was just going to take the win but then I scanned it,” her fingers close around the badge, “I’m still an Enforcer.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says, there’s no point in lying about that, “I forgot to file the paperwork.”

Vi gives a purposeful look around her pristinely organized office. Caitlyn ignores it and walks over to the wardrobe, undoing the fastening and hanging up the cloak. Vi scoffs in the background. Caitlyn’s fingers tighten in the blue fabric. At the time she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Now she forgets why. It’s certainly not too late. 

“I will file it—“

“Remember when you said this doesn’t work if we don’t trust each other?” Vi says abruptly.

Back in the Undercity. Back with Vi bleeding out and throwing herself off of everything. Back when something made sense, even if Caitlyn was learning everything was a lie at the exact same time. But Vi was brilliant and brave and that made facing the impossible easier somehow. Now it’s just her and everything continues to be a lie, but there’s a coldness to it that makes her bones ache. 

“I think you were onto something,” she says. She walks over to the fire, pulls out the backup order and tosses it in. 

“I won’t rescind the order,” Caitlyn says. That should be the end of it. But Vi looks at her with her grey eyes and seems to cut through all her defenses, “but I don’t forgive her. I still want her to pay.” 

She expects Vi to explode but she just ducks her head and looks back at the fire. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t warn you she was there,” Vi says, “I was just thinking about saving our dad.”

Caitlyn knows she has so much to apologize for. To so many people. Most of all to Vi. But she’s been trapped on the precipice while Vi just hurls herself off of it. Like it’s natural to apologize, dust yourself off and keep going. Caitlyn doesn’t know how Vi is so fearless. She always thought when she was able to see the real world, she would be as well. But she’s not. Her parents always showed her she could do anything, she deserved to do anything she wanted. Because she was a Kiramman. And yet it’s Vi whose brave and forgiving while she’s wondering how to be any of that. 

“I didn’t file the paperwork because I was hoping you would come back,” she says finally. 

“You can’t even look at me half the time,” Vi points out, something morose in her tone that guts Caitlyn. 

“It hurts,” Caitlyn admits finally, unable to complete the sentence. 

“Me too,” Vi says, her fingers curling against the mantle. 

She takes a deep breath and pushes herself away, moving towards the window. It’s hard for her to be there, it’s hard to watch her walk away. Caitlyn doesn’t know what possesses her to speak when they’ve only just managed to have something resembling a normal conversation. 

“I won’t wear the cape if you stay for morning drills.” 

Vi pauses and turns around. 

She doesn’t talk though so Caitlyn continues. 

“We fought well together.” 

“You mean when you saved my life and carried me off the battlefield?” Vi offers, but her hands are in her pockets and she steps forward. Away from the window, “Think you did most of the work there.”

“I usually do,” Caitlyn says. Vi scoffs, “it would be good to practice as—“

“A team?” Vi offers. Caitlyn nods. Vi considers her for a moment and then shrugs, “I could use a workout.”

Something in Caitlyn’s chest starts to flutter, even as she desperately tries to tamp it down. Vi walks over to the door. 

“Oh Loris is hungover, so go easy on him.” 

&&&&

General Kiramman and Enforcer Kiramman are blue. 

Caitlyn is red. 

Red like her sparring wraps, red like fire, red like a blush. Red like a memory. Red like blood. Red like the angry line that bisects her face from Ambessa’s blade. Vi finds her in front of the mirror, staring at her remaining eye. 

“I deserve this,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself. 

“I’ve got those scars too,” Vi offers.

Caitlyn meets her eyes in the mirror, gasps and nearly topples over. Vi’s had her eye swollen shut enough to appreciate the loss of depth perception. Though she knows that’s not the only reason. She’s by her in a flash, steadying her quickly. Caitlyn tenses but doesn’t yank away. She just turns her head away. Caitlyn’s always looked pretty perfect, even running around the Undercity. Vi thinks the leg scar may have been her first one. This is a pretty spectacular second. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says quickly, “should you be out of bed?”

“I had to see,” Caitlyn says. Her eye scans across Vi’s face. Vi would look away but she doesn’t want to risk dropping her, “how long are your eyes going to glow?“

That makes her glance in the mirror. She doesn’t recognize the pink eyes that glow back at her. Not set in her own face anyway. The doctors said the glow should lessen as the drug works itself out of he system. Vi has no intention of becoming a shimmer addict. Even if the stuff saved her life. 

“A few days maybe,” she says, “docs say they might stay pink though. Is that—” Vi doesn’t know how to ask if that is something that’s going to rip them apart again. It’s not something she can change. 

Caitlyn motions vaguely at her missing eye. 

“I suppose both our eyes are different now,” she says, wincing when she tries to give a reassuring smile. 

“Let’s get you bandaged,” Vi tells her, “lean on me.” 

Caitlyn sits in front of her and lets Vi wind bandages over the cut. It will be a long road of healing but they are both alive. At the moment that’s the only fucking thing that matters. She tries to be gentle as she secures the bandage behind Caitlyn’s head. Caitlyn focuses on her with her remaining eye. The white threats through her hair but Vi can’t forget the red. 

“You’re pink,” Caitlyn muses. 

“Give it time, your scar will match,” Vi points out, “don’t try to smile,” she says when Caitlyn winces. There’s no shimmer Thank god, just those white tablets that take the edge off, “here.” 

Caitlyn takes them. Vi knows it’s darker in Cait’s canopy bed but it all seems the same as the shimmer heightens everything. She doesn’t know how any of this is going to play out. But some part of her and Caitlyn are painted with the same color for once. 

And somehow that’s all that matters.

[hella1975]

my mum: you've been doing really good lately. every part of your life is really stable and you seem genuinely happy, it's great to see :)

me, who's felt like ive been going actually crazy bananas insane for months now: yeah haha

[tabata188]

I find it really interesting how Bill reiterates that he saw Ford as "a human pet" and a tool for him to use in his plans, but in the end the closest he has ever come to telling the truth to SOMEONE about what happened in Euclydia is to him of all people.

In the Book of Bill in the part about his past where all the redacted stuff is (where it is pretty much confirmed that he in fact, killed or is responsible for everyone dying) Bill himself tells the reader:

"The important thing is, I freed myself from my suffocating world, and freed everyone else too, and everyone loved me for it, and everyone was fine! And that's all there is to say about that! "

And well, it clearly is a lie to us, the readers, who just saw the previous paragraph full of people apparently screaming, seeing lots of blood, and being "the last one breathing". Bill also adds how every time he tries to talk about that day he starts hearing a loud buzzing as well as black outs for half a minute which is a super normal response when you are just freeing people and stuff(/j) . Things is tho, this version where everyone " was freed" Seems to be the official version, the one that Bill tells everyone. This is seen in the new webpage where by putting "tantrum" you see a scene where Time Baby straight up calls Bill out on killing everyone and Bill's henchmen are surprised by it as they were told by him that "he liberated the people of his dimension".

Even when he first met Ford, he says "I went no contact with my home dimension and I don't regret it", which implies that he was ready to feed him that version initially. But THEN later on you get the Scene™. It's not until after some time has passed between them when Bill tells him about how his entire home dimension was destroyed... By a monster, all while looking uncharacteristically distant. And sure one could argue that it was a play on Ford's emotions, to try to win him over and manipulate him further but it's too touchy of a subject for even his henchmen to know. The same interview on the webpage where he talks about manipulating Ford, preying on his insecurities and him being a human pet, ends with the interviewer asking "Let's talk about your parents" And Bill automatically shutting it down altogether. When he gets drunk after him and Ford part ways he calls for "a Sixer" And in the same scene starts calling out to his mom.

In the end the closest he has ever come to owning up to it to anyone that isn't himself (and even then, seems like he's forced to by the voices that keep weighting on his conscience as seen in the webpage) is to Ford. And he won absolutely nothing from it.

As another fun detail, in the webpage if you type "Lies" You get a whole page of Bill talking about lying and it ends with a graphic that says "Lie until you aren't lying anymore".

And what's the input used to get the interview where Bill talks about Ford and calls him a human pet and a tool?

"Evenhisliesarelies".

[puckinghischier]

Cart Girls & Curly Q’s

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke has a crush on the cart girl

notes: for once, i feel like i didn’t really struggle while writing luke. this probably isn’t one of my best works, but i loved the idea and i’m so glad i was able to try to bring it to life. hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say yes.” with Luke and maybe a cart girl at the golf club close to the summer lake house?

[3k]

Most of your friends absolutely hate going to work in the summertime. They hate being stuck in an office or storefront all day, no chance to enjoy the high UV and prime lake hours.

You, however, never wake up dreading your work.

During the cold, Michigan winters, you work as a bartender at your college’s local bar. You attend your classes in the morning, do your homework in the afternoon, then clock into your shifts at night. You have the routine down to a science.

During the summers, though, you found a job as the cart girl at the uppity country club closest to the large community of expensive lake houses you drive by every morning.

The tips are amazing, and getting paid to drive around in the sunshine and watch attractive men play golf all day is what you call a small piece of paradise. Not to mention you’re off by five o’clock every day, allowing time to join your friends and family out on the boat for night swims and evening rides.

Today was especially good, with it being one of the hottest days of the summer, your sales were sky high.

You’ve already had to restock your beer cooler three times this morning, and it’s barely even noon.

Your boss has really been pushing the sale of liquor, so you inform every group you pass about your buy a double, get a single shot half off deal, but nothing calls to a man more than a cold beer on a hot golf course.

Many of the men you’ve served today have given you a tip simply because you’re out working in the heat, delivering beers ‘like an angel’ one middle aged man told you, handing you an extra ten.

You just laughed and told him thank you, pocketing the cash. You always loved weekend mornings, locals and vacationers alike all over the course, upping your sales, and as a result, your tips.

As you’re leaving the club house after yet another restock, you see a group of guys that you assumed were around your age.

They were being loud, but not obnoxious, as they piled into two carts and sped their way out to the course, eager to get their game started.

You wondered when you would see them, having been told not to bother people until they’re at least on hole two. Apparently, people get mad when you try to sell them alcohol in the middle of their first stroke.

Making your way around your normal path, you start at hole eight and work your way in a circle until you get back to the clubhouse, the later holes being your big money makers. People are either celebrating their lead or mourning their loss at that point, wanting a drink either way.

You sell a few shots, making your boss happy no doubt, but run out of beers for the fourth time that day around hole sixteen. You stop and offer to each group after that, selling a few more liquor items, but were mostly told to come back when you had beer again.

Flying down the cart path, you see the same group of guys from earlier around hole seven, one out of the group flagging you down as you speed by.

You slow your cart down to a stop and they walk over to meet you, grabbing their wallets from their carts as they approach you.

“Sorry, boys, out of beer. On my way back to the clubhouse now to restock if you want to wait a few,” you tell them once they’re within ear shot, not wanting to get their hopes up.

“Well, do you have anything you can sell us? I’m getting beat pretty bad out here and need a pick me up. Don’t really care what it is,” a brunette pleaded.

You tell him about the shot deals, and he hands you his I.D., requesting a double shot of crown and ginger-ale before turning and asking his cart buddy what he wanted.

“Jack, what do you want?” he calls over to a guy that looked similar to him, thinking to yourself that they could be brothers.

He explains the discount to the other brunette, saying he’s already paid, just to pick what he wanted.

After viewing the second player’s I.D., your brother theory is confirmed by their matching last name.

Jack, you learned, asked for a simple, funnily enough, Jack and coke.

“Alright, gentlemen, anything else I can do for you?” you ask, turning to face the last member of the group.

You make eye contact with a tall, curly-headed boy, noticing the pink tone of his cheeks when you catch him staring at you.

“Anything for you, curly Q?” you ask him, taking note of how attractive he was. You always play up the flirting a little when you find a player on the course attractive, figuring it’ll help your sales while simultaneously allowing you to have a little fun.

His cheeks turn an ever-deeper shade of red when he realizes you’re talking to him, freezing up and averting his eyes. You feel a little bad for putting him on the spot, but you find his shyness endearing.

“Nah, Lukey here isn’t old enough, is he Quinny? Still got a few months till you can drink with the big bros. Isn’t that right, Luke?” the brunette named Jack slaps who you’ve now learned is Luke on the back.

You let out a chuckle, witnessing the deadly glare Luke shoots at his older brother.

“Don’t worry, they picked a cart girl that isn’t even old enough to drink, either. Won’t be able to drink the concoctions I make until next spring,” you tell him, hoping to alleviate a little of the embarrassment you caused him.

“Oh, wow,” is all he utters out, bringing out another laugh from you.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you boys get back to your game,” you tell them, walking back over to get back into your cart.

You ride off, thinking of the tall, curly brunette the whole time.

Three hours later, you’re tending the clubhouse bar.

When you came back in for restock, your boss told you it was too hot for you to keep your role as cart girl all day, insisting you switch out with one of your coworkers.

You weren’t too upset with the trade off, now in air conditioning but still getting tips from buzzed players after their game, either nursing their loss or celebrating their win.

The clubhouse gets busier as the day goes on, people dipping in for a quick cool off after playing eighteen holes in the heat.

“Hey, new body down on the end. Care to get it for me?” your co-tender, Brady, asks you, the two of you working in tandem.

You nod at him as you finish pouring the beer in your hand, walking down to the other end of the bar.

“Hey, player, what can I get for ya?” you ask the stranger, not looking up as you place a coaster in front of the patron.

“Just-Just a water, if you don’t mind,” he asks, slightly stumbling his words.

You look up to see the curly brunette, Luke, from earlier.

“Oh, it’s you. Curly Q,” you say, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice.

“Name’s Luke, actually,” he tells you, the redness from earlier returning to his cheeks.

“Yeah, I remember. Just think Curly Q fits you better,” you smirk at him, placing the glass full of water on his coaster. “I’m Y/N.”

He mumbles a small thanks, taking a sip from the glass.

“Anything else I can get for you?” you ask him, glancing down the bar to see if any new customers have sat down.

He stares at you, his eyes caught like a deer in headlights.

You wait patiently for an answer, letting out a small giggle when he just continues to stare at you.

“Alright, well I’ll let you think about your answer and be right back,” you laugh as you start to walk away.

“Wait!” Luke startles you, stopping you in your tracks. “Uhh..do you…come here often?” he stutters out, closing his eyes tightly in embarrassment as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Your eyes shine at him with amusement. “Well, I work here, so I think I’d have to say yes,” you respond, smiling.

Luke peeks one eye open at you, seeing your amused expression and sighing, letting his body sag.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I asked that,” he runs his hand through his curls nervously.

You rest your arms on the bar in front of you. “Ehh, don’t worry about it,” you tell him, scrunching your nose as you shake your head.

Luke gives you a nervous smile, sliding his water towards his body and running his finger around the rim of the glass.

“I’m sure you talk to all kinds of idiots like me when you’re serving drinks, huh?” he asks, making your face fall a bit at his defeated tone.

