#sorry for the wait on things and absence in general

[7roaches]

prev post has me thinking abt the common phenomenon of ppl who create following a line of thinking that there must be some level of misery present to adequately create. which also leads into the line of thinking that if you lose the misery u’ll lose your spark too. e.g. artists fearing losing their motivation, writers fearing losing their inspiration, comedians fearing losing their funny, etc etc…

[ameliathornromance]

Link to PT1

Your Ex-Orc’s life has been going great since you broke up. He had been skirting around ending things with you for a while, and the relief of you breaking up with him crashed over him like a tsunami.

He’d forgotten how amazing it was to have his home to himself, to be able to sit in his front room without having to keep up a drab conversation with you about whatever happened at work, or to come home with a ‘shut up’ gift, just to make sure you didn’t complain about his prolonged absence.

However, there were times where we would walk into his flat and catch a whiff of your signature scent, or of a dish being prepared. He would ignore the way the pit in his stomach would open up and would head straight to his bedroom to go and get ready for a night on the town.

This feeling began to wake him up in the mornings too. When he rolled over and instinctively reached out for your figure, to drag in the smell of your shampooed hair and see your sleepy smile.

Every time this happened, your Ex vowed to go out that night. Going out and bringing home random women he met at bars and clubs always made him feel better.

And so, like clockwork when that all too familiar feeling kicked in, the pit reopening like a cut that just won’t heal, he would get on his best clothes and head out.

Tonight, he wanted to check out this new bar that had just opened up in town centre, named ‘Poena.’

Apparently, the drinks were all named after Roman and Greek plays, generals, philosophers and the like. 

It just begged for him to go in there tonight.

As he stepped through the front door, your Ex was greeted by Roman arches and Greek pillars with vines that wound around, up and over the bar itself, fake grapes dangling from the ceiling while the bartender was dressed in a white toga, a golden leaf wreath adorning his brow.

Taking a seat at the bar, your Ex Orc straightened out his blazer and began to scour the place for tonight’s lucky lady.

It was still early in the evening and the only other woman at the bar had her back to him and was admiring a statue of Venus, so your Ex decided to wait a little while longer and ordered a drink named ‘The Bloody 23’

After his drink had been given to him, your Ex’s attention went back to the woman at the bar, where he recoiled in shock. The woman… It was you.

He was stunned that he didn’t recognise you at first, but you just looked so… different. 

Had you done something new with your hair? Was your Make-up different? Or was it the clothes? 

You never normally wore club attire, you even said yourself that that kind of environment wasn’t really your thing.

But here you are, wearing a skin tight, red wine coloured dress. It was like you were a different person.

In front of you on the bar's counter, was an empty glass.

Your Ex smirked, and called the bartender over with a snap of his fingers, “would you kindly refill that lady’s drink? I’ll pay of course,” he said, almost lazily. 

Your Ex lifted his drink to his lips as he imagined your pleasantly surprised face when you realised he was there with you. Who knows, maybe even the pair of you could talk about what happened, make up and even-

His train of thought broke when somebody collided with him. Your Ex’s drink drenched his front, ruining his last good ‘going out’ shirt, staining it dark red.

“Whoops!” The collider said. It was another Orc, younger than your ex. This Orc had his hair tied back into a fishtail braid that went down his back and reached his waist.

He wore a leather jacket, black skin tight shirt and black jeans to match, boots undone, laces loose and unkempt. 

Your Ex Orc gave him a disgusted expression. “Watch where you’re going.” He snarled as he patted his front dry with a tissue the bar had provided.

The younger Orc held his hands up in defence, “sorry, must’ve had too much to drink tonight.” Digging into his pockets, he pulled out some cash and held it out to your Ex, “here, for the drink and… the shirt.”

Snatching it from the Orc, your Ex grumbled, giving one last disgusted glare up and down the collider, “and wear something more appropriate next time, oaf.”

The younger Orc didn’t seem to hear him however, as he continued on and to-

Your Ex froze.

Your face lit up at the other Orcs, jumping to your feet and throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

Eyes twinkling, grinning widely, your eyes darted over to your Ex. The pair of you locked eyes for a moment.

Your smile faltered slightly, the spark in your eyes went out.

The other Orc beside you looked over his shoulder, at his elder and then back at you. His hand reached out to your face, held it in his hands.

Heart thumping in his ears, your Ex stared. You hadn’t replaced him, had you?

The pair of you broke up only a few weeks ago!

You locked eyes with the Orc who held you and just as quickly as your light had faded, it reignited. 

The Orc said something, and it made you burst into a fit of giggles. 

You no longer had eyes for your Ex as you leaned forward and kissed the Orc in front of you. 

And this younger bastard, he kissed you back.

Like the pair of you had completely forgotten about your Ex, sat at the other end of the bar. 

When the kiss broke, your new lover looked over his shoulder at your Ex again and smirked.

Piercing pain shot through your Ex’s hand and he let out a gasp of shock. Looking down at his hand, he found the glass had been crushed by his grip.

He wanted to get up, rush after you and your lover, but the bartender stopped him, already trying to stem the bleeding from his green palm. He looked back up just in time to see you and your new Orc get up and head for the door.

As you and your new lover left, anger, frustration and remorse hit your Ex like a ton of bricks, one after another. 

And suddenly, the pain in his hand was gone. The pit in his stomach consumed him whole as he dissolved into tears.

He didn’t need more time out in bars or clubs, or to meet new women. 

Your Ex needed you. 

And he’d lost you, over a stupid woman at a club.

Tag list:

@serendipitous-fernweh @seungfl0wer @sammywo @sunndust

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[qwimblenorrisstan]

Glimmering Shadows Pt. 2 | Azriel x Reader

Summary: After the mating bond between the two of you formed, Azriel takes you to meet his family for a dinner.

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of family problems, but other than that just some cute fluff

A/N: Sorry this was so long coming I went through some writer’s block, but it’s here now and I hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist

Your family hadn’t been the most supportive, which was expected when you suddenly told them that you were mates with not just a Night Court resident, but the Spymaster of Night Court, a male shrouded in mystery and vicious rumors of the things he’d done, how he was a violent, secretive and dangerous person.

Even your attempts to convince them otherwise hadn’t yielded much.

“He’s dangerous, especially for our kind. You’re delicate, he’s..anything but.” Your father had spoken, your mother just seeming concerned. They hadn’t told the rest of your family the truth behind your absence, other than the fact that you wouldn’t be coming back for quite a while.

Being cut off completely from your family hurt, they’d been there for your entire life, your first steps, first words, birthdays, graduations, heartbreaks, everything. But you didn’t have time to think about that now, not as you were standing outside the family townhouse of Azriel’s adoptive family, most of them being people he’d known for centuries.

It was more than a bit nerve-wracking.

“You don’t have to do this if it’s too much.”

Azriel’s voice, quiet and low, but soothing said. You swallowed, shaking your head. You would do this. His family had already been told that you would join them tonight, and you’d even dragged him out to help pick a dress, even though he said they all looked good on you.

You’d ended up choosing a light pink romper, a color that complimented your hair, and your light shimmery wings and the pixies that surrounded them. You hadn’t ever intentionally kept your wings out around strangers, but you felt like it was wrong to try and hide anything from your mate’s family. Especially since you suspected that he was waiting for his family’s approval to accept the bond.

“I want to.”

You replied quietly to him, his hands sliding into yours, a movement that was second nature by now. He gave you one last glance that said, “You can back out, I won’t be upset” but you only shook your head. He nodded almost imperceptibly, before gently leading you into the house, and opening the door.

The home itself was customized to everyone inside, and it was obvious. From the Illyrian-sized couch and armchairs to the large fireplace, or the garden in the backyard you could see through the windows or the paintings of the family. You recognized some, like the High Lord and his mate, or the General, then Azriel as well as a few other women.

As soon as you and Azriel were even three steps into the home, you were greeted with a little toddler squealing and hugging Az’s leg, before gaping up at you and reaching up to try and tug at your wings, seemingly fascinated with how they looked. Luckily, the High Lady scooped him up and away just in time, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, he’s wild these days. I’m Feyre, this is my son, Nyx.”

You smiled, looking down at the little boy and then at the female.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m-“

“Is Az’s girlfriend here?”

An excited and teasing voice asked, peeking around the corner before the General himself came into view. He was tall, muscular, and very brusque looking, a stern-looking female followed behind him, shooting him a look.

“Don’t cut her off,”

She snapped at him, and Cassian winced, hand going to rub the back of his neck as he sheepishly grinned.

“I’m Nesta, and this big idiot is my mate, Cassian.”

She said, eyes looking you up and down before whatever standards she held in her head were appeased and she relaxed a bit.

“I’m Y/N.”

You said, feeling oddly nervous now even though the hard part was mostly over. Rhysand strode into the room, smiling at you before murmuring something to Feyre and picking Nyx up and holding the little boy. It was a bit funny seeing the mighty High Lord having his ears and hair yanked on by a little toddler.

“Rhys, but I’m sure you already know that.”

He said in an amused tone, and Cassian snorted.

“Hard not to know your name when you’re such a massive prick.”

He said in a joking but casual tone with a crooked grin as he poked Rhys in the elbow, the High Lord squirming a bit. You glanced back at Azriel, amused, and his hazel eyes seemed to almost glitter as he smiled at you, looking gleeful that you were getting along with his family, or at least finding them entertaining.

Rhys rolled his eyes at Cassian’s remark, slipping his arm around his mate’s, and began walking into the kitchen.

“Oh, shut it. Let’s just eat dinner already.”

He said, and Azriel gave you a reassuring glance, arm gently placed around your waist as he led you into the kitchen that smelled of delicious food, and the two of you sat down, greeted with generous plates at the center of the table of meats, sides, all sorts of foods. Some of which you hadn’t ever seen in Spring Court.

The cooks, it seemed, were two shadowy females who you couldn’t tell apart, and another female, this one seemed like she could’ve been from Spring herself, happily finishing up the rest of the food with a warm smile. When she caught sight of you while putting the rest of the food at the center of the table, she offered a smile.

“I’m Elain.”

She said simply with a little nod before everyone else sat at the table. Nesta was to your left, Azriel to your right. Everyone got themselves some generous helpings of the large plate fills of food at the center, Azriel helping you cut up some of the meat that you couldn’t.

“Thanks,”

You said to him in a quiet tone, he smiled in a wry manner, raising a brow at you.

“It wasn’t that hard.”

He murmured back, and you gave him a look.

“If I knew you were so good at handling meat, I might’ve asked you sooner.”

You said back, and Cassian must’ve heard what you said because he snorted and choked on his food while Nesta smirked. Azriel only shook his head and smiled, giving you an amused and affectionate look that made your stomach fill with little butterflies. Rhys glanced between the two of you, a feline smile gracing his lips.

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

He asked in an amused tone, at which Azriel only sighed, giving Rhys a little half-assed glare as his shadows slithered onto your skin and dress.

“It’s not hard,”

You said in an amused tone, at which Cassian let out a bark of laughter, Rhys shook his head and the females exchanged glances. Even Azriel let out a laugh at that, the sound deep and rich. The entire room went silent at that, them staring at Azriel, though he was too busy watching you to notice or care.

“Damn, you really do, huh?”

Cassian asked in an almost disbelieving tone, and Rhys, finally overcoming his surprise, smiled.

“I haven’t heard him laugh like that in nearly two centuries,”

He said, at which Azriel finally snapped back into reality, hand tightening around your waist as his cheeks lightly dusted with pink.

“Or that time when he watched you fall out of that big ass tree, that was pretty funny.”

Cassian said with a grin, and Nesta and Feyre both laughed.

“At least I didn’t get called ‘Cass with the Ass’ for my first few years at camp.”

Rhys retorted, and Cassian sputtered, looking to Nesta for some support, and getting none as she too snickered at the nickname. You giggled quietly and Azriel smirked. Cassian huffed, grumbling something under his breath.

“Someone’s jealous of my ass.”

He grumbled, and Rhys rolled his eyes.

“We all know that your ass is just overcompensating for something else.”

He said dryly, and everyone laughed at that, even Cassian had to admit that it was good.

Beneath everyone’s laughter, Azriel pulled you a bit closer to him from his chair, smiling at you as if it were just the two of you in the room. You smiled back, leaning into him as the two of your chairs scooted closer.

‘I love you’, he mouthed to you, the truth of it clear in his eyes.

‘I love you too’, you mouthed back.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@deepestmentalitypersona

@hqmsby

[irllyroundballs]

Genshin men with a hot ass reader?!

Scaramouche, Kazuha, Childe, Al-Haitham, Cyno x Reader

I’m so sorry for the wait, and this isn’t as long, but regardless I hope you enjoy<33 @alizaneth (I can’t find your other @ 😨)

Scaramouche

He never thought he would be defiled by the shackles of beauty and romanticism but fuck, you were really hot, so fucking hot. He really wanted to look away but he just-- he just couldn't! Everything about you was so alluring, everything you did made him want to watch more. And just calling you hot would be an utterly impudent way to describe someone like you.

"Need something?" You smiled, he almost melted on the spot. Your smile was so pretty.

"Huh? No. I didn't need anything." Youd be a liar if you said you didnt notice his little blush.

You tilt your head, a hand moving to your hip, "Is that so? You were staring." You tried to bite back a laugh from the way he shriveled.

