pengacaraceraibanyumas

[mazojo]

Did Luke just say the N word……………. On reality tv…….. recorded on live feeds………..?

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Sibling Rivalry {1}

Pairing: F1 drivers (platonic) x fem!reader Summary: A little crack!fic as a driver!reader who is Max's little half-sister. Warnings: 18+ only, lots of bad language, protective big brother, sibling antics, daddy issues. WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three

There was nothing that irked you more than being called a Verstappen. Yes, you were Max’s sister, but that was where the relationship with the name ended. Your sperm donor, as you publicly referred to Jos, had never been a part of your life and that was one blessing you were thankful for. 

Somehow the bastard's genetics had won and that stupid racer’s blood ran in your veins. You liked to go fast. Your mother said that you could run before you could walk and the same went for driving. At 17 years old you had your super licence before your drivers licence, making it legal to drive at 200 mph around a circuit with insane corners but not 30 mph on the street.

Something about that seemed…odd.

It was worth it in the end. You could still remember the look on Jos’ face when you signed for Alpha Tauri. Oh, how the bastard had tried to credit himself with your achievement. But there were more similarities that you shared with your half sibling than you were willing to admit. One of those shared traits was brutal honesty. And you had let your honest thoughts fly when Jos opened his mouth.

Three years later the sperm donor was still bitter. He would surely have to get used to it, especially since you had just been named as a Red Bull driver, alongside Max.

Round One - Bahrain 2022 “This is a historical first, siblings racing together on the same team,” Ted Kravitz said as he walked along the pit, stopping outside Red Bull’s garage. “The two Verstappen's will be fighting each other for the Driver Championship, once again, while simultaneously working together to win the Constructors Championship. A very, very exciting season ahead I can already tell.”

You had been pulling your helmet on, about to climb into the RB18 when you heard the comment. The short temper you were well known for flared and you sauntered into the pit lane. “Hey, Ted Crapitz,” you called out as he stood writing in that little notepad of his.

He looked up a little stunned and his eyes darted at the camera that was always following him around. “It’s, uh, Kravitz.”

“Oh, my apologies, I thought it was just normal to make up offensive surnames. No?” you asked as you arched an eyebrow at him. “Because Verstappen isn’t mine, so don’t ever call me that again.”

“S-sorry, my mistake,” he stammered, but you were already shoving your helmet on and grabbing the halo to climb into your car. “A bit of a slap on the wrist for me there.”

You had no doubt that the video would go viral and the comments would call you a bitch but you didn’t care. Jos was a piece of shit and your mother didn’t raise you all on her own, working two jobs to pay for your karting years, just for you to be called a fucking Verstappen.

There was no better feeling than pulling out of the garage and heading to the track. The finely tuned car purred beneath you and you could feel the restrained power of it just waiting for you to pass the pit marker so you could push the throttle and free the beast you had worked hard to control.

“Radio check,” your engineer, Nicholas, ordered through the headset.

“Tell big bro to keep his mouth closed during the race. It can’t be healthy to eat my dust.” 

“Understood.”

The jeroboam size bottle of Ferrari Trento looked enormous in your hands as you shook it up and sprayed Charles and Carlos back after drenching you first. You may have been on the bottom step of the podium but you celebrated as if you had taken 1st place. Turning the bottle on the crowd, you spotted Max at the front with a wide grin on his face as he cheered with the rest of Red Bull. 

It was a little disappointing that he had DNF’d but there was always next week to battle it out again. In the meantime you enjoyed the adrenaline of the podium finish and the image of Jos standing to the side with a face like a slapped ass. It was a feeling you could definitely get used to.

Round Eleven - Great Britain 2022 The leaderboard changed almost every week, flipping like hotcakes between you and Max. It was labelled as sibling rivalry, and for once the media got it right. Though you hadn’t grown up with Max there was an innate need to know who was better, who could push the limits harder and who could get away with it. Some weeks it was you, some weeks it wasn’t. It was all part of the fun. 

Fun. Now that was something that came in spades. The camaraderie that came with the competitiveness was always something you enjoyed moving up from F3 and F2 before reaching F1. With only 19 other people sharing the same experience with you, it was impossible not to grow close to them. 

“Can you let Max in front today?” Lando asked as you walked along the grid. “Please?”

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because he’d rather look at your ass than Max’s, if he can hold third place.” You turned to the other McLaren driver to see a grin splitting the Australian’s face. 

“Aww, Lando, the real English gentleman,” you tutted sarcastically as you pulled your balaclava off your shoulder and snickered when it slapped Lando across the back of his head.

“Unnecessary violence, Spitfire,” he gasped before muttering under his breath, “I know who you get that from.”

A growl pulled back your lips and you punched him none too softly in the bicep, which was a double edged sword because it was far harder than you were expecting and you felt the hit in your knuckles. 

“Oh, Lando, Lando, Lando,” Daniel chuckled as he walked off to his car. “When are you going to learn?”

“You know the car goes faster with less weight,” Lando said as he rubbed his arm.

“Yeah, so?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “All that baggage you carry is weighing you down.”

“Well, that’s just stupid, metaphors weigh nothing...” You pulled your balaclava over your face as you walked from the second row to the front where the two Red Bulls were parked side by side. 

“Hey Lan,” you called out as you turned back with the urge to lighten the mood after he had looked crestfallen. “Don’t get too excited when I warm up my tires, that’s not me shaking my ass for you.”

You could see the corners of his eyes wrinkle with a smile that was hidden by the balaclava he pulled on. “A lad can dream, Spitfire.”

You had earned the nickname of Spitfire from dog-fighting your way to the front of the pack and it was one you were proud of, it certainly beat being called a bitch day in and day out. 

“Just keep it to your dreams, yeah? I’m already paying too much for therapy.”

“You can talk about your daddy issues later,” Max interrupted, tossing your helmet into your waiting hands. “Get in your car, zusje.”

You grinned to yourself as the formation lap began and you started weaving across the track to warm your tires. All Lando would be able to think about was your ass as the rear wing swayed side to side and the thought of made you laugh since you lived to torment the guys on and off the track.

“Radio check.”

“I can’t wait to show everyone the upgrades.”

“Understood.” There was a pause before Nicholas returned. “Uh, you weren’t scheduled for any upgrades.”

Your start was terrible as Max flew away at lights out and then you were nearly clipped in the first turn by Lando, the swerve you took to avoid a collision letting Charles slip straight past.

“DRS activated this lap.”

You passed the starting line on the heels of Charles, Lando close behind but not close enough to use DRS just yet. The Ferrari was quick but he was out of Max’s DRS range and your straight line speed was far superior, it was only a matter of time before you reached the first DRS zone and made your move to overtake. 

“Did you just use indicators?”

You laughed as you hit the buttons on your console before pulling out of the slipstream, the rear wing opened to reduce the drag, and flew past the red car. You hit the new button the electrical engineer had rewired before pulling in front of Charles and laughed as you saw the replay on the big screens around the circuit.

“It’s only polite to indicate when overtaking. Have you never read the road code?”

“I’m more worried about the FIA regulations than the road code.”

“You worry too much, Christian can afford a little fine.”

“£150,000 for a laugh! Are you taking the mick outta me?”

You tried to keep a serious face as you faced Christian but one look at Max’s amusement had a smile cracking through. 

“No, you don’t get to laugh about this,” Christian snapped, pulling your attention back to him. “You too, Max. It’s like having a couple of fucking children around here.”

“It was nothing to do with me,” Max argued. “I would never pull a stunt like that.”

“You have something on your nose,” you said as you pointed and he wiped at it. “Nope, still brown.”

His lip twitched before he snickered and playfully shoved your shoulder. 

A heavy sigh of disappointment filled the private room in the motorhome and you both looked at Christian. “With Max winning last year we are going to be under even more scrutiny, and this sort of behaviour isn’t going to earn us any favours. Cut the shit out and pay the fucking fine.”

You started to open your mouth to point out the fine was charged to Red Bull not you but a sharp elbow from Max had you clamming your lips closed again. 

“She’ll be better behaved,” Max promised with a glare that warned you to stay silent to save yourself from lying.

“Fine, get out there before the interviews are finished.”

You were never a fan of the post-race interviews but you left Christian’s office like it was lights out, racing ahead of Max to get to the media pit. 

You skidded to a halt at the side of the stage and Charles patted the empty space between him and Lando just as Max arrived. The other space on the couch was at the end beside Lance and you looked at Max with narrowed eyes before making a break for the better seat. Lando had to jump aside as you slammed into the seat just before Max but it didn’t stop him from planting himself on top and you groaned at the weight.

“Second place again, Max Emillian,” you wheezed as you tried to push him off and looked at Charles. “A little help?”

“Sorry, there are universal rules: we can’t interfere with sibling rivalries,” he said with an apologetic smile.

“Arthur’s my favourite Leclerc.”

Max took full advantage while you were distracted, staring daggers at Charles, and shoved you aside to take the cushioned seat with a smarmy grin. “Remember, best behaviour,” he warned as he got comfortable and accepted the microphone handed to you.

He should have known that the challenge couldn’t go unanswered and so you stood up, but you weren’t admitting defeat. His smile fell when you sat down on Lando’s lap, much to everyone’s surprise. 

“Hands off my sister, Norris,” Max quipped, but Lando’s hands were still in the air from where he froze, not knowing what to do with them or where to put them.

“This is quite comfy,” you noted as you wriggled around. “Maybe this can be my spot every week.”

“Fuck, fine,” Max growled as he stood up and walked down the line to sit with Lance. “Take the fucking seat.”

Charles laughed as you slipped into the seat and he held his fist out. “Everytime.”

You bumped his fist and smirked as the interviews finally got underway. “Every damn time.”

Click here for part two.

[vanfleeter]

Revelation

Summary: Going on a platonic date and being mistaken for being a couple, but things might just change. Characters: Jake x Fem!Reader Warnings: 18+ as always. Language. Fluff. Light Smut. Kissing. Heated make out. Angst (if you squint really, really hard). Allusions to sex.

Valentine's Masterlist

It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Jake to invite you to go to dinner with him. It was usually when he wanted to get out of the house after going completely out of his mind.

So here you are, standing outside your apartment building and waiting for him to show up. And just on time, when he’s usually running late, his car pulls up to the side road. He parks it and gets out to open the passenger door for you.

“Oh how gentleman of you.” You giggle as you climb up inside.

“Don’t get used to it.” He smirks before shutting the car door and jogging back around to his side.

“So..” You say, breaking the comfortable silence in the car. It was never awkward between the two of you, if anything the you two enjoy the silence and just soaking in each other’s presence. “Uh… You already had this planned?”

Jake nods his head. “Had it planned since the new year. It’s a nice place, it's kind of hard to get reservations.. I didn’t want to cancel so I thought why not ask my best friend to join me?”

“Aw, how thoughtful.” You say, making him chuckle. “But you should know, I-”

“-Never liked her.. I know,” He smirks.

“Well..” You shrug your shoulders. He laughs and turns on the turn signal to make a right turn at the intersection.

–

Parking the car in the lot of the restaurant, he gets out and comes around to your side to open your door. “You know you don’t have to do that.” You say.

“I’m being polite.” He says as he closes the door when you get out.

With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you through the open door of the restaurant. The simple touch from him on your back sent a warm feeling through your middle, making your heart race just a little more than usual.

“Good evening!” The hostess smiles. “Do you have a reservation for tonight?”

“Yes,” Jake responds. “It's under Jacob Kiszka.”

The hostess hums as she looks through the book. “Yes, Kiszka. Party of two. Right this way.”

As she leads the two of you through the restaurant, Jake glances over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watches your eyes grow in size as how fancy this place is. You don’t go to places like this. Your idea of fancy included cooking at home with a small glass of wine, maybe two if you were feeling yourself. This was way over what you’ve been to.

“Here we are.” She says with a smile, placing a couple menus down on the booth table. “Your waiter will be over soon to bring your drinks.”

“This place is insane..” You say, still looking around the room. “There’s chandeliers here, huge ones.” Jake smiles from across the booth as the awe still clouds your eyes. “And there’s a live jazz band?”

A young man walks over carrying a couple glasses and an expensive bottle of wine. “Compliments of the chef for the happy couple.”

“Couple?” You question.

Jake’s face falls but he quickly plays it off by clearing his throat and flashing the waiter a smile. “That’s very kind,” He says. “Please give him our thanks.”

The waiter pours the wine before retrieving a notepad and pen to write your orders. With Jake’s insistence on you getting anything you would like, you end up ordering a steak with all of the sides and he ends up ordering the same thing.

Once the waiter is gone, you reach for your wine and take a drink. “I’m sorry about that,” Jake awkwardly laughs. “I forgot I had put a note on the reservation that I’d be bringing my girlfriend–not knowing that we’d..break up..before this..”

You give him a warm smile and shake your head. “Don’t apologize.. Besides, free wine? I won’t turn that down.” You say with a giggle and take another drink of your wine. Hearing the music change, you can’t help but smile again when you recognize what song is being played. Standing up from the booth and receiving a confused look from Jake, you hold out your hand to him.

“It’s just a dance,” You say. “They already think we’re a couple, why not play off of it?”

He reluctantly slides out of the booth and straightens his jacket before taking your hand in his. You weren’t sure if he had felt it too, but there was a slight jolt of electricity as your hands connected. To which you chalked up as static after he ran his hands over his suit jacket.

Platonic.

That’s all it is.

Just friends.

Friends who are apparently having dinner at a fancy restaurant, dancing like a couple because that’s what the whole restaurant staff believes you are.

His hand rests again on the small of your back, but that’s as close as he will let himself get to you.

“Jake..” You say. He hums in acknowledgment, looking down at you. “I��m not gonna jump your bones should you decide you want to get closer.”

“Oh uh..” He clears his throat. “Okay.”

Stepping closer to close the two inch gap between your two, his pelvis rests softly against yours and his hand slides from your back to your other hip. He bravely pushes closer until he can feel your chest rising and falling against his suit. The contact alone sends a blood rush to his cock and he’s praying-to whatever higher power is out there-that you can’t feel it.

He hasn’t ever been this close to you–and that doesn’t include hugs.

He can feel the sweat perspiring on his palm and his heart begins to race. Little does he know that you’re feeling the exact same way. Even the flood of arousal between your legs.

When the song finally ends, you quickly excuse yourself to the bathroom, claiming to touch up just a little before the food comes out. He stammers a little before nodding his head and giving a soft ‘okay’ and a smile.

Stepping into the bathroom, you head straight for the sink and rest your palms against the edges. Taking in deep breaths, you work on calming yourself down, easing your heart rate and your nerves.

Once you feel calm enough, you straighten out your dress and run a hand through your hair and walk back out to the dining area. Approaching the table, you find that your food has already been brought out. Jake had yet to touch his food, him stating that he wanted to wait for you.

“It’s only been a minute since they brought it out,” He says.

“Oh, wonderful.” You slide back into the booth and retrieve the cloth napkin to spread over your lap. “This looks amazing.” You say before taking your fork and knife and cutting off a bite.

–

Dinner continues to go smoothly, small talk taking place between bites of food. A few laughs shared, mostly over stories of his brothers, to which you don’t mind. As your plates are cleared and you both agree to dessert, the waiter comes back with a single dish with a single slice of chocolate cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream nestled beside it.

They still believe that you’re a couple. But just like the wine, the dessert is free, more compliments of the chef.

It all comes down to the last bite of chocolate cake. You both lock eyes with each other and he smirks, readying his fork. “Bring it on, Jacob.” You say. And so the fight begins for the last bite. Of course he wins. He giggles and stabs the piece with his fork but instead of stuffing it into his mouth, he leans across the table and lets you eat it off his fork.

Again the rush of arousal floods to his cock again as he watches your lips close around his fork and take in the piece of cake. He gulps and pulls away and places his fork on the table.

For fucks sake, Jake. Pull yourself together. She is your friend. Your best friend.

The waiter comes back with the check and Jake hands over his card to pay for the dinner.

–

“I really enjoyed tonight,” You say as you unlock the door to your apartment. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Well it would have been pretty awkward to go with Josh,” He chuckles. “But you’re welcome.”

You smile and push open the door. Do it. Just ask him. “Do you, uh.. Do you want to come in?” You ask. “Unless you think it’s too late.” You quickly add.

He smiles and shakes his head. “I’d love to come in.” He says. Stepping inside, you hold the door open allowing him to come inside.

He instantly makes himself at home by slipping off his loafers and leaving them by the door and hanging up his suit jacket on the coat rack. He plops down on the sofa and crosses his legs on the coffee table. Slipping off your heels, you walk over to the couch to join him.

“I think the perfect way to end this night is by watching a movie.” He says as he reaches for the remote. You agree and snag a blanket off the back of the couch and cover the both of you.

–

As the movie ends, you both get up from the couch to stretch. His left arm swipes around your waist and pulls you into him. “Hi..” He smiles.

You smile back. “Hi..”

He takes in a deep breath before uttering his next words. “I’m about to do something that could potentially ruin everything but it’s a risk I’m willing to take because all night I’ve been dying to know..”

“To know what?”

He takes your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your lips. It took you by surprise initially but you allow yourself to lean more into it, both figuratively and literally as you press your waist against his body.

“How soft your lips are..” He chuckles when he pulls away.

“I..” You’re unable to form any words. You sigh at your inability to do so and he nods his head.

“You don’t have to say anything.” He says, his head dipping. “That was probably not the right call.” He clears his throat and pulls away before swiping his keys off of the coffee table.

“Woah, wait..” You grab his wrist, pulling him back and pressing your lips back onto his. “It was definitely the right call.” You kiss him again and wrap your arms around his neck.

He grabs your hips and pulls you as close as your bodies could possibly get. His one hand rests on your hip while the other tangles within your hair. Your lips move in sync as your tongues battle one another.

Wrapping his arms around the back of your thighs, he picks you up and lays you on the couch. He rests himself between your legs, hovering over top of you before diving in to attach his lips to your neck. You can feel his now hardened length rub against your center and arousal begins to pool again in your underwear.

As he continues sucking and now licking at your skin, you work to undo the buttons on his shirt, exposing his chest and torso. His skin is already starting to glisten with sweat. You press the palms of your hands against his chest, feeling how it expands with each breath and moves fluidly with each movement he makes.

He moans against your neck, the vibration tickling your skin and making you giggle. He smiles against you before pulling away only briefly to shimmy off his shirt and toss it to the floor. He starts back on your neck again before moving down to your collarbone and eventually down the exposed skin of your chest. He teases the valley of your breasts with a gentle sweep of his tongue and kissing back up to your collarbone and coming back to plant a kiss on your lips.