You stand a little straighter. “Nah, not really. Most of the idiots I talk to are just old and creepy, not my age and charming,” you tell him, finally earning a laugh from him.

His laugh was more of an amused scoff, but you already want to see the shy smile that makes its way onto his face afterwards, again.

“Yeah, cause a guy that asks you if you come to your job often is the epitome of charming,” he looks up at you.

“Well, it’s kept me here talking to you so far, hasn’t it?”

Luke blushes, making you think the man in front of you is unable to go two minutes without his face turning red.

“Yeah, I guess it has,” he casts his eyes towards his lap.

“So, Luke, you a local or here on vacation?” you ask him, glancing down at the quickly clearing stools. You know Brady is getting all of your tips right now, but you can’t bring yourself to move from your spot.

“Well, a little bit of both. Technically on vacation because I live in New Jersey now, but my parents have owned a lake house here since I was a kid, so I claim the title of a local,” you finally get him to loosen up a little, his body language relaxing. “Plus I went to U of M for a little while, so I’ve spent quite a bit of time over in Ann Arbor.”

“Ahh, a city boy,” you tease, grabbing a glass to wipe down, making it look like you’re at least partially doing your job. “Why’d you leave Ann Arbor?”

“Got a…uh…job offer in Jersey,” he tells you cryptically, eyes darting around the room.

“‘A uh…job offer?’ What are you, in the mafia?” you ask him, mimicking his words and poking fun at his nervousness at telling you about his job.

“Well, not quite,” he starts, laughing a real laugh this time, causing you to mentally record the sound and store it in your brain. “I…ahhh…I play hockey up there.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like, professionally?”

He sinks back into his seat, looking like he wants to hide.

“Yeah. For the New Jersey Devils. My brother, Jack plays for them, too,” He tries to pass some of the attention off of himself.

“Wait, you and your brother both play in the NHL?” the impressed tone of your voice gives Luke a little boost of confidence.

“Well, both of my brothers, actually. But Quinn plays for the Canucks up in Vancouver. Jack and I are both in Jersey, though.”

You let your mouth hang open at him, not being able to hide your shock.

This earns another laugh from Luke.

“What kind of superhuman DNA do your parents possess?” you ask him.

“Not sure. We’re still being studied as we speak,” Luke leans closer, whispering like he’s telling you a secret. “The big wigs in the NHL haven’t found out yet that they grew us in test tubes in their basement.”

You let out a laugh so loud that you gain the attention of several men on the other end of the bar, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Luke leans back in his seat, a fond smile on his face as he sees your embarrassed expression.

“Hey, Y/N, you gonna come help me do your job or what?” you hear Brady yell, annoyed that he’s been working the whole bar alone for the past ten minutes.

You roll your eyes while still facing Luke, removing your hand from your mouth and turning your head to respond. “Yeah, don’t get your club all bent, I’ll be right there.”

Luke’s still smiling at you when you turn back to face him.

“Guess that’s my cue to get back to my job and quit talking to cute boys sitting at the bar, huh?” you spew, realizing what you just said a second too late.

Luke’s eyebrows shoot up, his back straightening in surprise.

You pause all movements, staring at Luke.

“Uhh…anyways, gotta go do my job. Y’know, the thing I come around often for?” you make a call back to Luke’s attempt at a line earlier, hoping it take some of the attention off of what you just said.

Luke chuckles at you. “Yeah, I need to go meet back up with my fellow lab rats, anyways,” he tells you, reaching for his wallet, placing a twenty down on the bar.

“You do realize water is free, right?” you tell him, sliding the bill back to him.

“Yeah. Figured I’d try to make up for the tips I caused you to lose, though,” he shrugs his shoulders, standing from his chair.

“Nope, I’m not taking your money. Feels like you’re just paying me for talking to you,” you tell him, holding the money out towards him and shaking it around, trying to make him take it.

Luke shakes his head at your stubbornness. “C’mon, just take it. Your coworker collected all kinds of tips while you were over here.”

“Nope,” you shake your head, leaning over and grabbing Luke’s arm, placing the money in his hand.

“I need to do something, though. I feel bad causing you to lose out on money that should’ve been yours,” he insists.

“Well, I guess I’ll let you make it up to me,” you start, watching him try to lay the money down again and shooting your arm out, preventing him from doing so. “By giving me your number,” you decide to be bold.

Luke goes still. “Uhh, y-yeah. Sure,” he snaps out of his momentary freeze, fumbling for his phone, handing it over to you.

You put your number in his phone, sending yourself a text before handing it back with a wink.

“I guess I’ll talk to you later?” Luke asks, pushing his stool in.

You nod your head yes, turning to go back to your job duties.

You turn back around after you take a few steps, seeing Luke walking away with his back turned.

“Hey, Curly Q!” you call after him, causing him to turn to look at you. “I get off at five, in case you were wondering,” you shout towards him, flashing a smirk before you walk away.

Luke smiles and shakes his head, making his way towards the other side of the clubhouse.

You watch his figure as he moves across the room, stopping to make small talk with a man, shaking his head before joining his brothers at a small table on the restaurant side of the clubhouse, picking up his menu and browsing the food selection.

You smile to yourself and go back to stacking glasses.

As you’re transferring a new stack of clean glasses to the cooler under the bar, you hear someone call your name from above you.

You stand, rattling off your typical greeting to the new customer.

“Someone named Luke asked me to give this to you,” he tells you, handing you the same twenty-dollar bill Luke had tried to hand you a few minutes prior.

You pick up the bill as the stranger walks away, looking down at it before raising your head and looking for the curly headed culprit.

You meet Luke’s eye, raising a brow at him while lifting the paper money, pointing at it.

Luke shrugs his shoulders and grins from across the room.

Months later, when you’re attending your first ever Devils game in support of your newly titled boyfriend, you watch him skate out on the ice for warm ups, making a bee-line to the seat he provided for you.

He looks at you in his Jersey, a sight he pictured from the moment he first saw you on the golf course last summer, wondering how he managed to impress the pretty cart girl he embarrassed himself with, what feels like so long ago.

Your smile took up your entire face as you waved at him, excited to finally see him play in person. He smiles back, pointing down to the ground, asking if you wanted a puck.

You nodded your head yes, watching him pick up a puck and take the cover off of a small cut out in the plexiglass separating the two of you.

When he slides the puck through the hand sized hole, you grab onto his glove, replacing the puck with a piece of paper before pushing his hand back towards him.

He looks down at his hand, confusion written all over his face. He opens his glove, looking down at his hand, his head snapping up to look at you once he realizes what you had done.

“There’s your tip, hot shot!” you shout at him through the glass, smiling in amusement, seeing the same twenty-dollar bill from the first day you met him resting in his red glove, never imagining that the nervous, bumbling boy sitting in front of you at the bar that day would make you feel like the luckiest girl in all of Michigan, and now New Jersey.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I only have 30 pounds in my bank account] - Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader, but only Soap and Ghost in this chapter unless I extend this

chapter 2

You’re just trying to fulfill your dream, plus survive with the money you earn with your shop, but you start questioning if this is a good idea, maybe you should just listen to your friend and be a 9-5 worker, sitting in front of a laptop the whole day.

This isn’t a good location to open a tea shop, your little shop will rather become a place for dealing drugs or getting extorted in the first month. The area is fully ruled by the mafia, hence the cops couldn’t do anything here, but it makes the rent extremely low, which you’re able to afford with money you saved during school, and have a tiny shop that can barely squeeze in more than 8 people.

Looking at the scene playing in your shop for the fifth time this month, you stare at the people fighting and break the cup with dead eyes. You want to shout, to kick these guys' ass out of here or hit them with your broom, yet you glance at their muscles and the knives in their hand –  probably killing every day as work out, to your opposite one because you slump onto the bed once you close the shop and go upstairs, you choose to remain silent as the yelling only become louder.

Maybe you should find the mafia boss or some henchmen and give them half of your income to prevent the mayhem, but first, you don’t even know who actually rules this fucking place; second, you doubt they will have interest in your skimpy bank account. The only information you have is the mafia ruling here called ‘141’, since it’s an open secret to residents here.

“What are ye arseholes doin’?”

Fuck, here comes another one, or two as you spot the man with a balaclava behind the mohawk man who's speaking. They are tall, muscular and built like bricks. Grown like giraffes either, you complement when you need to crook your neck up to look at them stepping into your shop as if it's their backyard.

but the chaos halts immediately as you watch your ‘customers’ seem shocked with terror at the men.

You pretend you’re deaf and attempt to bury yourself in your counter. Please don’t kill me I didn’t hear a goddamn word and didn’t see you threatening them. You recite your defense as you scrub at the same tea cup till the distinct accent from the mohawk man catches you off guard that you almost drop it.

“I guess it’s already clean, lass.” A smirk appears on his face as he points at the cup.

“Wh– what do you want?” 

“Calm down, jus’ want te have some tea.”

“I only have 30 pounds in my bank account.”

“We’re just sayin’ we want tea.” The taller man speaks for the first time after coming in, and it startles you but forces your brain to function at the same time.

Ah, they aren’t here for money. You finally get what they’re talking about.

“Isn’t it supposed te be a tea shop here? One cup for him, and give me a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, of course. What kind of tea would you like, Sir?” You shift slightly to meet the other man’s eyes, and you want to shiver under his cold eyes.

“Just give him whatever you recommend.” 

They round over the glass scattering on the floor and take a seat closest to your counter after you nod at them.

While boiling the water, you sneak a glimpse at them, and the shape of guns covered by their clothes are unignorable as you scold yourself to stop looking at them, or the bigger guy might stab your eyes, but you still curse whole-heartedly in mind when the Scottish accent man meet your eyes with his azure ones and shines you a grin.

Should just quit staring, or you shouldn’t open this shop at all. Regretting your decisions as you turn back and focus back on making their drink, you’re able to recognize them staring at you from the periphery of your vision. Is it too late to kneel down and beg for your life right now?

You still perfectly make their orders and bring them the drinks, even though you’re sweating internally. At least don’t mess it up, and your confidence in your tea and coffee isn’t born from nothing, as you notice the man with the skull balaclava takes a sip first, then raises his eyebrow, added with a side glance at you.

“Haven’t seen him amazed by tea in years, it must be very good.” The mohawk man whistles as he sips at his coffee and gives an approving nod too.

“Thank you…” Your ego shouldn’t be boosted by mafias, but you still relax a bit knowing you didn't screwed up.

“When did ye open ‘is shop?” The man asks while the other continues drinking his tea, but seemingly taking in the conversation too.

“About two months ago."

"That’s why we didn't know about it before…” He taps at the table twice before shooting you another question “Got blokes like those in yer shop earlier often?”

Death sentence is served to your front, that’s what you think you hear. Is it better to say yes or no? Judging by the fact those people are their minions, you’re not sure if saying yes is indicating they haven’t controlled them appropriately.

“Tell us the truth” 

“Yeah, it’s the fifth time this month.” Swallowing, you confirm. Lies aren’t meaningful, and surely they’re able to pierce any veil with those scrutinizing stares and keen minds.

You watch them sharing a glance, and Soap takes out a pen along with a piece of paper, and starts scribbling on it.

“Here, call this number when you run in trouble, aye?" He shoves the paper into your grasp “I’m Soap, call him Ghost.”

"It’s a nice shop, we’ll come back soon.”

Your little shop drops into peace again as your customers leave, and you gaze at the generous tip lying on your counter, to the paper in your palm.

A number is written on it, with a big badge of ‘141’ beside it.

Oh shit, so your shop just became the most far-flung mafia’s property without you knowing.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[eternalbuckley]

Together. — aemond targaryen

SUMMARY: Aemond and you still love each other even if you weren't together anymore. So what happens if you're hanging out with your shared group friends and he invites you to a drink in his apartment? You might end up tangled with each other in his bed and talk about your feelings the next morning.

word count: 5,658

genre: slight angst with fluff, smut with plot | afab!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings/tropes: modern au, 18+ MDNI!! NSFW (this part is divided with dividers so you can skip the actual smut part if you want), p in v sex, no use of protection (wrap it up folks thanks), cunnilingus, creampie (again, use protection), descriptions of alcohol use, mention of tipsy reader and aemond, slight cursing, use of they pronoun once, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if I forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: it's my first time writing p in v smut, so please bear with me, i'm still trying to figure it out! this entire fanfic turned out to be the longest piece i've ever written lmao.i hope you'll enjoy it <3 reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and highly welcomed!

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!

18+ MDNI divider by cafekitsune

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The breakup between Aemond and you was mutually decided. Both of you were quite busy with your jobs and barely had time for each other anymore, which ended in a lot of arguments. Many of them were based on miscommunication or if anyone of you felt like the other one wasn’t giving them enough attention and love. This was the reason why you both mutually decided to break up after you’ve been together for a few years, both of you thinking it was the best decision during this time.

You still loved and cared for each other, but it wasn’t the right time to be with each other, as each one of you had a stressful period of your life, and the constant arguments outweighed most of the soft moments between you. You tried to be each other’s support, but it ended up in the opposite way during this time. It was clear, to everyone who knew you, that you two were still longing for each other over the months since you broke up. You tried dating other people in hopes you could fill the void that has been there ever since you parted ways, but it didn’t work out for either of you.

Aemond and you shared the same group of friends, or at least shared a few friends that hang out together every two to three weeks. Two times you and Aemond invited the people you were seeing to hang out with your friends. Meaning you and him would see each other as well. This didn’t work out quite well because the people you were seeing noticed how you and Aemond constantly looked in each other’s direction. They quickly realized that neither Aemond nor you stopped loving one another or knew that you still had some sort of feelings for the other one, even if you both tried to ignore or deny it, you knew the truth.

Your friends noticed this longing dynamic between you two ever since you told them that you decided to part ways for now. No one could say that they didn’t see the longing stares both of you had whenever the other one wasn’t looking, or the gentle touches you had on each other from time to time that were just lingering quite too long for friends.

Many times, Aemond would ask his sister, Helaena, who was one of your closest friends, if you had already found someone else or how you were doing. Especially if he noticed that you seemed off one day you and your friends hung out, he’d immediately try to find a moment to get to text or talk to Helaena alone and ask her about it. If she was able to tell him something, she would give him a few details. And you would do the same if you noticed something different about him and asked Helaena most of the time. Sometimes you would go to Aegon, in hopes that he hopefully might know something. It would depend on the situation. It was hard to ignore or deny that you two still deeply cared about each other.

Both of you were currently hanging out with your friends again, sitting next to Helaena and having your legs over hers as you laughed with her. Watching the boys as they turned on the fire of the campfire. Aemond sat opposite from you and Helaena and tried not to look over at you too much and to focus more on the conversation he had with one of your friends. It was a cozy and quiet night; everyone was having a good time. Helaena excused herself for a moment to get herself another drink as you took a swig from your own bottle. You noticed how she slightly nodded in Aemond’s direction as she went back into the kitchen of the house. A few seconds later, you saw how he slowly walked over to you.