"You're pretty.." he mumbled.

"What was that?" You couldn't help but tease, he's too cute!

He walked closer to you, snaking an arm your waist, taking another hand and holding yours, then snuggling his head into your neck, "I said, you're really pretty, I like everything about you. I like your eyes and the way they sparkle, I like your cute hands, and I like your smile, I want to have them forever."

"Someone sentimental.”

“Shut up.”

Kazuha

To my dearest,

I'm sorry for my prolonged absence, I truly do wish to bask in your presence once more. But this journey is long, and taking lots longer than anticipated, I too-- had hoped to be in your arms by now. I miss your sweet scent, your loving embrace, your warm touch, the glisten in your star struck eyes. I wish for every second I have to be with you, if you long for more stars in the sky and I will shoot them for you, I would stare into your eyes everyday in hopes I go blind so you may be the last thing I see, I wish to breath nothing but you-- for you are my air. I hope to be home soon, please wait a little longer my love.

Forever missing you, your beloved husband

Childe

See, this was his first time, seeing someone so pretty-- I mean, he's most definitely very attractive people in his life, but by the gods, you were quite literally too hot to handle. After every encounter he was close to fainting, once, he got a nosebleed after you had snuck up on him! Your harmonic voice ringing in his ears.. oh gods, he was simping. But a poor soul he was, he had zero rizz.

"Hello there pretty thing." He smirked, attempting to lean against a wall, little did he know he was just a tad too far away which resulted in him almost falling, stumbling he manages to lean against the wall wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed, shit, your laugh was really cute, "Hello, Childe. What brings around here?"

"I just wanted too see the PretTiest person eVer." His voice cracking in-between, fuck, has he always been this nervous around you?

You only laughed, walking forward, "Come, let's go for a stroll."

Thank god you had a thing for losers.

Al-Haitham

Al-Haitham is not one easily swayed by second class, biased, standards of beauty, except you, fucking hell, you defied all known logic of beauty and standards, you were the essence of ethereality, built by the most generous of god's, handpicked to be their hidden most precious gem.

The way the golden sun hit your skin the exact same one you always seemed to be glowing in, the way your voice was basically etched into his brain, the way it felt as though he constantly wanted to be in your embrace, always wanting you-- wanting to be nothing but yours.

So when the faithful day he finally had a chance to converse with you he knew he couldn't fail.

"Hello, you are.. er.. looking nice today." He was awkward about it, and so was his "smile"-- to be honest, you couldn't even consider it that, it's was more like his face was contoreted by a child, you weren't sure whether to run away and cry or ask him if his face is ok, never once had you seen the man smile.

"Oh! Uh.. Thank you, Grand Sage (?)." You looked down, picking at your hands.

Damnit, why did you react like that? He complimented you, just like the book told him to do (The book: how to rizz them up), was that you being embarrassed? No way, it didn't look like it, was his smile weird? You looked back at him up it took a few moments for you to actually say something.

Swallowing your saliva you spoke, "Uhm.. Mr Grand Sage, why are you staring at me like that..? It's a bit scary, Sir.." It was so hard to say that, that was your boss for goodness sake, he could fire you for anything if you did anything wrong, though, he doesn't seem like the type.

"Oh."

.

.

.

You think you’re about to faint, "Oh"?!

"I see, my apologies. I was trying to smile. I truly don't doubt my sincerity, you truly do look so uhm.. attractive (?)." He clears his throat, "I'm sorry, I'm not that best with this romantic predicaments. I would like you to dinner, would you like that?"

Cyno

Cyno has always found it easy to tell people "no", it was never a hard word for him. On a constant basis would be be using the word. But why, why is it though he simply cannot bring himself to say it to you?

Perhaps it was the thought he couldn't stand the thought of you being upset with him, your tears, or even perhaps your indifference.

This time, you need help with some commissions, but it was finally his off, he wanted to play TGC, could you blame him for his reluctance?

Your eyes soften, "Please Cyno? I can't do it without you."

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, fuck it all, shit. He froze, I think his pulse stopped, tighnari running up to him and playfully checking his pulse, "Uh-oh, we're loosing him!" He teased hitting cyno's shoulder.

How could he resist you? Fuck it all, "I- uh.." he signed, "fine."

"Ohh! Thank you, Cyno! You're the best! I'll pay you back promise!"

He only wanted you.

[catfern]

─ restless dreams.

in support of palestine ∙ the reality of tlou ∙ resources

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (?)

music: a world of madness - akira yamaoka

word count: 2.3k

summary: you're dead. with how ellie's been coping, she might as well be. that is, until she sees you, or rather, a woman with your face.

WARNINGS: heavy discussions of grief, illness, death. implied hallucinatory sequences, general themes associated with silent hill 2. smut, oral (r!receiving).

cat says ⎯ were ya'll waiting for pyramid head to show up?

if i could be … her.

but i’m not her

and she’s not me.

and you’re somewhere different.

on a different planet.

cold.

the merciless descent of winter had done nothing but bury ellie in a fog. a blur of forgetfulness, of numb reaction.

everyone had told her it would become easier. the festering pain in her joints would fade, the endless congestion in her head, like a dragnet of her slowed thoughts, would release.

“grief is just one of those things that you have to learn to live with.”

ellie wasn’t sure if she was learning. if she knew what that even felt like. what was it, to learn to love an absence? a gaping chasm, in one’s soul?

plagued. the sweetness of your voice lingered like stubborn molasses in her ears, a ghosting touch, nails scratching at her scalp, she could feel it. at least, for a few fleeting moments. in the sticky dark of her bedroom, memories of you clung to her back.

the pavement, slick with thin ice and dirty snow, echoed the song of her footsteps in the empty streets. she needed milk. a sick darkness had descended on the small space of her apartment, and her fridge stunk of something sour.

the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in the bitter wind. she hadn’t been sleeping.

she had thought, maybe, the chill in the air would help her. that the light would snap her from this daze, bring her to see this delusional miasma for what it was. but the wet sun, shrouded in grey, granted no such reprieve. she still saw you everywhere.

the shine of the linoleum tile seemed blinding in artificial light. ellie squinted in the change, her skin dry, pale and discoloured from weeks inside. 

she can feel the clerk’s gaze burning her through her clothes. she shakes the dusting of snowfall off her shoulders, and sees the tracks of mud she’s pulled in from outside. oh.

she scrapes the soles of her sneakers along the peeling grout of the tile, and shuffles her way along the aisles. the rows of fridge doors buzz in the dim silence of the store, there’s something metallic in the air.  

it was a dying habit, beelining for the skim milk. something you had put her on to, with your endless buzzing about dairy. it was comforting, following a path well-trodden through the small grocer, one she had so often taken when she had a softness to return to. her footsteps fell, heavy and loud and ringing her ears, empty.

ellie grunts a hoarse ‘excuse me’ to the woman standing in front of the milk fridge. she wasn’t grabbing anything, just standing … watching the milk as if waiting for it to move. so, ellie figured it was okay to push past. the woman moved back without a word.

the jug felt cool, and almost anchored, beneath ellie’s fingertips. something to latch on to, tangible in this maze of wretched passing time.

“sorry! i didn’t see you there.”

ellie bit so hard into her cheek it drew blood. warm, foreign in her mouth, an iron taste.

your voice was not an uncommon ringing in her ears, in these hellish pastimes. the open world teased her, so often she heard you in a gentle ripple of water, the humming engine of a passing car. but this …

it was you. ripped from fresh fucking dirt.

well, ellie wasn’t sure. a ghost in the corner store was not something she was eager to find, if that’s what this woman was. what you were. she could feel her hand twitching in her jacket pocket, an obsessive itch to reach out, to feel the tangible, the absent real.

your name slips past her lips like a familiar groove in her tongue, and the woman laughs. it’s deeper than yours, jilted, not sweet.

“are you confusing me with someone else?” she asks. no, no, she can’t be. it’s your face, every mapped detail from the haze of her dreams, ripped from your coffin and supplanted here. on this body, obscure.

it could be a mask. ellie could dig her fingernails under your pretty, unblemished skin and tear it off this creature, this … offence. would you bleed the same?

“i-“ the milk jug suddenly felt too cold, burning into the skin of her palm. she hesitated, joints locked, body aching. whatever frantic obscenities ellie had wanted to hurl at her, at you, for the affront of your very existence, dripped back down her throat, made her choke.

the woman tilts her head in anticipation. you don’t do that, you didn’t do that.

it’s not you.

“ellie? you told me you weren’t coming today.”

she can still hear the wheezing undercurrent in your voice, a haunting possession of the brilliance in your body. you weren’t meant to exist somewhere so … clinical.

“i .. wanted to see you.”

your hand ghosts her cheek, the prickling of neglected texture along the bone. she refused to touch you. not like this.

ellie’s breath comes heavy in the heady air of her apartment. she can smell the stale rot in the walls, consuming her with every struggling heave of her lungs.

she had left the fridge door open when she left, the flickering cold light leaving a staggering crack along the darkness. she slumps against the wall of her kitchenette, pressing her hands into her muddy hair, as if trying to hold herself together at the seams.

she was going crazy, wasn’t she?

you’re haunting her. ellie supposes that she knew you would. a spectre, a shadow tethered to her feet. she had hoped, she could push past it, cradle your tenderness close to her heart, lock away the rest. naive.

she had become too complacent with the shell of you that malady had created. she’d forgotten how angry you could get. even from beyond the veil of death.

but it wasn’t you. no, no, ellie reminds herself. that … woman, was a coincidence. a trick of the flickering, sickening lights. her grief had muddled her mind, made her see things that weren’t there.

maybe she so desperately wanted to see you. deep within the dairy aisle. maybe, she no longer had the strength to turn away from you, like she once had. maybe, she just craves something you can no longer provide.

three raps knock the wood of her door, and ellie shakes. visceral.

she doesn’t remember answering, but the threshold was there, her hand warming the cool bronze of her doorknob.

this was just cruel.

“oh! it’s you again!” her smile is a wicked caricature, something hollow. snow sits in her hair, and ellie is blighted with your warmth, ghostly in this empty winter. “sorry, my phone’s dead. i’ve been asking around, is everyone on vacation? you’re the only one that answered the door.”

“wh - what?” ellie couldn’t listen. 

you had broken your nose, as a child, a detail never lost on her in the intimacy of your nights together. she would trace her fingers over the bump the accident left, the irreverent flaws that endeared her, magnetised ellie to your person.

she studied this woman, her … perfections. the faultless slope of the bridge of her nose.

so … she was different? this wasn’t you. ellie wasn’t sure if the constant reminder was her anchor or her chain.

“can i use your landline?”

the question was simple, and ellie ached to oblige. invite her in.

“uh, sure.” it was a hoarse, quiet agreement. she shuffles to the side, carves a path for the stranger, who smiles at her sweetly, tight-lipped, in thanks.

her perfume was different. heavier, something darker. red fruit and earth. it caught in ellie’s nose, unwelcome. your name is a phantom on the dry ridges of her lips, and the woman snickers, the fur collar of her snow-dusted coat ruffling as she turns to meet ellie’s foggy gaze. the glory of what was once your gaze, now shared, was lost on this cheap copy.

“you keep calling me that. what, do i look like your girlfriend?”

ellie chokes on something that is not there.

“n-no, my late wife.” ellie could feel her gravity changing, re-centring. she crosses the floor slowly, listening to every creak of the old floorboards. reverent steps. “you … you could be her twin.”

she laughs, distant and deep, like a joke. like she couldn’t see the lines of desperation, of reaching hope that haunt the withering skin of ellie’s face. couldn’t she see? was she not aware of her own part she played in ellie’s torment?

or was she seperate from it all? was she simply passing through, a tourist in this purgatory?

the woman hangs up the receiver of the phone, having never called anyone. her eyes splay pity on this platter between them.

“i don’t look like a .. ghost, do i?” the teasing lilt in her voice was familiar. it was yours. she purses her lips. “maybe i shouldn’t have come. you’re clearly going through something.”

ellie’s hand darts out to ground itself on her skin, pressing into the bone of her wrist, the base of her body.

“ellie.”

she shook the molasses of your voice from her ears, pressed her eyes shut in beseeching of something free.

“please.” her voice was barely there, small in her throat, but enough to hear in the absence of wherever this was. wherever she has ended up. “you have to tell me who you are, if you’re real.”

the woman pouts, the way you did when you wanted something. her touch is soft, leading, like yours was, as it slips from ellie’s rusting grip and falls back, unceremoniously, onto the leather armchair in the living room. plumes of dust greeted her, only added to the stench in the air, the musk of unforgiving.

“it doesn’t matter who i am.” she says, and ellie almost stumbles after her, her knees aching as she falls, devout, ready to worship, if only this spectre gave her answers. “i know what grief’s like. and … i’m here for you.”

ellie breathes unsteadily, her hands shaking, cool sweat dripping down her back. the woman reaches out in the growing silence between them. her nails were bumpy, bitten down to the quick, covered poorly in thin, pink nail polish, as they scratch gently along ellie’s cheek.

“see? i’m real.”

an illness lined ellie’s stomach. wanton belief … this was real. there was a simplicity in this, in the dream that you had come back to her, after all. flesh warm and alive beneath her fingers, untainted.