Being a little risky, you slide your hands from his chest and down to his crotch where you gently cup him in the palm of your hand. His breath hitches in his throat and he looks at you, his eyes darkening and a smirk appearing on his face. He grinds his length into your palm, creating the much needed friction he’s been craving to satisfy the aching feeling in his cock. But he moves back, pulling you with him.

“Everything okay?” You ask.

Jake nods his head. “Yeah..” He runs a hand through his hair. “But if I don’t stop myself now, I’ll want to take you right here.”

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“No! No, it wouldn’t be a bad thing but…” He sighs. “Y/N, listen.. Tonight did not go as planned for either of us.. I didn’t see myself coming home with you, or kissing you. Nor did I see myself doing this.”

“Oh..” You shift your legs on the couch and drape them over the edge before planting your feet on the floor and moving to stand up. “Now I just feel confused..”

He looks up at you from the couch, his brows pulling together. “All I’m saying is that tonight was not at all what I had planned..” He stands up from the couch. “Something definitely shifted tonight.. I felt when I picked you up.. Seeing you in this dress–I don’t know, it showed you to me in a different way. Normally I’d look at you and think of you as just my best friend. But not tonight. Tonight I looked at you in this dress and my heart stopped. All fucking night I was a sweating mess and goddamn nervous to be around you.”

Reaching out for you, he pulls you back to him and presses a delicate kiss to your lips.

“I so badly want to fuck you,” He says. “But I also want to make love to you.”

“Make love to me, Jake..”

–

Walking your fingers up his bare torso and up his chest, you watch as a smile slowly grows on his face. His eyes flutter open and he looks down at you. “Hi..” You say with a smile. He chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to his body.

“Hi..” He responds before kissing you. “Tonight was perfect. I’m glad that I made the decision to invite you out tonight.”

“I’m glad you did too.. Or else I’d be here–alone… I never liked Valentine’s Day.”

“Eh, it’s okay..” He shrugs his shoulders. “You haven’t missed out on much..”

You giggle and turn over so that you’re resting on top of him. “You, Jacob Thomas, are a beacon of light that I get the pleasure of seeing every day.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He blurts out.

You smile and eagerly nod your head. “I thought you’d never ask.”

__________________________________________________

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[midnight-pluto]

COFFEE: PG.14 — alleyway therapy sessions

COFFEE: tim drake x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: Tim meets a barista that gives him what he needed most — a large coffee with way to many shots of espresso. Though what happens when just a single action changes the other's life, forever?

coffee master list || prev. || next

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 15 2023 — 10:59 PM

IT HAD BEEN quite a bit of time since you started dating Tim. In all honesty, it was great — you’re dates were consistent, you got to spend time with his family, and hang outs outside of dates were enjoyable.

However, recently there has been a shift in your peaceful relationship. Tim had cancelled on you, again.

You understood the first time, he had rich kid socialite duties to attend to. The second time you were skeptical since it was back-to-back but he had given you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, so who were you to refuse? But this was the third time.

You both had planned on having a cute date at the park since it was a particularly good day to Gotham’s standards but as it turned out, he canceled on you.

Staring at Tim’s apology message, tears threatened to slip out of the corners of your eyes but you wouldn’t allow them. Taking a sharp inhale through your nose, you take your phone and leave.

Walking along the grim sidewalk of Gotham, you make a sharp turn through the alleyway for a shortcut to your apartment. Though doing that in Gotham wasn’t the best idea but you could handle a few thugs.

No one leave their house without a weapon in Gotham of course.

Halfway through the alleyway, a larger vine carrying two women emerge from the shadows in front of you — Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn.

“Ivy, I love you and all but are you sure this is a good idea? I mean like, I’m sure a lot of people out there deserve a good beating but not them! They look like they’ve had a rough night,” Harley told her girlfriend to which you sigh at.

“Of course the world isn’t done with torturing me,” you mumble.

“See!”

“Huh, I thought there would be a lot more shitty people that come down this route,” Ivy mutters.

“Are you alright sweetie? You look like you’ve had a bad day?”

“Wait Harles, you can’t be seriously starting a therapy session right now are you?”

“C’mon Ivy! This is the least we can do for them! I mean we inconvenienced them, potentially ruined their day by showing up — I mean like I would also be upset if a pair of heroes showed up for no reason — and! They look depressed! Look at their face!”

Wow. You didn’t know whether to be glad that someone noticed your sadness or offended at the fact that someone thought you looked depressed.

Probably a mixture of both.

Ivy raised a brow at her girlfriends notions and looked you over as you stared blankly into the abyss. Her eyes widen in realization of who you were, “Hey wait, aren’t you that viral employee of Café Remedies? Y/N, right?”

“That’s me,” you huff out, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Holy shit I love that place! They make hella good macarons,” Harley interjects, “See! We gotta have a therapy session now.”

“Ugh, fine,” the redhead rolls her eyes, using her vines to create makeshift chairs for the three of you to sit on.

You stare at the sudden creation in shock but swiftly get over it once you see the couple sit down on them nonchalantly.

“So tell me, what’s going on currently?” the ex-psychiatrist begins, taking out a pen and notepad.

“Harles where on Earth did you get that?”

“It’s honestly nothing but like— he just keeps on canceling on me and I don’t know what to do, like is it me? Am I the problem—?”

“Slow down,” the blond interrupts with a calm voice, “Who are we talking about here?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Who’s the boyfriend?”

“Tim Drake.”

“Oh you gotta be shitting me! Him?” Ivy abruptly says, “He’s actually dating somebody?” She turns to look at her girlfriend to which she looks at her with the same expression.

“Apparently, I thought they were just rumors and speculation,” she shrugged her shoulders.

“We literally posted pictures of our first date— anyways,” you shake your head trying to get back on track, “He keeps on canceling our dates last minute and I’m starting to have doubts because what if he’s not into me anymore? Did he even like me in the first place — I was the one who suggested our first date so what if he just said yes out of obligation since I’m friends with Duke?”

“Wait Duke as in Duke Thomas?” the plant enthusiast questioned once more, to which you nod your head in response. “Holy shit you have connections.”

“But Duke isn’t even legally adopted by the Wayne’s,” Harley points out turning towards you, “Is he?”

“Well it doesn’t even matter since he literally attends the same events they do,” Ivy reminds.

“True I guess, but back on track. Tim keeps on canceling your guys’ dates?” the blond flips her notepad to a new page and clicks her pen once more.

“Yeah the first time he blamed it on his ‘rich kid duties,’” you quote.

“Why have money if you can’t even use it to bail out of something to spend time with you’re partner?” the redhead deadpans.

“And the second time?”

“He did the same thing but got me flowers as an apology and promised to show up the next time but uh,” you click your tongue, “He obviously didn’t show up.”

“Does he text or call you whenever he cancels on you?” Harley asked, putting black framed glasses on. Where she was pulling all of these things from alluded you but you didn’t question it.

“He texts me.”

She furrows her brows at that statement, “Can I see the text messages?”

Unlocking your phone, you press the messages app and show her your past conversations with your beloved. “We’ve called a few times during this time but that’s it.”

“Alright did you leave him on read?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Good he deserves it after answering your texts with the max of five words.”

SPECIAL NOTE: y’all might not hear from me next week since I got midterms but I will finish this smau before 2024 I swear!! also, I’m imagining Harley and Ivy are like they are in the Harley Quinn animated series — just an fyi

TAGLIST: @grandstrangerphantom @marsbars09 @fabitheraven @lovelypitasworld @dyjcksn @mae77eris @sugarrush-blush @djchik @soundsfunbutno @apizzacalledmel @strangetrashblog @cipheress-to-k-pop @harleycao @unhingedtimdrake @a-homosexual-homosapien @aquarii-doodles @love-stay @criminallycan @hecate-frenchfries @job-ross-the-second [ if your name isn't highlighted then I wasn't able to tag you. if you would like to join, feel free to send me an ask or to comment! ]

[jokerislandgirl32]

Ziolet Songs: Day Four

October 4th - Sparks Fly

Get me with those green eyes, baby As the lights go down Gimme something that'll haunt me when you're not around 'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

My mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea You touch me once and it's really something You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be I'm on my guard for the rest of the world But with you, I know it's no good And I could wait patiently But I really wish you would

Posting this a day late, but oh well!

Since yesterday was my birthday I decided to include a fic excerpt from one of Violet’s birthdays! It’s either her 19th or 20th birthday, I haven’t decided yet. But I hope you all enjoy it! Putting it below the cut due to length and mentions of alcohol consumption, a few crude comments, and references to a toxic relationship.

I had barely opened the menu when the sound of people singing happy birthday caught my attention. I looked into the restaurant, and saw the girl I was looking for: my Violet. 

Violet’s long hair was pulled back in a braid, and she was dressed in a simple off-the-shoulder, lilac sundress with a black apron around her waist. She smiled and blushed as her family and the patrons of the restaurant sang happy birthday to her.

The waitress in front of me huffed and rolled her eyes. I sensed she did not like Violet very much, and I was more than ready to get rid of her, “I know what I want,” I announced. 

She pulled out a notepad and looked at me expectantly, I fished out my wallet and produced a $20 bill, “I want the birthday girl to serve me, here’s something for your time.”

The girl’s brown eyes widened, and she stuffed the bill into her apron pocket, “of course, thank you, I’ll go get her!”

VvvvvvVvvvvvV

I was busy thanking everyone for the impromptu birthday song when Nicole ran up to me out of breath, “I’ve got a customer for you, he’s a very good tipper, he just gave me 20 dollars to seat him, and he requested you!”

Nicole usually did not speak to me because she claimed I’d stolen Travis from her, which was far from the truth. I figured she was setting me up for embarrassment, but part of me was hopeful that there really was a customer who wanted me to be their waitress. 

I smiled and said, “okay, here’s to hoping he tips me well too!”

“Yeah, you can treat yourself to a nice birthday present,” my cousin Paige winked at me, having overheard the conversation. 

“I guess,” I whispered, fixing my hair and going to the table where the gentleman was seated. 

When I arrived he sat holding the menu up, covering his face, “good evening sir, can I start you off with something to drink?”

He responded in a gruff, hateful sounding voice, “do you recommend anything? I usually prefer alcohol, but there’s none listed. What type of an island restaurant is this if you can’t get alcohol?”

I felt taken aback by his comment, “I apologize sir, but it is the preference of the owner of the restaurant to not serve alcohol.”

“Why’s that? Is she a prude?” He snickered and something about his voice was oddly familiar. I stood on my toes to peer over the menu covering his face, but he held it closer to him and raised it slightly.

I tried to bite my tongue, but it was no use, I would not stand for whoever this was insulting the aunt who had practically raised me, “Sir, I respectfully disagree with you, the owner is my aunt, and she prefers to host a restaurant where good food and fun can be had without the negative impacts that result from alcoholic consumption. If that is a problem with you, you can go to a neighboring restaurant or bar that does serve alcohol.”

“Ohhh, that’s a bold statement, but I should expect it coming from a sexy little minx such as yourself,” I could hear the laugh in his voice, and I’d had enough. It was one thing for Travis to make crude comments about me, but this man was a stranger, this was unexceptable. 

“Sir, I am sorry, but I do not appreciate your comments. They are making me very uncomfortable. If you cannot refrain from saying such things, I will have to ask you to leave.”

“Awww, come on, you can’t ask your friend to leave,” he pouted, lowering the menu enough for me to see jet black hair. 

The gears in my mind started turning, who did I know with black hair? And before I could stop myself, I asked, “who are you?”

The man lowered the menu and took off a pair of triangular sunglasses at the same time, his voice returning to normal, to a voice I'd wanted to hear for so long, “happy birthday, Vi.”

I felt a few tears fall from my eyes as I looked at his smiling face. I approached him and he stood up quickly, gathering me into a hug without me initiating it. I threw my arms around his neck as his head fell to the crook of my neck, “I’m so happy to see you, Zach,” I whispered.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Better

Chapter 10: I Want Her

Charlotte's Club Outfit:

Charlotte's Baseball Outfit (Except Pretend it's a Cubs Jersey:

A Pic of People Being Subjected to Charlotte and Lip PDA:

Note: Hiii! This took longer than I thought, apologies, but here it is! It's a little shorter but when I'm less busy we'll be back to our regularly scheduled programming. Thank you so much for all of the love I've been receiving on this, it means the world. I hope you all continue to enjoy reading :) <3 Also hopefully I got this damn tag list right this time. Let me know if you wanna be added!

Taglist: @comeonatmebruh @heavenly1927 @th3h0nkz @yezzyyae

“So, you don’t think he’d like a flask with a drunk Mickey Mouse on it?”

Lip chuckles as he balances his phone between his shoulder and his ear. His hands are busy jotting down a string algorithm for one of his bosses that he’d figured out and memorized earlier that morning. “I think Mickey would like us to buy him some shots while we’re out tonight. And I think Mickey deserves nothing but us showing the fuck up.”

“Aww,” Charlotte whines on the other line, Lip can basically hear the pout he knows is on her face. “I wanna give him something to open. Knowing you Gallaghers Ian’s probably just giving him dick for his birthday. He can’t unwrap that. Unless I pick up a bow for him to put on it.”

“Uh, really don’t want to think about you helpin’ my brother put a bow on his dick for his boyfriend, babe.” Lip sniffs, curling his lip up in distaste.

“Such a prude.” she chirps. 

Lip ignores her, finishing up what he’s doing and ripping it from the notepad, going back to his computer to check his work. Suddenly, there’s a knock at his office door. It’s so weird for him to say, his office. Well, it's his and the other paid intern’s office to share. All of the poor fucks working for free share cubicles downstairs and the real employees get their own offices on Lip’s floor. But it’s mostly his, the other guy’s uncle is one of the big bosses and he rarely actually comes to work and normally when he does, it’s to play foosball with the other trust fund babies before going to happy hour. “Yeah?”

The door swings open and Eric comes strolling in, tossing a foam stress ball back and forth between his hands, the same douchebag look he always has is painted on his face. “Hey, Gallagher, you got time for a quick favor?”

“Uh, yeah. One sec,” Lip brings one hand to the phone, holding it sturdily against his ear. “Charlotte, I gotta go.” He tries to ignore the immediate irritation at the way Eric straightens when he hears Charlotte’s name.

“Ooh, Charlotte, huh? Someone important must be in the room.” she jokes.

“Oh, shit, the girlfriend. Put her on speaker.”

“I’m,” the blond tries and achieves, albeit poorly, to contain his temper. “I’m not putting her on speaker, man.” 

“No, bubba, it’s okay, I’ll say hi.” her sweet voice intercedes. Lip curses under his breath before putting the phone on speaker. “Hi, I’m Phillip’s girlfriend, Charlotte.”

Eric pulls up one of the extra seats of the room, leaning into the phone rested on Lip’s desk. “Nice to meet you, I’m Eric, Gallagher’s boss.”

Lip scoffs disbelievingly, shaking his head, looking away. He could tolerate shitheads like Eric all day, but with his girlfriend watching? It was a whole new ball game. “Aye-”

“For now,” Charlotte hums on the other side of the line. “But my baby is a genius, he’ll be running that place soon.”

Both Eric and Lip go silent for a moment, the latter trying to work away the smug smile that starts to spread on his face. Eric blinks before schooling an easy look on his own face and offering a laugh that’s a little too loud. “Yeah, I believe it.”

There’s an awkward silence where Lip just watches Eric rock between his two feet, staring at the phone on the desk, waiting for Charlotte to take back what she said, compliment him to even things out, or just politely hang up. He smirks, ducking his head at the fact that this dickhead just doesn’t know his girl. Charlotte would ride an awkward silence until the wheels fell off. Simply because she doesn’t think to fill it. That’s just who she is, she doesn’t fill silence, she doesn’t laugh at jokes she doesn’t think are funny and her fake smile looks more like an awkward grimace. 

After a minute passes Lip decides to take mercy on the poor guy and hang up. “Uh, bunny, I gotta get back to work, alright? I’ll meet you at the house when I get off.”

“‘Kay!” she chirps. “Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.” Lip leans on the small wooden desk and waits for Eric to recover from the uncomfortable moment. “You, uh, needed something?”

“Right! Right, I did. Do. I need you to run some diagnostics on a program my dad sent over, I’d do it, but there’s so much on my desk right now, and you’re the only one who's as fast as me.” 

“Sure,” Lip shrugs. “Send it over.” 

Eric claps his hands together, a wider smile on his face as he turns to leave. The man stops mid-step, turning to face the blond again. “Hey, Gallagher, what’re you doing this weekend?”

“It’s my brother’s boyfriend’s birthday tonight so I’m gonna go to that. After that, I'll probably just find something to do with my girl, why?”

“You like baseball?” Eric asks. “Cubs are playing, me and some of the guys are going. You should come.”

Lip tries to look disinterested. He knows however much the tickets are he couldn’t pay it unless he dipped into the money he and Charlotte had been saving, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough to sit where these rich pricks sit unless he emptied the damn jar. “I dunno.”

“C’mon man, my dad already bought the tickets. It’s team bonding and shit.” Eric continues, leaning against the door frame. “It’s on Sunday, there’ll be beer and baseball, what more do you need to know? You can even bring your girl, everyone else does when we go. Except the ugly fuckers who don’t have one.”

“Alright, I’ll uh, talk to Charlotte.” Lip says noncommittally, eyeing the other man as he nods, turning away and exiting the office. “‘Fuckin’ weirdo.”

Ian used to worry about his brother a lot. Really. See, Lip is the oldest brother, and he’s never stepped out of that role. Despite coming off as a pretentious, narcissistic asshole, his big brother was actually a decent person. He cares about his family. When they were younger and Monica and Frank were in and out, Fiona and Lip had to grow up quickly. Everyone always talks about how Fiona stepped up. How she became their mom, but no one talks about how even though he was only a couple years older than Ian, Lip became their dad. For the younger kids, Lip is the only steady father figure they know. 

And being real, the kid has fuckin’ issues with women. Probably Monica’s fault, and all of their mommy issues manifested in different ways, Lip and Carl just have the misfortune of being straight. Between that raging bitch Karen who literally got off on fucking shit up for him, that old bag he was fucking at school, that one rich crazy bitch, and Mandy, Lip had been through the ringer. Not that most of that chaos wasn’t self-made. Ian wasn’t blind, he knows his brother is a slut. 

So, when sweet, prissy, little Charlotte Fisher rolled into town with her big innocent brown eyes, wide smile and soft hands that would tell anyone she’s never worked a day in her life, Ian had been nervous. She’s nice, their little siblings love her, and he thought his brother would absolutely ruin her. Sometimes he still does think that. 