“Can I sit down?” He asked with a soft tone in his voice and motioned to the seat next to you. You looked up to him and nodded, slightly scooting to the side to make more room for him to sit down. Your arms brushed against one another as he sat down next to you, sending a slight shiver down your spine, but you tried to play it down and didn’t pay attention to it.

You took another swig from your bottle, even if it was almost empty. You could have gotten up to get another bottle, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment with Aemond. You haven’t really had any conversations with him in the past few weeks, only having your eyes on each other. It was quite a comfortable atmosphere between you, as you watched the fire and listened to its crackles, but he had his eyes on you, admiring you as the fire cast a beautiful light on your face. He reached out and removed something from your hair, causing you to look at him for a moment, slightly confused. But in the short moment his fingers brushed over your hair sent a warmth through your body.

“It was just a tiny bug,” he tried to keep his voice low. Your lips turned into a small smile, “Thank you.”

Neither of you really knew what to say, you wanted to have a conversation with him, but you didn’t quite know what you could talk about. You could have asked him about his life, what he was up to at the moment, but you weren’t sure if he was even ready to talk about it.

As you wanted to ask something he got pulled away by Aegon. “Sorry, my lady,” he had his hands on Aemond’s shoulders and grinned, “I need my brother for a moment! He will be back at your service in a moment,” he giggled, clearly drunk as he dragged Aemond away.

You sighed with a smile on your lips and didn’t stop him, sometimes it was hilarious when Aegon was drunk. Occasionally, you wished things were different, but it was what you and Aemond had decided, so you must stick with it. You slowly nodded to yourself and got into the house to get another bottle, joining Helaena and completely missing the way Aemond longingly looked over to you as his brother talked his ear off.

A few hours later, you were talking with Helaena again, sitting together with Aemond on a bench in front of the campfire. He sat next to you, and you felt the warmth of the flames and his body, it was a pleasant feeling that filled you. His arm was resting behind you on the backrest of the bench you were sitting on. Helaena left you and Aemond alone for a moment after she had finished her story.

When she left, he slightly leaned into you and whispered into your ear, his voice casual. “Would you mind joining me for a drink back in my apartment?” He was nervous about how you would react. He already expected that you would refuse him, but he raised his eyebrows for a short moment as you accepted his invitation. Aemond cleared his throat and nodded, happy that you said yes.

A few minutes later you and him said your goodbyes to your friends. Helaena had a smirk on her lips as she hugged you. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do with my partner, babe,” she teased you and whispered into your ear.

He was slightly nervous as he led you to his car and opened the passenger side for you. You occasionally looked at each other during the drive to his apartment but didn’t really talk with each other, perhaps both of you were too nervous?

One drink turned into two, and two into three. Both of you were slightly tipsy by now and were talking with each other as if nothing had ever happened. You sat next to each other on his couch, and he had one arm on the backrest, resting behind your head. Your legs were slightly bent in his direction. You noticed the way he looked down at them sometimes, and you wished he’d just grab them, but both of you knew that neither of you would dare to cross the line without completely knowing if the other one wanted it too. But you both wanted it deeply. The conversation died down between you a few minutes ago, you’ve just looked at each other. The air had already been thick before, but it was getting worse in that very moment. You found yourself looking down on his lips, and he did too. Both of you leaned into each other but stopped when you were only a few movements away from each other’s faces. Should you really give in to what you’ve wanted ever since you broke up all these months ago or not?

You felt his breath on your face and just wanted to give in, you wanted to feel his lips on yours so badly. You could swear you stopped breathing when he carefully brushed your hair out of your face and cupped your cheek, you leaned into his touch and held his gaze.

“Aemond…” You dared to break the silence with a shaky whisper. You craved his touch, as much as he craved yours. Your lips were parted as your gaze went down to his lips.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want it,” he looked up from your lips into your eyes to find any hesitance, but he saw the way your pupils dilated as he held your gaze again. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered eagerly and hummed as he immediately captured your lips in a passionate and desperate kiss. Both of your tensed shoulders relaxed eventually,

His hand still cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb, your hand found his cheeks immediately and pulled him into you, while his other arm, which was resting on the backrest of his couch, wrapped around your waist to pull you into his lap. You straddled him and deepened the kiss as both of you opened your mouth to feel each other’s tongue, completely losing yourselves in the kiss. It’s what you’ve both been craving, and neither of you wanted to stop the moment. You didn’t want to think of the possible outcome or how it would change the current dynamic between you two, maybe you would find your way back to each other or it wouldn’t change a thing. Maybe it would just stay at making out with each other, but both of you wanted and needed more.

He missed to feel your skin against his, the way your curves felt when he traced them. The way you’d always react to his touch, arching your back whenever his hand found its way between your thighs. The way you always reacted to his kisses, whether it was a more heated or soft and slow kiss. You loved each of them, and so did he. Aemond loved the way your hands felt on his skin, the way you’d always end up tracing his arms, hands or face whenever you cuddled or were next to each other. He appreciated and missed these moments with you. It may only have been a few months since you two broke up, but the more intimate moments between you had been missing way before you eventually parted ways.

Both of you slowly pulled away from each other, faces still close as you spoke against his lips. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You whispered, your voice slightly raspy from the lack of air in your lungs. Both of his hands had found their way to your hips and gently circled his fingers on your clothed skin, squeezing your skin.

He nodded. “I… I just need you, darling. I’m sure,” his voice was low and raspy as well. His good eye filled with desire as you looked at him and kissed him again. “Me too,” you whispered between kisses.

Aemond lifted you by gripping down on your thighs and placed you underneath him on the couch. He pulled away from you with a cheeky smile and kneeled in front of you as he pulled you on the edge of his couch. His hands roamed over your thighs to the button of your pants. Aemond looked up to you, slightly asking if he could continue. You nodded and didn’t break eye contact with him as he slowly opened the button of your pants and motioned for you to lift your hips so he could pull off your pants. His gaze never left yours, and he noticed the way you had your lower lip between your teeth as you lifted your hips eagerly, knowing what would follow. His fingers gently traced over your now exposed skin. His lips found the skin of your hip bone, which was still covered only seconds ago. His eye closed for a moment to capture this moment in his mind.

He pressed open kisses on your covered and uncovered skin, “I missed this so much,” he mumbled as he firmly but also gently gripped down your thighs while looking up at you again, silently asking if he could part your legs. You slightly sat up and parted them, causing him to smirk and move between them. His hands brushed over the flesh of your thighs and caressed them as he slowly moved them up to brush over your panties. Your breath hitched as he brushed over your still-clothed heat.

“Please, Aemond,” you whimpered as he teased your clothed clit with his finger while a smirk was on his lips. You hated how desperate you were for him, but you finally needed to feel him again. In every way you could have him. “Don’t tease me now.”

“Very well,” he hooked his fingers with the fabric of your panties on your hips and slowly pulled them down. You lifted your hips again, so it was easier for him to take your panties off.

A soft hum left his lips as soon as he tossed your panties away and saw your already glistening heat. He leaned down and pressed more kisses on the area of your heat, but not where you needed him. It frustrated you, and that made him chuckle. He always used to love to tease you, but he knew it wasn’t the perfect time for that right now, as it only tortured him as well. He couldn’t wait any longer and just wanted to get his mouth on you, his growing bulge in his pants could wait for a few moments. He wanted to give you the pleasure first. A moan left your lips as soon as he pressed his lips on your clit and made eye contact with you again. Aemond took a long drag through your slit with his tongue, your mouth stayed slightly open. He groaned into you as you grabbed one of his hands that were still on your thighs and held on to him as he devoured your cunt. He missed those pretty sounds that left your lips, especially how you tasted. For a short moment his mind went completely blank.

He started sucking on your clit and licked through your folds, causing you to tighten your grip on his hand, nails digging into his skin and your moans to get louder. He flicked his tongue in long and slower licks and changed the technique every so often to a faster and shorter pace. Completely devouring everything he could get from you. You didn’t even think about keeping it quiet, as it was overwhelming to feel his tongue on you. All the build-up tension over the past months is finally being relieved. Who would be better than him? No one.

You felt the all too well-known knot in your stomach, signalling that you were close to your climax. Aemond knew you were close as he noticed the way your panting increased, and your head fell back against the backrest of his couch. You cried out for more and wrapped one of your legs over his shoulder, which caused him to moan into you.

“Fuck– Aemond, I’m close! I…” Your grip on his hand tightened even more, if that was even possible, your back arched, and eyes closed as you focused on the building pleasure in your stomach.

“Don’t hold yourself back, darling. Come all over my face,” he panted against your cunt and got his mouth back on your swollen clit to sloppily circle his tongue around it, savouring each second while being between your thighs. Your mind turned blank as he continued to pleasure you, he still knew how to take care of you perfectly.

A strangled moan left your lips as you came on his tongue a few moments later, your legs slightly shaking as he fucked you with his tongue through your orgasm. Aemond could swear he almost lost his mind as he heard your moan and tasted you on his tongue, his hips humping into his couch. A soft chuckle left your lips as you exhaled and looked down at him. He was still kneeling between your legs, and his chin was glistening with your arousal and some of his spit. After you gained some strength again, you leaned forward and kissed him while your hands were on his cheeks, moaning as you tasted yourself.

“You did so well for me,” he praised you with a whisper as he pulled away from the kiss. “Can I take you to my bed or do you–“

“Please,” you nodded eagerly with a hushed voice, “Please do, Aemond.”

He gently picked you up, his hands digging into the skin of your thighs and placed open kisses on your exposed neck as he carried you into his bedroom, kicking the door as you were inside to close it behind him. He carefully placed you on his bed and hovered over you as he continued to kiss your neck and jaw. Your hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled on it, he moved his head away from your neck so you could pull off his shirt. You tossed it somewhere into his room, not caring about where it landed and traced his chest tenderly. He captured your lips in a kiss, his hips slightly buckling against you as you wrapped your legs around his hips to pull him closer to you. You took off the rest of your clothes from each other in a few motions, leaving both of you naked as you straddled his lap. His hands roamed over your thighs, caressing them as you leaned down to leave kisses on his chest while feeling his length underneath you.

He sharply inhaled as you wrapped one hand around his aching cock and stroked him a few times which already left him gripping down on your thighs, and he wasn’t even inside you yet. You smirked because of his reaction, you understood how he felt and eventually positioned his tip at your entrance and slowly sank down on his length, feeling how he stretched your walls. A low, needy moan escaped both of your lips, your hands on his chest, holding him down on his mattress, and his were holding you by your hips. You waited a few moments before you started to roll your hips, finding a pleasant rhythm for both of you. Aemond was completely at your mercy, it took him his entire strength not to come immediately. The sounds you made and how your hands roamed over his torso only added more levels to the pleasure he felt because of you. His body shivered, and his heartbeat increased. He felt you clenching around him and groaned with a hitched sound.

“Fuck you feel so good, darling,” he moaned. Your gazes met again, and you wished you could stay like this for eternity. His face was flushed, his back slightly arched, and his mouth agape as he didn’t hold back any sounds anymore.

This only reminded you of the beginning of your relationship, he barely voiced any hints of his pleasure and barely made any sounds whenever you slept with each other, but over the time, he let his walls down and started to be more vocal. This meant the time you were apart didn’t change that factor about him, and you loved it even more. You slightly leaned forward, feeling him deeper inside of you and grabbed his hands to intertwine your fingers, the slightly changed position adding more pleasure to both of you.

You continued to roll your hips and to hold eye contact with him, moaning his name repeatedly. After a while, you pulled him up against you, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as you captured his lips in a heated, passionate kiss, and he wrapped his arms around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stopped moving for a short moment, enjoying the close and intimate moment between you as you kissed each other. He lifted you from his cock in a quick movement, both of you whimpering at the loss of each other. He rolled on top of you and gently placed you underneath him, your legs on either side of his while he slowly slid into you again and captured your lips in a kiss again. A soft gasp left your lips, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. He held him up with one arm while the other held you by your hip and thrust into you with a steady, slow pace. He swallowed your moans as he continued kissing you. You gripped on his biceps, leaving crescent marks in his skin and had your eyes shut.

He fastened his pace as he felt you clenching around him.  “I can’t get enough of you, darling,” his voice hitched as his climax neared, “I don’t think I can go much longer.”

Skin slapping against each other, and moans filled the room. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and placed sloppy kisses on there as his hips snapped against yours. You knew he was getting close to his climax as his movements were getting sloppier. He tried to hold on, wanting to get you close for a second time the night, but it only left him whimpering against your lips as he kissed them.

“You can come inside me, Aemond,” you panted, your eyelids half-lidded as you met his gaze. “Are… Are you sure?” His breath hitched in his throat. He groaned after you nodded and lifted his head, so he could look at you as he thrusts into you once more before you felt his seed filling you up, his cock twitching inside of you.

He had a satisfied expression and moved one hand between your bodies, his thumb rubbing on your clit to get you over the edge as well while he continued to thrust into you. A cry left your mouth, and you pulled his face close to yours.

“Come for me, angel,” he exhaled.

You clenched around him, which caused him to whimper from feeling slightly overstimulated as you came shortly after him all over his cock, your legs shaking and moaning. He continued to pound into you in a slow pace to help you ride out your climax. Both of you tried to catch your breaths from the pleasure you both just felt after months of not feeling it both of you fucked out. With a low whimper, he slowly pulled out of you, and collapsed on top of you, your arms wrapped around him. Both of your bodies were covered in sweat and were heated up, your chests heaving. His face was in the crook of your neck, your fingers gently tracing his back, which caused him to get goosebumps. He occasionally placed soft kisses on your neck while he gently traced the sides of your body. After a while, he got up and helped you to get up, holding you as your legs slightly gave up for a short moment.

“Do you want me to help you clean up?” Aemond asked, a tender tone in his voice, but you shook your head. “You can wait in your bed for me,” you smiled at him affectionally, which he happily returned. He was happy that you would be staying over the night. He gave you his shirt so you could go to the toilet after he made sure you were able to stand. When you came back, he already laid in his bed and waited for you to join him. He pulled the blanket over you and him.

Neither of you said anything and just enjoyed the moment while it lasted, even if it meant you wouldn’t speak about it the next morning and act like you just didn’t have your best sex in a long while. Both of you wrapped your arms around each other as you slowly drifted off to sleep. You and I finally had a good sleep after months again, laying arm in arm felt right. And it was right, was it?

A soft hum left your lips as you slowly woke up the next morning, feeling completely comfortable but slightly sore. Your eyes immediately opened and widened as you realized where you were and what you did last night with Aemond. Your back was turned towards him with his arm loosely over your waist. You let out a quiet sigh and slowly wiggled yourself out of his grip, trying not to wake him up. After you successfully got out of his bed without waking him up, you noticed that you were wearing his shirt. As you picked up your shirt, you quietly left his bedroom and got dressed after you picked up your panties and pants that were in his living room. You put his shirt on the backrest of his couch as memories from last night flooded your mind. The pleasure you felt, god it was so fucking good. You missed him and how well he always treated you and exactly knew how to get you over the edge quickly, but what if he regretted it? You didn’t want to face him or the situation, you were afraid of what could happen when he would wake up.