“don’t you want to touch me?”

the image of you, of her, bleeds in ellie’s brain. you were asking with a sweetness you knew she could never ignore. temptation rots the soul, but hers had died with you. in your final breath, you had clawed it out of her.

there’s a certain cruelty to her touch, the way ellie splays her decay of passion upon this blank body. control is lost to her here, although a mirage of it echoes in her grip on your thigh, her nails ripping into the stranger’s skin, hoping to study whatever is beneath.

“please, please…” ellie’s voice is soft, chasing a dead docility up the woman’s inner thigh, her tongue pulling a cotton trail into familiar warmth. “i’m sorry…”

your head falls back against the edge of the armchair, soft, sweet whines dripping from the woman’s lips like honey, ellie’s nose pressing into the silk of your cunt, her tongue dazed and ever desperate to taste you. to feel you like you once were, broken, made whole again in the creeping twilight of an oncoming snowstorm.

a low rumble pulls through both of you, her lips a current on your clit, a tremor in the key of her voice. she has to pull herself up on her knees, push herself into your presence, to keep herself there, within this second chance. her body shakes beneath yours, in wait, for something that had long since disappeared.

she groans, something deep and distant below her throat. her tongue dances along the warmth inside you, painting her apologies, her dying grievances along the soft expanse of whatever lay inside, forever unheard. her fingers grip bruises into your stolen skin, a rough yank pulling you towards her.

you had hated when she was rough with you, but were you really here to complain?

“please, i…” her voice is something dark, muffled against your skin. “i need you, i.. you shouldn’t have left me. i’m sorry.”

“that doesn’t matter now.” firm and bitter, dry, calloused hands pull ellie up from her home between your legs. she could nearly whine at the absence of warmth, if the vitriol freeze wasn’t something she had so long deserved, so duly needed. ellie’s touch softens.

“nothing matters now.”

your gaze, her gaze, is scrutinising, painful to hold in her eye. but she needn’t look away, she shouldn’t. otherwise, she was sure you’d disappear. she couldn’t let you, never again. she could keep you alive, deep within the ire of her eye, she could, she was so sure.

something stings within her. feeling, it prickles back into ellie’s body like she’d been long asleep.

“i miss you,” ellie’s voice breaks against the cool, unwavering hand of the strange woman, the absence of mercy she so desperately sought. a sob shakes, sore in the column of her neck. the pain was welcome. “so, so much.”

tears run hot, her spine crooked as she falls back, looking up at you with a newly discovered vulnerability. you look at her, your eyes cold with pity and hate.

“i love you.” she chokes, begging like you’ll listen. “come back to me, i love you still.”

you shake your head. you won’t. ellie doesn’t deserve that kindness. no longer, anyway.

your wife slumps forward, pressing her face into the softness of your thigh like that would mean forgiveness, like that would bring back the innocence she had sorely stolen from you. your hand, with jagged nails, runs through ellie’s hair. brick wall comfort.

when you speak, your voice lingers in her ears like a bad hangover. it’s not yours, not anymore. whatever was left of you was rotten, spiteful.

“are you afraid?”

ellie sobs, loud in the impending silence.

there was something here. it’s gone now.

tag list: @r3starttt

[poetrysmackdown]

welcome to the 2023 tumblr poetry smackdown

tumblr has developed something of a canon of poetry over the past couple years, and i figured others might enjoy getting a chance to voice their opinions on a few of those poems! poems i chose for the poetry smackdown had to be more or less widely read on tumblr (generally 10k+ notes, most with more or spread across compilations), and relatively short so as to make voting easier. they also had to be complete—there are a lot of popular lines floating around on tumblr that are excerpted from very long poems and/or poems that are inaccessible via internet, and those aren't included here. a handful of poets are represented here twice reflecting my sense of their popularity, but i arranged the bracket in such a way that it won't be able to stay that way past round 2 at the latest. if i missed a poem that is super popular i'm sorry, that said the bracket is staying as is because this was a shit ton of work to put together and i don't want to. ty.

you can get to the polls by following the links below or going to the #round1 tag on my blog. you can also send me propaganda if you want via ask and i'll post it/add it to the next round's post if the poem wins.

happy voting!

sincerely amelia @poetriarchy :)

ROUND 1: ENDS JULY 17 at 6pm EDT

"The Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin vs. "Butter Dish" by Leonard Cohen (cow poems)

"Poem" by Langston Hughes vs. "A Meeting" by Wendell Berry

"Miss you. Would like to grab that chilled tofu we love." by Gabrielle Calvocoressi vs. "My Sister, Who Died Young, Takes Up The Task" by Jon Pineda

"Hammond B3 Organ Cistern" by Gabrielle Calvocoressi vs. "Hong Kong" by Sue Zhao

"someone will remember us" (fragment by Sappho trans. Anne Carson) vs. "Wait" by Faraj Bou al-Isha trans. Khaled Mattawa

"The Quiet World" by Jeffrey McDaniel vs "Invisible Fish" by Joy Harjo

"Want" by Joan Larkin vs. "Come, and Be My Baby" by Maya Angelou

"Swan" by Mary Oliver vs. "How I Go to the Woods" by Mary Oliver

"The Orange" by Wendy Cope vs. "The Tenor of Your Yes" by Mary Ruefle

"Here There Are Blueberries" by Mary Syzbist vs. "Instructions on Not Giving Up" by Ada Limón

"To The Young Who Want to Die" by Gwendolyn Brooks vs. "A Litany for Survival" by Audre Lorde

"Night Walk" by Franz Wright vs. "Meditations in an Emergency" by Cameron Awkward-Rich

"Summer Was Forever" by Chen Chen vs. "I'm not a religious person but" by Chen Chen

"How to Be a Dog" by Andrew Kane vs. "Scheherazade" by Richard Siken

"I'm going to Minnesota where sadness makes sense" by Danez Smith vs. "Dream Song 29" by John Berryman

"Having a Coke with You" by Frank O'Hara vs. "Having 'Having a Coke with You' with You" by Mark Leidner

ADDENDUM: at 6pm on July 17th (or possibly a day earlier if there's already a clear sweep), I will be releasing a one-day poll that will give voters the option to sub in "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver for the winner of matchup #8: "Swan" vs. "How I Go to the Woods". this is to help correct my significant oversight when I was remembering which two Oliver poems I've seen most on tumblr, and it's the only time I'm doing this kind of thing, so don't suggest it for any other poems after this please. that said, a sincere ty to @darkcomedies for first bringing its absence to my attention! and keep an eye out for this extra poll which i am calling ROUND 1.5: A HAIL MARY (OLIVER)

[drabblesandimagines]

Moon Cycles

Pointless Halsin fluff, afab reader - mentions of period

You wake alone, which is not unusual, but there is a dull, somewhat unfamiliar ache in your stomach, encompassing your pelvis.

It had been many months since your last moon cycle, just before you’d been kidnapped and a tadpole had slithered through your eye. You had been concerned you’d been with child – nightmares of a half mindflayer baby erupting from your stomach – but no such thing had come to pass. You’d confessed to Halsin one night and he’d assured you in times of high stress that it was not unheard of for moon cycles to pause, until your body settled back into a natural rhythm of things.

Now, as you recall how generally awful they made you feel, you wonder why you’d ever worried about their absence.

You turn and nuzzle your head into your partner’s pillow, closing your eyes and inhaling his lingering scent, trying to imagine he’s still there.

Halsin is an early riser, up often before dawn itself. He likes to start off each day with a patrol around the perimeter in his wildshaped bear to make sure it remains safe and secure for his community. You used to wake as soon as his arm released its hold on your waist, a mumbled protest before warm lips pressed against your forehead in a kiss.

“Rest, sweet one.”

He’d tuck the furs back up around your shoulders, smoothing a large palm over your hair back and forth until you settled and you’d soon sink back into slumber, despite how often you promised yourself that today was going to be the day you joined him on his duty. It had been a while now since you’d woke at his departure, but the way you woke up every morning with the furs tucked just so, you knew he still made sure you were warm and content before he left.

His absence this morning gnaws at you more than any other - a stupidly desperate need for comfort as the ache worsens. You, the hero, the savior of Baldur’s Gate reduced to sulking in your bedroll over your moon cycle.

Despite how much you want to remain curled up, the children’s voices grow louder and louder from outside your hut. They too are early risers, though know to wait until the sun is at least risen in the sky. You wince as you get to your feet, the pain seeming to grow worse the more awake you become.

But there are hungry mouths to feed.

With a resigned sigh, you force yourself to wash your face and dress and feel guilty for the smile you plaster on as you retreat from your hut to be greeted by a chorus of orphans.

--

It was an accident.

Yenna and a couple of the other children had been chasing one another – a lovely sight to see after all the atrocities they’d witnessed, of course – but they’d grown a little too rambunctious, not looking where they were going, too consumed in their game. The large pot of porridge you’d made now lay on its side, dropping it when Yenna had crashed into your side at speed.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles, looking truly horrified as you stared at the split porridge. You should say something – anything – to console her, but no words come.

You cut her off with a sob as you drop to your knees, overwhelmed. You can’t do this.

“I can make more! I promise I can,” Yenna blurts out, trying to heave the pot back upright. Little fingers begin to prod at you, demanding what’s wrong as you bury your head into your knees.

“By Silvanus, what’s happened here?” Halsin’s voice booms as he enters the clearing, taking in the scene before him. The children’s attention is diverted towards him immediately, all scrambling towards him.

“Yenna bumped into Mama and she dropped the porridge pot!”

“Is anyone hurt?”

A young tiefling girl tugs at his tunic. “Daddy Halsin, Mama is crying.”

“Mama is…” Halsin’s voice drifts off as he searches for you, finding you curled up in on yourself – a most unwelcome sight. He hurries over to you at once, dropping to his knee and laying a hand on your arm cautiously, scanning you over.

“Are you injured, my heart?”

You lift your head, tears streaming down your face, shaking it frantically. “N-no, I just… I-”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He wraps you up in his arms at once, pulling you flush against his chest as he feels your body tremble and brings you up to your feet. “Tasha, please will you go fetch Art and a few other of the adults?”

Tasha nods, hurrying off in the direction of the other huts before Halsin steps the two of you in the direction of your own. “I will be with you in just a moment, darling. Go lay down.”

You nod again, trying to wipe the tears from your cheeks with the heel of your hand as you quickly scurry back into your sanctuary, making for the bedroll at once.

Halsin turns to settle the rest of the waiting children, all unsure as to what they have just witnessed. “Now, then, I see some fine fruits and honey laid out that will satisfy any rumbling tummies until a new batch of porridge is ready, hm?”

“I’m so sorry,” Yenna apologises again, mortified. “I didn’t look where I was going and I didn’t mean to make her trip.”

Halsin crouches down to face her as a handful of children begin to help themselves to the sundries on the table. “It is all right, Yenna. Those tears are not for split porridge, I am certain.”

--

Your tears have dwindled to soft hiccups as you lay on your side, knees tucked up into your chest when the door opens and quietly shuts once more. Halsin is quick to lay behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a long kiss to your crown before he speaks.

“Your moon cycle has returned.”

You twist in his arms, wanting to see his face. “How did you know?”

He smiles, sheepishly. “Truthfully, I could smell something different about you when I rose this morning. I should’ve stayed.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“I would’ve insisted you stay in bed whilst I brewed you a tea to relieve the pain. I was ambitious, thinking I could complete my patrol and return before you woke.”

“Stop blaming yourself. I am the one who sobbed over split porridge. Poor Yenna.”

“Yenna is fine, my heart. In fact, she is making a new batch as we speak, aided by Art.” He begins to rub a circle with his palm on your lower back.

“I feel such a fool.”

“That is one thing you can never be.” Halsin presses a kiss upon your forehead as you begin to relax in his embrace. “Allow me to prepare a warm compress and the tea, and then I shall dote on you for however long.”

“We do not have time to be doted or doting on one another-”

“We do – I insist upon it.” His tone is firm – reminiscent of his Archdruid days. “Yenna is quite keen to take over cooking responsibilities the rest of the day. Enid is going to take the younger ones down to harvest the vegetable patches. The camp will survive without us.”

You wince as a cramp starts, digging your nails into his arm.

“I cannot bear to see an ounce of pain across your brow, my heart. I must go prepare that tea.”

You’re reluctant to let go, feeling pathetic as you pout. “And then more cuddles?”

Halsin leans down and presses a long, gentle kiss on your lips. “With the Oak Father as my witness, the cuddles will be endless.”

--

I am sad and I'd just like some Halsin cuddles, please hence... whatever this is.

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[bloody-cupcakes]

Jason Dean x yandere/dark! reader; you surprise him with slushies for breakfast

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, suggestive stuff/frank sex talk as well as implied sex/smutish activities, mentions of insomnia, implied murder, the reader is very clingy and affectionate with JD (almost to a smothering amount but he doesn't mind), this is one of the more tame things I've written tbh

A/N: this is a twist on the "one character gets a blue drink and the other gets a red so naturally their tongues become purple by making out" trope. I literally wrote this in thirty minutes so I could have something posted for heathers day, which is September 1st, so if this sucks then that's why and I'm sorry (and then I got distracted and forgot so it's a day late oops)

JD used to think he hated sleeping in general, but after meeting you he just realized he hated sleeping alone. Laying in bed after downing half a bottle of melatonin gummies while waiting for sleep to kick in wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. Lucky for him, you had plenty ways of resolving that issue.