But as time goes on, his mind has started to change. Lip has never called a girl his girlfriend outside of trying to get her into bed before. He’s never walked around with a polaroid picture of a girl in his wallet. He’s never tried this hard. This shit might be for real and Ian is happy about it. 

Now, he and Mickey have an actual couple to hang out with.

“Last one.” Lip takes a deep drag from the blunt between his fingers, turning his head in the direction away from Charlotte as he blows out the smoke. He passes the blunt back to Mickey before walking a couple steps away where his girlfriend stands, wrapping his arms around her to share the warmth as she shivers. “Told you you’d be cold. Gonna catch fuckin’ pneumonia.”

“The cold doesn’t make p-people sick. G-germs do.” she sasses, leaning into him, letting out a small sneeze. “Don’t say anything.”

“Too worried about being cute. Should’ve made you put some fuckin’ clothes on.”

“Nah,” Mickey says, flicking the burnt leftovers of the blunt to the ground, walking over. “Princess here is our ticket to free drinks, she’s dressed the part.” 

“We’re not pimpin’ my fuckin’ girlfriend, Mickey.”

“Isn’t she gonna start strippin’ like, next week? What’s the difference?”

“Oh-kay.” Ian interrupts, throwing his arm around Mickey’s shoulder, pulling him closer to him, “Let’s go in.”

“Wait,” Charlotte pauses, before they can start walking up the street to the bar. “Is, um, is Mandy coming? Because, you’re her brother and I don’t wanna, like,” she gestures between her and Lip, “rub it in, you know?”

“Nah, you’re good. M’seein’ her tomorrow, shithead has to work tonight.” Mickey shrugs. “Now, I’m sick of standin’ here talkin’, it’s my fuckin’ birthday and I’m fuckin’ sober, it’s ridiculous.”

The group makes their way into the busy bar. It was one of the few nights they had a DJ instead of a live band which was likely the reason it was so busy. Mickey and Ian shove their way through the crowd, Charlotte right behind them with Lip’s arm around her waist, hand resting on her stomach, holding her to him. 

Once they find a spot with a little space, Mickey turns around and nudges Charlotte. “C’mon princess, this pussy already said he’s not drinkin’ cause he thinks he needs to watch me or somethin’, go shot for shot with me.”

Before the woman can even answer her boyfriend’s free hand is cupping her jaw, guiding her to look back at him, pulling her into a kiss. The word ‘no’ mumbled against her lips. She pouts, and the pair mumble amongst themselves as Ian and Mickey watch. After a few moments Lip rolls his eyes and nods, kissing her lips again before letting her go. 

Charlotte bounces excitedly, grinning at Mickey. “Kay, you wanna see something cool?” Without letting him answer, she straightens, rolling her shoulders back and putting an arch in her back as she walks a little ways away to the bar where a couple of guys are standing. She leans forward on the bar, poking her butt out a little as she looks around, appearing bored.

It’s not long before one of the guys turns to her and starts talking, leaning down to whisper in her ear as his friends behind him stare at her ass. Ian turns his head to look at Lip, who is looking away from his girlfriend, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. 

A couple moments later, Charlotte was coming shuffling back with three shots and a beer balanced in her hands, a bright smile on her face. “Drinks on me gentlemen.” she says, passing two shots to Ian, one for him, one for Mickey and handing Lip the beer. Lip’s finger slips through her back belt loop, tugging the girl to him again as he locks eyes with the guys who've purchased them over her head, sipping the beer they’d just paid for. 

“Bottoms up, princess.” Mickey says, bring his glass to Charlotte’s before tossing it back. The men chuckle as the girl sputters and gags at the taste, one eye twitching with discomfort.  Lip runs his hand along her side soothingly.

“Yuck, I don’t want any more of those.”

Charlotte had several more. Three and a half. She didn’t get a chance to finish the last shot before Lip wrestled it from her hands, slamming it down on the bar and pulling her away from it. 

She, Mickey and Ian had done their fair share of dancing. It mostly consisted of Ian and Charlotte taking turns grinding on Mickey to irritate him and the two men occasionally stepping away to dance with each other, only pausing to scare off whatever guy that was trying to get Charlotte to give them the time of day. Lip lingered at the bar, offering them supportive nods and nursing his beer. He’d chosen not to drink too much considering he’d already smoked and his girlfriend was currently slurring her words together as she stumbled her way over to him.

“Hi, bubba.” she hums over the loud music, swaying to the side a little as Lip’s arm shoots out to balance her, pulling her to him. He nudges her nose with his before looking at her wide smile and lidded eyes.

“Hi, baby. Havin’ fun?” He smiles.

“Yeah.” she tosses her arms around his neck leaning into him. “Stop laughin’ at me.”

“M’not, c’mon.”

“You haven’t danced with me at all, let’s go over there.” she whines, pulling at him and pouting.

Lip taps her lightly on the back of the thigh, “Stop whining” he murmurs in her ear before turning her so her back is against his front. Lip slides his hands down Charlotte’s sides to her hips, pulling her close to him. “I don’t dance.”

The woman in front of him rolls her eyes, placing one hand over his and the other going to the back of his head, burying in the hair at his nape. She turns her head so she can look at him with a sleepy smile. “You do with me.”

Lip leans back on the bar, wetting his lips as he watches Charlotte roll her ass back against him, grinding on his dick. His blue eyes shift between her ass and trying to get a glimpse of her face, one of his hands moving to the gap in the back of her jeans, grabbing the space there to guide her movements, biting back a groan when she bends in further, arching in front of him. 

“Gettin’ sick of this place, ready to go birthday boy?” Ian asks as Mickey yawns. His mission was accomplished, he’d taken his boyfriend out, showed him a good time for his birthday. Tomorrow they’d do the family vibe, with cake, streamers, and his one sane sibling. He slings his arm around him and goes to guide him over to his brother and his girlfriend. The last he’d seen the pair they’d been basically fucking through their clothes against the bar.

The redhead pauses in his steps, laughing disbelievingly at the sight in front of him.

A couple feet away is his brother, his girlfriend in his arms. The pair are quietly laughing and leaning back and forth to whisper in each other’s ears. His brother’s stance is relaxed, the only thing tense on him is his grip on his swaying drunk girlfriend, an easy smile that Ian hasn’t seen in a long time on Lip’s face. If he didn’t know better he’d say he seemed happy. Charlotte’s hands cup his face as she drunkenly presses kisses all over his face, leaving pink lip stains all over his mouth, cheeks and neck. 

Ian didn’t want to break up the scene but he’d really needed to get Mickey home. Once he’s rounded up the group, he and Lip guide their drunken partners to the car, ushering them in, and shushing Mickey’s slurred curses. After he drives Ian and Mickey to Mickey’s home Lip pulls off with a still very drunk but now a lot less rowdy Charlotte in the passenger seat, promising to return the car the next day. 

Ian watches as his older brother climbs into the driver’s seat of the car, checking the girl’s seatbelt and brushing the hair out of her face tenderly before the drive into the night. As much as he’d felt bad for Mandy he’d known that she and his brother would never work. Ian loves her, but Lip didn’t. Not the way she wanted. He couldn’t convince her of that. But Ian almost wishes that she’d seen Lip tonight. He was a different person when he was with Charlotte, not so bitter. Not acting like he was walking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders. As crazy and fucked up he is, Ian knows Mickey is what’s best for him. He’s starting to think Charlotte is what’s best for Lip.

“Fuckin’ Frank.” Fiona huffs, ripping her covers off at the sound of her front door opening. She’d bet all of the dollars she doesn’t fucking have that it’s him. Either way, him or whatever idiot decided to try to rob them were gonna get a bat to the face. She eases down the stairs, wooden weapon in her hand as she flicks the light on. “Jesus, Lip!”

“Shut the fuck up!” he whisper-yells. Slung over his shoulder is a giggling, very likely drunk Charlotte. 

“Shit, is Lottie drunk? Good going genius she’s not supposed to drink ‘til her birthday.” Fiona hisses, running a hand over her hair and dropping the bat onto the couch.

“Well, Mickey decided they’d share today.” Lip grumbles, adjusting his girlfriend on his shoulder before pushing past his sister and going up the stairs, rolling his eyes as he feels her following closely behind. 

Lip rests Charlotte softly on the bed, looking sighing as she flops backward. “No baby,” he pulls her up by her arms. “Up.”

Fiona leans in the doorway and watches in shock as her little brother cares for the girl on the bed in front of him. She’d never seen him be so gentle with anyone they weren’t related to. He chuckles lightly as he encourages the still giggling girl to lift her arms, tugging her tight t-shirt up and over her head, reaching around and unhooking her bra before digging in his drawer and pulling out one of his bigger shirts to pull over her head. “Pass me one of your wipes if you’re gonna stand there.” 

“Oh-” Fiona had forgotten herself, so shocked by the scene, she quickly walks over to the bathroom, grabbing her pack of makeup wipes and handing them to her brother. 

Lip takes the wipes and crouches in front of the girl, resting his hands on her knees. “Wanna go wash your face or are wipes good for now. Can you get up?” Charlotte’s eyes are clearly heavy, she leans her forehead against his, giggling as she shakes her head no, rubbing their heads together. “No? Okay, eyes closed, bunny, or it’ll burn.” The woman whimpers and struggles drunkenly as he drags the cold wipe across her face. Blue eyes sharp with focus as he tries to get every bit off. When he’s satisfied that he’d gotten all he could he kisses her lips before pushing off of the floor and reaching under his pillow, producing a light pink scarf. “Stay still, you know m’not good at this part.”

“Don’t wan’it.” she whines.

“You’re drunk, and you’re gonna be pissed tomorrow, if I don’t put this shit on you. Sit still.” Lip cups her jaw, giving her a serious look, only to be met with a wide grin. Fiona chuckles behind them, shrugging when her brother cuts his eyes at her.

“She’s gonna need aspirin and water for tomorrow.” Fiona offers.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ know, I’ve had her chugging water since the bar-ow!” 

Both Gallagher siblings look down to a now half asleep Charlotte, clean faced with her scarf tied as neatly as Lip could manage on her head, hanging slightly to one side. Her hand is up, offending fingers suspended in the air after pinching Lip’s arm roughly. “Ow.” she mocks, her eyes closing. “Be nice. She’s helping, trying to help me.” she slurs.

Lip rolls his eyes, offering a gruff, ‘sorry’ to his sister, as he nudges his girlfriend to lie down in the bed, kissing her forehead. “‘M’fuckin’ helpin’ you, brat.”

Another hand reaches out, this time to roughly tap him on the cheek. “Thank you, bubba.”

Fiona snickers again. “Bubba?”

Lip huffs, now starting to get himself ready for bed, flicking his sister off as a cue for her to exit. Fiona quietly closes the door behind her and returns to her room. 

As she climbs into bed, she thinks to herself about all of the times she’d been embarrassed about her brothers’ behavior with women and men alike. They were sluts, the both of them, minus Liam and Carl. And often selfish, rude and disrespectful. But now they’d both found people who made them better. Who taught them how to care for people the right way, outside of the family. She was happy to watch them experience young love, no catches, no conditions, no reason to be hard all the time. They’d found people who looked at them like they were worth something. Worth everything. Fiona resolves to herself that she would find that for herself and hope her remaining siblings would do the same. She hated not being able to chat with V about the extent of Lip and Charlotte’s relationship. But maybe it was worth it. Maybe Charlotte and Mickey were. Even if they are extra mouths to feed. 

Eric takes a sip of his beer and nods along with another dull conversation with his coworkers that he was forced to pretend he was friends with. They’d been here for fifteen minutes and thus far, two of them had disappeared to do coke in the bathroom, several of them had fought with their girlfriends/wives/fiancés and the rest had been droning on and on about the stock exchange, something that he truly knows nothing about. His fucking accountant handles that shit for him. He was bored and annoyed to say the least. The game hadn’t started yet and Rebecca had been a bitch all morning. She was mad because she didn’t feel like coming to sit through a baseball game, despite the fact that they’d not only have a box but an open bar pre-paid for. The only thing that got her dressed was a promise to take her out for sushi after. Eric fucking hates sushi. 

Really, he was waiting on Gallagher. He’d actually been surprised with how much he liked Lip. He figured they’d have nothing to talk about, but the guy was pretty quiet in general. He was a great listener, and when he did say shit, it was actually important. Sure he seemed a little wound-up but he’d heard from his dad that their family friend, Ms. Helene helped him get this job because he’s broke and has got like, a family of 9 or something. Eric found the little snippets of Lip’s life he shared interesting. Like…well…his hot sister who’d stopped by for lunch one day. And his even hotter girlfriend he has a picture of on his desk, next to the picture of the 5,000 kids he lives with. 

Lip shows up with Charlotte fifteen minutes before the game is about to start. The pair walk up, hand in hand, matching pace with his easy strides and her peppy steps. When they approach one of the guys from legal (Eric thinks) says what they’re all thinking under his breath. “Goddamn.”

The woman is wearing a cropped, long sleeved black top with low hanging black pants, her sparkling belly button ring on display. Over top is a button down jersey she’s left open and on her head is a matching Cubs hat, her long, silky black hair hanging down over her shoulders. 

Lip is wearing a similar outfit, but with a black fitted sweater, his larger fingers intertwined with her smaller manicured ones. 

Eric forces himself to stop ogling the girl, clapping his hands together and welcoming them over. “Gallagher! You made it, glad you came.”

“Uh, thanks for having us.” he pulls the girl closer by her waist, obviously noticing the eyes on her. “This is my girlfriend, Charlotte.”

“Hi, nice to meet you.” The girl says sweetly, offering him a smile as she leans into her boyfriend. 

Eric urges his eyes to stay on her face, and off of their body language. But the way Lip’s thumb is rubbing along the skin on the girl’s waist, the way she’s staring up at him so adoringly, Eric felt like he was being excluded from something, despite fully being part of this conversation. 

He doesn’t realize he hadn’t spoken until Lip takes it upon himself to introduce him. “Bunny, this is Eric.”

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m Eric, I uh-” he remembers her negative reaction to him referring to himself as Lip’s boss and flounders for an alternative. “I work with Lip.” 

“Yeah, he told me.” she chirps, rocking on her feet a little. “Thanks for inviting us. I’ve never gone to a baseball game. I’m gonna try my best to keep up, Phillip tried his best to explain to me on the way here.” 

“Aw really? Well, my girlfriend Becca is an old pro, I drag her here all the time, she’ll teach you the ropes of how to keep occupied while we watch the game. Go join the ladies, she’s the one looking like she didn’t know she was coming here in slacks.” Eric smiles. His smile drops slightly as he watches the couple exchange a look. 

Lip tilts his head downward, lowering his voice to a murmur Eric strains his ears to hear. “Do you wanna go?”

Charlotte mulls it over for a second before shrugging and patting his chest. “Yeah, it’s fine, hang with the guys, I’ll come back over if you miss me too much.”

“Yeah, whatever, brat, go make nice.” The blond banters back, patting his girlfriend’s ass as he kisses her before playfully shoving her in the direction of the women gathered around the drinks. Lip sidesteps a little, blocking the crowd of men staring at the woman’s ass as she makes her way over to the other girls. “You, uh, guys make bets already?”

Trevor, some guy from…marketing (Eric swears he’s seen him on that floor) sighs, “No, thank God you brought it up-”

Suddenly, they’re a very lively bunch, placing bets that Lip is apparently calling, pulling off his own hat and placing the money in it. Eric tries to focus on the fun and Lip’s apparent godlike memory that allows him to remember who said what, but his eyes keep drifting. He watches as every couple of minutes, Charlotte and Lip look at each other, checking in without saying a word before returning to their respective groups. Once, Charlotte had come over to bring Lip a beer once she’d noticed all the other guys had one. The only time Rebecca had come over was when she wanted money for a fresh pretzel and even then, Charlotte had been in tow. Apparently, the two women had been getting along well. Becca had demanded enough money to get Charlotte a pretzel too, to which Gallagher immediately reached in his wallet and produced money Eric knew he didn’t have to spare, and gave it to the woman. When they’d come back, Eric’s girlfriend had a pretzel she was already eating and Lip’s had chicken tenders and fries for them to share. 

As the game got more interesting and the men started shouting and getting excited, the women grew antsy, Charlotte included. Seth’s girlfriend was really intrigued by the game, but that may have also been because she’s into baseball players. Becca was posted up in the corner, on the phone with the restaurant she wanted to go to and Charlotte was standing behind Lip’s chair, hands on his shoulders. 

“Come sit, baby.” he says, patting his lap. Charlotte huffs as she makes her way around the front, plopping down in his lap and resting her cheek against his. “Lemme hear it.”

“I’m bored.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah and this game is long and you didn’t mention that.”

“You done?”

“No, and it’s cold.” Charlotte sighs. “Now, I’m done.”

“Now you’re done. Cool, I can go back to watchin’ now or what?”

Oof. Eric thinks, waiting for her to start yelling, throwing a fit until Lip offers her something to calm down. That’s what they all want, he thinks. Instead, her brows furrow and she glances at Eric before grabbing the color of Lip’s shirt, tugging his ear to her lips to whisper into it.

Blue eyes go wide for a moment before a ‘uh, fuck yeah, I wanna do that.’ is murmured and she’s hopping off of his lap. “Uh, hey man, we’ll be right back, do we need a code to get back in or…”

“Oh, no, man you’re good. You guys okay? If you need something they’ll bring it in here if we call down-”

“I left something I need in the car.” Charlotte intercepts, pulling at Lip again, leading him out of the suite. Moments later Rebecca sits down in Lip’s seat next to Eric, letting out a sigh.

“So, Phillip’s girlfriend gets to leave and I don’t?”

30 minutes later and the pair comes back, looking relatively the same, despite being slightly disheveled and what appears to be a fresh hickey blooming on Charlotte’s neck. The game is almost over and immediately Lip gets back into wheeling and dealing. He starts settling up on bets while Charlotte collects the numbers of the other girls.

“No seriously, we need to keep in touch.” Rebecca smiles, hugging the girl tightly.

“Yeah, girl, I’d love that, we should hang out soon.” Charlotte hugs back. “Maybe we’ll even let Phillip and Eric come on our date.”

“Maybe, but we’re gonna have to hang out without prying ears too. I’ve been watching you two, you’ve got to tell me what type of shit you’re pulling in the bedroom, you’ve got blondie wrapped around your finger. Eric told me you’ve only known each other a couple of months and at this rate you’ll end up with a ring before me.”