You deeply inhaled and made your way to the door to put your shoes back on, took your handbag and were ready to leave without saying goodbye. But you sighed as you grabbed the door handle.

What if this night was a sign for both of you? What if that was the sign that you were ready to be with each other again?

You cursed yourself, took off your shoes again and left your handbag on the floor next to them. You were willing to see what could and would happen as soon as he would wake up. You decided to wait until he did, waiting on his couch. Saying you weren’t nervous would be a lie. While you waited, you paced his living room a few times, thinking about what you could possibly say to him.

You nervously waited almost an hour until you heard noises from his bedroom. He woke up with a low groan and stretched his body, the events from last night filling his mind immediately. He sighed as he opened his eyes, rubbed his good eye and noticed that the side you slept on was already empty. He immediately sat up, and his eye roamed the room, he noticed that your shirt wasn’t on the floor anymore. ‘They already left…’ He thought and groaned as he cursed himself for having possibly ruined the only chance to get back together with you. He wanted to make things right and give you the love you deserved, not like this immediately.

What if the events of last night chased you away from him even further? What if there was no chance left anymore with you?

You fiddled with your fingers and immediately looked up from them as you saw him walking out of his bedroom. He yawned and rubbed his good eye again. Maybe he hasn’t noticed you yet? But as soon as his eye focused on you, he stopped in his tracks. “I… I thought you had already left.”

“I… Well, I was about to leave but…” You stood up from his couch, “But I don’t think this would have been my best option.”

 “Oh… I…” He slowly nodded, considering what to say, and walked into his kitchen, which was connected to his living room. You nervously fiddled with your fingers and followed his movements with your eyes but didn’t move the rest of your body. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” he mumbled as he made himself a coffee, but you heard him, and a small smile formed on your lips.

“Do you want one as well?” He pointed to his coffee mug, but you shook your head and thanked him for the offer. He poured the coffee into his mug after it was done brewing and then walked up to you.

Both of you sat down next to each other, but there was a tiny distance between you. Neither of you said anything for a moment until he broke the tense silence between you. “Do you… Want to talk about last night?” He spoke softly, the nervousness in his voice was noticeable.

You nodded and turned your gaze in his direction, turning your body towards him, “I think we should.” Aemond inhaled and nodded as well, unsure what to say for a moment before he continued. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” you paused for a moment, “Not at all.” His shoulders relaxed immediately, “Neither do I.”

“Can I be honest with you?” You asked, a hint of nervousness in your voice again. After he nodded, you continued, “I… Uhm… I miss you. I miss us. I know we decided to part ways because of all the things that were going on back then but… I never stopped thinking about you or the time we shared. And last night… Maybe it was a sign? And maybe it was what we needed to realize that we’re ready to be with each other again.”

Aemond didn’t respond immediately, he was quite stunned, but he felt the same and agreed with you completely. He noticed how you continued to fiddle with your fingers and put down his coffee mug to gently lean to you and grab your hands to distract you. The contact calmed you down a little bit. You looked down at your hands as he brushed over the top of your hands with his thumbs. He still knew what calms you down, and you appreciated it a lot.

“I feel the same, darling,” he whispered softly, “I tried to move on, but it was impossible. There was always something missing in my life without you. I couldn’t stop looking at you whenever we hung out with our friends, and I…” He paused, “I still love you. I never stopped loving you, and when I woke up and thought you had already left, I was angry with myself for possibly having ruined any chances with you. You’re… You’re simply the best thing that has happened to me, and I don’t want to lose you entirely.”

You squeezed his hand and looked at him, “Nothing is ruined. I… I never stopped loving you either, Aemond.” You loved him, you always have. Many nights, you’ve found yourself thinking about the rest of your life with him together. How you’d grow old with him, maybe living somewhere peaceful. Together. Maybe you’d have a dog or more than one? Maybe a cat? Or any other animals you could take care of together. Both of you even had thought about adopting a dog or cat together when you were still together. You two already had different name ideas, one of them being Vhagar.

He smiled and scooted closer to you to lean his forehead against yours while he still held your hands tightly and gently. Maybe you were able to have a chance again. “Do you want to give us… Maybe another chance? I… I can’t continue living like this anymore. Every night, I think about you before I fall asleep, and you’re the first thought in the morning when I wake up. Wishing you were in my arms like you always used to. I just… Miss it,” he admitted quietly. His vulnerability was noticeable.

“I’d like to try again,” you smiled while tears built up in your eyes, completely out of happiness. You’ve been hoping for this moment for so long, and now you were sitting here together. Where it all started first because the first kiss you had with him before you were a couple happened in this apartment, on his couch in the same place you sat on currently.

Both of you smiled and fondly looked at one another before you eventually finally leaned in and captured his lips in a slow and tender kiss. He continued to brush his thumb over your hand and hummed into the kiss with a smile. He was truly happy. He pulled you into a hug after you pulled away from each other, stroking your head as he put his on top of yours. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his waist. It was everything you needed, and maybe the break between you was needed to find each other again with a better mindset.

“I missed this,” you whispered after a while. “I missed this too. I missed you,” he admitted and kissed the top of your head. You finally had him back, he was your safe space, and you were his. And you both won’t let the other one go again. No matter what, you’d be able to get through everything together.

[sanguineterrain]

im begging you to write a part 2 of vigilante reader because the way you write??? the dynamic between reader and jason??? the sex tension???are chef kiss!!!

thanks very much! part 2 and I couldn't put off the reveal bc I'm just too impatient lol 🫶 but I might write another part post-reveal? maybe? cuz I'm growing attached to these two <3

jason todd x gn!vigilante!reader (nocturne). tw explosions, smoke inhalation, reader passes out, canon typical violence, identity reveal, asshole bruce. jason is in love? jason is in love.

read pt 1 here! | all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Go home."

"Bruce, I—"

Bruce looks at you, eyes sharp with fury and... something else. Something older.

The others know how to talk back. You still haven't gained the courage to sass The Batman.

"Go. Home. If you need an escort, I can call Superman."

You take a step back at his coldness.

"Bruce, I know I messed up, letting Hood escape but—"

"Yes, you did. You deliberately disobeyed an order. I told everybody to stand down. He could've killed you."

But he didn't, you don't say. He could've, but he chose not to.

He'd felt safe.

"I had it under control, honestly. He wasn't—it wasn't like the other encounters you've had with him. He wouldn't have hurt me."

That is the wrong thing to say. You realize that after the words leave your mouth and the muscles in Bruce's jaw jump.

"You can't be this naive. I know I wouldn't have chosen someone who's this naive," he says savagely. "You know Hood can't be trusted, and you're defending him to me. We've seen time and again he's rogue. He doesn't make sense and that's exactly why he's dangerous."

"But if you would just listen—"

"Enough," he snaps. "Enough. Go home. I'm suspending you for three weeks."

"Three w—I'm not even injured!" you cry.

"No, but you need the time. You're not thinking clearly. Go. I don't want to see you until next month."

You press your lips together before you say something truly foul. Something about Batman's habit of pushing people away. Something about dead Robins.

You don't let the tears fall until you leave the Cave. This is all Hood's fault. You know it would've been a different conversation if you'd managed to successfully capture him.

You'll take down the Red Hood if it's the last thing you do.

****

It takes you approximately two days to break your suspension.

In your defense, you meant to follow Bruce's orders. You would've stayed put and helped Barbara with research instead.

But not at the expense of civilian lives.

"All units to Canal and Riverview, 10-80. Standby. Do not enter the factory until given clearance from the Bomb Squad."

You turn off the police scanner and stuff it in your drawer. In Gotham, explosions usually come in multiples. If there's one, there's bound to be another. The police are generally inept when it comes to evacuating civilians. You know one of the other Bats are on their way, but you're the closest to the docks.

You glance at your suit. No. If you go as Nocturne, Batman might suspend you indefinitely.

You grab your gas mask and put on a black hoodie and a domino mask. You'll just have to make do.

The marina is blanketed in thick smoke. It makes your eyes water. But in the commotion it causes, you're able to slip past the barriers and help workers out of the factory. It's difficult because without the suit, people don't give you the same trust and respect. But you're anonymous, and that's all that matters.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You ignore the voice and keep hauling two elderly workers towards the exit. They're barely outside before you turn around, determined to clear every level of the factory.

You're yanked backward by a hand on your hoodie. You nearly lose your footing, but the hand is firm, dragging you towards the pier.

You're spun around and put face to face with a red helmet.

Oh, of all the fucking—

"Let go of me!" you shout, smacking his arm. Hood's grip tightens.

"I will as soon as you stop doing stupid shit. What were you thinking, coming here?"

You pause. Whoops. This isn't how a plain civilian would react to being apprehended by the Red Hood.

And that's definitely not how the Red Hood would react to getting swatted by a random civilian. Shit.

"I was, um, I was thinking I could help," you say haltingly. "P-please don't hurt me, Mr. Hood, I was—"

Hood sighs and lets you go, then tucks his gun into his holster.

"Cut the shit. I know you're Nocturne. I also know that you need some acting lessons because what the hell was that? Mr. Hood?"

A chill washes over you. "I don't know what you mean. Nocturne?"

Hood shakes his head. "I don't have time for this. The building's gonna collapse any second. Stay. Put."

He goes back toward the smoking entrance. Your eye twitches as you follow him.

"Last time I checked, you don't have that kind of authority, Hood."

He turns around and looms over you. "Don't I?"

Anyone else would back down. You might've a week ago. You should, after the tongue lashing Bruce gave you.

But there's no soot on Hood's helmet or vest. He doesn't smell sweet like gasoline or pungent like motor oil.

He was in the factory to help.

Something shifts. Batman is wrong. Batman is more wrong than he's ever been.

Because Hood's not the enemy here. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

You push past Hood. "It'll be faster if we work together."

"Oh, absolutely not. You're not even in your suit."

"As per your request," you say, flashing a plastic smile. "You're welcome."

"Don't get cute with me, you—hey!"

You dart past him and go straight into the factory. Hood shouts your name, which makes you pause, just for a moment.

But revealed identity or not, you need to clear the building. So you pull on your mask and run faster.

Your worst fear is confirmed when you check the upper level: someone was missed in the evacuation. It's a worker, and she's unconscious.

You don't think about how explosions come in pairs in Gotham. Don't think about how long it'll take to get to the exit.

You take off your mask and slide it onto her face. The smoke burns your throat immediately, but you ignore it and lift her in a fireman carry, just as you were taught all those years ago by Robin. He's the one who taught you how to save people without relying on brute strength or height.

You hope he's alright, wherever he is. You hope he's not too upset seeing you rush into a burning building.

That's your last thought when you see the entrance. Your face is covered in sweat and grime. The heat from the fires is exhausting. You can feel your eyes beginning to close.

"There's something seriously wrong with you," a decoded voice says in your ear, and then the woman's weight is lifted from your shoulders.

Hood grabs your hand, the woman over his opposite shoulder, and you make it out just as the second explosion goes off. It knocks you forward.

Hood puts the woman down just in time to catch you. His arm is around your waist, the other hand cradling your head. His gloved thumb touches your mouth, and you feel his dawning realization as he finally sees your mask on the woman.

"Don't tell Ba'man," you slur.

"Jesus fuck—" Hood starts to drag you. You feel lightheaded. He's moving, and you wish he'd stop. "You don't take off your mask. You never take off your mask. We taught you that!"

"She was unconscious, J'y..."

Arms tighten around you. Everything goes dark.

****

You wake up to the smell of scrambling eggs.

For a moment, you just bask in the smell. It smells like Alfred's breakfast scramble. Bacon. Butter. Golden potatoes.

Then you wake up further and realize that you're not in the Manor. You're in your apartment.

So who's cooking?

You get up quietly, slipping out of your room. You pause in front of the full-length mirror.

Honestly, you've looked worse. Your hair needs a wash, and you're in the same clothes you went into the building with, which are now a little charred. But your face is clean of soot, and your throat hurts only a little.

The kitchen sink runs. You slowly creep out into the living room, keeping your breathing even and silent.

The mess of black hair, you recognize. Sort of. You might've mistaken him for Bruce if you didn't know that Bruce has a lifetime ban from kitchens all over the world.

He's too tall to be Dick. Too skilled in the kitchen to be Bruce. Too nice to be Bruce, too—you can't imagine Bruce Wayne making you eggs. Especially when you disobeyed his orders. Again.

The red helmet on the kitchen stool turns your blood to ice.

You grab the letter opener from a drawer and wait a few seconds to see if Hood's heard you. Then you throw the letter opener with near perfect aim at his exposed shoulder.

He catches it without turning.

Your heart skips a beat. Every time you think you might get the drop on him, Hood reminds you just how competent he really is.

A mix of fear, aggravation, and something you don't want to examine too closely swirls in your gut.

"Impressive," he says. "Dami been training you? Mama Al-Ghul spent a lot of time on his knife lessons."

"Why are you in my apartment?"

Hood sets the letter opener down on the counter and turns off the stove. Then he serves the breakfast scramble on two plates, then sprinkles chives over them.

This is the weirdest kidnapping ever.

He sighs, back still facing you.

"You can't tell anyone it's me," he says.

"You make a lot of demands for a guy who just used the last of my eggs."

Hood laughs. It sounds wet. It sounds like grief.

"God, I've missed ya, honeylove."

Your heart pounds. You try to find another weapon, anything. Hood doesn't give you the chance.

He turns around.

The first thing you see is the stark white streak of hair and the curls you once loved. The curls that were near unrecognizable in the casket.

You were right: Batman was wrong.

[yuvany]

#ENHYPEN TROPES⋆

❝Enhypen, and tropes I can imagine them in❞ ot7 . . . fmr . . head cannon + imagines . w.c : ~150/character ꩜ ...not proofread!!...