Admittedly, they did a pretty good job at working effectively given that most of them involved you physically wearing him out. Whether it was with murder or sex, either way certainly made it easier for him to slip into a state of exhaustion and conk out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He didn't mind much. In fact, the act of you tiring him out as quickly as possible once he complained about being unable to sleep was one that he quite enjoyed. He preferred to stay with you anyway. There was nothing at his house that made it worth sticking around other than the few vague personal effects of his, and most of them he'd transferred over to your place already.

The sun was already starting to peek through the blinds when he woke up, which signified he must've slept for a good long while. That didn't surprise him given just how late the two of you had stayed up the night before, but what did surprise him was your absence. Usually you waited until he woke up to leave the bed, or at the very least told him if you were going to get up.

Thank god you walked into the room a few minutes later, because otherwise he would've started to panic, and that was definitely not something he wanted to be doing so early in the morning.

"Hey, baby," you greeted as you kicked off your shoes and set two large Styrofoam cups you'd gotten from the 7/11 near your house on the nightstand. "Did you sleep well?"

JD could practically feel his heartbeat start to slow back down once he saw you. You hadn't abandoned him, you just went out to get some slushies. No problem.

"Mh, yeah," he mumbled groggily as he sat up in the bed, watching you slip off his trenchcoat and toss it to the side. If he had been more awake, the sight of you wearing his clothes would've given him an instant boner, but the drowsiness he still felt was currently cancelling that out.

"Good, I'm glad." You sat down on the bed next to him, gently smoothing his messy hair back from his face before handing him one of the Styrofoam cups. "Here, I know how much you crave slushies the night after sex."

He gladly took the cup from you, immediately taking a big sip. "Thanks." It still felt weird, having someone being so affectionate and loving with him after everything he'd been through. A huge part of him felt like he didn't deserve it, but he knew you'd never leave him even if that was true. Something about how attached you were should've been unnerving, but JD was pretty unnerving himself so he wasn't bothered by it.

"Did you seriously wear your pajamas to go get slushies?" He asked after a moment, his brain finally catching up as he began to wake up more. The cold, sweet drink in his hands certainly helped matters.

"Well, I wasn't going to put on real clothes," you insisted lightheartedly before drinking some of your own slushie, which just so happened to be the opposite color of his. "Besides, we both know they're not going to stay on much longer anyway."

"Oh god," he muttered under his breath, though he was unable to keep the faint smirk of amusement off his face when you said that.

"Here, lemme have your drink for a moment." You placed both cups back on the nightstand before grabbing his face and pulling him in for a hungry kiss. He suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was only wearing a pair of boxers as he hadn't gotten properly dressed yet.

"C'mon, I wasn't finished," he complained with a slight huff even as he let you push him flat onto his back with no other protest.

"You can finish later. For now, I say we take the blue and red from our drinks and make purple." Your voice came out in a low tease when you spoke, your body hovering over his as you leaned down to capture his lips in another kiss.

Both of your tongues were successfully colored purple and your drinks were no longer cold when you were done, but it was so worth it.

[goldsbitch]

Here I go again

part 4 to I gave so many signs

summary: Afternoon talks are harder than late night fucks.

warning: present + flashbacks, mentions of cheating and typos

song fic (disclaimer: rights belong to the respectable owners)

The Louvre - Lorde Mamma Mia - ABBA (shoot me, I heard an amazing slow piano version of it and got obsessed)

"We heard some noises on the stairway, were you alone?" her mom asked first thing in the morning. The irony that her mom would actually approve of Charles maybe a little too enthusiastically was not lost on Y/N. "Yeah, alone. Bit tipsy, so sorry about that."

Our days and nights are perfumed with obsession

He stared silently. Monitoring actions of his girlfriend and having absolutely clear on the mind what to say to her. Part of him wanted to leave the premise immediately. Part of him wanted to scream out his confession. Part of him was astonished that she absolutely did not acknowledge his absence - did she not notice anything? He must have had Y/N scent all over him, punching through the quiet living room. He wanted her to say something. But she just grabbed her workout bag and casually got to the gym. Left him there, bewildered. He wanted to feel guilty, but the lack of emotion from her part was making a really hard thing to follow through. Was he just an asshole? Or someone who forgot to get out of a relationship at the right time and lived in a stale water?

His now fully developed brain decided to jump on the train to the past and he spent his entire morning checking his phone for a text - and not from his girlfriend. For a man who slept about an hour last night, he was surprisingly fresh and energized. Must have been the three orgasms. A lighting of excitement ran through him whenever he came back to those. And there it finally was, his catalysis for a guilt trip.

I am your sweetheart psychopathic crush Drink up your movements, still I can't get enough

Mood swings were the one to rule Y/N's day. She felt like dancing around. Woke up to an empty bed, which was a shame, but it saved from potentially an awkward conversation, so maybe she actually appreciated the gesture. With a lazy day ahead of her, she could replay yesterday's night over and over all day. Rarely would the sun shine so brightly through her window. But - mood does swing. Even though he was the one to cheat, she was the one cursing herself over and over again. Not because she felt any sympathy for his girlfriend, on the contrary, the thought that this girl got to have, what Y/N only experienced for one night, anytime, was infuriating. Fuck any girl power bullshit, she was jealous and angry at herself for crumbling so easily. She had been happy, content, on the lookout for someone available to date for fun and maybe love. Not fucking with her old best friend only to develop a crush so massive her apartment felt small. Y/N was content yesterday morning. This morning, she was satisfied, and anything but content. And yet, she couldn't help but smile into her morning coffee, while trying to remain casual and normal in front of her family.

Blow all my friendships To sit in hell with you

"We need to break up," he found himself saying in the early afternoon. There was no plan from his side, no agenda about getting with Y/N or anything like that. He just had to get out of a relationship where he managed to be the cheater. The decision was suddenly so simple, just hard to execute. There were tears. Not his. Mutual understanding is the hardest thing to fake.

Y/N really tried to go about with her day, having lunch with the family, catching up and just generally free Sunday vibes. Only problem was that she was all over the place mentally - short attention span, distracted and having trouble keeping up with longer conversations. Head over in the clouds, fingers tapping nervously. In some ways, she couldn't wait to get back to he daily life in London filled with work and array of distractions. There was no hope for her in this town. Guilt and desire punching through her own integrity. It was in the late afternoon when disturbing messages appeared under Charles Leclerc tag on socials, which she monitored in every available moment. When she saw her own front door on one of the headline photos, that's when she lost it completely. Panic set in when she finally came to a photo that the two of them talking in front of the bar, with speculative headlines.

But we're the greatest, they'll hang us in the Louvre Down the back, but who cares? Still the Louvre

She sat in her room, tired, confused and lonely. Social media doomscroll it was then, trying to desperately ignore any photos of them. Her brain got stuck in a loop when she stumbled upon a slow piano cover of Mamma Mia. Not particularly her favorite song. But it spoke of everything she couldn't put a name on. Their joined history, the change of course, the inevitable return and the sudden urge to get it right this time. It was like being possessed. She had to act this time. At least let him know that she got it wrong the first time. She had loved him. The feeling was just so common in her life that she didn't recognize it only after it was gone.

Look at me now, will I ever learn I don't know how, but I suddenly lose control There's a fire within my soul

She had to see him and it had to be NOW. Powered by the lyrics praising delusion, she was not going to let it slip through her fingers this time. Not even sure his old number was still active, she called him, only to end up in a voicemail without any message. His private socials were deleted or replaced and she could't just walk over to his flat. His girlfriend would be there and the thought of it broke her heart. Was her current state of mind only make things explosive and worse for everyone?

There had been many times she'd let her chances pass her by.

So I made up my mind, it must come to an end

Only once she was standing before Charles's childhood home, ringing the bell, she realized that zero thought went to what she actually wanted to say to him. Fear hit her hard. Seconds turned into minutes and she realized that nobody was probably home. Heart sank low. What was there to do now? She had no idea where he to find him.

//

They'd walked together for hours. It felt so intoxicatingly refreshing after all those months of no contact. If one got lucky in life, they'd understand the type of connection that does not go away with time. But there was something different in the air that evening, as if their usual hang out spot, just above the town had a different vibe that day. She looked him in the eye and saw a look she's seen countless of times on his face. There was a shift in her mind and out of nowhere - what if the line got crossed? Would it be such an issue? She knew Charles would never make the first move. What if? Just to know how it feels. Curiosity got the better of her. This was not the first time she glanced at his lips, wondering what they tasted like. But she knew the feelings he might still have for her was something she could not respond to properly. The thought of hurting her best friend was stopping her from ever actually exploring this idea. But, what if? Just this one time.

Thousand of quick thoughts passed through her mind in that one moment - the last few seconds before they kissed for the first time. She was nervous, but it didn't show. Confidently put her hands on his chest, stepped on her toes and put her lips on his. If she was scared, he was borderline terrified. Never expected her to actually do it. Her warm lips touched his own, but he was still trying to process that her hands rested on his chest tenderly. Stiff and shocked seventeen year old boy stood like a rock, trying to catch up with what was just happening. Both of them have had their fair share of kisses and make outs with other people in their life, but this was one different. Somehow, it was harder to kiss someone who actually knew personal things about you. It was no romantic kiss, once Charles finally started to respond, both of them picked up quite a quick tempo and all of that was more close to a drunken teenage make out rather than an honest vulnerable kiss. And still, his soft lips felt really good, her tongue exploring his mouth was sending him to highs unexperienced before. Just as he started to relax and stopped fathoming what was happening, she pulled away. It was all too much, too real and scary for her unsure self. Afraid of loosing her fake confident mask, she had to stop before she lost herself in this. What even was this? She'd be leaving for university soon, so what was the point.

"Sorry," she said immediately and looked anywhere else but his eyes. Stepped back away from him in order to gain more socially acceptable distance. "I dunno, guess I hadn't kissed anyone in a while, so yeah... But this is wrong, sorry for that." There is heartbreak and then there is heartbreak. Charles felt betrayed, she didn't even give him a chance to kiss her properly. He wasn't ready, didn't expect it and now it felt like his one chance got slipped away from him. Once again, he stood there, frozen and processing. She couldn't stand silence. Scary thing to experience in a difficult situation. "I should not have crossed the line, we're really good friends and-" "No," he cut her off, not letting her play this game again. "That's not true and you know that. I never told you in person, which is a really coward move, but that's on me. But you know how I feel. That hasn't changed and I can't imagine it ever will." His words burned like hot sand. "You're right, yes," she replied quickly and wished she could just make herself invisible for a moment. This was all too much to handle. "And that's why I'm saying I'm sorry. I thought ignoring the subject would help you..." "Help me? Help in what, getting over you?" he had to laugh. Where did her delusion end? Was it truly endless? "I don't want that. Definitely not from you. I want you to open your eyes and give us a chance." One thing she couldn't stand was to be pressured to something and this was strongly resembling that. How could someone else try to say what she wanted when she herself wasn't sure?

"Charles, I can't. I need to leave this place and figure out who I am." "Why can't I be a part of that journey?" he said, broken once again. "We would only end up hurting each other and lose our friendship, can't you see that? I want you in my life permanently, so we can't date." "How does any of this make sense in you head," he replied bitterly. While she waved around these big concepts, the one intrusive thought he had was that she was just trying to avoid telling him, that he was just a bad kisser. Her gut was telling her to run away from this. How is one suppose to resist that? "Charles. This whole thing is a mistake. You don't love me and as much as I'd like to, I don't think I love you." The word think punched through Charles like a knife. She wasn't even sure of that... "Well that's it then," he said, knowing the last thing he wanted was to talk her into being with him and have her run to someone else at the first opportunity. He was trying to control the emotional cocktail mixing within him. Trying get his anger, disappointment and wonder lust in check. He tried to read her facial expressions, but the only thing he finally saw was a little girl running away from mature feelings. Suddenly, he understood. She wasn't ready and there was nothing for him to do with that. His job now was to work on his attachment to her, because relying on her was only blocking his own development.

"I think I should get going, big day tomorrow," he lied and waved awkwardly instead of their usual hug. "Yeah, you're right. I'm gonna stay here for a while, if you don't mind," she said and turned her attention to the stunning view on the mountains, sea and the city below them. To Charles, their favorite hang out spot was ruined. Forever the place where his worst kiss happened. His stomach turned at the thought of that and he knew he needed to get out of there and far away from her immediately. "See you when I see you," he said, walking away. She watched him, hoping the weight on her shoulders would disappear quickly. They didn't speak to each other for more than two years after that.

//

It was hard to believe, she only came to their favorite spot to reminisce about one of her greatest misjudgement and dwell in her sorrow. But, to her luck, he was already there, looking over at the sea as they had countless times together. Walking towards him felt like walking on a tightrope with the chance of falling down getting bigger with every step.

Mamma mia, here I go again My, my, how can I resist you? Mamma mia, does it show again My, my, just how much I've missed you?

Charles didn't come there to meet up with her. His intention was to run away, to clear his thoughts, come to terms with the fact he had just cheated on someone. Take in the feeling Y/N made him burn with last night. Like some sort of breakthrough - this was they were all singing about. This is why people were able to drop their while life and follow love. It was an old and new love at the same. And that created a complete mess in his head. But when saw a figure coming his way, he knew immediately that she chose this place as well. Charles hadn't been at their spot since the time they first kissed here. Unlike Y/N, who came here anytime she was back in Monaco. She truly didn't expect him to be here - but took it as a sign that there was no way but forward for her. She walked towards him and sat on next to him, joining the view he was getting lost in. No words were shared for the first minute.