“I…I’m sure that’s not true.” Charlotte says quietly, letting her eyes travel over to her man, unsurprised that he looks over to her as soon as she reaches him, eyes locking. They’ve been in sync like that a lot lately. “How long have you two been together?”

“Since high school,” The girl huffs. “He’s dragging his feet as all men do. I mean, I’ve played my part, even got mommy and daddy’s approval. On both sides. We’re all fucking waiting on him. You’re smart, getting in on the ground up, not picking one that was born with a golden spoon shoved down his throat. But my parents wouldn’t settle for less. Guess yours are trusting the process.”

“Um, exc-” Before Charlotte can finish, Eric gestures Rebecca over and the girl pats her arm one more time before going to her boyfriend. Charlotte makes her way over to Lip, thoughts heavy. They are getting more serious. Despite being together for a short amount of time, she can’t imagine her life without him now. She’d been dodging the concept of introducing him to her parents for a while because she knew how’d they’d act. She’d seen a live demo of it with Kev. They’d treat him like white trash, the last thing Charlotte thought of him as. They’d be condescending, and mean. But it’d happen eventually, because…well she doesn’t plan on going anywhere, and she hopes he doesn’t plan to either. 

After everyone gets separated in the crowd of people leaving the game, Eric waits on the sidewalk for the car he’d called for him and Rebecca. She was babbling about something or another he didn’t care about when he saw Charlotte and Lip. The woman is giggling loudly as the man tickles her, the two of them damn near bumping people every few seconds as if no one else was here. 

“I’m never going to a game with you again” the girl breathes, gasping in air as he stops tickling and starts holding her hand. 

Eric watches as Lip rolls his eyes, pulling her into him as he walks her to the passenger side of some old, beat up truck. “Yeah, okay,” he laughs, opening the door for her, “I can hear you now when I try to go without you, ‘bubba, please, take me with you, I’ll be bored without you,’” he mocks.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“No?” he snorts, closing her door and going around to the driver’s side. 

As he watches them interact Eric can’t help but think, he wants what they have. There’s a small pang of jealousy that rings in his chest. But it isn’t until he watches Charlotte lean over to manually unlock the door on the driver’s side so Lip can get in that an even more intrusive thought enters his mind.

I want her.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December 2023/January 2024 Contest Submission #9: a pinch of salt

Words: ca. 5,000 Setting: modern AU Lemon: no CW: none

With a low grunt, Elsa lifted the bag of flour to spill into the industrial mixer. Holding her breath and turning her head away while a puff of flour wafted out of the steal bowl. She didn’t need to measure, the cupcakes she was making required the entire bag and if it was a little off, no one ever seemed to notice. This wasn’t Paris anymore after all.

It was a big shift from quantity over quality. She still did her best on the more specialty confections, the ones in smaller batches. But with these cupcakes, she simply couldn’t, they were made and bought in mass.

“Good morning sweetie,” Elsa’s mother said, pushing open the back door with her shoulder. Letting in both the sounds and smells of the city. It closed with a soft thud and the noise in the back room was once again just the hum of the equipment. “I got you a latte.”

“Mom, we can make lattes here.” Elsa sighed, crumbling the empty bag and brushing off her apron.

“Yes, but that little shop on the corner has the egg sandwiches your father loves. And I just want him to be happy, he’s really struggling.” Iduna dipped her head and placed a small paper bag and a coffee cup on the counter near Elsa. 

“I know.”

“I got you some food too, I can’t just go in there and buy one sandwich, that would be weird.” Iduna laughed, it sounded a little forced but Elsa chose to ignore it.

“Well, you can, but thank you I didn’t have time to make anything.”

“Hmm, I figured and you can drink this coffee now while I get our machine set up.”

“Thank you, Mom.” Elsa opened the paper bag and took out the egg sandwich. her mom smiled and disappeared through another door that led to the upstairs. She glanced over at the mixer, debating for a moment before she leaned back and ate. Better to eat it while it’s hot, the cupcakes could wait a few minutes.

***

“And that wraps up today’s cafe adventure, make sure to leave a comment with your suggestion for my next cafe. Thanks for watching!” Anna smiled and held of the peace sign, counting to three in my head before she flipped the phone around and stopped the recording.

She took a sip of her drink and looked around the busy cafe, glad that she had long since grown out of being embarrassed of filming herself in public. Truly no one really cared, specially in cafes where folks were in and out with a snack and drink or deeply buried in their work of choice — hunched over laptops. 

Anna pulled out her own laptop, a few minutes later she was deep in editing mode, headphones on, computer glasses askew. A little notepad sat next to her where her marked notes for a voice voice she would record later.

The cafe thinned out around her, settling into the mid-afternoon calm before the teenagers and after-workers descended in masses. This was Anna’s favorite time at any cafe when she could really look around and enjoy the decor and little unique touches. This place was rather ordinary. Anna found herself stretching to come up with some positive things to say.

“Miss, we have two hour limit unless you buy something.” A tired looking barista said.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’ll just pack up and get out of your hair.” Anna smiled and the barista just sighed and nodded, drifting off to another table. Anna debated buying something on her way out as an apology, but the only non-drink items were some basic-looking chocolate chip cookies. She shoved her laptop in her backpack and shouldered.

“One cookie please,”

“Sure,” the person behind the counter said, scooping the cookie into a paper bag and handing it over in one smooth action.

Outside the cafe, the early evening was just starting to kiss the city, long shadows and slow traffic. She started walking, no destination, just to wonder till it got dark and then she would navigate the subway system home from wherever she ended up.

She passed a homeless man, sitting on a small blanket with his back leaned against a wall. People passed without paying him much mind. Anna approached and he eyed her but made no other moves.

“Here, I just bought it,” Anna said, offering him the cookie.

A weather-worn hand reached out and grabbed the bag, “Thank you, young lady.” He said offering a smile.

Anna returned it before continuing, hopefully the cookie would brighten his day a bit.

“Jimmy get the door.” A woman shouted once Anna rounded a corner. Only Anna didn’t see a woman, she only saw a stack of purple boxes wobbling towards a waiting town car and a panicked-looking young boy who was opening the door while his eyes, wide and frightened, stared at the stack of purple.

Anna held her breath but the woman was able to safely get the boxes into the back seat and she breathed out a sigh of relief at the same time as the boy. The pair of strangers disappeared into the car and it pulled away into traffic. She glanced at where the woman had come from and was surprised to find a combo cafe and bakery.

She pulled out her phone and googled the location. ‘Fjord Flavors Bakery’ popped up on maps but lacked a website or any social media. Anna’s interest spiked, this could be the hidden gem she’s been looking for for her web series.

She walked up to the door at the same time someone did from the other side of the glass. A woman. Tall and blonde, stood inside the shop. She looked at Anna for a moment as if waiting for something before she reached up and flipped the sign on the door to closed. She pointed with a long finger to a faded paper sign with hours before turning her back and walked away.

Anna was left speechless and intrigued, she needed to know more. She attempted to look through the windows at the bakery counter but the lights were flipped off and Anna was left staring at her own reflection.

***

Elsa pushed through the door to the back and hung up her apron. It was quiet now in the back room save for a faint hum from the walk-in fridge.

“Hi sweetie,” Iduna said, opening to door to the apartment upstairs. “I scrubbed the floors and wiped everything down already. You just need to take the trash out.”

“Thanks Mom,” Elsa said, rolling her sleeves up. “What did you want for dinner?”

“Oh, your father really wants Chinese takeout if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that will work,” Elsa said with a sigh. “I’ll just get my usual. I’ll be up after this.”

“Alright sweetheart, I’ll call Wok The Block.” Her mother disappeared through the door. Elsa took the trash out, wrinkling her nose at the smell and pretending not to see the rats scurrying away from the shared dumpster.

She looked up at the glowing window of the second floor where she shared an apartment with her parents. This wasn’t where she had imagined herself being but life is weird like that.

“Hey dad,” Elsa said as she finally walked into the apartment. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m doing great honey, I think I can come downstairs and help tomorrow.” Her father replied, his voice raspy.

“That’s great dad.” Elsa forced a small smile, it was the same every day. But he was never well enough the next day. She often flipped between annoyed and missing the man her father used to be before he got sick, before Elsa came back home to help.

  ***

Anna held up a hand to shield her eyes from the early morning bright sun, well early for her anyway. She was making her way back to Fjord Flavors Bakery, she needed to scope it out and make sure they were okay with her filming a vlog in there. Most places had no issue but she always asked anyway.

The bakery was fairly busy with sleepy patrons and frantic-looking folks of intern age. It smelled like a lovely mix of coffee and fresh bread with a hint of sweetness. There were stacks of purple boxes in various sizes on nearly every counter behind the register and the sparking large glass case showcased everything from chocolate moose cake to simple bagels.

Anna was captivated, her eyes darting around the small shop, bouncing from various things in the glass display case to the handwritten menu board. She didn’t notice she was next in line till a warm voice cut through her thoughts.

“What can I get you this morning?”

Anna blinked and chewed on her lip. “Um, a vanilla latte and a—“ She looked over at the case, noticing the blonde woman from last night for the first time. She had a baseball hat pulled down low on her face, hiding most of it in shadow as she moved with an almost floating grace, putting goods in boxes or bags.

“Sweetheart?” The woman at the register asked again. She was older but looked much like the blonde woman, at least from what Anna remembered from the few seconds she saw her on the other side of the glass.

“A chocolate muffin please.”

“Good choice, you can tap your card when you’re ready.”  She didn’t wait for Anna to finish paying before turning around to begin working on Anna’s latte.

As Anna waited for her latte and chocolate muffin, she couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation that fluttered in her chest. The bustling atmosphere of Fjord Flavors Bakery seemed to envelop her. She pulled out her phone on instinct, realizing at that moment that she forgot to ask about filming, too distracted with the baked goods. And, if she was honest, the younger of the two women behind the counter. Something about her just captivated Anna.

Lost in her thoughts, Anna’s eyes inadvertently met those of the mysterious blonde woman. A brief moment passed between them, a flicker of recognition that left Anna both intrigued and slightly unnerved. The woman’s gaze was penetrating, as if she could see through Anna entirely.

The older woman at the register, likely the mother of the intriguing figure behind the counter, smiled at Anna, snapping her out of the momentary trance. “Sweetheart, your card didn’t go through.”

Anna fumbled for her wallet and tapped her card again, grateful for the distraction. Once the reader beeped the older woman nodded her head and handed over her latte and muffin — enclosed in a little purple bag. Anna stepped away from the counter and took a sip of her latte before turning on one heal — committing before she could change her mind, and approached the younger woman who was still engrossed in her work.

“Hi,” Anna began, her voice carrying a hint of nervousness. “I was here last night, and I’m Anna, and I’m a food blogger. I was wondering if it’s okay for me to film a vlog here. Your bakery is so charming, and I’d love to share it with my audience.”

The blonde woman, her eyes still concealed beneath the shadow of the hat, looked up from her task. There was a pause, a moment of silence that stretched, leaving Anna wondering if she had overstepped a boundary.

But then, to Anna’s surprise, a small smile tugged at the corners of the woman’s lips. “Sure, you can film. Just try not to get in the way too much. We’ve got a busy morning ahead.”

Anna beamed with gratitude, her excitement bubbling over. “Thank you so much! I promise I’ll be quiet as a mouse. Your bakery is truly special, and I want to capture its magic.”

The woman’s smile vanished. “Can you not put my face in your video? You can film my mom, Iduna, she loves attention.”

“Yeah of course, no problem-o uh… I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“Because I didn’t give it, I usually don’t, but maybe I’ll tell you.” The blonde shrugged and turned around to busy herself with some other task, effectively ending the conversion.

Anna retreated to a corner, setting up her camera and adjusting the frame. The bakery’s ambiance, the hum of activity, and the tantalizing aroma of fresh pastries served as the backdrop for her vlog.

As Anna began recording, she couldn’t help stealing glances at the blonde woman, who continued working with a quiet intensity. The exchange between them felt charged with unspoken intrigue, a dance of curiosity and captivation.

***

Elsa continued her meticulous work behind the counter, arranging pastries with practiced precision. The rhythmic hum of the bakery machinery and the murmur of customers created a familiar symphony around her. She was engrossed in the delicate dance of crafting confections, her mind focused on the artistry of each creation.

The arrival of this new customer, Anna, occupied Elsa’s thoughts. She had observed the woman from beneath the shadow of her hat, curious about the stranger who had locked eyes with her the night before. Elsa’s eyes, sharp and discerning, followed Anna’s movements as she fumbled for her wallet and paid for her order.

Her mother, ever knowing glanced her way and gave her daughter a smirk. Elsa could swear that woman was some kind of mind-reading witch sometimes.

When the woman turned away from the counter, Elsa felt her heart sink a little only to have it completely flip over and she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation as she approached. There was something about this food blogger, Anna, that piqued her curiosity, a blend of charm and nervous energy that resonated with the essence of the baking itself.

Anna’s voice, smooth and kind sounding, reached Elsa’s ears and rang through them like a gentle song. The request to film a vlog seemed to echo through the busy bakery, and Elsa found herself torn between the desire to share Fjord Flavors’ story and the instinctive need to guard her own privacy.

The moment of silence that followed stretched, and Elsa locked eyes with Anna. The intensity of the gaze exchanged between them held a silent understanding, a recognition of the delicate balance they were navigating. When Anna’s request was met with a small smile, Elsa allowed a fraction of relief to wash over her.

“Sure, you can film. Just try not to get in the way too much. We’ve got a busy morning ahead,” Elsa replied, her tone measured. The decision to allow the filming was not without hesitation, but she couldn’t deny the bakery’s newfound visibility had its benefits. They needed more customers, they were barely breaking even as it was.

Anna’s gratitude beamed like a ray of sunshine, but Elsa’s smile faltered when the request about her face being excluded from the video surfaced. The vulnerability beneath the confident exterior became apparent. “Can you not put my face in your video? You can film my mom, Iduna; she loves attention,” Elsa stated, her voice carrying a mix of firmness and vulnerability.

“Yeah, of course, no problem-o, uh… I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” Anna responded, her enthusiasm tempered by the subtle shift in the conversation.

“Because I didn’t give it. I usually don’t, but maybe I’ll tell you,” Elsa said with a shrug, turning her attention back to her tasks. The brief exchange left an air of mystery hanging between them, an unspoken understanding that some stories were meant to be guarded.

As Anna retreated to a corner to set up her camera, Elsa returned to her craft, the dance of creation resuming amidst the inviting aroma of freshly baked pastries. The bakery’s ambiance, now subtly altered by the presence of a camera, continued to weave its magic, leaving Elsa to navigate the intricate dance between visibility and the sanctuary of the shadows.

****

Anna’s vlog unfolded seamlessly, capturing the essence of Fjord Flavors Bakery with a blend of charm and authenticity. Anna highlighted the meticulous craftsmanship behind each pastry, the warm interactions between staff and customers, and the unique charm that set the bakery apart.

The mysterious blonde woman, now a central figure in Anna’s narrative, moved gracefully through the frames, her hands expertly crafting delicate pastries. Anna didn’t realize until she was editing how much footage she got of the woman. That was not like her to make that much B-Roll.

The vlog, however, resonated with Anna’s audience, who eagerly embraced the enchanting story of Fjord Flavors. Within a few hours, it was already set to be one of her top posts. This was truly the hidden gem she had been looking for — she couldn’t wait to get back and film more.

As the week unfolded, the bakery continued to buzz with activity. The patrons, now aware of the filming, exchanged smiles with Anna. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of community, a shared appreciation for the hidden gem that had captured their hearts.

As Anna packed up her equipment, a few days later the older woman approached her, her eyes reflecting a mix of warmth and curiosity. “You’ve got a way of capturing the soul of a place,” she said. “We’re glad to have you share our story.”

Anna smiled, touched by the genuine sentiment. “It’s a special place, and your daughter… she’s something else. There’s a magic about her.”

The older woman’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “Elsa has always had a touch of magic. It’s what makes Fjord Flavors what it is. Don’t tell her father I said that though, he built the place.”

“Elsa,” Anna repeated, tasting the letters for the first time.

“Hmm, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you her name. Silly old me.” Iduna said, failing to hide a smirk. She turned and walked away before Anna could reply, disappearing into the back room.

“Elsa.” Anna repeated to herself as she glanced over to the counter again where Elsa herself was polishing the top of the glass case. Her hat pulled down so low that Anna could only see the very edge of her chin.

***

Elsa wiped her hands on her apron, the remnants of flour clinging to the fabric. The bustling activity of the bakery had quieted as closing time approached. Iduna, joined her behind the counter, offering a weary but affectionate smile.

“Another day is done,” Iduna remarked, her eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and resilience.

Elsa nodded, the weight of responsibility settling on her shoulders. “Let’s clean up and head upstairs. Dad’s probably waiting.”

Together, they moved with a practiced efficiency, tidying up the bakery with a shared understanding of the routine. The aroma of the day’s creations lingered in the air, a comforting scent that masked the underlying concerns both women carried.

Once the last tray was stored, Elsa locked the front door. They ascended the narrow staircase that led to the second floor. As they entered the apartment, the atmosphere shifted from the warmth of the bakery to a more intimate, subdued setting. The living room was adorned with family photos and traces of the life they had built together. Soft light illuminated the room, casting a gentle glow.

Elsa’s father was in his favorite chair, a worn blanket draped over his frail shoulders. His eyes, once vibrant, now held a weariness that spoke of battles fought within. Despite his illness, a flicker of a smile appeared and he sat up straighter as he saw Elsa and Iduna enter.

“Hey, Dad,” Elsa greeted, her voice carrying a mix of tenderness and concern. It had been months now and he hadn’t shown any progress. “How was your day?”

He coughed softly, a reminder of the fragility that had settled in and Elsa was painfully reminded that they couldn’t afford the medicine that could help him. “Same as always, sweetheart. You girls working too hard down there?”

Iduna leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You know us, always keeping things running.”

Elsa fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, handing it to her father. As he took a sip, his eyes met Elsa’s, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. The weight of their shared reality hung in the air.

“I’ll start dinner,” Iduna suggested, attempting to infuse the moment with normalcy.

Elsa remained by her father’s side, her hand gently resting on his. “You doing okay, Dad?”

He sighed, his gaze distant. “Just tired, sweetheart. But seeing you and your mother’s faces at the end of the day makes it all worthwhile. Your mother tells me the bakery has been a video-er the last few days.”

“Yes, we’re not paying her but it seems to be helping business.”

“I heard she’s really sweet and pretty and your mother told me I have to tell you to talk to her.” A familiar twinkle danced across her father’s eyes.