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 – brother's bestfriend

You never tried to associate yourself with your brother's friends because they seemed like people you wouldn't like to associate yourself with. One day though when you were home alone, the door burst open and the laughter of multiple people disturbed the calmness prior. You groaned to yourself, identifying the voices to be them. You saw them very rarely since they were in a different class, and slightly older than you. With a groan, you zoned out their loud voices. While reading your book, the door to your room opened softly, and you snapped your head in that direction. In your sight stood a tall man with bambi looking eyes scanning you as well. "What are you doing here?" You questioned with an arched eyebrow. "Sorry, was trying to find the bathroom." He replied, and stood there awkwardly. "Just go down two door to the right." You returned to your reading. "You're Y/n, right?" He asked. "I thought you were searching for the bathroom?" You said, not sparing him another glance. "Right." He then shut the door, but you felt slightly content with his presence in some way. Lucky to say that he visited his friend more often, and you got to see him more often too.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 – strangers to lovers

Jay would walk into the café down the street every morning to get his usual order; a cup of coffee and a bagel. Every staff knew him, and he knew them. So when he sees a new employee by the cash register, he tries to get to know you too. You greeted him like you did with every other customer, and he ordered like he always did. Jay walked over to a corner and observed the pretty scenery outside. He looked back up when you arrived. "Thanks ... ?" and that's when you realised he wanted to know your name, and that's when you noticed you lacked a name tag. In later weeks, the tense dome around you broke down, and you guys chatted while you made his usual order, realising he was a regular. "Any plans for after your shift?" He asked. "I'm just gonna lay on the sofa and watch a movie honestly." you chuckled. When you went to collect his plate and cup after he waved farewell, you saw a small slip of paper hidden under the plate. "Call me, please. xxxx - Jay"

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 – golden retriever x black cat

He saw you sitting alone during lunch time, and he invited himself to take a seat in the empty spot next to you. You sneered at him, examining him up and down with an icy glare. In contrast, he had a soft smile. "What are you doing here?" You asked with a cold tone. "You looked lonely." Jake replied, wearing a confused look. "Well, I'm not, so you can go." You dismissed him and returned to the lunch in front of you. "What class are you in?" He asked, not giving up so easily. You replied simply, and bit into your home made lunch while he looked at you from the side, and ultimately returning to his own lunch. You thought he would stop bothering you after, but you were wrong. Jake would follow you around the corridors, and later find out that the two of you had a couple of lessons together. As time went on, you seemed to not mind his company, finding it more pleasant than being alone, realising that you maybe needed someone to fill that lonely side you always showed.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 – friends to lovers

You guys would be in the same friend group, but not the closest, you had your friends, and he had his. When he fist realised he had romantic feelings towards you, he started getting distant, even though something inside fo him yearned to be close to you. That, of course was noticed by both you and the other people around you. The friendgroup had decided to go to the arcade, and while they were there he did his best to not look your way as much as possible, but that was easier said than done. He saw how much you eyed that single teddy bear in a claw machine, and he made it his mission to get it for you. You decided to approach him to ask why he was becoming so distant, but started it off with a normal conversation, "Are you really going to use this machine?" You asked him, your eyes scanning the moles on his face. "Yeah." He scoffed playfully, and you stood beside him, watching him play multiple rounds until he finally caught the teddy. "Take it." He shoved the plush into your arms before walking away with a flushed face as you stood there dumbfoudned, totally forgetting the reason you walked over to him to begin with.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 – admirer from afar

Sunoo is shy, and he only ever watched and admired you from afar. The only times he ever saw you up close was when the two of you walked by each other in the hallways or when going to your assigned seats in the classroom. Even then, you'd smile at him, and he'd smile back, just that he would be a mess on the inside. He never ever spoke to you since he thought of you as someone too unapproachable. One day, when he was talking about you to his friends during break time, "She's just so pretty, and smart, and perfect!" His friends had gotten tired of his hopelessness and suggested that he should send you a love letter on valentine's day. "What, why?" He panicked, the embarrassment showing on his rosy cheeks. In the end, they convinced him to do it. February neared closer, and Sunoo arrived extra early just to slip his note into your locker. He looked at both sides, and then behind him and behind the lockers just to make sure he was alone. When the coast was clear, he carefully pushed the paper under the metal, but heard footsteps around the corner. "What are you doing?" It was you.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 – class president x new student

"hello everyone! I'm y/n, and I'm new. I hope we all ca get along well!" You greeted, standing in front of the class, anxiously playing with the hem of your skirt. "Alright, since she's new, Jungwon, you will show her around the school." The teacher said, and sat down in her chair, nodding towards a boy with big clear eyes who nodded his head back in confirmation. After class, it was a free period, and you quickly walked out of the classroom to explore on your own, since you guessed Jungwon wouldn't show you around at all. "Hey, wait up!" You heard a male voice calling for you, causing you to pause in your tracks and turn around. To your surprise it was that boy from earlier. You waited for him to catch up to you, and when he did, he asked, "Ready for a tour, y/n?" "Sure, why not.", you shrugged, and the two of you walked from one hallway to another. After what seemed to be the end, you decided to ask the question you were wondering about the whole time. "Why did you show me around?" It sounded stupid, that's what you realised right after uttering it. "I'm the class president, so it's kind of my job." He explained, and you sighed, now wondering if he was kind because he had to. "Don't worry though, you seem nice, and I'd like to get to know you more."

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 – enemies to lovers

At first, Riki thought it was all a joke when he saw you sneer at him, and so he returned the gesture, but to you, you just never liked him without knowing why. It continued on like that for most of the year. You two would always bicker and compete during most classes, and he would throw paper planes at the back of your head just because he found your reaction funny, so he continued. You would complain about him to your friends daily, while he would tell his friend how funny you were. "Ugh, I hate him! Why is he so stupid?!" You groaned. "Y/n is so funny! Did you guys see how angry she got during English?" Riki laughed, clearly enjoying the memory. The first half of the year passed, and you were finally on break. The idea was to rest, but an obstacle was made. You and your family had gotten in a pretty rough fight, and you decided to leave the house to get fresh air, but on your walk, Riki spotted you. He immediately saw your tears and held back the rude comments he was about to say. "Hey, are you crying? What happened?" His voice was sincere, and you broke down crying again, telling him everything. "Hmm. Let's go to that café to cheer you up." Riki comforted, rubbing your back. At school, he was kinder as well, as well as hanging out with you more.

Reblogs are much appreciated!!

Layout credits to @flwrstqr

[onsomenewsht]

I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go

About when she wants to win gold and you talk too much but don’t answer her questions

《 read part 2, 'cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know

》 Alexia Putellas x fencer!Reader

》 words count: + 1.7k

》 the mountain’s call [way of saying]: the irresistible pull or urge to pursue a challenging goal or adventure

“You look like someone who needs to see the best place in the entire Village”

Alexia looks up from the pass’ lanyard she’s fidgeting with, finding your open smile even before spotting your outstretched hand. Her eyebrow rises on its own accord, always sceptical around strangers.

The Olympic Village is big enough to welcome the egos of some of the best athletes in the world, but not big enough to avoid their clashing. It’s actually encouraged.

Within a certain limit, obviously.

The footballer sees you in passing almost every day, given that the Spanish Team rooms are basically neighbours with the Italian Team ones. Your outgoing attitude and friendly nature make you pretty popular around the village. The fact you’re easy on the eyes and quite the talk among the players isn’t lost on Alexia either – she likes good gossip like anybody else.

“Come on, Reina, don’t let me stand here like an idiot”, your teasing words take her back from her overthinking one more time.

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere celebrating that?”, she points to the medal hanging around your neck.

A genuine smile rises on both your faces as you mindlessly hold the piece of gold to look at it one more time, feeling like this is some kind of dream.

Your gaze falls on Alexia, still sitting in a corner of a communal break room when her teammates are cheering all around for one more victory in their Olympic journey.

“I’m gonna celebrate for the next four years, I can spare some time for you”

“Congratulations, by the way, I heard it’s not the first one”, she takes your hand as you burst out laughing, helping her on her feet.

You may have hosted the closest thing to a party you can do in the Village when, just earlier this week, you won your first gold medal.

It’s not your first Olympics, it’s not even your first Olympic medal. But finally being a gold medalist? An Olympic Champion? You sure could not let it pass over in silence.

The short walk is filled with small talks and giggles, you do most of the talking but Alexia’s grin stays firmly on her face the entire time. You notice her rosy cheeks and more relaxed stance, holding yourself high with pride to finally see the blonde so carefree around you.

“How did you even find this place?”

The night lights of Paris really turn the city into some sort of fantastic dream, the view is easily able to take the breath away from the little balcony you open for her. You’re on top of the biggest complex in the Village, the usual chaos that fills the French capital is somehow just background noise.

“Fencing is an ancient discipline”, you start, barely avoiding Alexia’s playful hit on your arm at your documentary-like approach.

“Jokes aside, the Italian school basically created fencing, but then the French school redefined the system to what it’s like today and they will not shut up about it. It’s a long lasting rivalry between two countries that, sportwise, hate each other”

“Everyone hates the French, sportwise”, the Spain captain agrees, mimicking your move as you sit on the floor of the balcony.

“Fencing into the Grand Palais in fucking Paris is like playing every single game as a World Cup final against the host country in a stadium filled with their fans and colours”

“Dramatic”

“Of course! You’re putting Italian and French people in the same place, asking them to fight with swords, literally. It’s gonna be dramatic”, you let your gaze wander around as the blonde’s one tries to find something inside you.

Alexia waits for you, understanding just now how your cheerful and playful behaviour hides something more complex.

She has turned on your Team Final on her way back from the stadium, curious about it – about you – after the little party you put on for the entire Village following your Individual Final victory.

She got nothing about what was happening, not understanding how some hits were good and others were given away or not counted. She prides herself on being able to recognise good athleticism and quick leg ability though. The way you move on the piste, quickly but precisely in every single gesture, is mesmerising. The way your mind acts even faster than your body is even more captivating.

What surprised her the most is the way you hold back.

While your opponents celebrate any conceded hits and your teammates celebrate loudly all the successful points, you stay stoic and firm the entire time.

It’s something she doesn’t expected from you, usually so excited about everything.

That’s probably one of the reasons that brings her here with you in the first place.

“You don’t look dramatic when you fence”

“Oh, you watched me?”

“It was the bare minimum after your detailed commentary after our last game”

“I’m Italian, I’m a football fan from birth”, you say, rolling your eyes humorously, not ready to reveal that the Spanish team is the only one you care about keeping up with during this Olympic tournament.

Alexia Putellas just admitted she turned on your Final to see you win a gold medal.

“Wait, let’s just go back to you watching me fence”

She smile at your weak attempt to avoid her question, genuinely amused about you but pretty sure you’re gonna tell her everything she asks – eventually.

A comfortable silence between the two of you fills the air for some minutes, somehow guiding your bodies closer.

“How did you find this place?”, the Catalan winks when you turn to look at her.

“I hate fencing with the French”, you start to explain after a bit with a serious note underneath your voice, “I lost my last Olympic Individual Final against a reckless fencer with the most annoying Parisian accent ever”

Another moment passes, Alexia doesn’t pressure you but can feel you relax when she places her hand on your knee.

“Last time I was in Paris, I injured myself. I was out for nine months and lost two major tournaments. This Olympics being hosted here as I was supposed to redeem myself and prove to be good enough at the same time? Really took a turn on me at first”, you avoid her gaze as you sum up one of your biggest fears to a stranger on a balcony viewing Paris’ landscape.

“I needed a place to escape without running away”

“And here we are, facing Paris from a hiding spot”

How the footballer manages to understand you so well in such a short amount of time, in such an unusual setting, is really something that surprises you. Your eyes meet and you can distinctly feel your heart skip a bit.

“I befriended a handyman, this floor is for staff only as some sort of control room”

“This explains the private balcony”

“I should have started with this and not the unasked story of my life”

You can still feel Alexia’s hand on you, mindlessly caressing your leg as you try not to implode and hide the redness of your face. She smirks.

“We’ll play France in the semifinal”, she says with a hint of disbelief and irony.

“Fuck the French”, you state solemnly, “It’s basically a wanna-be repeat of the Champions League’s final, you’re going to be fine”

“If you just jinxed it–”

“I did not, I know an Olympic Champion when I see one”

The burst of confidence and the firmness in your voice, despite the easy way you’re both talking about Spain’s next game, are enough to subside the noises inside Alexia’s head – your voice is a good distraction and your presence is a welcoming discovery.

“How is it?”

“What?”

The blonde’s finger points at the piece of gold still hanging on your neck, you’re just glad it’s her other hand as you look back and forth between her and the medal.

“You won enough to know how it is”

“It’s my first Olympics”

“In Italian there’s a word, I don’t know if you have the same difference in Spanish. It’s olimpionico and it’s not like olimpico – olympic”

“You never go for the straight answer, do you?”, she interrupts you with a teasing smile.

“No, never done anything the straight way my entire life, now let me go on with my wise and deep talk”, you graciously – and quite bravely on your part, if you must say so yourself – drop your arm around her shoulder, releasing a breath as she smoothly adjusts her body closer.

“Olimpionico is formed from the Greek ᾿Ολύμπια, which means ‘competitions of Olympia’ so our Olympic Games, and the root of νικάω, that I don’t know to explain how but can be translated with ‘victory’ or ‘winner’ and you have to trust me on this one”, you’ve never been happier with your strict education and the Italian questionable school system.

“I’m still waiting for the point”

“I mean to say we have a specific word for an Olympic athlete who doesn’t just compete in the Olympic Games but actually wins”

“You won enough Olympic medals to know how it is”

“The last time we won bronze as a team and I lost the gold against the obnoxious Frenchwoman, Alexia, keep up”, you’re perfectly aware of her hand on your thigh and her eyes burning on your face – she definitely noticed your red cheeks and the cracks on your walls.

“It’s my first Individual gold and this is my first Team gold, it’s– I don’t know how to explain, but it’s–”

“It’s olimpionico?”, she indulges you, her accent around the Italian word is way more charming than the French one.

“You get it”

“Olympic Champion sounds so uncool now”

As the night turns into a darker shade of black and the Paris lights really do the city’s name justice, you feel like there’s something profound linking you with the athlete curled on your side.

It’s a shared desire to prove yourself to everyone, while wanting to make just a few close people proud. It’s a shared hunger to be the best among some of the greatest, but to make sure the ones around you shine as much.

It’s a shared feeling, deep inside, telling you’re right where you’re supposed to be.

[cursingtoji]

𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡

ᥫ᭡ toji catches you before fainting, now he has to find shelter from the storm and make sure you’ll live through the night when your bleeding poses as a threat to your life.

note: heavily inspired by a scene from berserk (iykyk) toji as guts.

cw: period blood, fainting from cramps (very based on my experience as well), fingering, size kink, toji is not really gentleman. 3k words

oh no, not now, please

this can’t be happening

is this really what will kill me?

feels like an earplug, every sound is muffled. someone is shouting your name you think.

it’s so cold.

the colors start to fade, everything is turning black, the sky is…

toji runs toward you through the rain, when did you get so close to a cliff? why aren’t you fighting back?

he manages to throw a knife at the man closest to you, but when he thinks he’s close enough to grab your arm and pull you away from the cliff a bullet catches his shoulder, and instead of pulling you he loses balance and falls with you off the cliff.

in that last second you were still standing he could see you already lost consciousness, your body was already tilting backwards. in the air he holds your body to his, determined to shield you from the impact on the water.

“fucking finally” he murmurs once he spots a cave, not too high on the mountain.

the heavy rain increased the flow of the river you both fell into, dragging you away from the fight but also far from any roads or civilization.

you and toji worked together at least a few times a month, having the same employers and complementary skills often you found each other hunting a cursed object, a weapon, or an enemy. yet given the fact that he was a so-called lone wolf even more often than that you fought each other, nothing too harmful, but extremely verbal and explosive.