Y/N found out only after her university years that physical communication was her way of expressing feelings. Words were a little too messy and hard to put together. So she reached over to gently put her hand over his. She felt him shake a little, but he kept his hand below hers. Which she took as a good sign. Charles was the one to break the silence. "I hope you won't have much trouble online. There are pictures of us circling around," he said bluntly. "I have a very average face, I think I'm good." Charles laughed at her response. "As if." She really wanted not to ask. But the words just slipped out of her tongue. "Will your girlfriend mind?" And immediately after that, she wanted to shoot herself.

Charles took a deep breath. Then smiled bitterly, because what else was there to do. "Do you think so low of me that I could stay with someone once I'd cheated on them?" "Every couple goes through a crisis..." Charles chuckled again. "Have you ever been cheated on?" "Yes," she did not have to think twice about that. "But strangely enough, it was a relief when it finally happened." "See, so you understand." They sat in silence again. There was a feeling in the air like rain was coming. Neither of them moved. "Are you sad about it? Do you regret it?" She took Charles of guard. "Look at you, asking the big questions. What happened to you?" "Grew up, you know. You're not the only one. But don't get me wrong...it's still very hard. Talking." "I can see that," he replied, somewhat amused by her red cheeks. "To answer your important question," he highlighted, making her feel like a school girl passing a test, "I guess I regret the fact I wasn't honest enough to myself before something like that has happened." Y/N got a sudden influx of insecurity. Could it be that he was just unhappy in his relationship and it wasn't about the two of them? She pulled away a bit. Charles picked up on that. But this time, he couldn't put himself on the line first again. Not after what she said all those years ago. "Regret is the worst feeling. I think." "Why would you think?" "It's really hard to get rid of it. It lingers. Stays on." "Is there something you regret?" Somehow, he knew the answer before she did. "Of course. Everyone does." "You're avoiding again." "I know. I am perfectly aware of that." "At least something has changed."

The mood shifted and there was no way back. Charles was about to push like he had never done before. "Y/N. Why did you come here tonight. And be clear, blunt and honest or just leave now. It's been confusing enough even without you." She did not expect him to talk to openly. But she came searching for him, to do the leap, so it was actually appreciated. She started speaking, very slowly. "Um. I was looking for you. Wanted to say...not sure what exactly, but...I guess to let you know that I'd changed my mind. And I understand, you're somewhere else in your life now. But I need you to know." One very impatient Charles spoke when she took a break to breathe. "Know what?" "Charles, you keep interrupting me! Let me just...you know." He nodded in understanding, amused by her giddiness. "I just need to say...When were young, I never realized that the connection we have is special and rare. Stupid as I was, I thought it was just normal and common. And I don't regret not dating you back then. I had to take some time to grow up and understand more about the world. But now I do - and even if you've moved on, I feel like I'm just about to get on this train." He took in everything she said carefully. Tried not to get to ahead of himself.

"Did you ever think of me? Or it this just because last night." This time, it was she who smiled with a sad undertone. Did she ever think of him? Her? Had she spent nights and more nights wishing he'd call? Had she walked aimlessly around Monaco just to run into him? Did she compare every guy she shared a bed with to the times Charles made her feel like she was the only one on this planet that he could see? "One would say it's alarming how often I come back to the days we spent together. How hard it is to be so raw with someone in the same way as I was with you." Charles was slightly overwhelmed by her words. "Look, Charlie, I don't want to put any pressure on you. I had many chances and blew them all. I get it. Just want you to know that this was not a random encounter with an old friend for me." She'd been so focused on the right words coming out, that she missed the moment when Charles got close to her, so his kiss that followed was a surprise to her. Soft and sweet lips touched hers and it was like a release from prison. This time, it felt so right and safe. She didn't want him to end this. But once he inevitably did, fear came in like an unexpected summer storm. Would he be as cruel as she had been back then? Sharing a kiss with her while knowing that he was going to break her heart?

He took a breath in order to speak again. She stopped him with her finger. For just a minute, she wanted to keep this moment intact. To have this possibility of him still having a trace of the love he once had and she now bared as well. "Charles, I know what you're going to say. I can taste the words in your mouth. Please, don't." "So tell me, what am I going to say?" She sighed, slightly annoyed with him pushing her. "You're going to say that you'd moved on and this was just to have some fun. And you know what? Maybe it really is for the better, it was never-" "And this time, I am really going to stop you," he said, staring deeply into her eyes. "It's even harder now that we're adults. I understand that, understand the hardship my lifestyle can bring to the ones closest to me...My love for you never left. Yes, it's way less destructive and I've come to peace with it. But I am also not a scared boy anymore. Y/N, I would like to see you again and not as a friend. I don't think you ever were my friend. But you need to brave and honest too this time. Are you ready for that?" "I want to have all the hardest conversations with you, even if that's all we'd be doing," she laughed, taking in the fact he did not reject her. "I sincerely hope we'll be doing more than that," he said and joined her in easing the tension. "Is this really happening?" she whispered, as if it was a dream. "Yes, I believe it really is."

Mamma mia, here I go again My, my, how can I resist you?

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@linnmee @itsjustkhaos @rhythmstars @blueflorals @janeholt3

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 9: Pretty Tired of Talking About Tennis

Note: Well...I'm back. And I have several things to say in this author's note. A.) sorry, it should've been sooner. B.) I can't wait to get back into the swing of this story. Most importantly, C.) thank you so much for the continued love you've shown it. As those who have seen the movie know, we're quite literally still in the beginning. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and the ones to come. Please remember these characters are all meant to be flawed but none completely evil as you read. They will be toxic and make mistakes. Our good friend Patrick is distinctly missing in this one, but don't worry, his absence is not permanent. Anyways, I love interacting with you all so feel free to send me messages, things in my inbox, and comment. And to those who would like to know who's children those are...well...what do you guys think? I'd love to hear thoughts and guesses. If this sucks let's chalk it up to me being rusty and I'll try to do better next time lol. Love y'all <3

Warnings: Mention of sexual content, strong language, themes of cheating (MDNI)

Taglist (This shit normally doesn't work for me): @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

“This is some bullshit. Now, they don’t wanna sing.” Heaven shakes her head, flexing her toes against Tashi’s leg on the other side of the couch. “That’s so stupid.”

“They need to get rid of those other two girls, clearly, Chanel and Galleria want it more.” Tashi shrugs, swatting Heaven’s foot away, rolling her eyes when she feels the girl drop them right back into her lap. “I’m Galleria, you’re Chanel.”

“Um, I’m definitely Galleria, what the fuck are you even saying?” 

“Nope,” Tashi says, popping the ‘p’ and reaching across the coffee table to take a sip of her drink, cringing at the bitter taste of alcohol on her tongue. “Okay, this is fucking nasty, we probably should’ve looked up what the fuck we were making.”

“Mm. And have my mom find out we drank when she goes through my computer? Girl.” Heaven shifts in her seat, moving to sit criss-crossed and face Tashi on the couch. “Cheers.” She grins, pushing her mug against Tashi’s, smiling even harder when the taller girl mirrors her position and makes a little ‘tink’ sound as the glasses collide. “You wouldn’t even like having two other girls that hang out with us all the time.”

Tashi’s brows furrow disbelief clear on her face at the accusation. “Me? Why?”

“You’re possessive.”

“I’m not possessive, you just pick dickheads to fuck with.” 

“Oh yeah? And your type is better?” Heaven snorts, leaning to the side, reaching over to the coffee table digging through the makeup bag of nail polishes Tashi had presented her with when they’d started setting up for their little movie night. Heaven produces a sage green polish from the bag, waving the bottle for Tashi’s approval. “Caleb was the cream of the crop then?”

Tashi shrugs, reaching into Heaven’s lap and selecting the baby blue the dancer had selected for herself. “Better than Chance. Try to stay in the lines this time?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Heaven mumbles, a smile on her face as she takes Tashi’s hand, hunching over, breaking her generally perfect posture to focus in on her friend’s delicate nails. Tashi sits back and watches as Heaven tilts her head in concentration, biting down lightly on her bottom lip as she glides the brush across her fingernails, the cool polish setting in as Heaven lightly blows on each nail as she goes. “Chance was the fucking worst.”

“Yeah and he hated me.”

“All of your boyfriends always hate me.” Heaven hums. “Wonder why that is.”

Tashi smiles, turning her face away for a second, giving herself a break from the thrumming feeling looking at Heaven gives her and watching the scene playing out on tv. It was something of a mutiny. Dorinda and Aqua, talking shit about Galleria to Chanel. Calling her a diva and demanding that her best friend do something. Chanel knowing her friend had gone too far, done too much and loving her anyway. Because their dreams were too important. Their friendship took precedent. “Probably because they know you’re obsessed with me. Look at you, working so hard to paint my nails and make me all pretty.”

“You’re the one who picked out my favorite color.” Heaven purses her lips, closing the polish and placing it back into the bag, holding out Tashi’s hand to admire her own work. “They’re just jealous because I;m a better boyfriend to you than they are. No one meets your expectations like I do.”

“Yeah?” Tashi challenges, quirking an eyebrow, her own twin grin matching Heaven’s. “You think you impress me?” Locked in a stalemate, both girls are unflinching, both daring the other to look away, to fold first. That’s how it starts. Their staring contest had begun as a battle of wills. The smell of popcorn and nail polish in the air. The distant noise of the ‘All Around the World’ song from Cheetah Girls playing on the television. The dark hallways leading to the living room threaten to suddenly reveal Heaven’s stepfather or worse mother to discover them and burst their bubble. But what was more pressing was the energy between the two girls. It was nothing they hadn’t felt before. After a heated match, as they rush together to celebrate another victory for Tashi, Heaven’s voice hoarse from how loudly she’d screamed from her. After each show, or recital, when Heaven is still doused in show makeup and glitter, and Tashi can’t help but see a shining star when she’s looking her in the face. But this time, Tashi did something different. Something only Heaven has ever been able to draw out of her in her 16 years of living. 

She concedes.

“Hev, you’re really pretty. Obviously,” she pulls Heaven’s hand into her own lap, toying with her fingers, without breaking eye contact. Her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know that.”

Heaven can appreciate it. Tashi putting herself out there like this, no matter how small the gesture. She got the point. And it was hard for Tashi, for both of them, to be vulnerable. Heaven had spent the past year wrestling with the feelings she’d developed for her friend. She’d just convinced herself she was satisfied just being her favorite person, even if they weren’t romantic a few months ago. Sure she flirted and joked, but she never thought Tashi would initiate something. There wasn’t anything in the world at that moment that could make her leave her hanging. 

“Yeah, but, you’re the only person it really matters to hear it from.” Heaven’s cheeks dimple as she scoots closer, intertwining her fingers with Tashi’s. 

Tashi’s brows furrow as she cocks her head back, creating a little more space as Heaven leans in, causing the other girl to roll her eyes. “And?”

“And,” Heaven’s nose wrinkles playfully as she sits up on her knees, breathing softly against Tashi’s lips before connecting them with hers. “You’re really pretty too.”

2019 (California)

Heaven speed walks down the walkway to the larger waiting room she knew Art would be placed in. A splitting stress headache is already forming in the front of her brain as she makes her way past the busy employees running the event, hiding her face from the flashing lights of fans and photographers. 

As she rounds the corner she sees Tashi pacing back and forth, running her fingers through her bob and biting her lower lip. She pauses in her steps as she sees Heaven making her way toward her. Clapping her hands together and shrugging she fixes Heaven with a disapproving look. “This should be easy. What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“Why? What happened?”

“He’s just,” Tashi huffs out a breath, shaking her head. “He doesn’t give a fuck. I can’t give a fuck for him, Heaven.”

“M’not asking you to. Stop talking to me like that, you’re not my coach, you’re Art’s.” Heaven snaps the gum in her mouth irritably.

“I am his coach.”

“Then coach him.”

“Arthur is a grown man-” Tashi scoffs, laughing humorously.

“I know.” 

“I can’t get him to do anything that he doesn’t want to do.” 

“Be patient with him.”

“Interestingly enough, that’s your job, not mine.” Tashi grimaces, leaning down to mumble as a pair of fans walk by waving at them. Heaven offers them her own smile and nod as they pass.  Team Donaldson is a unit after all. “Look, I’m doing my part. He needs to do his, or this doesn’t work. Then none of us are happy.” Tashi tilts her head in the direction of the door. “Look, he’s asking for you. If you can get him together, that’s great, if not…”

“He’s fine, Tashi. I’m gonna talk to him. Let me talk to him.” Heaven’s tired. She knows Tashi’s tired and it’s obvious Art is. But this has to work. They’ve worked too hard. All of them have worked too hard to not make it to the finish. Heaven reaches out, grabbing Tashi’s hand and squeezing, her own face softening at the exhausted look on Tashi’s pretty face. “Let me fix it.”

Tashi takes another deep breath, eyes slipping closed briefly before flexing her fingers around Heaven’s, twisting the gold band underneath the accent ring on her finger. “He needs to be ready in 7 minutes. I’m giving you 5.”