“I’ll try Dad.” Elsa replied, not sure how much she believed her own words.

Her father smiled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Elsa squeezed his hand, a mixture of love and sorrow coursing through her. The trio settled into the familiar routine of an evening together, finding solace in the shared moments that transcended the challenges they faced.

As the evening unfolded, the soft hum of family echoed through the apartment—a fragile melody that held within it the strength of love, resilience, and the unwavering bond that anchored them in the face of life’s uncertainties.

***

The following week unfolded with a rhythm of anticipation as Anna returned to Fjord Flavors Bakery. The atmosphere had shifted subtly as if the bakery itself recognized the growing curiosity that surrounded it.

Elsa, the elusive figure behind the counter, continued her work with a quiet determination. Her hat pulled low, veiled her expression, leaving Anna to wonder about the stories concealed beneath the surface. The name “Elsa” echoed in Anna’s mind like a secret she was on the verge of unraveling.

As Anna set up her camera for another day of filming, she couldn’t help but feel a magnetic pull toward the enigmatic blonde woman. It was a dance of curiosity and respect, a delicate balance that Anna had grown accustomed to navigating.

The day unfolded with the familiar symphony of Fjord Flavors—the hum of machinery, the aroma of fresh pastries, and the chatter of contented patrons. Anna’s lens captured the intricate details of the bakery, from the artful arrangement of desserts to the interactions between staff and customers.

While filming, Elsa’s hands worked their magic with practiced finesse. The vlog became a canvas, each frame painted with the passion and dedication that Elsa poured into her creations. Anna couldn’t deny the magnetic allure that Elsa exuded, and her camera seemed drawn to the mysterious pastry chef.

As the day wound down and Anna packed up her equipment, Iduna approached once more, her eyes twinkling with a knowing gleam. “You’ve been capturing the essence of Fjord Flavors beautifully, dear. My daughter may be a bit of a mystery, I’m afraid. There’s a reason I suppose, but I think she needs someone to talk to.”

Anna nodded, grateful for the hospitality she had received. “Thank you,” she paused before continuing, weighing her words. “Do you think I’m the person to talk to her? I’m just a vlogger, I can’t say I’m really friends with Elsa.”

Iduna chuckled softly. “Well, dear, I watch your vlogs and I know my daughter,” She looked directly into Anna’s eyes, her expression hard to read. “Sure, sometimes the best stories are the ones left untold. But I have a feeling Elsa might be willing to share a bit more, given the right nudge.” She winked and walked away.

Encouraged by Iduna’s words, Anna glanced over at Elsa, who was now meticulously arranging a display of delicate pastries. The hat cast a shadow over her features. Anna swallowed, she wanted nothing more than to have a meaningful conversation with Elsa. Even with her face covered, the woman drew Anna in like a moth to a flame.

Approaching Elsa with a newfound resolve, Anna couldn’t suppress the curiosity that fueled her, if Elsa was a cliff, she willingly jumped over the edge.

“Elsa?” Anna began.

Elsa jumped and visibly tensed, forcing Anna to fall silent. She turned slowly, cold blue eyes locking with Anna’s. There was fear there, a panic that stirred under the surface. And Anna wanted nothing more than to reach out and calm the storm.

“Elsa?” Anna tried again and was met with a scowl as Elsa rushed forward and placed a hand over her mouth.

“How did you learn my name?” Elsa demanded in a hushed whisper. Anna was distracted by how close their bodies were, never mind the strong hand over her mouth. With Elsa this close she could really see her face and the delicate features, the sharp cheekbones, the soft lips. She was beautiful.

She looked familiar…

Someone cleared their throat on the other side of the bakery and Elsa stepped back, letting her hand fall but her eyes never left Anna.

“Come into the back, we need to talk.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Anna mumbled, she ran over to her bag and scooped up her belongings before following Elsa behind the counter and through the door into the back room.

***

The back room offered a small reprieve from the prying eyes in the bakery. Elsa closed the door behind them, the muffled sounds of the bakery now distant. She turned to face Anna, the air between them charged with unspoken tension.

Anna broke the silence first. “Okay, spill. Why the secrecy, Elsa? Which, by the way, your mom told me, alright?”

Elsa sighed, feeling the weight of the years of hiding settle on her shoulders. “I’m sorry I touched you without asking, it just caught me off guard and I got scared.” She took off her hat and ran a hand through her hair, letting her bangs fall. “As for the name thing… well, that’s on me. I should’ve been more careful I guess. But the secrecy, it’s a long story.”

Anna grinned, and Elsa could sense her eagerness and curiosity. “Long stories are my specialty. Lay it on me.”

Elsa motioned for Anna to sit at a small well-worn table in the corner. The old chair creaked as she sat down and gathered her thoughts, her gaze fixed on the floor. She was so tired of hiding, but so scared of being open. Yet this weird nerdy girl with a camera that kept coming back day after day had worn down a wall. And Elsa felt this urge to open up to her. Anna felt safe, and she liked that feeling.

With a sigh, she decided to just open the floodgates and see what happened. “I used to be a TV chef, you know? A pretty famous one, actually,” Elsa began, the memories stirring a mix of nostalgia and regret. “I had my own cooking show, traveled the world, won awards. It was everything I thought I wanted.”

Anna’s eyes widened with genuine surprise. “You were a TV chef? Seriously? That’s amazing! That’s why you look so familiar, I used to watch your shows. I was so upset you lost Iron Chef, that judge was stupid. Why’d you stop?”

Elsa sighed again, the weight of the past pressing upon her. “It’s a glamorous life, but it comes at a cost. The constant scrutiny, the pressure to maintain an image. I felt like I was losing myself. And then my dad got sick. So, one day, I decided to step away. I came back here, to my family’s bakery.”

Anna’s excitement tempered with understanding. “But why the secrecy? You could’ve been a sensation, Elsa! People would love to know the famous TV chef behind Fjord Flavors.”

Elsa’s eyes met Anna’s, revealing a vulnerability that went beyond the façade she had carefully crafted. “I don’t want the fame, Anna. I found solace here, away from the spotlight. I wanted to be able to focus on my dad and help him, and I did till my money ran out.” She picked at a piece of dried flour on her apron. I didn’t want people to see the TV chef; I didn’t want the food critics coming here and tearing this place apart just because I was famous. I just wanted them to enjoy the pastries.”

Anna nodded, absorbing the sincerity in Elsa’s words. “You’re not just hiding from the world; you’re hiding from your past. From who you used to be.”

Elsa simply nodded.

Anna’s gaze softened “You know, Elsa, I get it. Fame isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be. But your story, it’s captivating. People would understand.”

Elsa offered a small, appreciative smile and stood up. “Wait here.” She ran up the stairs into the apartment, pausing to check on her father who was softly snoring away. After grabbing the box she was looking for she ran back downstairs to find Anna looking around at the various machines.

“Look, I don’t know if this is the right thing or not, but if anyone was going to break the news that Chef Elsa has been here in this little bakery, I want it to be you.” Elsa held out the box to Anna who took it with a confused look.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a bunch of my old TV stuff, tapes, and photos, things you can use in your video. Everything in that box is all yours, consider it a gift.”

“No Elsa, I can’t take this,” Anna said, handing the box back. “You kept your privacy for so long, why now suddenly?”

“Because maybe you’re right. I thought people would judge me. But as you pointed out, people would understand. And I’m selfish for not using my fame to help my dad. So here we are.”

“Okay, but I have a better idea than I box of the past.” Anna bit her lip and looked up at the ceiling.  “Two things, first, let’s let up an interview and I’ll film it. Second, let’s go on a date, get dressed up, have some drinks, and just talk about whatever.”

A warm feeling bubbled up inside Elsa and she couldn’t help but smile. “You mean that?”

“Well yeah, I have my camera stuff with me.”

“No, about the date?”

Anna’s face turned bright red. “Oh I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have overstepped, I just thought that uh… I’m sorry.”

“Hush, I would love to go on a date with you. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

[dahliawolfe]

Sweet Pt. 1 Propositions

Original fic

“I just paid $1,500 last week!” I growl into the phone.

“This is a new course of treatment that I think Marian would benefit greatly from.”

I sigh. I can barely keep my own lights on. “Sure, you want to try this this week. What will it be next week?” I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on.

“Ms. Winchester, I’m only trying to help your mother. You can decline the treatment, but I must say, I believe that this may be just what your mother needs.”

“Fine, I’ll have the money by the end of the week.” With that, I slam the phone back down on the receiver, and pick up my notepad again. Looks like I’ll need to put in overtime this week.

҈

“Hi, I’m Sparrow, and I’ll be your waitress today. What can I get you to drink?” comes a softly lilting voice from above me as I take a seat at the diner that my client has chosen to meet at.

“Uhh, let me get a sweet tea, please,” I request, my Texas accent stronger than normal due to lack of sleep.

“Sure thing. Are you ready to order or would you like a few minutes?” the girl asks, and I finally look up. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Her skin is milky white, and her hair is a bright copper. Her eyes are large and green. Her nose is delicate and small, and her lips are peachy and plump. And holy shit, I’m just staring at the poor girl. I clear my throat and give an awkward smile.

“I’ll take a few, if that’s alright.” She nods, offers one more crooked grin, and leaves the table.

I watch her walk away and notice how light she is on her feet. She seems to flow through the restaurant, dodging patrons and other servers. She’s agile, and I can’t help but wonder where that comes from. My mind flies with the possibilities of where she gained those skills until she comes back to the table with my drink. She places it on a coaster in front of me, and before my brain can process what I’m going to say, I speak. “Are you a dancer?”

She looks taken aback, but she recovers quickly. I open my mouth to apologize when she smirks and teases, “Yeah, this is just my day job.” I smile. She’s quick. I like that.

“Well, that’s quite cliched. You’re not from Manhattan, are you?” I ask, leaning forward, almost drawn to her.

“No. I was born in Dublin. We came here when I was six.”

“Ahh. Ireland. I’ve always wanted to go there. Tell me about it?” She looks around a little before shaking her head.

“I shouldn’t. I have other customers. Are you ready to order?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll have the daily special. You have a daily special, right?” She chuckles.

“Yes. I’ll put your order in.”

҈

The new guy in my section is nice. He’s got an accent. I guess that means he’s not from here either. He looks like he’ll be a good tipper, and I definitely need that. I have to make $500 by the end of the week.

I drop the bill off as I pass, making sure to give a smile to both him and his guest. I clean the remainder of my tables before returning to collect his payment. He offers me a black credit card and wolfish smile. He’s not bad looking. Maybe 30 or 35; greying dark brown hair; kind blue eyes; a day or two’s worth of stubble on his sharp jawline. He’s also large, probably over six feet and muscled. He’s impeccably dressed, definitely standing out from the blue-collar people we get in here. I drop his receipt off, wish him a goodnight, and continue about my business. The next time I come by, he’s gone, and he’s left me a crisp $100 bill as a tip. I smile and pocket the money.

͠

It’s nearly 1 a.m. before I get off of my shift. I took another shift, hoping to make a little extra cash. I huddle into my jacket as I make my way to the back parking lot where my old beater is parked. I nearly shit myself when somebody calls my name.

“Sparrow!” echoes across the lot. I spin on my heel and see that it’s the man from earlier.

“Fucking hell, man!” I exclaim, clutching my chest.  “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I demand, getting wary, finally realizing that this man has waited outside for nearly five hours on me. I clutch my keys between my fingers, shifting my weight to my toes in case I need to fight or run. He holds up his hands placatingly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to speak to you. I want to make you an offer.”

“An offer?” I question, backing away.

“I’m a very wealthy man. And you’re a very beautiful woman. I would like you to be my sugar baby.” That catches my attention, throwing me off guard. I stop in my tracks.

“Your what now?”

“Sugar baby. I’d pay you to…”

“I know what a sugar baby is! I’m not a prostitute!”

“What?! No! It’s not like that! Look, just think about it, and if you have any interest at all, come to Vancelli’s tomorrow night at 8. If you don’t come, I’ll understand, but I really hope you do.” With that, he walks away, leaving me standing in the middle of an empty parking lot looking like an idiot.

҈

I walk away from Sparrow and cringe at myself. Maybe approaching her in the parking lot at 1 a.m. wasn’t the brightest idea. Good job, Collin. She probably thinks you’re psychotic now. But I know that I want her. I’ve had sugar daddy relationships before, and they haven’t worked out, but I feel like Sparrow is different. At least, I hope she is.

҈

͠

I haven’t slept all night. I don’t know why, but I’m considering his offer. Well, that’s not true, I do know why. Marian. My mother. She’s a paranoid schizophrenic. And I’m the one paying for her treatment. And I can barely make ends meet. Unless I come up with $300 extra this week, I won’t be able to keep my utilities on. That’s on top of the $350 I still need for her treatment. Fuck knows I have every right to just dump her on the state. Hell, she probably deserves it, but no matter what she’s put me through, I can’t do that. So, sighing, I make my way to my meager closet to try and find something nice enough for Vancelli’s.

I walk into the doors of Vancelli’s and immediately know that I’m underdressed, even though I’m wearing he best clothes I own; a black skater dress and black tights with black booties. I make my way over to the frowning concierge. “Hi, I’m meeting someone.”

“Name?”

“Uhh, umm…Well, I’m not sure who’s name it’s under, but my name is Sparrow.”

“You’re Mr. Atlas’s date?” he asks in disgust, studying me with cruel eyes.

“Yes,” I say, trying to stay confident.

“Very well, follow me.” He moves away from his post, and I follow him to a private dining room, where Mr. Atlas is sitting at a large candlelit table. He smiles when he sees me.

“Sparrow! You came!” he greets, standing and striding over to me.

“Uhh, yeah, here I am,” I answer nervously, rubbing the back of my neck.

“You look beautiful. That’ll be all, Anthony,” he says, waving the concierge away and placing a hand in the small of my back and leading me to the table.

“Thanks. I’m sorry I’m not exactly up to par, but this is all I had,” I explain, suddenly feeling very out of place.

“Nonsense, you look great. I’m Collin, by the way, Collin Atlas.”

“Have you thought about my proposition?”

“Sparrow Winchester,” I reply.

“Yes. And I need more information.” He nods and smiles.

“Ok. Well, you’ll have a weekly allowance, not counting the gifts I decide to give or you request. You’ll live in my apartment. You will travel with me. I will be the only man you see romantically, and you will be the only female I see. I will expect you to follow my rules, and we will discuss, if you agree, of course, your sexual preferences, as well as my own. But most importantly, I will be in charge.”

“Payment?”

“$1,500 a week, and a bonus $2,000 at the end of every month.” I feel my throat close up. Holy shit.

“When you say you’re in charge?” I ask, trying to stop my mind from reeling.

“In every way. I will control you in the bedroom, and you will be my little girl outside of it as well. I’ll expect you to call me Daddy at some point, when you’re comfortable enough to do so. But only in private. In public, you can call me Collin.”

“Is there a contract or something?”

“There will be, yes.”

“And what about when you get tired of me?” I can see the hurt flash through his eyes.

“I would make sure you were secure before I left you. And you would receive a $10,000 severance payment.”

I take a deep breath and lay my head back against the tall chair.

“Look, let’s enjoy dinner, and you can tell me your decision after dessert, alright?”

“Yeah, ok. Can I get a drink? Think I’m gonna need a drink.” He laughs.

҈

I study Sparrow as she absolutely devours her chocolate soufflé. She’s quite adorable. I sip my espresso and ponder my chances of walking away tonight with a new sugar baby. I believe they’re high, but I suppose I’ll soon find out.

After finishing her food, Sparrow wipes her mouth and clears her throat, taking another sip of her apple martini.

“Ok, let’s talk,” she says, sitting up straighter. I nod and do the same, leaning slightly into her.

“Your terms sound good. But I need an advance on my first payment. I have some business that I have to take care of by the end of the week. Also, might I suggest a one-month trial period? That way we can both feel each other out.”

“I like that idea.”

“Good. But about moving in with you. If we decide it isn’t going to work, where will I go?”

“Your severance will still apply, and you will have more than enough to find an apartment. But let’s focus more on the moment, shall we? Should I take this as a yes?”

“Yes.” I beam.

“Wonderful. Now, I need a way to contact you. What’s your phone number?”

“I don’t have a phone. I can’t afford it. You could call my job, I guess.” I’m stunned.

“No, we’ll get you a phone tomorrow. Now, I’ll call and make an appointment at Legacy Medical in the morning, I want you to get tested, as well as have a physical and pap smear. What birth control are you on?”

“I’m not on any.”

 “Hmm, well, we’ll work on that. Now, I’ll send movers by your place tomorrow. What’s your address?”

“Uhh, 113 West 49th, apartment 3B.”

“That’s a bad neighborhood. Are you safe there?”

“I make do.” I nod, not liking the answer, but knowing it’s the best I’ll get.

“Tell me, you’re how old?”

“20.” My eyes grow wide. I assumed she was a little older. She seems so mature.

“You just made me break the law, you know? Ordering you that drink.”

“It’s not my first drink,” she replies, looking at me evenly.

“It’ll be your last until you’re of age.”

“I…I’m Irish. Ma gave me my first drink when I was 14.”

“Maybe so, but Daddy won’t.” I can see her pondering just what in the hell she’s gotten herself into.

[alieinthemorning]

Half Truths [Kairi]

Content: Character Study, AU: Canon Divergence, Kingdom Hearts 3, POV First Person

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work's concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots.  Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Header:@verumking

'I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. Did Master Yen Sid tell you?

I’m training to become a Keyblade wielder like you and Riku.

That’s right. No more waiting for you to come back from your adventures.

I want to get out there and do my part to help.

Merlin has used his magic to bring us to a place where time doesn’t matter.

We can take as long as we need to complete our training.

He's an amazing wizard.

Oh, and by “us”, I mean me and Lea. He’s really sorry for all the trouble he caused.

I told him it’s fine, but he won’t stop apologizing.

I’ll admit I was a little scared of him at first, but I’ve gotten to know him better.

All he ever wanted was to help his friend. Honestly, it’s hard not to like him.

Every now and then, I catch him staring at me. When I ask what’s wrong, he says,

'I’m not sure. I think I’m forgetting something. Don’t know what.’

Sora, I think it may have something to do with you.

Your journey is all about helping people: some that you’ve never met before,

And some like Lea that you have. They’re all counting on you.

It won’t be easy, but I hope you’ll remain the happy and cheerful Sora I know.

There’s no heart your smile can’t reach.”

I looked up from my writing, turning to Lea. “What’s wrong?” I always knew when he was staring at me.