“what the fuck, toji?! get the fuck out!” you shouted when he entered the communal shower a few days ago, you both were spending the night in an abandoned military base camp as part of a hunting mission, thankfully the place had water, cold but still. so you headed to the only shower room, a place that could fit at least ten people, it was just a big room with shower heads, hooks and sinks. so when toji entered the place and started to undress you could only turn your body to the wall and scream at him.

“chill out, i don’t give a shit” he opened the furthest shower from you and got under it. both of you were filthy from the events that happened a few hours ago, but he seriously couldn’t wait five more minutes?

“but i do, i don’t want you to—“

“listen, i don’t even see you as a woman okay? so calm down i don’t get hard at any pair of tits.”

of all out the things toji said that made you mad in the past, that was the one thing that hurt you. you gathered your clothing and left the room— not even turning the shower off, before he could see your tears. you had to recompose yourself, you still had two days together…

toji places your limp body on the hard surface of the cave, making you almost sat, with your back against the wall and head falling to the side. he then looks back outside to see if someone followed you, it doesn’t seem like it but the storm is so strong he can’t see or hear much.

god, he’s soaked, there’s nothing he can get to make a bonfire for the two of you to warm up, everything out there is wet and there’s nothing but rocks inside the cave.

“the fuck happened to you?” he comes close to your body inspecting your face first, it’s much paler from your normal tone, like there was no blood underneath it. your lips have a blueish hue, he places two fingers against your neck, your heart rate is dangerously slow and he thinks he never felt such cold skin, “you’re gonna kill me but i have to remove those clothes or you’ll die of hypothermia” he speaks like you can hear him.

he takes his shirt first, twisting the fabric and placing it flatly on a rock. now he sees the bullet that hit his shoulder only gaze it, ripping his skin but it doesn’t bleed anymore, just another scar he’ll get when it heals.

he turns to you, removing your tight black shirt first.

“what a day to not wear a bra, huh?” he observes naturally but doesn’t stare, he moves to your pants that thankfully are loser. he tries not to peek at your body, so as soon as the material is out he also twists it but the reddish water that falls on the floor scares him.

“are you hurt? where?” he comes back to your body, now looking for the source of the blood, he sees it running down your thighs, he spreads your legs slightly only to find a darker red spot in the middle of your underwear, “christ” he sighs, so that’s what made you pass out… “not easy being a woman, right?” he looks at your face again, now noticing the way some of your features twitch like you’re in pain, “you can kill me tomorrow for this, as long as you live.”

he pulls your soaked underwear down your legs, going outside in the rain for a minute to wash it in a puddle then spreading all your clothing to, hopefully dry out till morning. he’ll keep his pants, he’s not as cold as you, in fact he feels hot, the adrenaline running through his veins after jumping off a cliff for you, then dragging your limp body off the river and up the mountain cave. what a day.

but he can’t let his guard down now, the people you fought were strong, they had curses too so it wasn’t impossible that they tracked you down. thankfully, he took one sword with him down the cliff, at least he had that.

so he takes your body into his, putting it on top of his legs, with your back on his chest and one arm wrapped around you as the opposite hand holds the sword. he’s facing the river outside, keeping a watch for the enemy and you safe, in the hopes his body will warm yours. he doesn’t mind the blood that drips from you and reaches his pants, he often has someone else’s blood on him anyway, at least this wasn’t caused by a weapon, not to be mention it’s yours.

in fact, if that’s the only kind of blood he’ll see for the rest of his life he’ll die a happy man.

he looks down at you, your head fell on his bicep, he can feel your skin warming up to his, he then looks at your chest, seeing it move slowly with your breathing. he’s man enough to not feel aroused for an unconscious, non-consenting woman, so he runs his hand on your arms, giving it some heat and turning his sight to the outside.

whatever you try to do to him in the morning, he’ll take it. a slap, a punch, a stab… he looks at his sword, maybe he’ll hide it when you wake up. god, he has said so many things to you, it was all in the hopes of driving you away, he can’t afford to have someone in love with him in this line of work. it was easier to just let you think he would never…

.

.

.

Toji sleeps for no longer than a few hours, when he opens his eyes the sun is rising, no enemies on sight.

he feels so hot with your body on his, but you were still too cold. the rain had stopped apparently during the night, so he gently lays you down before heading out to catch some wood.

when you wake up, your eyes remain closed, taking in the sounds around you first. fire cracking wood, it’s hot, warm like a blanket all over you, smells like wet dirt and fish.

you open your eyes slowly, first you see the orange glow of fire, that’s what warms you. close to your head is him, sitting on the ground shirtless, turning the fish over the fire so it cooks evenly. some colored fabric is close to the warm light too… your clothes.

you can understand what happened, mainly because a sharp pain in your middle reminds you what an unlucky bastard you are to get your period and no cramps medication in the middle of a battle.

you pull your knees close to you to ease the pain, whining accidentally.

“hey” you hear his deep but low voice, you look down, there’s blood on your inner thighs. toji says something about your clothes and how they are still humid, “i didn’t touch you.”

you turn your back to the fire, a weak attempt to hide from him, “i know. you don’t see me as a woman” you repeat his words. the only real pain you feel is in your womb, you try to remind yourself of that and ignore your heart.

“shouldn’t have said that” he murmurs, “here, eat some” you don’t turn, both your hands remain below your belly button, holding the place of pain in hopes it stops soon. when you don’t move toji reaches your mouth from behind you, his index and thumb hold a piece of the cooked fish and he puts it in your mouth.

you don’t like fish but you know if you attempt to raise to your feet now you will faint again, so you cooperate by opening your mouth and allowing him to feed you like an injured animal.

“did’ya hear me? i didn’t mean what i said” he repeats and gives you another piece brushing his fingers on your lips, after you take it, his hand touches your shoulder, “turn to the fire, you’ll get warmer” you shrink even more to yourself, “c’mere, you’re as cold as a corpse. i don’t know what to do anymore” he manhandles you till you’re facing the fire again, this time with your head on his thigh, you don’t fight, there’s no strength in you.

you watch as he blows a piece of the fish then pushes it as gently as he’s able to, into your mouth again.

indeed the direct warmth of the fire on your belly makes you feel better.

“how can you handle that every month is beyond me” he confesses taking a big bite of the fish.

“there’s a medication, it helps, but this wasn’t supposed to happen till the 22nd.”

“today is the 23rd” he reminds.

“oh… i guess i lost track of time.”

“so troublesome” he runs his hand on your head.

is this a fever dream? no, you’re too cold to have a fever. you turn your head to him, “you fell… with me, but you were not beside me” the memory is coming to you now.

“not initially, no.”

“then why?”

“do i need a reason to keep you from dying?” his green eyes look down at you like you’re asking the most stupid question, you feel attacked by it and he notices, “’m sorry, i just saw you were about to fall then that fucking bullet hit and—“ he cut himself seeing your eyes widen.

you sit up slowly, “where?” you place your hands on his arm, there’s so many healed scars… when he turns his torso you see it, the torn skin on his shoulder.

“you always get hurt because of me” you touch the area around it, remembering a time when he saved you and got a bloody nose or when an arrow got his leg when he got in front of you.

“i can take it” he looks down at your concerned face with tenderness. a new wave of pain hits you and you contort your face, instinctively he puts his hand on your lower back “did you ever try to—“ he stops.

you look up with teary eyes, “try to what?” he thinks he’ll lose his sanity at any moment “oh” you look away, “i heard about that but no” you feel very aware of the hand on your back, he flexes it slightly, like he’s debating what to say next.

“i can do it for you” you lift your eyes to his chest but no more than that. he has so many scars…

“no, it’ll hurt, and you’ll get blood all over” your hand is still on his shoulder when you move to a particular scar on his collarbone, his breathing gets heavier, his body is so hot, how is it possible that standing close to him you feel warmer than standing close to the fire?

“doesn’t bother me, and i can be gentle” you are very aware you’ve been naked this whole time, there’s no point trying to hide your arousal when he can quite literally see your hardened nipples.

“fine” you murmur so low you think he’ll make you speak louder, but he picks you and puts you on his lap sideways, he’s so big that even though you’re sitting on his legs his head is still above yours. toji has an arm around you, a hand placed on your ass cheek more to keep you steady on his lap than to grope it. his other one brushes your knee and he looks down to the path that it traces up your thigh till it goes down to touch your wet folds.

you can’t hold the sign of pleasure that escapes your lips. it’s all so sensitive this time of the month… your breathing becomes deeper, your womb is still in pain, but the arousal starts to make its way through you. toji pokes at your hole, testing the waters, he knows he can make you wetter than this.

he’s quite impressed at how hot your core is, given the fact you were cold as a corpse every minute he wasn’t holding you.

his middle finger makes its way inside you little by little, he can’t help the little whistle of amusement, “that’s quite tight, are you a virgin or just nervous?” he teases turning to look at your face.

“neither” you look away squirming a little, toji nudges your knee for you to open your legs more as he stares at it.

“don’t look!” you close your thighs around his wrist.

“why not? it’s very beautiful” he looks almost hypnotized when he pulls out his tinted glossy finger.

“can we just get it over with?” the embarrassment starts to hit you, maybe cause the racing heartbeats send more blood to your brain now and you can comprehend the situation better.

toji looks at your face again, seeing some color on it for the first time since getting here.

“stay put or i’ll stop” he readjusts you on his lap by pulling you by your ass cheek, his middle finger flickers your clit spreading some of the arousal before finding itself back into you.

“what you doing?” you ask with you hands on his shoulder when his head going down to your chest, wrapping his lips around one nipple.

“enjoying myself a little” he replies before licking the areola and adding his ring finger, you throw your head back, hitting the wall of the cave but paying no mind, finally the pleasure starts to replace the pain. toji is careful, you hate to admit but he does it in a way that you know he’s not afraid to touch you, he’s using just the right amount of strength and roughness for a woman whose body is more sensitive than usual. his teeth scrap the tip of your nipple casually making you whimper like a whore and when he finds the spongy spot inside, your toes curl and you dig your nails into the skin of his arm and back. toji wonders if you are being mindful of his wound or if you’re too lost in pleasure to remember it. truly, he doesn’t care if you crave your nails directly at it, in fact he hopes you do. at least one of his scars will have your name on it, it’ll be his proudest one.

“right there ngh” you moan louder than you thought you would, heels digging into the stone floor.

by the way toji sucks your breast he wants to leave a mark on you, something physical but he wouldn’t mind if it was a psychological one as well. he wonders how will you remember this day, if you’ll touch yourself on the memory or if you’ll hate it and try to erase it out of your mind.

he pumps faster, going deeper each time until he’s knuckle-deep. hate or not, he’s determined to give you the orgasm of your life as the heel of his palm bumps on your clit and his tongue plays with your nipple. your walls spasm around his digits and his eyes widen when he feels your lips on his shoulder, an attempt to quiet yourself down. toji wants to remind you that there’s no one around here and the worst your moans will do is scare the spiders inside the cave, yet he shuts himself up cause he likes the feeling of your lips on his skin.

you’re about to climax, he speeds up slightly peeking at your face to see your eyes tightly closed, goosebumps arise at the skin of your breasts, he gives it soft bites as you ride your orgasm till the end. your legs get limp and you’re panting on his chest as he readjusts himself up, softly he removes his fingers and circles your clit causing you to hiss.

“i assume you’re pain-free now?” he keeps the ministrations, the post-orgasmic look in your face is museum-worthy. you nod slowly, face glistening with sweat.

as your senses return to you, you realize that a hard member is poking you from below this whole time.

“say toji, have you ever fucked a woman in her period?” toji seems to study your face before replying.

“ask me what you really wanna know” he demands, not willing to play the women’s games of asking about other women.

“would you fuck me?” his eyes are so dark looking from below like you are.

“i would” he replies with his face unfazed. you think this will be the moment then until he gets up with you and shifts you to place your feet on the floor, “but not today. can you stand up?” you blink the shock away.

“yes” he leaves you to go through the clothing by the fire, picking it up along with his sword.

“let’s go, you can clean up on the river, then we’ll try to find our way back to the city” he hands you his own shirt that will be good enough to cover your intimacy till you get to the river, then you can put your own clothes.

“toji?” you touch his arm before he leaves the cave to guide you, he turns thinking you’ll faint again.

you tiptoe your way till you touch his lips with yours, his eyes remain open, shocked you wanted to do such a thing as kissing the man who took off your clothing when you were unconscious. in toji’s mind, he’ll always be bad in other people’s eyes no matter what his intentions are, so to realize you don’t in fact hate him, is astonishing. you even pull his lower lip lightly and peck him before putting your heels back on the floor and leaving the cave.

he watches as you make your way down slowly since your feet are bare, he follows you to the river and stays on watch waiting for you to finish bathing.

when you put your clothing back you catch his stare upon you, which he holds for a few seconds before shifting somewhere else, not at all embarrassed to be caught.

you find your way out without talking any further, though now the aura around the two of you is lighter, nothing has to be said.

[miley1442111]

believe me- a.hotchner (18+)

summary: aaron is there for you during a particularly difficult case.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem! reader

warnings: reader grew up in a cult, mention of hurting women, domestic violence, mental, physical, emotional abuse, children in dangerous situations, miscarriages, abortions, women being treated awfully, i hate this it scares me (i think that's it? PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING)

this is pretty dark so I will be saying it's 18+ only because of the content, please remember you manage what you consume, mdni.

not entirely proofread

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You sighed, walking into the bullpen. Another day. 

You sat down at your desk and started on your paperwork with as much enthusiasm as one would assume to be normal, but Aaron knew it wasn’t. He’d been watching you, they all had. The sunken eyes, dry skin, yawning at all hours of the day, refusing to stop working, refusing drinks or food, being ‘too busy’ to come for after work drinks. You had even stopped responding to his texts regarding Jack. You had always been the one on the team that Aaron was closest with, mostly because he was in love with you. Due to that, he also invited you over a lot to watch movies, bake, come to football games, etc with Jack. Jack adored you, probably more than he liked his own father (at least, that’s what Aaron thought). You hadn’t been texting or calling back. You two had gone on a few dates, at first he thought he had done something wrong, but then he watched you closer. It wasn’t him. 

Aaron stepped out of his office. “We have a new case, everyone meet in 5.”

You picked yourself up from your desk and followed him in, sitting in the chair furthest from him. 

“We have a new case, Dallas,” he announced. 4 images of women popped up on the screen, and you looked down, knowing exactly who and what they were. “4 women from the same family, killed in the same way, over one decade.” 

“Were they mother and children?” Spencer asked. 

“Yes,” you answered. “Their names are Delores, Tiffany, Riley, and Freya Howell and they all died via the head trauma they sustained in the ritual. The youngest was 17.” 

They all stared at you. You knew this was coming. You understood it.

“What ritual?” Aaron asked, looking straight at you. 

“The birthing,” you answered simply. 

“Why do you know about this?” Derek asked, just as dumbfounded as the rest of them.