“That’s all I need.”

The door clicks open and Art’s eyes trail over from the wall to the doorway. 

“Arthur.”

Heaven stands in front of him with her hand on her hip, the other hand wrapped around the knob as the view of a sour Tashi fades from his view as the door closes again, head tilted as if she’s observing him. He shifts under the weight of her gaze, sitting back in the fold out chair, opening his legs and holding out one of his calloused hands he’d just been inspecting. Art holds his breath as she purses her lips, raising a single brow at him as she decides if she feels like bothering with him, if she is mad at him too. 

He releases that breath when she rolls her eyes, taking two large steps before standing between his legs, resting her own soft, unbroken hands on his face, soothing the frown on his lips away with each brush of her thumb. She allows him to explore with his own hands the body he’d wished he’d woken up to that morning. Every morning. He runs his palms up and down her strong, dancer’s legs, taking in her sweet scent as he pushes his face against her stomach and his palms squeeze her ass, pulling her closer. A familiar wave of pride washes over him as he feels the difference in fabric between the rest of her tracksuit and the letters painted across the backside that were similarly spelled out across her chest.

DONALDSON

“What the fuck?” She all but whispers, her rose petal lips set into a confused grimace. “You don’t wanna play today?”

“I never said that.” he mumbles against the fabric. Heaven pushes him by his shoulders so that he settles against the back of the chair and leans down so they’re face to face, sighing as Art pushes their foreheads together. 

“So, why are you sitting here like someone who doesn’t wanna go play some fucking tennis?” She asks. Big brown eyes scan his somber face, her manicured thumb sweeps across the skin of his cheek. “He’s a fucking nobody, Art.”

“I know that.” 

“So what’s the problem?” Heaven squints, brows furrowing, pushing him away again as he rubs his face against hers. She guides him by his chin, forcing him back enough so that can look him in his eyes. “Are you done?”

“Baby-” He starts, only for her to pull him even closer.

“No, seriously. Are you done? Is this all? Let me know now.” 

“I never…I never said that, it’s just-” Art stares up into concerned brown eyes and sees his reflection in them. He can't take it. The look. It’s not the stern look of disapproval or disdain. It’s not even annoyance or agitation. It's disappointment. It’s fear. Fear that he’s tapped out. Fear that he is done. He can see that Heaven is petrified of what that would mean. And Art is too. “I dunno, Hev.” 

She cups his face then, her warm hands contrasted by the cold ring on her finger, her proximity clouding his judgment and overpowering thoughts of exhaustion and disinterest. Heaven seduces him with the love in her eyes. She climbs fully into his lap then, resting her weight on him as they melt together, tension in his body dissipating with each new place their bodies meet. “I want to help you. Tell me how. Tell me what you need. Tell me what you need me to do, Art, and I’ll do it. What do you want, baby?” 

“I want,” He sighs deeply, eyes fluttering shut as he brushes his lips against hers, gripping her waist tighter as they share their air. “I want you to look at me.” His lips capture hers in a heated kiss. Heaven opens her mouth to him, releasing her own sigh as their tongues brush before she tugs his bottom lip into her mouth. A small sound of surprise escapes her as Art steals the gum from her mouth, holding it out of the way in his cheek as he explores her mouth. “Just me.” He murmurs against her lips. 

Heaven pulls back at that, pressing one more kiss on his nose, face softening when he leans into the last little piece of affection desperately, before dropping his own kisses on her nose, forehead and jaw, ending with her palm. “I’m always looking at you, superstar.”

It’s almost like fate wanted to remind him that’s not true. That these little moments in time are just a fantasy. Because just like that the room doors were opening and Tashi was power walking her way in. Suddenly, those brown eyes didn’t belong to him anymore. Neither set of them. Instead, there’s a silent conversation happening over his head. A language he couldn’t understand even if it were spoken out loud. He’s cold under the shadows they cast as they discuss him without him. His mind wanders as his eyes trail back over to the picture of a younger, more enthusiastic him that hangs on the waiting room wall. 

There’s another knock at the door that catches the trio’s attention, a woman with a headset pokes her head in and offers the blond a wide smile, a fan working the event no doubt, damn near gushing as she holds her clipboard to her chest. “Mr. Donaldson, it’s time.”

“Okay.” Tashi answers for him. The woman is shaken then, acknowledging there are two other people in the room. Two other athletes. There always are, with Art. But he’s the star. In everyone else’s eyes. He’s the one that matters. She nods and leaves the room, scurrying away to her hurry and fulfill whatever other responsibilities, no doubt in interest of finishing in time to see the Art Donaldson play.  Heaven doesn’t even wait for them, following the employee out as both Tashi and Art watch her slip from the room to meet them outside. Tashi moves in front of Art, smoothing her hand over his hair as she studies his face. She cups her hand under his mouth glancing down at it expectantly. Breathing out a heavy sigh, Art spits his gum into her open palm, before feeling the other hand hold his other cheek. “Decimate that little bitch.”

Leo Du Marier was a new player. He was the best in his school and eventually made it into the big leagues. Big enough that today, he’d be playing against Art Donaldson today. The kid was fucking shitting his pants. Art Donaldson has basically won, every fucking award a tennis player could win, and was the youngest to do so. All he was missing was the U.S. Open. Du Marier himself had waited in line for an embarrassing amount of time to try and score a pair of Nike x Donaldson sneakers when they’d dropped. The younger player couldn’t decide if he was excited to meet the man he wishes to model his career after or petrified. The man was going to destroy him. Humiliate him. He knows it. 

The only thing that gave him some kind of relief was that Art was known to be kind. While the man was admittedly smug, past opponents do speak of the crooked smile and strong handshake that he offers after he drags them through the fucking mud. He’s seen many pictures that the blond man has taken with people just like Du Marier, wrapping his arm around them on one side, but refusing to let go of whatever trophy he’d wrenched out of their hands with the other. 

At least he’d kick his ass with a kind smile. 

So, when Du Marier’s coach nudges him as they make their way through the player’s tunnel leading to the courts and he sees Art, he stops. He feels larger than life. Not in height, because though he’s pretty tall, it’s not the length of him. It’s the stride. It’s the walk. His gear. It’s pristine, with his name printed on it. His demeanor. It’s not at all what the younger player had expected. It’s cold and unmoving. Nothing like the player he’d seen from the bleachers years ago when he was too young to even enter. Flanking his sides are two beautiful women, walking in unison with him, all of their steps coming off perfectly executed and calculated. Each of them seemingly the exact same distance apart from each other. Du Marier couldn’t help but stare. 

And Art felt it. He turns his head, looking at him. Staring. Almost…glaring. It felt like ice in his veins as he watched the celebrity frown at him, not so much as offering a wave as he made his way past. Du Marier unconsciously holds his breath, waiting, pleading for the moment to pass. He thanks his fucking lucky stars as one of the woman’s hand makes its way to Art’s face, diamond ring glittering against her skin as she guides his face forward before they exit the tunnel, waving to the paparazzi. 

“Did you see that look? He’s going to destroy me, no?”

“Worry about it later, Leo.”

As Du Marier watches the Art Donaldson, send yet another tennis racket sailing against the wall, sweat dripping down his brow he releases his breath. A smile spreads across his face as some of the crowd cheers for him and even more of them boo him for his win. He was cool with being an underdog success story. Especially against that asshole. He could feel the people in the crowd nearly vibrating with disappointment, as the fan favorite lost another match. He used to be one of them. Rooting for the blond asshole across the net. But now? Well, maybe this is why they say don’t meet your fuckin’ heroes. 

He could at least say, to Art’s credit, he didn’t seem to give a fuck about the crowd. As he paced along the court, kicking his chair and swearing under his breath, he only seemed to be looking in one section. To be honest, it’d been the only section he’d bothered looking at the entire match. One might say he’d looked so much that it was what threw him off. Du Marier takes a second to follow Art’s gaze, eyes flicking between the angry tennis player and two empty seats. He couldn’t help but understand why Art was so upset. Leo would be hurt too if his wife and coach left before they even got to matchpoint. 

.

2007 (California: Stanford Campus) 

Heaven’s leg jumps as she sits in the spectator seat, watching the ball go back and forth between Tashi and Art twice before it rolls to a stop on Art’s side. She drops her head back in the chair in annoyance as she hears Tashi huff. 

“Hit the ball.”

She doesn’t even bother opening her eyes as she hears Tashi serve, a severe lack in the sound of footsteps coming from Art’s side. He’s not even trying. It’s just gonna piss her off. It’s not helping us see what she can do. Heaven groans when she hears the ball hit the fence behind him and sits up with a frown on her face.

“What’re you, scared you’re gonna hurt me?” Tashi growls, gripping her racket. Her brows are furrowed as she glares at the blond man who simply opens his mouth and then closes it, glancing at Heaven as if she was supposed to save him from Tashi’s scrutiny. “Pussy.” 

With that, Heaven climbs down from the spectator’s seat, walking irritably over to Art’s side, tugging up her gym shorts and hopping a little from one foot to the other. “Tashi, come on.” She holds her hand out for Art’s racket without sparing him a glance, “move.” she mumbles nudging him out of the way.

Heaven is by no means a tennis player. Recreationally, she could hold her own very well, and she was quick on her feet due to dance, but the real reason she could play decently was because Tashi demanded it. It was for when Tashi was antsy and no one else was unavailable. Or when she was upset and needed to blow off some steam the only way she knew how. 

“Actually try to hit the ball.” The taller girl says grumpily, rounding back into position, sitting into a squat.

And she does. 

Heaven tries very hard. She respects Tashi, and she knows she’s the better player, so she does her best. And it’s good for a few moments. Until she tries to send her down the line, and her knee gives out, sending her down onto the court. 

Art is jumping over the net in a flash trying to get to the girl and help her up. But Heaven just stands behind, twirling the racket in her hand.

“Tashi, get up.” 

“I am. I’m good-” she lightly pushes Art’s helping hands away, leg wobbling as she attempts to stand, pushing off of the rough gravel of the court. “I’m good, I’m fine-”

“Hold on.” Art says softly, holding the girl’s arms, sighing as her knee buckles slightly, causing her to stumble. “Maybe we should take a break for today.”

“She’s fine. We need to keep going.” Heaven walks over to the net, taking Art’s outstretched hand as she swings her legs over, oblivious to Tashi's eyes dropping to their hands. “T, you’re good, right?”

“I’m fine.” the taller girl grits her teeth, trying to regain her balance.

“See?”

Art sucks some air between his teeth, running his hand along Heaven’s arm, pulling her a little closer, speaking softly. “Hev, her knee, c’mon.” 

Tashi feels her skin crawl as Art and Heaven’s eyes drop to her leg. The fucking pity in Art’s voice. The frustration on Heaven’s face. She was so fucking sick of being injured. Her teammates were bad enough, but Art the fucking tennis player who is hellbent on stealing her girlfriend, and said success junkie girlfriend looking at her the way they were was literally too much to fucking bear. She couldn’t handle him feeling bad for her and Heaven looking at her like she was damaged good. She was already irritable because that loser Patrick had been blowing up her goddamn phone with nothing but excuses. Even after she’d made it clear she never wanted to see him again. Then she misses one recital. One goddamn opener and all of a sudden Heaven was ‘navigating’ a new relationship with Art. They weren’t breaking up, but now there are feelings between the two of them. She can understand the appeal of Art. He’s hot, a good player, successful in his own right. And desperate. A lovesick puppy, hearts damn near appearing in his eyes when the object of his affection is in the room. But he’s here and he’s a constant reminder of what her body is screaming it can’t do anymore. They both are. And her choosing him in Tashi’s face only made the pain worse. “Ignore him. Let’s keep going.”

Her voice sounds stronger in her head than it does out loud, leading her girlfriend to pause. “T, maybe Art’s right and you need a break?”

“Jesus fucking christ, fucking forget it.” she hisses, tossing her head back. “If you don’t want to help me you seriously just go.”

“I’m here to fucking help you!”

“You’re here to fuck Art, which is fine, trust me, I don’t fucking care.” Tashi shrugs, laughing humorlessly. 

“Hey, Tashi-” Art starts, standing between them.

“I’m here to help you, Tashi. That’s what I always do, that’s why I’m always here.” 

“Well, I don’t need your help right now. I really don’t need to fuck up my other leg.” Tashi finishes, crossing her arms. Heaven’s mouth drops open, eyes watering as she stares at her girlfriend in shock.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean was it supposed to be helpful finding out you’re cheating on me with our friend and then watching you fight with our boyfriend right before my match?” Tashi smoothes a hand over her messy ponytail, wetting her lips. “It’s fine, I forgive you. You too, thank you, for rubbing that in my face by the way, friend. I forgive you, for white knighting your way into my girlfriend’s pants and taking the time to let me know right before one of the biggest matches of my college career.”

Heaven’s eyes widen, turning to look between Art and Tashi, bottom lip wobbling as she holds back the tears that threaten to flood her eyes. Tashi rolls her own eyes to the sky, looking away as Art wraps his arm around Heaven, tugging her into a hug, murmuring an apology and stammering explanations into her hair. “Tashi, that’s not how it went, alright? All she ever does is try to think of you, and care about you.”

“Fucking kidding me.” the girl murmurs, limping to the other side of the court. Heaven watches as Tashi picks up a stray ball, bouncing it off of the fence and beginning to practice by herself. She shifts in Art’s arms, looking up at him. 