He quickly looked away and shook his head. “Nothin’, sorry.”

“Lea.” I pressed. He would always shake it off as nothing, but something was really bothering him, and as his friend, I wanted to know what.

He placed a hand on the back of his head and gave me a short smile. “What? I am.”

I giggled at his antics as he sat down on the log in front of me.

It was quiet for a moment before he spoke up again. “A letter?”

“Yup.”

“To Sora?”

My eyes widened a bit at his forwardness. “Mmm,” but I answered regardless. “Technically yes. But I won’t send it. It’s more for me.”

“Ask Merlin.” Lea gestured to my letter. “He’ll deliver it for you.”

I guess I wasn’t all that clear. “Yeah, but it’s okay.” Another route then. “I just like talking to Sora, even if it’s on paper.” I hugged the notepad to my chest.

No matter how far apart we are.

Lea hummed, finally understanding. He looked off to the side for a moment before his eyes popped. “Oh!” He pulled two sticks of ice cream from behind his back.

“Ice cream? Really?” As odd as it was, I was overjoyed to see it.

“Yeah, I asked Merlin to pick these up.” Looks like he was using Merlin to the fullest extent. “Ya know, we did both summon Keyblades. Gotta celebrate.” He passed me one, which I happily took.

“You’re sweet, Lea.” As I went in to take a bite, I felt his eyes on me. More intense than usual. “What?”

And again he tried to brush it off. “N-nothing, I just…” That, now, all too familiar sad gleam was in his eyes.

Enough with beating around the bush. “You’re trying to remember what you forgot?”

“Well, I, uh… Yeah… Yeah” He finally admitted, turning his gaze toward the sunset.

I hate seeing you like this.

“So tomorrow—you and me in the ring. You ready?” I tried switching subjects.

“Course.”

“Don’t hold back, Lea, promise?”

He turned back to me as if ready to say something else, but he paused, shock crossing his features. His jaw fell slack, and his hands twitched open, the ice cream falling into the grass below.

I just about jumped out of my skin when the tears fell. “Are you okay? Lea!”

I tried to move in closer, but he turned away. “Yeah, sorry.” As much as he apologizes, I knew this one was different from the rest.

“You’re crying. What’s wrong?” I tried once more.

He finished rubbing away the tears but still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Something in my eyes.” He sniffled.

“Lea…” He looked at me but quickly averted his eyes then stood up.

“I’m… gonna go. Sorry.”  

I smiled. “‘Kay, but stop apologizing.”

“Fine… but on one condition.” He bounced right back. “Call me Axel from now on. Got it memorized?” He placed his finger on his temple.

I nodded. “Yeah. Okay, Axel.”

Once he was finally out of sight, I picked up the forgotten ice cream.

A sad smile found its way to my lips. “Oh Axel… you forgot one for Roxas.”

Sighing, I threw the dropped ice cream over the edge of the cliff, then sat back down and picked up my notepad.

I looked over what I had written. “These words are hers, specifically for you. Sora.” I sighed again and flipped the page.

“I am without a name,

No Name, if you will.

They say that I’m the second failure

No. i2

And yet they have given me such an important job

'Have the boy deliver the final blow’

I’m sorry everyone

But this puppet must play her part.”

Riku and King Mickey dropped off mine and Axel’s new outfits. I was excited to try mine on, but also a bit surprised that we received anything at all. We were brand new Keyblade wielders, and although this land is without time, that doesn’t mean the others worlds are. We’re still inexperienced to the darkness outside of Merlin’s magical illusions.

I twirled in the mirror, admiring my new clothes. It was such a cute pink dress, but the tightness of the skirt seemed impractical.

“Oh well… it not like I’ll be doing much of anything anyway.” The truth hit me like a cold wave. “I’m just being pulled along like the rest.”

I met my own gaze in the reflection. Nothingness stared back. I didn’t know what Kairi looked like, not even the color of her eyes. I didn’t have any memories, only the feelings that lingered in the remnants of this body. I dropped my gaze back to my boots and exited the room.

“Hey Axel!”

“Hey. Liking the new look.” He complimented.

I giggled and twisted, showing off more of my outfit.

“Cut your hair, too.”

My smile almost flickered to a frown. ‘Did I? I don’t remember cutting my hair…is this the effect of the replica?’

“Mm-hmm.” I wanted to get as far away from the subject of my hair as possible. “So, you gonna try yours on?”

He looked down at his own outfit. That same old Organization cloak. “Uhh… I dunno. Maybe later.”

“But you always wear the same thing.” Maybe pressing him would work today.

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” He smoothly waved me off. “This is how you picked me out of a crowd. I make myself easy to remember.

‘He’s doing it for them.' I swallowed the gasp threatening to escape. “How thoughtful.”

As I moved to sit next to him, he bashfully scratched the back of his head. “Nah, not really…”

“Our training is almost finished.”

“Yeah.”

It felt like it had been months since Lea— Axel and I had been here, clashing blades. When I asked Merlin how long it had actually been, he told me only about a few days.

Once again, I found myself overlooking the cliff side with Lea—Axel.

“Somewhere inside me is Naminé.” Empty words and empty feelings. “If we can free Roxas, we can free her too.”

Can we free me too?

“I guess so.”

“Naminé was made from when Sora freed me from his heart.” At least, that’s what I was told. “So, now that she’s a part of me again. I figured all was right.”

But she wanted a life of her own,

and I want a life of my own too.

“But she can’t look at this forest, feel the wind on her face, none of it.”

What does this face look like, I wonder.

“And if she could, it would be different for her.”

Would it be different for me too?

“Her time was short, but she lived it,” Did she really? “And that makes it hers.”

“What right did I have to take those feelings and experiences back?”

What right do I have, sitting here, training to fight with the Keyblade, seeing this sunset. These should be things that you—yourself see, Kairi.

“They don’t belong to me.” None of this does. “Nothing’s as it should be.”

Nothing is ever as it seems.

“Not for her or Roxas.”

Or me.

This is a one-shot about how the Kairi we see in KH3 is a Xion Replica [how that happened I don’t know, maybe i’ll get a better idea after Xion’s comeback is revealed]. In this story, we go through the events of KH3 through Kairi’s point of view [even if it is really small]. Her thoughts and feelings of being a pawn in Xehanort’s game.

Replica Kairi knew about her demise so she shared the Paopu with Sora so he could find the real Kairi. The reason why Kairi cries at the end is because she knows it is her fault.

This is what I had left for myself. The only notes. I still think this concept is interesting and I might come back to it someday, but I really did want to post what I already had.

10/15/23 Update

Still a really interesting concept. Might come back to it someday.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[thearvariblues]

Sing Me a Song

“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”

Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”

Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.

And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.

As Geralt would say… fuck.

“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.

“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.

“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”

“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.

“A little, yeah.”

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”

“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”

“Are you in, then?”

“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”

“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”

*

Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”

“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.

“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”

“Not my bard.”

“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.

“Fuck off, Lambert.”

“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”

“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”

Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.

“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.

“Hm.”

“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”

Geralt groans.

“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky. Yeah.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.

“Fuck, I hate that song!”

“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.

“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”

“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”

“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.

“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”

“Hmmm…”

“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.

“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”

“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”

“No. No, I actually think…”

“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”

*

“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.

“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”

*

“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”

“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.

“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.

“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”

*

“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.

“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.

“Please.”

*

“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”

Lambert sighs.

“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”

*

“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.

Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”

“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”

“Well, not yet… But almost.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”

*

Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.

“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.

The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.

“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.

Lambert blinks again.

“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.

“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.

“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”

“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”

“And Master Dandelion…”

“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.

“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”

“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.

“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.

“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.

“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”

“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”

“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…

*

Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.

“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”

“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”

As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.

The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.

“Lambs!”

“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.

Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.

“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.

Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.

“I cried for you!”

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.

Jaskier inches towards the door.

“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”

Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.

“I fucking avenged you!”

“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You fucker,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.

Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”

He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.

“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.

“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”

“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”

“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”

Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”

“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”

Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.

“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”

“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”

They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”

[greatnessordeath]

villain Deku x !femreader

PART 2

3.3 k words Part 1 if you missed it or read on ao3 Happy Halloween everyone!

-------

You can’t put into words how pissed you are. It sucks. SO FUCKING HARD. 

Urgh, why’s he always five steps ahead of you? 

Is he so outragingly smart or are you just predictably dumb? It’s maddening. You can’t stop thinking about what happened. Burning hot anger eats at your gut, gnaws at your insides and makes you grind your teeth too harshly. There's no way you could've foreseen that he’d be immune to the suppressor. Or that he would actually … dare to kiss you.

Your lips tingle at the thought. Wait - they what? TINGLE? Sorry, but no. They at the very most feel alien after Deku had the audacity to claim them. Additional disgust creeps up your throat at the thought of his spit inside of you. You try to shake it off and stay focused. The special unit must arrive soon. Despite your effort, the following minutes passed in a haze: rejoining with the special unit, exchanging infos, reporting and post-processing what happened. The helicopter unit kept searching but all they transmitted via radio was 'negative'. They didn’t find anything. Not a single hint. He was gone like the last bit of hope.

You’ve been dead on your feet for almost 24 hours by now and the adrenaline that kept you going starts to fade. At this point, you feel only bitter disappointment.

Already brooding how to nab him the next time you stare out of the tinted window of a special rescue van. The others on the scene practically shoved you in there to treat your injuries. Chewing your bottom lip, you don’t want to talk at all. You just can’t stand the presence of other humans right now. Their pitying looks make you sick. 

It was only topped by a compassionate shoulder squeeze from a young paramedic. “Don’t,” you growl and do your best to stare them down. Taken aback, they carry on to regenerate your wrists mumbling an apology. You condone it silently. Urgh, you don't want to be rude, but it's already stressful not to scream at them to mind their own business.

Prickling warmth spreads in your arms due to the accelerated metabolism. Your cells reunite and multiply in a blazingly fast tempo. The bones come together with a snap and the swelling sets back in seconds. You say your biddings to the distressed-looking paramedic to get out of there asap. They keep on telling you what movements to avoid et cetera, but as soon as they’re finished with the bandage, you storm out into the chilly night, without another word.

Breathing in the crisp air helps you ground. You take out your notepad to scribble down anything that might get lost in oblivion. Your wrists still hurt, but it could be worse.

The blank page stares back at you mockingly. Where should you start? Your brain feels like it was smoothly mixed in a high-speed blender. Your hands shake and fail to write out any words. Breathe.  Concentrate. Go back in time. Remember him. How he moved. What he said. How he looked and smelled and tasted.

Sweet.

Snap! You break the pencil you're holding in half. White knuckles under your bandaged fists let hot pain mount in your throat. “Hey, you okay?”, someone asks with a voice, heavy with concern. You give the person quick side eyes, to see if you could fob them off. Well, no - it was Naomasa Tsukauchi, Chief of Operations. The tall man with short dark hair had the friendly eyes of an elementary school teacher. They contrasted with the - you assume - unintended five o’clock shadow around his jaw. “Yes,” you breathe through gritted teeth. “I'm glad to hea—”

“Oh, please spare me. He got away.” You admitted salty.

“I know…” Your hands clench to fists again as you try to swallow your agitation, not aware that Tsukauchi tried to make eye contact.

“Uhhh listen, I think you should take a few days off after tonight.” He smiled benevolently.

The meaning of the sentence hits you like a truck. “What? No! WHAT? You — you can’t be serious.” You stutter unbelieving.

“Listen, —” “No! What about Deku? l—” "Listen, I already have a substitute.” You must be caught in a very bad nightmare. Desperately trying to take a grasp on reality, you blurt out “Who?” An awfully sinister feeling spreads across your body and your eyes narrow to slits. “It’s not Monoma, isn’t it?” … He tried to keep his expression treacherously neutral while yours screwed up. “God, nooooo. No, no, no. Not him!”

You can see him getting tired of your respectless behavior, because his brows knit like a range of mountains. “Silence now! He will do it, no matter how much you brag. It’s a done deal.” “You can’t do that to me! He’s such a di—” “Decisive and capable colleague. I’m sure that’s what you wanted to say, right?” His dark eyes were dangerously hard as he tried to stare you down. “Nevermind, I’m just gonna kill him myself. Just let me—” “L/N! You're going too far! This isn't fun anymore!” “It wasn't meant to be funny. I’m dead serious. I am the only one who can keep up with this green haired maniac and you know it!” “Exactly! That's why I don't want you to get carried away!” He huffed and crossed his massive arms. “You need a break.” “But we’ll lose him! We can take a break when he’s finally arrested!” “No arguing anymore. You’re already way too invested in this!” “But—” “No more buts,” he barked, slowly losing his temper, which never ever happened before. He massaged his temples and took an audible breath. “You’re human. You’re supposed to have a life. I don’t know! Sleep in, visit your family or go watch a movie with friends! You get three days off! That’s an order!” “NO, you cannot—” “Since I am your Boss, YES I CAN!” You opened your mouth to insist, but he cuts in before you can say anything. “Four days!" “Please, just let me—” “FIVE DAYS! And I’m begging you to shut up! You're making it worse.” You want to explode and blow the whole world up like Dynamight. But there was no space for negotiation without earning yourself more consequences. “You finally finished?” He snapped furiously and ran fingers through his hair. “Thank God.” It took you all what was left to bite your tongue. Your crimson face burns due to this despotism. “Fine. After that, you can come back and continue sleeping in the office. I don’t care! You hear me? But for 120 hours I don’t want to witness a single peep coming from you. No calls, no e-mails, no snooping around in the office, no contact at all to coworkers. I will know. Look at me!” You stoically lift your gaze to his agitated face. You never witnessed him act so out of frame. “Are we clear?” “Yes, Sir,” you pressed between pursed lips. “Good. I will see you again on Monday.” 

And he was gone. You want to scream until your lungs give out.

—

Getting forced days off was the worst. The absolute WORST.  It was even worse than nearly arresting Deku. You don’t want to stop. It felt like watching him run further away from you, just in time when you were close enough to stretch out a hand and finally touch him. It was like the desperate attempt to catch smoke with bare hands. In a way, you’re now absolutely empty. Useless. Deprived by the only thing that gave your life meaning, the one thing you were really good at. Your stomach twists and you want to throw up. Except there’s nothing to emit but fire and brimstone.

You are absolutely exhausted, by all means. Yet you’re burning with determination. 

Nothing could change that. Ye, a setback sucked. But it was not in the slightest a reasonable excuse for giving up. You simply gotta work harder, sink your teeth deeper and never ever let go. You must become like his shadow. Inseparable. No matter how intricate it might be to dig deeper and chase down the tiniest evidence, somehow, you will manage to find him. You always did and you always will. But for today, he slipped you. Not only that, but in a way that was... personal.

He made it personal by crossing a line. 

—

If you’re about to be at home for five days, you need to buy some food. So you speed run the groceries and finally find yourself in front of the fruits. You want to grab some apples, but some rando bumps into you so you drop the packaging and they spill on the floor. 

“Fuck!” you swear. In the corner of your eye you see a hooded figure hurrying away. “Yeah, better get away before I forget myself.” You vent in a low tone to yourself and huff because everybody was an asshole these days. The apples for sure will have pressure marks, but you don’t care anymore. You throw them into your shopper basket and breathe in the smell of juicy granny smiths. Wait. What is that feeling? No, not a feeling but a …scent? Your eyes cling to the apples. You bend down to sniff them again out of sheer instinct. You can’t quite put a finger on it, but something definitely feels off.

Familiarity. That's what you sense.  But regarding your lifestyle in the office where you practically live from take out and instant noodles, you haven’t eaten fresh apples for an eternity. Where’s the sense in that? Maybe you did hit your head too hard and Tsukauchi was right. Nahhh, you’re fine. At least that’s what you tell yourself, because the uneasy feeling scratches the back of your brain all the way home. 

—

Steaming hot water runs down your hematoma strewn curves. You can’t remember what the paramedic said about showering with the bandages, but you couldn’t care less. You need to wash away the feeling of Deku’s hands on your skin. The memory of the kiss haunts you whenever you close your eyes. The feeling on your split lip is too present, still too fresh in your mind. No matter how much you try to scrub it off, the feel of him sucking and biting your lip won’t go away. Neither won’t the unholy sensation of how he pulled you close against his body and how you rubbed against him.   It wasn’t like you felt dirty or used. No, you felt betrayed. You’re angry that he’d mustered the audacity to claim you without permission. …

Your pussy clenched at the thought of consensually being claimed by Izuku Midoriya. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You brace yourself against the tiles with both hands and let water run down your neck. This must be it. You finally arrived at rock bottom.

… Nonsense. Hasn't there always been a hint of tension? If you look back real honest, yes. The door existed, deep down, where the light never shines, but you didn’t even dare to look at it, let alone open it. You sure as hell tried to push it to the back of your mind, but it's obviously kinda hard when he moans in your mouth like it was all he ever wanted.

So, should you feel ashamed for admitting you’re horny? Well, purely being horny or being horny because of the most wanted criminal throughout Honshu was clearly not the same. Fuck. You rub your skin dry too forcefully and brush your teeth unnecessarily violently. 

As you lay down in bed, you’re shredded. You’re incredibly tired, but toss and turn restlessly as if you just downed a gallon of coffee. Deku was all you could think of. Day and night. This can’t be healthy. And you definitely won’t let yourself thirst over him. It will give him some kind of power over you. You’ve no idea how, but you’re sure he would know. Somehow he always knows things he can’t… After another fruitless thirty minutes have passed, you pull open a drawer of your nightstand and down a valerian pill. Hopefully this helps, you think and roll around again. Eventually, you fall into an uneasy doze.