You pointed at the screen. “That’s my mother, that’s my little sister, that’s my older sister, and that’s my cousin. There’s no point in getting us in. No matter what we find they claim religious freedom and hide. It’s a cult and it’s about killing women. I work with children to get them out.”

“So you know people in the cult right now?”

“I lived in that cult. I know every single person on that compound's entire medical, familial, and social history. Including the Supreme Leader. Trust me, they have all the fucking permits they could ever need. I’ve been working with another group to try and take them down, but it doesn’t work.”

“We have to try,” Aaron said, stoic as ever. 

“It doesn’t matter what you throw at them, legally they’re untouchable,” you sighed. “If we really want to help, then we need to work on getting the children out.”

“We need to make them illegal then,” Aaron said matter-of-factly, and you just sighed. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

On the plane, the team was wary of you, it was fine, you understood why. You had just told them that you grew up in the strange woman-killing cult you were now all going to investigate. 

“So what is ‘the ritual’?” Spencer asked. 

“When a woman is pregnant and they bring it to full-term, they are killed as their child enters the word. In the ‘teachings’ it is said to bring the child the strength of 2 people, and that they carry their mothers’ spirit. That’s why everyone’s middle name is their mothers’,” you explained. “See, it’s unusual for the women at the compound to bring children to full-term, at least, when I was there. And in the ‘teachings’, it was written that no women could get pregnant for years and years, but that one, the Supreme Leaders’ mother, could, and when he was in labour, he told her husband to bludgeon her. He did, and the Supreme Leader was born. They are trying desperately to have a new prophet. A new leader. So they began practising the ‘Ritual’ back when I was probably 12. Also, it’s difficult for women to get any kind of medical care in the compound, since they’ve rejected modern medicine, so it’s not uncommon for women to miscarry.”

“How old were you when you left?” Derek asked, the entire plane silent as you recounted your traumatic past. 

“18,” you explained. “I was one of the lucky ones. My mother was a teacher, before she joined the compound. She never wanted to join, it was always my dad’s idea. So she broke the rules. She taught us and another small group of children maths, English, history, and modern politics from any of the newspapers she could smuggle in. When we turned 18, they gave us a test. It was believed by the Supreme Leader that you were either born with the ability to write or not, and all of us in the group passed, so we were sent out to the world to recruit. We ran away. Found a place that they could never find us, cut all contact with each other, and moved on with our lives. I work with a few of them, trying to get children out, but for our own safety, we all act like we’ve never met before.”

“What happened to the others?”

“The ones who didn’t pass turned into husbands and wives, and then fathers. By the time I was 18 I was already married and on my second pregnancy,” you chuckled sadly. “He almost killed me when I said I was leaving to recruit. The men there, they’re taught to be violent. They’re taught to be animals. They’re taught to hurt women. My only saving grace was the ‘doc’. She was one of the eldest women in the compound. We all thought she was blind and half-dead. But she saved me. When I was about 2 months in, she picked me out of my bed and brought me to the edge of the compound walls. She asked me if I wanted the baby, I said no. She got rid of it. She made it look like a miscarriage.”

They were silent. 

“That’s what we’re up against. Years and years of sexual, physical, and mental abuse. A doctorate that no one believes but the men, and the men have all the power and strength. These women and children need help.”

“H-how many have you gotten out so far?” Penelope asked, tears in her eyes. 

“281,” you nodded. “And there’s still more.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Aaron walked you up to your room in the hotel. It had been a long day. You had been on speed dial the entire time, explaining everything to the entire team as you worked with your team on making a plan to evacuate all of the women and children. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been calling back, all of my weekends have kind of turned into… this,” you explained, looking down. “I do genuinely like you Aaron, but I’d understand if what you found out today is too much or-”

“It's not,” he assured you. “Thank you for your insight, and I’m sorry that you have it.”

You nodded, the motion bubbling up in your throat as you thought over the last 24 hours. “I hope we can help them,” you whispered. 

“We will,” he nodded, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close as you cried into his chest. Aaron vowed something to himself right then and there, he’d always be there for you, no matter what. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

Aaron helped you inside, helped you change into your pyjamas, helped you get ready for bed, and tucked you in, all while whispering words of encouragement. As you lay in bed, utterly exhausted from the emotional toll of the day, you found yourself reaching for Aaron’s hand. 

“Please stay,” you begged, your voice soft and small. 

How could he ever refuse? 

“Of course,” he whispered. Without a moment's pause, the bed dipped beside you, and Aaron opened his arms to accommodate for you. You settled yourself into his arms and pressed a kiss to his clavicle. 

“Thank you for believing me.”

“I’ll always believe you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[blondieeu]

lowkey. eren y.

imagine nerd!y/n, wearing fat thick glasses that made you squint when you took them off. a pretty pout on your big two toned lips whenever someone made fun of you, and always seen in a uniform skirt that showed off your ass.

and eren who will never stop hitting on you! talking shit to the people who got sum to say bout you, walking you to your classes and always being the first to ask you to be his partner for whatever ya'll were doing for the day.

"when you gonna let me take you out mama?"

and he'd slide his hand on your thigh with that slick ass smile he always wore wherever he went. dont matter if he was fightin, getting detention, in detention or getting yelled at. he'd always make sure to give you a smile.

he was so close to you, knee touching yours while he leaned his arm on the table to be as closest as he can.

"can't ren"

"why not? pick you up n drop you off before curfew, i'll even meet ya parents."

the two of you sat in the empty library. you; there to actually study and get some work done. him; there to be around you.

"I have to study for mid-terms ren.."

and then he'd smiled again and slid his hand up and down your thigh, parting them with his fingers.

"c'mon mama.. prolly know every question on it, lemme show you how to live a lil.."

his fingers would eventually travel up into a place they had no business being in. all messing around with the pretty panties you wore under your skirt that day.

but you'd try to stop him, i mean you had to study after all right? how could you let him stop you! so you'd squirm and close your legs on his hands... but that never stopped him.

eren would pluck your glasses off your nose and put them on his face instead. the same smile still on his face while he wrapped his arm around your neck to pull you even closer to him, and even closer for a kiss.

erens kisses were always hot and sensual. his hands always finding some intimate place on your body to squeeze rub or just glide across to make you shiver beneath him.

what a distraction! you did your best at pushing him off of you and snatching your glasses off, giving eren an irritated huff. your lipgloss was on his lips.

"so ima see you tonight?"

blondieeu xx

[hiraya-rawr]

but i knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

characters !! al haitham, kaeya, tighnari, ayato, zhongli

synopsis !! spoilers/ you know nahida's story quest where people dreamt of people they miss? so they didn't wanna wake up? yes. you're their greatest source of grief.

contains !! gn reader, grief themes, angst/comfort? or is it angst/angst. messing with the original plot of nahida's quest but the idea remains the same. team dynamics! can be considered sagau /playable au. character death mentions aka me exploring all the ways to make mc gone

inspo !! cardigan by taylor swift 🎵

AL HAITHAM

// cause I knew you / steppin' on the last train / marked me like a bloodstain, I / I knew you / tried to change the ending

All he did was blink. He knew what he was getting himself into when the traveler and the dendro archon explained the situation; people in grief didn't want to wake up. He knew they were entering a dream realm that targeted the vulnerable. He knew he might see you— but it's been years and this dream version of you is simply a fake, this means little to him now, right?

Yet, in one blink, the city of Sumeru disappeared and what he saw instead was—

"(Name)." He mutters under his breath, barely.

"Who's that?" The traveler turns to him.

"Haitham!" You greet, voice cheery, unchanged, the exact replica down to every detail. He feels his face shift in expression, his hand raises, reaches out before he could even realize it himself and—

He blinks again. You're gone.

"Huh? They disappeared!" Paimon squeaks, flying behind the traveler, "Like a ghost! That was sooo scary."

The blonde looks on thoughtfully, "Was. . that someone you know, Al Haitham?"

Snapping out of his daze, he takes a step back.

". . . someone I knew. Yes." He straightens himself, looking away. "Let's keep going. There's no time to waste."

KAEYA

// peter losing wendy, I / I knew you / leavin' like a father / running like water, I / and when you are young, they assume you know nothing

Jumping from portal to portal, trying to find the dream host with the traveler was exhausting. Kaeya was beginning to question why, of all the characters on the team, he had to come along (then again, such events were always fun).

It was a relief when a portal landed him in Starfell Valley. The breeze ruffling through his hair, sweet flowers and cecilias gently leaning to the wind, and—

You, holding onto your wind glider, waving at him from a distance.

"Well? Aren't you going to teach me how to fly?" You yell out, huffing theatrically.

Ah, yes. Kaeya remembers this. His footsteps take him forward, closer to where you are. Grass brushing against him with every step.

"Kaeya?" You tilt your head.

He remembers this. He was supposed to teach you, you were supposed to take your license exam in a few days, you were nervous—

Archons, you were nervous and a little scared and he brushed it off. He was a natural at gliding and he believed you'd get over it and glide as easily as he could.

Then he looked away. Just for a second —a single second— and an updraft lifted you higher than you were used to. And you struggled to control your wings. And you tumbled. And there was a cliff—

Oh, Stormbearer Point used to be so lovely until he lost you.

"Kaeya, are we going to start glidi— oomf-"

His arms wrap around you, bringing you close, holding you to himself. He lets a hand rest on the glider you held on one hand, pushing it away, aside, further from you –because how dare that wretched thing fail you– until it falls to the grass.

"Kaeya? What's wrong?"

"Can we–" He nearly sobs, a lump in his throat as he holds back, ". . . Can we not do this today?"

He feels your own arms wrapping around him. It's the closest he could get to remembering your warmth.

"Alright. . . it's alright, Kae, I'll learn to glide on another day," You whisper softly, "There's always next time."

TIGHNARI

// but I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss / I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs / the smell of smoke would hang around this long

"Even if they resemble their loved ones, it doesn't change the fact that it's a figment of their imagination cultivated by the Akasha. They shouldn't be swayed." Tighnari said this to the Traveler on the very day they started exploring the dream situation.

Yet, as he rests in bed after a long day of investigating, there's you.

"Nari! You're back!" You greet, holding up a tea set as he enters the tree-like house.

He's quiet. Quiet as he sits on the chair he always sat on (the one practically reserved for his visits), quiet as you pour him tea (the one you brew whenever he comes over), and quiet as you sit across him with a small smile.

"How is it this time? Too bitter?"

". . . it's fine."

"Will you stay longer this time?"

". . . no, I'll leave soon." He places down the teacup, "Once my investigation with the traveler is done, this will all be over."

He stands up, the chair scrapes against the wooden floor (like it always used to do), you look up at him curiously (the same way you used to).

"Do you really want that?" You ask.

Tighnari knows that it's the dream trying to keep him asleep, trying to tie him down. You're not you, this is all fake, therefore it shouldn't matter. He doesn't need to entertain you any more than he should.

So he diverts the question because archons, once upon a dream, you were all he wanted. You are all he wants.

"I'm leaving now. Thank you for the tea."

"You stay a little bit longer each time you visit," You smile, "Maybe if I brew even better tea, you'll actually stay."

He freezes. Has he been staying longer?

He bites his lip, continuing to walk away from the tree house. It's a figment of his imagination, he shouldn't be swayed.

AYATO

// 'cause I knew everything when I was young / I knew I'd curse you for the longest time / chasin' shadows in the grocery line

He was expecting it, actually. The traveler had already explained that it's a phenomenon happening to those with losses, and he's aware -with losing his parents at a young age- that he was vulnerable to the dreams.

The minute he falls asleep, the moon high over Sumeru, you appear in his dreams.

"Ayato!"

"(Name)."

No matter how much he expected you, the surprise must still be on his face as you laugh.

"What's with that look? Do you miss me that much?"

Should he entertain the dream? Or ignore you? Then again, what does he have to lose by at least answering your questions. he misses you, how you talk, how you laugh-

"I did. I do." He replies, a calm smile on his face.

"We can't have that! If you miss me already after such a short time, how much more when I'm sent away to get married?"

Oh, so it's that part of the timeline.

Perhaps the sourness of his thoughts reflected on his expression, or maybe you guessed it on your own (you were always so good at understanding him), but you sighed and gave a sad smile.

"I. . . I have to be honest. I'm kind of scared," You chuckle, "It's two boat rides away from Narukami, and the rumors about my fiancé is. . . not so great."

Ayato knows that. Your fiancé killed you on your second year of marriage and attempted to frame it on a servant. Despite knowing all this, the only reply he could muster was a monotonous "I see. . ."

"But we promised each other, didn't we?" You stand straight, facing him with enthusiasm, "We'll make our clans great again. I'll give honor to my clan, and you'll redeem the Kamisato name! Who knows, maybe next time we meet. . . "

There's a glint in your eye and he understands what you're trying to say. Maybe next time, the two of us could be together. It was a childish dream— one that didn't consider divorces or politics or death. Maybe next time, the Kamisato clan would be powerful enough to whisk you away. Maybe next time, Ayato would be enough to marry you without shaming either of your clans. Maybe next time, it could be "us".

The dream turns hazy as Ayato feels himself being shaken awake, the high pitched voice of Paimon floating above him and the traveler next to him, shaking him, "Ayato! Ayato! You have to wake up, the dream isn't real!"

But it was real, wasn't it? It happened so long ago.

ZHONGLI

// I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired / and you'd be standin' in my front porch light // and I knew you'd come back to me / you'd come back to me / and you'd come back to me / and you'd come back

The dream realm was turning dangerous, the host lost all control and everyone's loved ones were beginning to turn into horrible beasts.

Beasts were easy, though. For Zhongli, all he had to do was maintain his shield around the traveler and the other party members, ensuring everyone's safety. This was easy enough- for what being could actually penetrate the shield of an archon?

"Morax?"

It was you, standing amidst the chaos, as beings turned to monsters and the traveler fought back in defense. An echo of a nightmarish past— of the archon war and of dying gods. You looked no different from that day you stood next to him, ready to protect each other's backs.

He mutters your name so lightly, it fades into the noise around him.

"Morax, listen to me–" You try approaching, only to be stopped by his shield. For a second, he thinks of letting it down, but this wasn't you— this was a dream, a memory.

"Morax, you have to win, it has to be you," It's a desperate sound coming from your lips as your hands rest flat against his shield. He wants to hold you. Why is this nightmare coming back now? Why must he see you here? The logical part of him, the one trained through years of mental and physical warfare, understands that the dream wants him to take down his shield.

"You have to be the Geo Archon. You have to kill me, Morax–"

Ah, yes, he did kill you to become the Geo Archon that day. He remembers it as clear as gold in his memories.

"Get away from Zhongli!" He hears the traveler yell, a sword slashing between him and you, as you back away.

"Are you okay?" The traveler asks, posed in the defense.

"Yes, don't worry about me," He replies, composing himself as his polearm manifests in his hand, "Rather, allow me to deal with this myself."