“I’m um, gonna stay with her for a while. Practice with her a bit. Can we…can I talk to you later?”

Blue and brown puppy dog eyes stare into her soul, and involuntary pout forming as Art lets Heaven send him off, chest tight as he feels his own wave of guilt overtake him. 

Art is anxious for the next few hours as he waits to hear from Heaven or Tashi. He’d hope they’d talk and call him back. But as day turned to night, he realized that the girls may have genuinely just needed him out of the way to continue peacefully practicing. 

He wishes he’d said more. Done more. Heaven and Tashi’s relationship is so complex, it feels like a minefield to navigate. Sometimes they’re friends, sometimes they’re girlfriends, sometimes it’s like they believe they’re the only two people in the world. He couldn’t step in and yell at Tashi, he wouldn’t want to, and even if he did, Heaven wouldn’t tolerate it for a second. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Heaven to leave with him. Partially because part of him wonders if what Tashi was starting to say was right. Did he ruin her life? He, Patrick, and Heaven, were walking out of this mess they made relatively unscathed and Tashi’s dreams were likely ruined. Anyone could look at the proud girl and know she’s devastated. Had her life been better without them in it? Had Heaven’s? 

The other reason being he’d feared what he would find out. It was one thing, to gain some confidence and beat Patrick out for something they both wanted. Someone. But his friend was liable to fuck up in some way, to lose the girls and leave room for Art to take his place. But Tashi was nearly flawless. She was so similar and different from Heaven, anyone could see they compliment each other. And Heaven loves her so much. Tashi has years worth of ‘I love you’ from Heaven under her belt. Art had just managed to get two to match his fifty. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he drew a line in the sand, held out his hand for Heaven when Tashi was going in the opposite direction. And so he’s careful. And he waits. He was choosing not to play a game he’s almost certain he would lose. 

It’s no shock to him when Heaven texts him at 1:25 in the morning to let him know she’d gone back to UCLA. He’d already packed a bag to take with him and had begun shoving one shoe on his foot, stumbling around the room as his phone vibrated with her message. He would chase her. Art would always chase her if he had to. Even if someone was pulling her away. 

But not if she didn’t want it. 

No. If Heaven decided she needed space, she didn’t…want him, he’d do what she wanted. Even if it hurts him. She’s worth it.

That’s exactly what he tells himself as he climbs into his twin sized bed, biting down on his own fist, willing himself not to cry when the phone brings him the message he was dreading.

I’ve got to think through some things. I think we need space…we did a bad thing Art.

Well, Tashi did warn him. When it came to Heaven, she’d never really lose.

2019 (California)

“Ouch this is getting to be brutal, you just can’t be missing shots like that.”

Tashi cuts her eyes toward Art, sipping her coffee silently as he meets her eyes, offering her a borderline sarcastic smile. 

“And there goes the racket.”

“He was playing really well.”

Tashi leans forward, placing her drink on the table before crossing her arms. “I’m pulling you out of Cincinnati.” 

“T-”

“Might as well pull you out of the Open too, if this isn’t gonna be your year then why bother?” she shrugs, kicking her feet back up onto the hotel couch. 

“I’m just rusty, it’s a confidence thing.”

“Get your fucking confidence back, I can’t do it for you. Heaven can’t do it for you.”

“No one is asking you to.” He sighs, grabbing his protein shake from the table. 

“When you play like that you are.” The door to the suite clicks open and Heaven comes in wearing a gym set, one headphone covering her ear, the other pushed back on her head. Art’s eyes follow her as she pauses, briefly making eye contact with him before leaning over the counter and typing on her phone. “I would fucking kill for a recovery like yours, a child, an old lady, fucking anybody.” 

“Okay, jesus.” Heaven calls from behind the couch, making her way over. She leans over the back of the couch, resting her forearms and curling her lip. 

Tashi shrugs again, adjusting herself to look at Heaven. “I mean we’re all adults here. Everyone has made decisions, if this is it, if this is all you guys want as your legacy that’s fine. We’ve all made enough money. We can retire, and be rich people, run the foundations.”

“Where are they?”

“In the living room.”

The three adults pause their conversation, all plastering easy looks onto their faces as Aurora comes bounding in, curls still dripping wet from the tub, plopping herself onto the couch between Tashi and Art. Tashi’s mom hovering in the doorway. 

“Hi, baby.” Tashi chirps, adjusting the girl’s Doc McStuffins nightgown. 

“Can we watch Spiderverse?” 

“Of course we can. Course we can, it’s just, we gotta talk about tennis right now.” Tashi pouts, running her hands along the little girl’s hair.

“But you’re always talking about tennis.”

“I know baby,” Tashi sends Art a pointed look, causing him to drag  his own eyes over to Heaven. The shorter woman stands behind the couch, rubbing her temples, eyes closed, refusing to look at either of them. “I know.” 

“Aurora, baby, I’ll watch with you. That’s like, my favorite movie.” Heaven smiles brightly, the grin not meeting her eyes as she walks around the front of the couch, taking Aurora’s hand in hers. “Besides, I’m getting pretty tired of talking about tennis too.”

Tashi picks up her phone, shaking her head as Art watches Heaven leave with Aurora, the separator for the bedroom closing shut behind them. “She likes it here. Aurora.” She snaps her phone shut. “Heaven doesn’t.”

“We could figure something out. Something more permanent. Or, closer to New York.” Art sighs, a pained expression on his face as he stares past Tashi at the doorway. 

“We could. I meant what I said. If this is all you can handle. It ends here.” The blond man swallows, bringing his gaze back to the woman in front of him. He knows it’s not true. It’s not okay if he can’t get them to the finish line. No matter how tired he is. “Or you can keep being a tennis player, which is what you are. What do you want?”

“I can play Cincinnati.”

“No, no you can’t. Not like this. Let me see.” Tashi crosses her legs as she scrolls through her phone, finally finding something she deems reasonable and scooting closer to Art, turning her phone to him. “Phil’s Tire Town, that seems promising.”

Art skims the information on the page and scoffs in disbelief, “That’s a challenger.”

“That, is exactly what you need to get your fuckin’ confidence back. Because in middle of fucking nowhere, Phil’s Tire Town, there will be absolutely nobody on the other side of the net who can shake your fucking confidence. Right?” She doesn’t wait for him to respond before she stands, declaring she was going to make a call to get him a spot.

He feels a wave of embarrassment at the thought of going to butt fuck nowhere to participate in the kind of Challenger he hadn’t participated in since he was 19. He’s fucking humiliated actually. But before the shame can overtake him, he catches sight of the gold band gleaming on his hand that he’d been sure to put back on as soon as his match was over. And any complaints he’d had are suddenly being drowned out by the fear of what would happen if he didn’t finish. 

“Tashi.”

“We had a deal, Art. I upheld my end, you uphold yours.”

[byalexisness]

☆none like you

Eita Otoya x fem! reader

anonymous asked: hii!!! first i just wanna say that im in LOVE with how u write and how u portray the boys as yanderes sm!! like i just cannot stop rereading ur stories secondly i wanted to request one for otoya eita? where like: at first he treated reader like another fling, but when he notices that reader doesn't come running after him like the rest; he tries to get reader to like do that, but then becomes obsessed with reader in the process? im not sure if my request is understandable but i hope it is!! (ÓÓ) p.s no rush! u can take as long as u want, idm the wait!! <33

hiii, i'm really sorry for my absence and for the fact that this took so so so long and it's honestly so disappointing :(( i had no motivation to write and no ideas :( and i REALLY appreciate your love ty bby <3 content warning: yandere behavior, stalking, implied violence (not towards the reader)

at first, you were like the rest. a normal college girl, with your cute uniform and average grades, you didn't stand out in any way.

for him, you were just a...meh. he didn't really pay attention to you, just knowing you existed as his classmate, just another woman.

that's all he thought you were...

...until one day, when he tried to hit up on you and got a little surprise. instead of blushing, stuttering and acting like a high-school girl whose first crush interacted with her, you did...nothing, basically.

the conversation still replays in his mind to this day.

you were sitting in the college classroom, headphones on your head as you peacefully scrolled through your phone.

"well, hello there, cutie." he started with the same thing he tells every single girl, which, usually, makes them flustered.

you looked at him and, after blinking confused, you seemed to...cringe. as if it creeped you out to be flirted with.

"hello?" you greeted back, confused. "can i help you?"

"yeah, perhaps...you could..." he said as he leaned on your table. "...give me your number?"

blinking confused again, you cocked a brow. after a slight scoff, you shook your head.

"i'm not interested."

that was not the reaction he expected, at all.

and the fact that it didn't only happen once, but twice made it even worse.

eita was so used to girl chasing him that, when his advances got rejected, he felt hurt.

not in his heart, but in his ego.

you hurt his fragile ego so, you could only pay the price, right? and what better way to pay him back was there to exist rather than just straight up making you obsessed with him? just like any other girl, you have to fall for his charms, right?

right?

absolutely wrong.

during his weeks of continually chasing after you, by easily inserting himself into your small friendgroup, following you around, sitting next to you in every class you shared (simply making it that you two spend as much time togheter as possible), his whole plan went down the hill.

instead of having you become obsessed with him, he became obsessed with you.

it was just something about your appearance, about how you walked, about your voice...about you, overall, that made him lose his mind.

eita had no idea how and why did it happen, but he paid it no mind. he gaslit himself that he wasn't obsessed, that everything was just a part of his plan to make you love him so he could hurt your feelings.

not even karasu ever saw him like this.

that, until he found himself secretly beating up every boy that flirted with you or every person that generally upseted you...even if it was a simple reply that bothered you in your conversation with you.

he knew your schedule by heart, he knew where you went most of the time. he had dozens of photos of you kept in a secret compartiment of his room.

it was...concerning, really. and he knew it well enough.

and when he found out about what his best friend was up to, karasu tried to warn him... he really tried to convince otoya that his behavior was absolutely not normal. but to no use.

nothing and nobody could break otoya out of the spell you unknowingly put him under.

it was twisted and sick but he was in love.

deeply.

and it wouldn't end too pretty for you either.

[faworsley]

have you noticed that cdv always looks kind of scrungy and dirty. like his cleanest look was carnivale and/or billy orrens death scene

How did I not see this YEAH he’s always just a wee bit filthy . Which is very interesting to me because he’s on Erebus

Thats James’ ship. Remember “your nails are a Terror Mr. Wentzell”? I don’t think it’s characteristic of him to let anyone be that like. Dirty in general. And depending on how you interpret the scene (though I believe it was Dave who confirmed it was physical dirtiness) Hickey’s punishment is exacerbated when Crozier tacks on dirtiness as an offense. It’s very much not the sort of thing you can get away with easily on a Navy ship

And he’s sort of an officer, but not in the way Gore and Dundy are officers; he’s a friend of Hodgson, but they’re on opposite ships. So he really doesn’t have a lot of people lined up to protect him from punishment if he violates minor rules the way people closer to Fitzjames do, and this is likely made worse by his … behavior in general. Few people probably are terribly bothered by his microaggressions and more macro aggressions against Silna but he also has that particular older teen weird comment charm that makes him Say things that nobody really likes

And while part of his scrunginess is probably just. Characteristic of Charlie idk I think it’s very interesting that he has a lot to lose by maintaining scrunginess like that (and a lot of factors that make it difficult for him to stay scrungy) and yet… he scrungs on..

So sorry that was really long but ultimately YES he’s always at least a little scrungy, carnivale being the second least scrungy we ever see him (I do believe Billy Orren’s death is the cleanest he presents in the show, but this is before it all goes downhill) and based on the overall timeline I think it’s an interesting contrast to characters like fitzjames and very particularly Jopson BUT WAIT!

More jopson thoughts because he became Lieutenant when they needed another officer even though Charlie was already supposed to be promoted. He *passed his lieutenant exam before they set sail* and the only reason he was taken on as Just a mate is because all the lieutenant positions were full. As the Erebus lieutenants drop like flies throughout the series there are many points when by all rights he should have been promoted to fill their absence but he’s not

And then when Jopson is promoted (a steward!) over Charlie (actually a lieutenant!) I think this is a point after which his scrunginess really snowballs. Jopson has always been careful not to let inner turmoil show on the outside, but aside from his snarky comments Charlie’s outer appearance very much does reflect his inner turmoil, which compounds steadily post Billy Orren, is slightly relieved by the carnivale festivities, and then takes a sharp downturn toward the end. Just a thought ..

[restinslices]

Hey sorry I’m the Liu Kang requester that accidentally put you through a tone of pain (sorry bout that)

Gimme angst of him seeing the woman he loves dying and getting reincarnated over and over again and no matter what she keeps dying in his arms by unnatural causes. This is his last time, his final try to save her. Will he save her? Or will she die again?

Firstly, no need to apologize lol. I’m just brain empty 6/7 days of the week. Funny enough, once you sent this I got more ideas for Liu Kang so we’ll see more of him once I finish all my requests. Secondly, I really like this prompt. I really like this trope in general. But I feel like I wrote it so bad😭. I don’t feel like I did it justice. As I was writing it I was like “the hoes not gon like this. Why is my brain buns?”. So, apologies in advance-

When Liu Kang returned with Raiden after speaking to the Elder Gods, the last thing he expected was to see a blood bath caused by Sindel. 