You’re running breathless through the dark streets of Naruhata, a blurred silhouette upon your heels. You take sharp turns but there’s nowhere to hide in the deserted streets. Everything looks gray and abandoned. The buildings appear bigger than usual and make you feel extra small. Hastily, you dash around the next corner just to find a dead end ahead of you. “Y/N… “ The thing cries out. It has Dekus voice. You’re winded and look back just to see the wrath in the bloody creature's eyes. If you were to describe it, you’d say it looks similar to Venom from the Marvel comics. But instead of black, its body is clad in forest green. The long curly tongue is covered in saliva and lashes out to grab you. You can’t dodge and in another second you’re dragged towards the scary emerald creature. No, no, no!You kick around and rip your nails to the ground, but there’s no get away. Instinctively, you squint your eyes shut as you bear down to its foaming mouth, but when you abruptly fall oh so soft, you tear them open in surprise. You’re suddenly in a king size bed surrounded by a transparent curtain. You can vaguely make out red rose petals that lay scattered on the floor. The small room is dimly lit by a bunch of white candles in every corner. You look down your own body to find yourself in a scandalous revealing, silky negligee. The lacy hem shrouds only just your crotch and exposes your legs. You cover yourself with bare arms, but his terrifying smooth voice echoes again.“Will you be a good girl for me now?”You turn around to see a familiar silhouette behind the curtain.You want to scream, but no tone leaves your lips. You grab your sore throat, but you’re muted, doomed to implied engagement. The way he chuckles so charming confirms your darkest fear. It’s definitely Deku. He starts to unbutton his white shirt while watching you squirm with a confident smirk. “Oh, we’re gonna have so much fun together.” You’re feeling nauseous as you watch the daring relief of his trained chest when he pulls out of the shirt. “I will make you cum so hard, babe.” You’re shaking your head exceedingly, voice still cracked and soundless. He undoes his belt, as you desperately begin to crouch backwards. Just away from him! “Where are you going, sweetheart? You can’t escape me.”His shoulders dance up and down while he laughs at your pathetic endeavor.

"It’s sweet how you’re playing hard to get. I can work with that."

No matter how hard you try, the distance you so desperately tried to extend, won’t grow by a bloody inch. Dammit, how big is this fucking mattress, you think to yourself whilst picking up more and more tempo sliding backwards.

“I can be anything you need me to be.” His voice is so endearing like a siren's call that resonates with your deepest physical longing.  Noooo, wrong, mistake, incorrect, awry, false - every cell in your body rebels against his intoxicating affinity.

You hold your breath as he unzips his pants and your heart thrums deafeningly loud. 

You want to avert your gaze, but it's like your eyes are magically glued to his crotch. The v line and the trail of dark hair leads your eyes downwards to his open fly. You bite your lip as traitorous heat pools in your core. Goosebumps erupt on your skin as you watch him slowly strip off his pants.

He's got the juiciest thighs, but it's the contents of Pandora's boxers that peak your interest. He pushes the veil aside and his appeal blooms in full sharpness. “I bet you can’t wait to choke on my cock, bunny.”Your cheeks burn like fire. The mattress dips from his weight, as he crawls towards you, catching your shifty eyes. The leafy green of his iris has a frightening undertone of reptile yellow. 

In the spur of the moment, you shut your eyes defensively - the only way to escape him. At least you thought so, but the scene continues in your mind's eye. He’s right in front of you at an arm’s length, growling like a predator eye to eye with his prey. “Come here!!!”You scream and shield yourself with your hands!

BANG!

You drop out of bed. Panting like crazy, you lie on the floor of your own apartment. You look around frightened and realize that it was just a nightmare. You’re in your usual big size T-Shirt which is soaked in sweat. Rubbing your eyes, you pick yourself up from the floor and storm towards the window. You rip it open to breathe fresh air and calm your heated mood. That shit was intense. The image of Deku charging at you with a gaping mouth and wide eyes is a view that will haunt you for ages. And…  so much for not letting yourself thirst over Deku. Tch… thanks subconscious! You must calm down. You needed to support your aching head and plucked up a hand. It took you several minutes to get a grip on yourself. The green haired lunatic spooked through your thoughts for far too long. Maybe you should make an appointment with your therapist. You fetch yourself a cigarette with trembling hands and greedily inhale the hellish stuff. You need another one to perceive a soothing effect at all. You watch the indigo night sky draped with heavy gray clouds. They swallow the orange light of the street lamps below and a few pigeons cut through the night. You need to wash the sweat from your face and shuffle towards the bathroom. You don’t even turn on the light, because you know the apartment by heart. Finished with your needs and changed into a new shirt, you close the window and snuggle up under the blanket once more. Your lids are heavy and the warmth of the bed is beyond cozy. You’re about to drift off, as you hear the floor creak. In the blink of an eye, you grab the 45 and switch on the nightlight. There’s nothing extraordinary, except a faint noise coming from the kitchen. You’re living alone, what the… ? You swallow and get out of bed without a creak, holding the gun with both hands. You tiptoe along the hallway towards the kitchen. You stand around the corner of the room, pressed against the wall for cover and perk up your ears. It sounds like … chewing? You take a last deep breath and step up to the intruder. When your eyes catch sight of the unmistakable green thatch, the blood freezes in your veins. Deku stands in the middle of your kitchen and bites into a granny smith with relish, so that the juice runs down his chin. “How do you know these are my favorites?” He asks with a wink and an innocent smile like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

[wolferine]

If I Could Start Again

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Sometimes closure is all you need.

Warnings: Some angst

Word count: 1120

Your leg bounces nervously and no amount of careful breathing seems to calm your nerves. You pick at the cutlery on the table, spinning the knife between your fingers too fast and it clatters to the ground, causing the people on the sidewalk to turn their heads in your direction.

“Sorry!” you apologize with an awkward wave, bending forward to pick it up. When you sit back in your chair, you see her standing across from you.

Natasha looks as beautiful as the last time you saw her. Her hair is braided in a messy ponytail that rests over her left shoulder, with some strands hanging loosely around her face. Her green eyes are sparked with curiosity, her lips pulled into a soft smile. The wind blows from behind her and you inhale subtly to catch her familiar strawberry scent, but it’s not there. It’s different, but you know better than to have expected it to be the same after so much time apart.

“You haven’t aged a day,” you mumble, standing to hug her but she takes the seat across you before you can.

“I wish I could say the same about you,” she teases.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been without you,” you say, sitting down again.

“I know. And I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize for what you did,” you interrupt. “Your sacrifice brought everyone back.”

“It did,” Natasha repeats, although with much less conviction than you.

A waiter comes up to your table with a menu and glass of water.

“Can we get another menu and water?” you ask him, glancing over at Natasha. The waiter nods, backing away from the table to head back inside to the restaurant.

“How have you been?” you ask Natasha, failing to hide your eagerness. “I’ve missed you so much.” 

“I missed you, too,” Natasha says.

“I wish you would’ve visited me sooner, but I’m not complaining,” you say.

“I know.” She sighs. “The time just…wasn’t right, you know?”

The waiter returns with another menu and glass of water, which he places in front of Natasha.

“But I’m glad you’re back, even if I had to wait a little bit,” you continue once the waiter is out of earshot. “When you…” It’s surprising how much it still hurts to talk about, even as Natasha sits across from you, as perfect as the day she left. “When Clint came back from Vormir alone, I thought I’d never see you again.” 

Natasha looks away from you.

“But then Bruce snapped his fingers—” You click your own together for emphasis “—and brought everyone back. Including you.”

“Y/N—”

“And I know you’ve been busy this past year, and so have I,” you say, “But we’re here now, and I’ve never been happier.”

“Are you ready to order?” You hadn’t even noticed the waiter creeping up with his notepad. 

“Oh, uh, sure. I’ll have the chicken sandwich no pickles, please,” you say. “What about you?” You look at Natasha, and she shakes her head.

“I’m not really hungry right now. Maybe later,” she says to you.

“Okay.” You shrug and hand the waiter your menu. “That’ll be it for now.”

“Sure.” 

You turn your attention back to Natasha, afraid she’ll disappear if you don’t. 

“Do the others know?” she asks.

“Know what?”

“That you were seeing me today.”

“No.” 

“Why not?”

“It’s been a little tough trying keep in touch with them,” you answer. “But I know you keep up on current events. Steve’s retired. Sam took up his mantle, which can’t have been easy, but he’s doing his best. Bruce is off doing intergalactic stuff with Captain Marvel— do you even remember her?” You laugh.

“I do remember.” Natasha laughs along with you.

“Clint is in New York, and Tony…well, his legacy carries on,” you finish.

“And you’re here,” Natasha says.

“I’m here. With you,” you add with a beaming smile. “Thanks for showing up, by the way. I was a little worried you wouldn’t.”

“You think I’d stand you up?” Natasha chuckles.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” You suddenly feel very self-conscious. “I’m just really glad you didn’t because…there were some things I wanted to tell you.” 

“Go on,” she encourages.

“I knew I should’ve said something before the Time Heist, because there was no guarantee that I’d see you again, and well…I was kind of right,” you start, your leg bouncing with anxiety again. “But now that you’re here again, I want to be completely and fully honest with you.”

Natasha patiently waits for you to continue.

“I…” Your voice trembles. “I love you, Nat. And I wish I hadn’t waited to tell you that. Because there were so many things I wanted to do with you.” You hold your hand out across the table, but Natasha does not take it, looking at you with pity and sadness.

“I wanted to wake up next to you every morning. I wanted to remind you how special and amazing you were. I wanted to call you mine and show you off to the world. 

You lower your gaze, failing to hide your tears. “I don’t know if you ever felt the same way about me, and it’s okay if you didn’t, because I just wanted you to know. I’ve been kicking myself every day that I didn’t ask you to be my girlfriend, and that I didn’t tell you that I loved you, and—”

“Y/N?” Natasha interrupts.

You look up at her and see that her eyes are full of tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this when I was still alive?”

***********************************************************************

You sit outside the restaurant, waiting for someone who will never arrive. The people walking by watch you in concern as you appear to have a conversation with yourself, talking and gesturing to the empty chair across from you.

The waiter tries to refrain from letting his judgment show when he takes your order and you start addressing a third party when you’re clearly sitting alone. When he finally has to bring out your food, he notices how you’re suddenly quiet and withdrawn, a new redness rimming your eyes.

“Here you are,” he says, setting the plate in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Can I…Can I get you anything else?” the waiter asks.

“No, I think I’m all right,” you answer, although it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Can I take the menu back?” he goes on. “Or are you still waiting for someone?” 

“No, go ahead.” You gesture to the menu that hasn’t been opened. “I’m all alone.”

Because Clint lost her, and Bruce couldn’t bring her back.

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

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[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

hey hun u gotta write something in celebration of jays win tonight 😩

Hi baby! Ok, so after seeing Jay’s press conference thing (or whatever it’s called lol) a little something sparkled in my mind (especially after his little temper tantrum 👀🌊) and I HAD to write this today during my long ass bus trip.

So here it is, I hope you enjoy it and fair warning: this is UNEDITED so you know, mistakes - ignore them 🤷‍♀️😂

Temper, Temper ✨

Word Count: 832 words

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @letsgivethisonemoreshot , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @damnnhausen , @starwithaheart , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @whenimakeitshine1234, @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @cuzimacomedian , @thebestintheworld , @josiewrites , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch

ALL GIF CREDIT GOES TO: @rusevday

Sitting on one of the many press conference chairs, your eyebrows shot up once you heard a little outburst coming from the IWGP Champion:

“I CLEARLY WANT IT TO PUT ON THIS FUCKING THING!”

Taking your notepad in hand and quickly scrambling a note for later, you felt his eyes on you. Watching and daring you to look up. You were never one to run from a challenge so you looked up to stare back at his icy gray eyes.

From your privileged position in the front row, you saw Jay’s jaw clenching and a vein popping out on his neck the minute your gaze connected with his.

*Oh yes, this will be fun* You thought to yourself while waiting for the other reporters to finish up their questions so you could have your turn.

Jay sighed heavily “Any more questions?”, you waited for it, waited until he was certain you weren’t going to ask him anything so you could then raise your hand up “Mr. White?”. His whole posture changed, Jay squared off his shoulders, his head was slightly raised up and he sat up straight before looking at you “Yes?”.

“Do you think your anger management issues can be harmful to your title reign or your wrestling career in the future?”

The white t-shirt clung to Jay’s chest the more erratic his breath became, his eyes were so intense and anger filled that anyone could see how much your question had irritated him. “Anger management issues? You think I have anger issues just because people can’t seem to do their fucking job properly?!”

“No, I’m presuming you have emotional control problems since you’re almost always on edge and can’t seem to control your temper”.

“Maybe I don’t want to control my temper around idiotic people who won’t help the champion to put his fucking IWGP title in its holder as well as unprofessional reporters who ask dumb fucking questions!”

“I’m sorry, sir. But the only unprofessional we’re all seeing here is you, with your little PMS mood swings and incredibly rude behavior”

“You fucking bitch, you really have the nerve to-”

“Okay, I think that’s enough” Tony intervened and placed a hand on Jay’s chest when he stood up from his chair to walk towards you.

The clicking sound of your heels echoed through the small conference room when you were the one who closed the distance between you and Jay “I apologize if being called out on your shitty behavior hurts your fragile ego, Mr. White” A fake sweet smile adorned your lips “Congratulations on your victory though…Mr. Khan” A quick nod at Tony’s direction was your silent goodbye before you took your purse and left the conference room.

You slid the card key in your hotel bedroom door, eager for a warm, long bath and room service. The door closed behind you and a relieved sigh left your lips once you took off your heels and placed them by the door. The feeling of comfort soon disappeared and a sharp pain took over your scalp, “You fucking bitch!”, Jay’s voice growled against the pulse point of your neck “PMS mood swings, huh? Fucking anger management problems?! You’ll fucking regret that!”.

A satisfied smile was plastered on your lips when Jay forcefully pushed you on your stomach on top of the mattress. His hands tugged the pencil skirt up your hips and ripped the bright yellow lace panties in half, “That was one of my favorite pairs, you know?” Your giggle was joyful but it didn’t last long after Jay spat “Oh, yeah? And what makes you think that I give a fuck?! You know what? You’re talking to much, shut the fuck up!” He slid the damp lace panties in your mouth as far as he could without choking you, “See? Much better! We keep that pretty little mouth full so you stop talking shit but at the same time I can still hear your little slutty moans that make me so fucking hard for you”.

Jay pulled back, gripped your hips and pulled you up on your knees as your upper body continued down on the mattress. He let a glob of spit fall on your puckered hole and pumped his cock while his eyes watched the saliva travel down to your folds. “I’m fucking that ass later tonight, honeybee”. His heavy palm connected to your ass cheek as he aimed his tip against your entrance. He slid in with one sharp thrust until his pelvic bone was glued to your ass.

Your fingers desperately pulled the panties out of your lips “Jay, let me see you. Please, baby. I want to see your face”

“Jay, let me see you” He mocked before his hand closed around the nape of your neck, sinking your head further down on the mattress “Shut up, slut. You are only good for being fucked like this. On your knees, from behind like the cheap whore that you are, little bee”.

[bunnys-babies]

Fatigue, pt. 3

Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

wc: 1.8k

warning(s): none I don’t think!

a/n: some comfort and, and, and, and, veryyyy slight jealousy? 😳😳 lemme know what you guys are thinkin so far!! Yk I love your thoughts and comments of any kind :)

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 4

“Jesus, you do know how to read right?” Levi’s witty comment was undoubtedly referencing the fact you’d been browsing this menu for a noticeably longer time than he had; the waitress has already been by your table twice now asking if you were ready to order.

“It’s not my fault I’m indecisive.” You sent him a pouty glare before returning to the tasty sounding laminated read in your hands.

“Okay, you have two options,”, his hand pulls down the menu from your eyesight until he is all you can see peeking above it,

“Either get both of whatever you can’t decide between, or I’ll just choose for you.” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, hoping you can at least decide between these options.

And he’d be wrong.

“Okay, but what if I can’t choose between those options. Because, I’m not hungry enough to eat two dishes, and what if you get me something I don’t like?” You set the menu down with a smack and cross you arms, sporting a silly little smirk.

Check mate, bastard.

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, were you being this difficult on purpose?

“Kind of.” You smile and shrug as his ears begin to feel hot again, he hadn’t realized he said that out loud.

“Okay fine. Then why don’t I get one of the things and you get the -,”

“Are we ready to order?”

Levi’s stopped mid sentence by the same sweet old lady who’s introduced herself twice already, although you don’t recall her name, notepad resting in her hand with her pen clicked and ready to go.

“No, I apologize. They have a tough time with big words.”

You reach over and smack the menu against his arm playfully as he keeps his focus on the waitress in front of you.

Her laugh is sweet, and she hugs her arms to her own chest as she stares down at you both with a warm smile.

“How long?” She cocks her had to the side and points her finger between the both of you.

“Not even that long. I just have a tough time choosing, especially when it all looks so good. Sorry for keeping you waiting, though. I promise I’ll be ready next time you come around.” You give her an apologetic half smile as you slide the menu back open in front of you on the table.

You’ll definitely need to leave her a very thankful tip.

“No, no! I mean, how long have you two been together? I like to try to figure it out by the way the couples usually bicker, I think it’s a cute little game.” She smiles and giggles quietly.

You can’t say you’ve ever seen Levi shocked before, but you think that’s what this is, whatever you’re looking at.

He’s stopped, mid sip of water through his straw, and staring at the top of the table so hard you’d think it was going to explode. And this harsh light coming from the ceiling did him no justice either as you could begin to see a deep shade of crimson, not just pink but red, spread across his entire face.

He’s actually blushing.

If you weren’t so shocked yourself you would’ve whipped out your camera.

“Let me guess, three years?”

It’s at this comment that Levi seems to come out of his stupor, finishing his sip of water and looking up at her with wide eyes that were all but pleading her to stop where she was at.

“No, we’re just friends.” His voice wavers only slightly, his composure beginning to crumble in front of you.

Normally, said waiter would be equally flustered and apologetic for assuming, but she finds this situation quite hilarious.

Taking a deep breath and leaving some self inflicted pats to her chest, she speaks between giggles,

“Well, I’m just happy you’re at least a friend of his. He’s been coming here by himself for so long I’m surprised he even has company. I was beginning to even worry about him. But when I saw you I thought, ‘Oh good, a companion. He could use one of those.’” And just as boldly as she speaks, she reaches over and down to ruffle his hair as if they’ve been fostering a close relationship for a good while.

You cover your mouth in an effort to stifle your laughter at the sight across from you. God, he was so cute.

Pouting quite comically, he dips and dodges from her hand as she laughs loudly and chases his head as if it’s a fun game. And maybe it is, if so, it’s quite an endearing one.

“I think we’ll both have the number two for dinner, thank you.” Snatching your menu from your grasp, he glares up at the waitress, who you’ve now read is “Dolly” by the fading name tag pinned to her apron, with half lidded eyes.

A stare like that would make a strangers blood run cold, but she seems to find it adorable as she boops his nose and scampers off with your orders.

What a woman.

Sighing, he turns back towards you and rolls his eyes before opening his mouth and letting the slew of complaints leave his lips about the previous interaction; but you’re having a tough time focusing on what he’s actually saying. Truthfully, you’re focusing a little too hard on what he’s saying. His lips to be more specific.