Because how dare this dream taunt him. How dare this dream imitate you.

note // for the holidays, im extending commissions at a special price! it's $1/character scenario and $3 minimum in fics 😋

consider support me on ko-fi or paypal! // general masterlist

taglist // @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @ro-river @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrades @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08 @scooterscoob @lordbugs

[king-spite]

update on this!!! it went well lmao :]

so after lots of thinking i decided i'm gonna come out as trans this college year (to classmates, teachers, etc) and when i tell you i'm TERRIFIED🧍

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ like you hate me ] e. edwards

day 7 of kinktober (hate sex w/ ethan edwards)

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : she can’t stand ethan, but she knows there is tension between them that she can’t ignore anymore when they collide at a party

warning(s) : smut ! rough / hate sex, p in v, protected sex, nicknames during sex, begging, mentions of alcohol, light alcohol consumption

author’s note : i couldn’t wait to get to this one bc i had so many ideas hehe

kinktober schedule

༺──────────────༻

She shouldn't be here, but she let her friends talk her into coming to the party. Hockey parties don't usually end well for her whenever she does decide to attend them.

Especially if she runs into him.

Ethan Edwards is the bane of her existence and the biggest pain in her ass. He has the biggest ego she's ever seen on a hockey player, and he's had it for all four years that she's known him. He likes to mess with her during classes they have together and distract her from keeping her solid 3.8 GPA. He likes to mess with her in passing and make jokes every time he sees her. He even makes her job as the hockey team’s social media admin very difficult and she’s growing tired of it.

Maybe she won’t even run into him. She can avoid him in his own house. It won’t be that hard with every girl throwing herself at him and distracting him from the fact that she’s there.

The hockey house is off campus in a suburban area of Ann Arbor about 15 minutes away from main campus. It’s already crawling with partygoers when she pulls up in an Uber about an hour after the party was scheduled to start. Music blasts from every open door and window and she questions how they haven’t gotten cited yet for loud noise.

Inside is so crowded she can barely walk. She squeezes past multiple athletes from different sports in the foyer as she makes her way to the kitchen to get something to drink. If she’s going to be in the same building as Ethan then she needs to have a little alcohol in her system. God knows what’s going to happen and what words are going to be exchanged if their paths cross.

In the kitchen stands three of Ethan’s closest friends. All with an arm around some girl. Luca is the first to notice her walk into the room. He immediately smiles at the sight.

"Holy shit," he laughs. "She makes an appearance. I can't believe it. I thought you would never show your face at a hockey house party."

She shrugs while she makes herself a drink with cheap vodka and a mixer. "I was coerced into coming," she tells him. She looks up at Luca, Mark, and TJ. She sips her drink. "Where's your friend? Hiding upstairs in his room hopefully?"

Mark laughs and shakes his head. "He's around," he replies. "Last I saw him, he was out back playing cup pong with Duker, Moldy and Schiffer."

"Now I can avoid the back," she says with a smile. "Thanks."

All three of them laugh as she turns and leaves the room. She makes her way into the living room. Her friends sit on the couch so she sits on the arm of the chair next to the person she'd consider her best friend. She leans back and sips from her cup.

People come in and out of the room constantly, but she loves being able to see everyone and socialize with whoever does come into the room. She talks to people she hasn't seen or spoken to in a little bit.

She's laughing at something her friend said when she watches the one person she didn't want to see walk into the room with Luca and Mark. They better not have snitched on her to him or she will make sure they hate the Monday Question next week.

Ethan's eyes land on her and she quickly averts her eyes. She looks at her friend and pretends to be invested in the conversation so maybe Ethan won't walk over and bother her.

Except, that plan fails. Before she knows it, Ethan is standing in front of her. He has the smuggest of smirks on his face when he approaches her.

“A little birdie told me that you were trying to avoid me, princess” he tells her. “Is that true?”

She could kill Luca, Mark, and TJ for snitching on her.

“So what if I was?” she questions as she crosses her arms over her chest. “And I’ve told you to stop calling me princess.”

“You’re in my house, princess,” Ethan retorts with a grin on his face and emphasizing the word ‘princess’ just to annoy her even more. “You don’t get to ignore me in my house, and I can do whatever I want because it is my house.”

“Says who?” she asks. “I can ignore whoever I want, their house or not. You're annoying and I like your roommates better anyway."

Ethan quiets down but he doesn't take his eyes off of her. She doesn't back down either. She holds her ground because she doesn't want him to think he's won. That's the last thing that she wants so she holds eye contact with him until he speaks again. Her heart pounds in her chest as she stands her ground.

A smile breaks out on his lips and she falters for a very quick second. "I knew you had a crush on one of my roommates," Ethan says. "Which one? Luca? Mark? I hate to break it to you, but Mark has a girlfriend. So does Hughesy. Oh my God. Do you have a thing for a guy who has a girlfriend? That's a little pathetic if you ask me."

She rolls her eyes, her blood beginning to boil after his comment. "You're such an asshole, Ethan," she tells him.

She then gets up out of her seat and walks upstairs to hide in one of the bathrooms for a few minutes while she cools down.

If someone were to ask her why she was so upset, she would say that she honestly has no idea. Something about Ethan Edwards just heats her blood. He riles her up, and it could be the smallest thing that does it too.

All he did was mess with her, and she's ready to punch him in the face. She's always ready to punch him in the face though, but it's often not because she's angry at him. Sometimes it's because he's genuinely one of the most attractive people she's ever seen. Just his face alone is enough to send her into a bad mood.

If Ethan wasn’t a massive pain in her ass, she probably would’ve hooked up with him by now. Maybe it���s what she’s wanted all along and the reason why she hates him so much. He’s infuriating, but he’s hot. It’s a dangerous combination, especially for her.

She splashes water on her face to cool down and does her best to fix up the makeup that came off with the water. It’s not a lot thanks to the inventor of waterproof makeup but it still runs just a little bit.

A knock rings through the bathroom and she calls, “One second!” There’s a second knock and she groans. “Do you not know what one second mea-” She freezes when she sees Ethan on the other side of the door as soon as she swings it open. “Oh, great. Just the person I want to see. Go away, Ethan.”

“I may have crossed a line,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck.

“You just keep adding on to the list of what you think I am, don’t you?” she retorts. “Annoying, nerdy, clingy, and now I’m pathetic despite not having a thing for a single one of your roommates, especially not the ones who are in relationships. Making that comment in front of everyone was embarrassing. Even for you.”

Ethan just nods and looks at her. “I know that,” he tells her. “It wasn’t until you walked away and Luca told me that what I said was wrong that I realized that I crossed the line.”

She runs her fingers through her wavy locks and lets out a soft sigh. “This wouldn’t be an issue if I just-” She cuts herself off from what she was about to say.

There’s tension. There’s been tension. She ignores it like it’s going to go away on it’s own but the innuendos and jokes have made it thicker than it’s ever been. It’s getting harder and harder to ignore it. Maybe if she just-

“Just what?” Ethan questions. She meets his eyes and finds confusion in them.

Do it. Get it over with.

Before she can talk herself out of it, she cups his jaw and pulls him down into a bruising kiss. Ethan has to take a little step toward her due to how hard she pulls him down to her.

He immediate pulls away in surprise. She stares up at him, but she doesn’t move her hands. Her eyes flicker between his like she’s searching for rejection, but that’s the one thing she doesn’t find. She finds deliberation and confusion.

Just in case he needs a little shove, she says, “We have been doing this whole back and forth thing for nearly four years, Ethan. You have to be as tired of it as I am. I feel the tension that’s grown so I’m sure you can to. This is the one and only time I’m offering this to you so we can just fuck it out and maybe end whatever feud thing that we’ve had going on. Worst comes to worst then we have a nice hookup and we can move on with our lives. Best case scenario, we get it out of our systems and we can actually be friends because-”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up, princess?” Ethan asks to cut her off.

She isn’t able to make a comeback because Ethan’s lips are back on hers before she can respond. He’s kissing her with the same intensity that she originally kissed him with.

His hands fall to her waist and he pulls her body flush against his chest. She feels every muscle flex underneath his thin shirt as he makes little movements to adjust to her height. She’s half a head shorter than he is so he has to make some adjustments to kiss her without breaking his neck. Eventually, he gives up and leans down to lift her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and slides her fingers into his hair.

Ethan turns and walks out of the bathroom. Luckily the hallway is dark so if anyone were to see them, they would think it’s just two people making out at a party. The door is kicked shut and her back is pinned to it. A soft thud is heard when her back makes contact with the wood. She hums when her skin hits the cool surface.

She kicks off her heels and they land on the carpeted floor with soft thuds. Ethan stands holding her back against the door for a second before he turns and walks toward his bed.

In the handful of times she’s had to come into this room, it’s been organized and in order. She gets a glance when the kiss breaks after he drops her on the mattress and finds it’s still very organized and in order. She would’ve never guessed that Ethan is one to keep things clean in his room.

Ethan kicks off his shoes before he climbs over her and hovers above her body. She immediately pulls him back into a hot kiss. He hums and a hand lands on her thigh. The already short black dress rides up her thigh until it rests right under her ass. His fingers follow the fabric up her leg. He grips her thigh and she gasps.

Her fingers slide down his back until they reach the hem of his Michigan hockey t-shirt. She tugs at it to hint that she wants him to take it off. Ethan listens to her signal and sits back on his knees, breaking the kiss. She watches as he pulls the fabric over his head.

Now, she’s seen him shirtless on numerous occasions. There have been times where she’s seen him in nothing but his boxers, but she’s always looked away. Right now, she gets to look. She takes full advantage of the moment and studies every part of his torso and chest. Ethan’s never been the biggest guy in the room, but his body is so toned. She could combust just from the view she has right now.

She gets her hands on him as fast as she can. Her hands start on his torso, tracing his abs before they trail up and over his chest. Ethan’s hands rest on hers when they reach his shoulders. He pulls her up so she’s sitting up with him between her knees. Their chests are flush against each other and she’s looking up at him.

Ethan hooks his fingers under the thin straps of the little black dress. He tugs them off her shoulders and she pulls her arms out of the straps. She keeps her eyes on Ethan as he pulls the top of her dress over her boobs. He gnaws on his bottom lips when he sees her tits.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans. “You hid these from me this entire time?”

“You never asked to see them,” she tells him. Ethan moves his hands to cup her bare tits. “Probably would’ve showed you if you asked, E.”

He grins and pushes her until she’s lying on her back. He leans down and wraps his lips around one of her nipples. She hums at the feeling. Ethan’s other hand gropes her other boob. He bites down on her bottom lip. She runs her fingers through his hair.

After what feels like seconds later, Ethan begins to kiss down her chest and stomach. He pulls the dress down as he lowers himself down her body. She lifts her butt up so he can get the dress off. It hits the floor and she presses her lips into a line as Ethan drinks her in.

Her hands slide between them and she works on getting Ethan’s pants off. She pushes his pants off his body and he kicks them to the floor. She gets a hand on the bulge in his boxers, palming him over the thin fabric. He snakes a hand into her lace panties. She hums at the feeling of his fingers cupping her sex.

She grinds her core against his fingers trying to get some pressure. She presses her lips into a line as she pleasures herself on his hand. Ethan slips a finger into her and she gasps at the new feeling. "Oh my God," she breathes out. "Warn a girl next time."

Ethan smiles and attaches his lips to her jaw. "We'll see," he mumbles against her skin.

Slowly, he works her toward an orgasm. A knot forms in the pit of her stomach like it always does when she's close to an orgasm. Soft groans pass her lips when Ethan adds a second finger. "I- fuck," she pants. "Ethan, Eddy. Please."

"Please what, princess?" Ethan asks.

"Fuck me like you hate me," she tells him. "Please. Please fuck me, E."

He pulls back and looks at her. His fingers stop moving in and out of her. A grin forms on his swollen lips. "Are you begging me to fuck you?" he questions. "I never thought I'd see the day when you would beg me for something."

"Ethan Edwards, I'm about to get up and go get Luca-"

"Oh I don't think so," Ethan interrupts as he goes into his bedside table to get something. He pulls out a little foil package and comes back over to hover over her. "You're going to take off the rest of your clothes and I will give you the best dick you've ever had in that pretty little pussy."

His words go straight to her core and she listens to him almost as soon as he's done talking. She slides off her ruined panties and Ethan takes off his boxers to slide on the condom that he pulled out of the drawer.

She lies down on her back and lets Ethan settle above her. He lines up at her entrance and she stares up at him. Ethan meets her eyes before he pushes into her. She gasps from the stretch and grabs his triceps. It's painful at first but quickly turns into pleasure the longer he's inside her. He slowly pushes into her until he's completely buried inside her.

Once the pain completely fades, she nods at him. "Go," she tells him.

As soon as he has her permission, Ethan rolls his hips. Her jaw drops as he slowly picks up speed. The pleasure is so much that she nearly blacks out. Her nails dig into his triceps so hard that she's pretty sure he's going to end up with marks on his arms.

This is the last thing that she ever expected to happen. She never thought she would be underneath Ethan and getting fucked by him. She doesn't know if she'll ever tell him this because his ego will grow bigger than it already is, but it might be the best sex she's ever had. It's a quick hookup but it's already better than the rest of the hookups she's ever had, not that there are that many to compare it to.

She wouldn't be against it if this were to ever happen again.

Ethan continues to move deeply into her, but his movements pick up speed. The bed creaks and the room his filled with the soft moans that pass her lips. Ethan pants as he continues to move.

She starts to move her hips to match his pace. "Holy shit," she cries out when the tip of his dick hits her favorite spot. "Ethan."

"Like that, baby?" Ethan pants. "Like feeling my dick inside you? Making you feel good?"

He slams into her once and she arches her back off the bed. "Yes!" she gasps. "Yes, Ethan. God. Fuck."

With her response, Ethan slows down but hits her spot over and over again. Her legs begin to shake as she reaches the edge. The knot in her stomach threatens to come undone.

Ethan leans down and crashes their lips together in a bruising kiss. She groans as she feels her entire body clench. She squeezes around his dick as she comes and cries out against his lips. Her hands find his hair and she grasps, needing something to hold onto.

She feels like she's on cloud nine as Ethan fucks her through both of their orgasms. Her body goes limp under his when he pulls out to dispose of the used orgasm.

He cleans both of them up with his shirt before he collapses on the bed next to her. Her breathing is labored but is slowly returning to normal.

When she finds the strength to move, she turns her head to look at him. Ethan's already looking at her when she looks at him.

"I never hated you," Ethan admits to her. She raises her eyebrows at him. "I mean it. I never hated you. I thought it was cute how flustered you got every time I messed with you so I kept doing it not knowing that it meant that you didn't like me. That was me trying to express my feelings but it was definitely the wrong way to do that."

She blinks at him. "You've said some hurtful thing to me, Ethan," she tells him. "I'm going to need some time to get over that but ... I think I'd be okay if we tried to be friends. I wouldn't be opposed to this either."

"I knew you always wanted me," he teases.

"Shut up," she replies as she leans in to kiss him.

༺──────────────༻

MAIN HOCKEY

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