You smiled fondly at the way he finished practically every sentence with a scoff, tch, or scowl. What a grumpy man. And Dolly thought he was your grumpy man.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about it. What’d it be like to call him yours, hold his hand when he felt like it, give him little boops on the nose to fluster and annoy him.

But every time you even began to play with the idea, you were filled with the same doubtful thoughts and came to the same conclusion every time; you just weren’t compatible.

It felt like no matter what you never failed to bother him or upset him somehow, you weren’t sure how much of it was feigned annoyance anymore. He deserves someone who can really make him smile and laugh, not just get on his nerves.

Which reminds you,

“Hey, can we talk about what happened earlier? I want to get a better understanding of what I did to upset you. I’ve been thinking about it and I just,” you look down at your drink and twirl your straw against your glass, “I want to understand you and your feelings better.”

You look back up expecting to see a nasty scowl, angry because you interrupted him in the middle of his uncharacteristically lengthy rant. But instead, you see that he’s not looking at you at all.

It’s his turn to fiddle with his straw and mumble under his breath, “It doesn’t matter. Truthfully you didn’t do anything, I was just tired.”

“Levi.”

Your stern tone of voice gets his attention this time.

“Do we really have to talk about this?” He exhales dramatically and leans his neck on the back of the low booth to look up at the ceiling, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing his cheeks.

“Yes.” You lean forward and place your head in your hands, why was this so hard for him?

After a few heavy breaths, he finally sits back up to look everywhere but you and speak his truth.

“Well, Um, I- I just- okay.” He’s fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt as he stares at the wall behind you.

“I guess I was upset because you hurt my feelings.”

You nodded and waited for him to continue… but apparently that’s all he had to say.

“Okay, no shit genius. But I would like if you told me why or how I hurt your feelings. This way, I won’t do it in the future.” You look at him bug eyed and shake your head in disbelief, he really was awful at this.

Sighing for the millionth time, he starts again.

“When you kept going on about how all I do is mock you, and you don’t like my company, that’s what hurt my feelings. Because, I didn’t realize that’s apparently all I do when I’m with you. Which for the record doesn’t reflect how I feel when I’m with you, but it happens a lot I guess. I mean, that’s just my personality. But I didn’t realize you took it personally. Either way, I got upset because it made me feel insecure, I guess. So, yes. That’s what hurt my feelings, or something.”

He still hasn’t looked at you.

“That and, well. It’s not a bother to be with you, and I enjoy your company. Like most people do. For example, that one guy in your chem class, Trevor or something,” his name was Garrett, “But you said you don’t really enjoy mine, so. I- I mean, yeah.” He looked up at the ceiling again as his voice wavered slightly at the end of his sentence.

It was quiet.

You weren’t sure how to respond, there was a lot to unpack with what he said.

Did you really mean this much to him?

Clearly feeling the tension, Levi leans forward to take a sip of his water and change the subject, but the lack of water in his cup makes an obscene crackly slurp to fill the silence instead.

The awkwardness of it all made you want to laugh, and apparently he felt the same as you watched him struggle to hold back what looked like a giggle.

“Well.” He clasps his hands together and finally looks at you with a growing half smile.

“This is awkward.” And with that, you lost it.

Your sudden bellowing laughter made him jump and hush you as he fought through his own chuckles.

“You had me do all that for you to just laugh?” He cocks his head to the side and smiles, just enough for you to notice, with his eyebrows quirked and raised. It sends your stomach into a fit of butterflies, and you feel like you’re gonna be sick.

“Refills on the waters?” Dolly comes by again, and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Nodding your heads and giving little hums, she pours from her pitcher before walking away to help another couple down the way-

Or rather, other patrons. Not, another couple.

“I do enjoy your company, Levi. I’m sorry what I said hurt you, let’s promise to both do a better job of thinking about what we’re saying to each other then, okay?” Feeling unnaturally bold, you reach your hand across the table to embrace his.

Only then do you wonder how nervous this made him, you could swear his hands were shaking for the few seconds he let you hold them. Nodding and pulling his hands away to wipe them on his pants, your food is served.

Thanking Dolly once again, Levi decides to resume a part of your earlier conversation.

“So, tell me about this Trevor character.” He makes a point of emphasizing his name with a shake of his head, making you roll your eyes.

“It’s Garrett, Levi.”

“Whatever.”

——————

taglist: @d1lfluvr @plutowrites @carmillous @classyunknownlover (if you’d like to be added jus lemme know!)

[thatblackravenclaw]

Breaking My Heart

Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

word count: 991

warning(s): angst, cheating, major character death, no happy ending, no part two, not proofread bc I'm lazy :)

I fall in love too easily. I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard for love to ever last. I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different. I knew she was no good for me, yet I decided to keep pursuing her.

It’s going to take a while to get over this. I can’t believe she’s gone, but it’s better this way. We could have been so good together, but I guess I wasn’t good enough. I now have to see her at work every day. I’m not going to stop being an Avenger just because we broke up.

I’m glad I decided not to live at the compound. I know we get our own rooms in stuff, but Stark tends to have parties for no reason and my social battery drains fast and sometimes you just want some peace and quiet, like right now as I’m getting ready.

We have a mission today so I get ready a little faster. Nothing too fancy just enough to be comfortable. Once I’m finished, I look out the window, preparing myself for having to see her again. I used to get so excited just hearing her name, but now? Now I feel like I’m going to throw up. I want to be mad. I want to hate her, but it’s just not in me.

-.-.-.-

I make sure to say hi to everyone as I make my way to the briefing room, trying not to let on how tired I really am. I go on autopilot as I stand in the elevator. No one else is in there, but there’s cameras, so I make sure to keep my composure. I see my reflection in the mirror and see no emotion in my face or my eyes. I hope it stays that way when I eventually have to see her.

The door opens and the first thing I see her and Sharon kissing outside of the briefing room. First, she cheats on me and then she openly kisses the girl she cheated on me with. Great. I walk past them and go sit down. I play on my phone until I see someone in my peripheral vision sit next to me. I quickly glance and see Clint. His eyes are full of sincerity. I curtly nod my head no. I’m glad our friendship has come to a level where he understands. He gives me an understanding nod before squeezing my hand as the meeting starts.

“Nothing too big today. We just need to get information from Hydra’s database.” I hear Tony say.

I doodle on my notepad, not feeling the need to really listen.

I’m not sure how much time passes but I hear my name even in my spaced-out state.

“You will be putting the information on the hard drive while Nat stands guard. Sam and I will be waiting in the quinjet in case back up is needed.”

Clint tenses up next to me. I nod my head and get up with everyone else as we’re dismissed and go put on my suit.

-.-.-.-

“You gonna be okay?” I hear from behind me.

I take out my knives and put them into the pocket that’s on my thigh. When I’m finished, I look up at Clint with a smirk.

“Oh, come on, don’t lose faith in my abilities now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, but I can’t think about that right now. Bringing Hydra down is more important than my wreck of a love life.”

He walks up to me and hugs me.

“God, Clint. This is gay.”

“Be safe. You’re good at what you do, but you’re also reckless.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him back. The atmosphere shifts. Clint never hugs me. I don’t think he hugs anyone to be honest. It takes everything in me not to cry as I pull back.

“You’re the best of us.” I say looking at him in the eye. I walk out of the room as I feel my tear ducts well up.

-.-.-.-

The ride is pretty quick. I sit in the co-pilot sit so I don’t have to be by Natasha. It’s bad enough that we have to be by each other while I download the stuff to the drive. Steve is flying and has not stopped apologizing. It seems that more people knew about the break up than I thought. I told him it’s not his fault that we got paired up. Our talent is about the same level, so it just makes sense.

-.-.-

Steve has given us the all clear, so Nat and I sneak up to the fifth floor. No one was guarding it, which I found a bit suspicious, but didn’t think too much on since I just wanted to get this mission over with.

I put the drive into the thing and wait. It’s taking longer than I’d like, but I should’ve expected nothing less.

“Y/N/N, BEHIND YOU!” Nat says.

I take my knife out of its pocket and just stab whoever behind me. I guess Natasha had the same idea, but she misses and hits me instead.

I look down at the knife in me, near my heart as I hear the other person’s body drop behind me. My eyes move up to Nat to see her already starting towards me. The feeling in my legs quickly flee and I proceed to fall.

She moves my head onto her lap, tears in her eyes.

“Man, first you break my heart and then try to stab it? You must really have it out for me.” Dry humor escaping my lips.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean- he was behind you and I thought I got him I-“ She quivers out. Tears clearly down her face.

“Shh. I know. I forgive you.” I say. The last thing I say.

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hi! First of all, your writing is ASTOUNDING. I adore how you characterize. Secondly, I have a prompt idea:

A Villain who is falling in love with a Hero, but won’t admit it to themself. They stop being able to effectively fight Hero because they don’t want to hurt them. But Supervillain notices, so they capture Hero and use them to lure Villain in.

-Wicky

🥺🥺🥺 Thank you so very much! You just made my day. I thank you for the compliment and the prompt! I sure hope I did it justice, and I hope you enjoy!

CW//Injuries, threats, implied torture

Villain’s world spun as their skull cracked against the rough concrete of the roof. Opening their eyes, their field of vision was filled with only an array of stars.

Everything hurt.

They were convinced, in that moment, that there was not an inch of their flesh that was left unbruised, not a rib left unfractured. Breathing on its own was an ordeal, an ordeal that they endured only out of pure necessity.

Pain rippled through the stocks of jelly they had once called limbs as the villain scrambled first to hands and knees, and finally to their feet, even as unsteady as they were. They could do nothing but gasp as they faced down their opponent.

There was something in Hero’s eyes. Something that even their nemesis, their sworn, life-long foe could not quite name. It was not quite sympathy, no, but it was not quite pity, either. Something inbetween, perhaps, with only the slightest garnishing of regret.

“Come on, Villain.” It was with a pleading tone that the hero spoke, as though attempting to coax a frightened cat down from the top branches of a Redwood tree. “Just stand down! You can’t win this. We have you surrounded. No harm will come to you- No more harm.”

Yet, the villain only shook their head.

For any outsider, the matchup would have looked more like a massacre, waiting to happen. Villain themself was perhaps not the picture of musculature, but what villain was? No, they may not have been the strongest. But everyone knew what power they held in their palms, the lightning they could unleash at will. Enough to topple the building upon which they stood. Enough to topple the whole city, perhaps. The city had yet to so much as see their full potential.

But it was their potential that the villain now refused to use.

Hero, on the other hand, was... well, they weren’t much. As strong as they were, as clever, as smart, superstrength could only do one so much good. Villain could have destroyed them in passing, with the snap of a finger!

Why wasn’t the hero in the nearest emergency room? Even Villain themself wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’m not giving up, asshole!” They snarled, balling their hands to fists. It would be so easy. So very simple to send a torrent of lightning forth, to shock Hero within an inch of their life. Hell, Villain used their powers to make popcorn on the weekends!

But, they couldn’t. They couldn’t imagine Hero, the poor thing, the pitiful little fool, fallen to the ground. The very thought of using their powers against their opponent made them feel sick.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Hero spoke, eyes wide and glimmering with that same mix of sympathy and regret.

“Too bad.”

And, with that, the rooftop once more became a battleground. Villain surged forward, met in the center by their nemesis. A blow to the side of their head sent them stumbling.

They couldn’t go on like this, they knew as their vision clouded once more with stars. Another hit and they would be unconscious, in the custody of the so-called good guys. They couldn’t do that.

They had two choices.

Three. Three choices.

The first? To take the hit. To bite the bullet, to find themself behind bars.

The second? To hurt Hero. To wipe that oh-so-innocent quiver from their lips. To destroy-

No. They had two options. That wasn’t even on the table. Villain could be beaten, or they could flee.

It was with a shivering gasp that they chose the second.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Sidekick placed down their fork with a resounding clack. In the silent room, the sound resembled the ring of a gong.

“Are you absolutely certain you’re alright?” They asked with a quirked brow. With the day turning to evening, they had left their sidekick’s uniform behind, replaced now with a casual set of garments. After all, the restaurant at which they were eating was far from fancy. That wasn’t the type of villain that their mentor was.

“Of course I’m alright. Do I look like some kind of ailing senior citizen?” Villain muttered under their breath as they looked over in displeasure at their sidekick. For someone so young, they certainly had a mouth.

“Not now. But on the battlefield last night-”

“I’m fine. I’m up and walking, aren’t I?”

“It’s not about that.” Sidekick shook their head. “It was in the battle. You could’ve taken out Hero easy-”

“Keep your voice down, we’re in public.”

“Sorry.” They lowered their tone. “But, I’ve seen you take Hero out dozens of times. Recently, though, you’ve been all over the place. You can’t even land a single hit! I’m worried. You’ve lost your edge. Up on that rooftop, it was like you were somewhere else entirely.”

Villain had been somewhere else entirely, not that they would ever dare to admit it. They had been lost, hopelessly lost- Lost in the eyes of their damn nemesis.

“I just wasn’t on the ball. Everyone has off days.” They grumbled, turning their embarrassed gaze away.

“Everyone has off days. But you’ve been having an off month! Don’t think I haven’t noticed that it’s just them. Just Hero.”

“They’re getting better.”

“So are you.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

Sidekick reached across the table, placing their palm upon the back of their mentor’s hand, which had unconsciously been balled into a fist.

“You nearly got captured, last night. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Villain. If you’re sick, if something’s wrong, anything at all, you need to tell me.”

Villain suddenly spotted something very interesting on their shoes, and kept their gaze fixed there.

“It’s stupid.”

“Are you sick? Everyone gets sick sometimes, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not sick.”

“Then what?”

Villain gritted their teeth.

“Lovesick.”

Sidekick withdrew their hand in shock.

“What?”

“Look, it’s stupid! I don’t know. I shouldn’t be feeling that way about a hero, but- They’re a good person, I swear it. They want to help, and they’re kind, and I just can’t bear the thought of hurting them. What if I changed them? What if I hurt them, and that was what made them lose hope, lose faith? Then that’d be on my shoulders!”

“You’re saying...” Sidekick’s jaw was still ajar in shock. “You’re saying that you can’t fight Hero, because you’re in love with them?”

Villain looked up with a sigh.

“To put it shortly, I suppose.”

The both of them were shocked as a figure appeared next to their table. A sharply-dressed figure with a notepad.

“Are you two ready to order?”

“Yes, my apologies.” Villain cleared their throat. They and their sidekick presented their orders, which the waiter scrawled down with a series of understanding nods.

It was not until that particular waiter disappeared from the dining room that they slipped out of their disguise, and dialed a number into their phone.

“Hey, Boss? You might wanna hear about this.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

To say Villain was in a bad mood would have been an understatement.

The injuries covering every last inch of their body, too, ached with every step they took. Bruises and beatings rippled, forcing them nearly to limp. Yet, they forced their gait to remain normal, even if it meant pain.

They couldn’t call attention to themself. Not when they were in civilian clothes like this, and not when they were on the streets. Still, they kept their head low and their sweatshirt hoodie up as they went along. No need to stick out in the crowd.

This was the only solace they ever got, after all. When some got frustrated, they would go for a drive in the night. But their vehicle was distinctive enough that that wasn’t an option for the villain.

Instead? They walked, moving along with the crowd as though they were a single fish in a school. Usually, this helped them calm down. Now, however, every step they took only made their thoughts spin more wildly.

First, it was Hero. Hero and their stupid eyes. Then it was Sidekick. It wasn’t that Sidekick had confronted them that made them so worried, it was that they’d noticed at all.

That meant that other people out there might spot their weakness. Might use it as an advantage. Who would it be, though? Hero themself? Or, even-

A gasp rippled through the crowd around them in a wave. Voices shouted and fingers pointed, all in the same direction. Villain wiggled their way out of the crowd in order to see what had caused such fuss.

A billboard. An electronic billboard.

An electronic billboard that no longer housed an advertisement for the latest cellphone or insurance scam. No. Upon the massive thing, multiple stories in height, surely, was broadcasted a video.

“Good evening, and I do apologize for interrupting. But I just had to get my friend’s attention.”

Villain’s breath caught in their throat. They would know that voice even if they had to pick it out of a crowd of thousands.

Most would have expected that two people so similar as Villain and Supervillain would get along, but the reality was just the opposite. Villain couldn’t call themself a good guy, no, but they had ethics. Morals. Real aims to work towards, rather than burning the city down and laughing among the flames.

Supervillain, on the other hand? There was a reason that they were so feared. Their goals were far grander than Villain’s.

To say that they had never been very good friends would be an understatement.

And, now? Now they were enemies. The video projected upon that billboard made that fact certain.

Supervillain themself was not visible in frame-- Perhaps that was lucky for Villain. Seeing that stupid face would have certainly goaded them into destroying the projection outright. Instead, the video displayed a room.

A concrete room, with a chair in the center. A chair that was far from empty.

It was always Hero’s eyes that they could not help but get lost in. Now, that wasn’t a factor. Not when the hero was so tightly blindfolded. Their soothing, calming voice, too, had been eliminated-- the cloth gag in their mouth was already soaked-through with spittle.

Tied to the chair, bound, gagged, and blinded, sat Hero.

“Now, I don’t want a ransom. No, no. I only want to see a dear friend of mine. And it has been oh, so hard to track them down.

So, Villain, dear?”

They shivered at the sound of their name. Their name.

“How about you come to my base, and pick up your little friend, here. Or else, I might just have to do something drastic.”

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For six hours, Villain did not move.

As soon as the broadcast had left the billboard, it had repeated itself upon every news channel that gave half a crap about the metropolis. National news, even international, with subtitles in two dozen languages telling of Supervillain’s threat.

They’d found out. Of course they’d found out.

Villain knew they  should have been furious. They should have strangled Supervillain, strangled Hero, strangled themself! After all, this was all their fault. Falling for a hero, how could they have possibly been so stupid?

Now, they stared. Hands balled to fists in their lap as yet another newscaster explained the same events, over and over again.

“Boss?” Sidekick’s voice was soft, nothing like their usual, nosy self. They sat in a chair behind their mentor, who was seated criss-cross on the floor.

There was no answer.

“Boss... What are you going to do?”

“I can’t leave them.”

“Leave who?”

“Leave Hero. You know what Supervillain is like! They’ll destroy them. Destroy the last good hero in the city.”

“You didn’t want to hurt them.”

“And I don’t want to see them hurt, either.”

“I know you don’t. But it’s all Supervillain has over you. You can just... Leave them, right? It’s not like Hero has any real power over you.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I have to.”

“You don’t!”

Villain stood.

“Yes, I do.” They spun around, stalking towards the room that held their costume. “And I need to wipe that damn smile off Supervillain’s face.”