Bodies laid on the floor perfectly still. It was like someone laid a bunch of mannequins down and dressed them up to look exactly like the kombatants he cared for, and honestly if this was all just some cruel joke and everyone stood up and laughed, he would've breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the anger would kick in later, but he'd sigh and say how happy he was to see everyone still alive. 

The only body that moved was yours. 

Your legs moved very slightly and your voice was so quiet, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to hear it if he wasn't silenced by shock. 

He ran over to you and crouched by your side, “you are alright” he tried to offer both of you some sort of hope even if he knew it was not true. In reality you looked terrible. There was a deep slash that went from the side of your neck and diagonal down your body. Blood covered your clothes and soaked the floor beneath you and in all honesty, he had no idea how you were still alive. Perhaps it had something to do with the theory about animals. He wasn't calling you an animal and he didn't see you as a pet, but there was a theory that pets waited for their owner to return to them before they died instead of dying on their own. No one knew why. For comfort in their final moments? To say goodbye? For one last moment together? It was a question that would never get an answer and Liu Kang wondered if that theory went for friends and lovers as well. 

“Don't speak. Preserve your strength. We'll find you help”. Your hand went up to caress his face and Liu Kang leaned into it, his face memorizing how your fingers felt against him. He wanted to have hope. You were strong enough to raise your hand to him so surely you'd be ok if they got you medical attention. 

That hope was snipped from him within seconds. 

As quickly as your hand raised, it fell back to the floor and your body went limp. That was it. There was no inspiration speech you gave before you died or some emotional moment he'd see in the plays he watched. It was over as soon as it started. 

Your death upset him, yes. What really pushed him over the edge though is that his trip to the Elder Gods meant nothing. Shao Khan got closer and closer to invading Earthrealm and the Elder Gods refused to intervene. Their absence should've meant something. He should've came back with good news, but instead he came back with no answers, no help, no idea what to do next and hardly any friends left. 

Your death plus the others is what ultimately led him to going against Raiden and his own untimely death.  

In one universe, that was it. His pain was over. Liu Kang died, Earthrealm was invaded and Shao Khan killed everyone else. It's not what he wanted but being dead meant no more sorrow. Your bloody body was no longer imprinted in his mind and he would never touch his own face while imagining it was your hand again. 

That's what happened in that timeline. 

In another timeline, things were different, yet you still fell victim to a brutal fate. 

The past and present merged for reasons unknown. You, Liu Kang and Kung Lao were sent to the Academy to make sure your enemies would not reach the Grotto. After dealing with traps, Scorpion and a Revenant Jade, he could feel how tense you were. 

“You are silent” he stated, “it is not like you to be so silent”

“It's nothing”. You responded too quickly, but Liu Kang knew you. Sure, you could be quiet at times but completely silent? Your face bunched together? Fingers tapping against your leg as you walk? It wasn't “nothing” and he was sure he knew what you were thinking. It was something both you and Kung Lao seemed to think. Kung Lao had just been the only one to voice his concerns. 

“They were mistakes-”

“How many mistakes can one person make?” You interrupted, “how many lives can be lost because of 'mistakes’? Raiden seems to make constant mistakes that hurt everyone around him, yet he escapes”. He understood your frustration. After all, he was told Raiden murders him himself, but was it murder if it was an accident? Could any of this be pinned on Raiden, the man he worships and respects?

No. This wasn't on him. Everyone made mistakes and some of your deaths weren't on Raiden at all. Some of you made your own stupid choices that led to your death. His version of Raiden would never do something so foul to any of his followers on purpose. 

Liu Kang grabbed your hand -ignored Kung Lao's immature disgusted noises- and stopped the both of you from walking any further. “You can't lose faith in Lord Raiden”, you went to protest but he stopped you “if you want to blame him, then you have to blame me as well”. 

You looked even more displeased than before, like he had said something treacherous. Was it though? Liu Kang didn't blame Raiden when it came to all of your deaths. He blamed himself. He's Earthrealm's champion, the chosen one if you will, and he couldn't save anyone? Wasn't that the point of him? To save everyone and give everyone a sense of hope? 

Then his mind went to his Revenant self. In this timeline he saw his friends slaughtered like pigs and lived with this guilt, even if it was only for a short while. And now they were all revenants and Liu Kang couldn't help but wonder if this twisted version of himself still carried that guilt or did he see it as a blessing now? 

Your fingers touching his cheek brought him back to reality, but that calming feeling only lasted so long. He didn't know how to describe it or why he was feeling this way, but he felt this tenseness all over his body like something terrible was going to happen. 

“Why would I blame you for my death?”

That tense feeling became worse and he couldn't help but look around as he spoke, “I accompanied Lord Raiden to speak with the Elder Gods. If I had been there, then perhaps…” he didn't have to finish for you to understand. You snapped your fingers in front of his face and drew his attention back to you, 

“I don't blame you for my death”

“And I don't blame you either. How sweet” Kung Lao said impatiently, sarcasm seeping through his words. “Now can we keep walking?”. He supposed he was right, even if he hated it. Before he started walking again, you placed a kiss on his cheek and Kung Lao once again voiced his disgust with sarcasm, “can I give you a kiss too?”. 

“Something you wish to tell us, Kung Lao?” You joked and if it wasn't for the danger you three were in, he'd say he was really enjoying the quality time you three were spending together. 

Kung Lao went to respond, but was interrupted when a figure came into view. A man with brown skin and these weird cracks that made him seem like he had been broken and put together multiple times and golden clothing. He was tampering with something he should not have been and Liu Kang knew he was in for another fight. 

“Is there any point to us asking you to put those back?” he asked. 

The male hardly regarded him and responded with “they said you'd come”. 

“Who said?”. 

An eerily familiar voice spoke out from the darkness, “who do you think Kung Lao?”. 

Bright red eyes. 

That's the first thing he saw. 

Three pairs of these eyes lit up in the darkness, and the only time Liu Kang was able to focus on anything other than that, is when they all came fully into view. They were you, but a twisted version. The versions of you that were corrupted and no longer cared for Earthrealm, but about what they could gain and destroy. Your revenants. That feeling of dread got stronger and he put his body in front of yours like a shield. 

Revenant him spoke next, “welcome to your future. Courtesy of Raiden”. 

“Our future may be tragic, but it's not Lord Raiden's fault. You've all been warped by Shinnock's evil”. 

“Raiden’s continued ignorance gets others killed” revenant you said, “how many times can he excuse deaths by saying they're mistakes? While he consulted with the Elder Gods, Sindel wiped us out”. 

“Shao Kahn snapped my neck in the arena” revenant Kung Lao said. “Raiden saw it coming, and did nothing!”. 

“I would have defeated Shao Kahn, but Raiden wanted the glory. His lightning cut me down”

“No!” Liu Kang exclaimed, “I don't believe that!”. 

“One day Raiden will betray you. Then you'll believe”. 

What happened next is something Liu Kang has tried on numerous occasions to forget. It's why he tries to stay busy. As long as he's busy and his mind is preoccupied, his mind will hopefully not replay the events that happened. 

���It happened so fast” is clichè to say. He knew this, but it genuinely went by so fast. One moment he was fighting against himself, and the next everything went wrong. 

That sense of dread and fear got worse and worse and it wasn't for Kung Lao. He worried about him the normal amount you'd worry about your friend in kombat. All these feelings were about you. He had been so distracted and constantly looking over his shoulders at you, that he hadn't realized how desperate the revenants had gotten for a win. They were losing and they had to do something about that. 

Liu Kang didn't see “Kung Lao” take off his hat and throw it at him. All he remembers is seeing you run at him, colliding with the floor after you kicked him away, and the hat decapitating you. 

It was one of those moments where everything seemed to stop. In reality, he only stared at you for a few seconds. In his mind it felt as though he stared at your limp frame for hours before the blood pooling out of your neck was too much for him and he had to look away. 

He had failed… again. 

~

It seemed as though the Elder Gods enjoyed laughing at his torment because they gave him what could be his final chance. 

“Are you upset with me?” Liu Kang asked. Not too long ago he was forced to reveal the truth about the past timelines and the danger you were all in and since then you kept quiet and to yourself. He wouldn't blame you for being upset, but he really hoped you weren't. Confused or shocked, yeah. Just not upset. 

“I'm just thinking about our plan against Quan Chi and Shang Tsung” you answered quietly. He hated you weren't looking at him and for the first time ever he wished he had the power to read minds instead of fire. Maybe that was a blessing though. Your thoughts could possibly destroy him. 

“But that is not all” he challenged. “Tell me”. 

“Is that an order from my creator?”

He frowned and although he wanted to touch you, he kept his distance. “It is a request from your lover and friend”. You turned to face him and thankfully, you didn't seem upset. He expected something worse, like you yelling and looking at him and horror but instead you just looked lost. That was the best way he could describe it. 

“I'm sorry, that's not fair to you”. 

“You don't have to apologize to me. Just please, tell me what you are thinking”. You sighed and after what seemed like some debating, you stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand and the beating in his chest slowed. 

“Were we lovers in the past timeline?”, he nodded and he had a feeling he knew where this was going. “We are replacements for what you lost and that means-”

“No” he said louder than he planned to. 

“The memories you have with me aren't actually with me. I'm not the actual person you're in love with. You want me because you want her”

“You're wrong” his voice came out stern and his eyebrows lowered, “the reason I am yours is because I adore everything about you. I brought you back because I valued who you are as a person, but I was not drawn to you because of who you were”. He brought your hand to his cheek, the feeling being familiar in a painful yet comforting way. “I see you for you, and our memories are ours to make”. 

You smiled at him and instead of feeling relief, a familiar feeling of dread creeped up on him. 

No… no this wouldn't happen again. It couldn't. 

His calm facade slipped and the pain of the memory showed on his face. He tried to cover it up, but he was too slow. “Memories?”, you asked. He nodded. “What happened to us in the past timeline?”. 

He shook his head, wanting the memories to go away. “A story for another time” he replied grimly and stepped away from you. As bad as it sounded, Liu Kang didn't want to love you. He wanted to bring everyone back, including you, but he wanted nothing to do with you romantically. A mentor type of relationship would hopefully make the possibility of losing you hurt less, but fate brought you back together again. When fate brought you together, it always seems to cut you down. Two steps forward and three steps back. 

“I don't know if this will help, but if something terrible happened to me… I don't blame you. None of us blame you for any of our untimely deaths”

“I don't blame you for my death”

That was the last thing you said to him. 

Your words were so similar yet different, and that uneasy feeling got stronger. 

“Perhaps it would be best if you stayed behind” he tried to say as calmly as he could. Maybe this was the wrong decision, but he didn't wanna scare you and telling you about your untimely deaths in both timelines seemed like the wrong idea. 

“What?” You asked confused, “we need all hands on deck. I'll be fine”. 

“You can help in your own way”

“How?”. He hadn't thought of a task or an excuse to use and as he tried to rack his brain for an answer, you spoke again “for your sake I can stay right on your tail. You'll always know I'm right there but Liu…” your hand found his again, “over worrying only leads to bad things. Remember that”. 

What he felt next was weird. He considered your words and as he did so, that feeling of dread started to slip away. He didn't understand why and he didn't realize what the best course of action was until it was too late. 

You accompanied him and many others to stop Shang Tsung and Quan Chi and that went as well as anyone with his luck could expect. He had found out Shang Tsung from the original timeline was still alive and actively trying to destroy his era of peace, and then to make matters worse, an evil Raiden and Sindel made their appearance. Raiden was simple but being there and watching Sindel challenge them all gave him memories he didn't even have. 

He wondered if this is what happened to the past version of you. He wondered how different it was. He knew Sindel killed you and other kombatants. Is this how it happened? His attention went to you and that feeling of dread got stronger and stronger. 

This was it. This is when it'd happen. 

He stayed close to you the entire time and since he was so distracted, Sindel took the opportunity to use her hair to grab both your ankles and knock you both down. 

Liu Kang saw you try to get up to assist Sindel with her evil counterpart, and he gripped your ankle and pulled you towards him. 

“What are you doing?!” he saw how angry you were and he hated it, but he'd hate you dying even more. He kept a grip on you, so concerned with keeping you down, that he stopped paying attention to Sindel. He was only alerted to what had happened when he heard Kitana and Mileena scream. 

Sindel had been fatally wounded. 

Guilt pushed down on his shoulders and he let you go. Why couldn't he do both? Protect you and save Sindel? Then he felt even more guilty because he let out a sigh of relief when he realized that he broke the cycle. He won! 

He won. 

He won?

Why did that feeling of dread get stronger?

~

The feeling of dread and death got so strong, his shoulders actually felt weight on them. It felt like multiple people were pushing his shoulders down, while he tried his best to stand up. 

One last battle was left and he knew you absolutely could not go. This timeline must've been different. It made sense. The first one Sindel killed you, the second one revenant Kung Lao killed you. It must be the battle that kills you in this timeline. 

He couldn't let that happen. 

“You've gone mad if you think I'll stay here!” You weren't exactly taking his command the best, but he knew this was for the better. This battle had to be what would kill you. You had to stay far away and locked away. 

“I realize now what I must do to save you. You have to stay here until the battle is over. You'll be safe”. He tried to stay calm, hoping it'd ease your mood but it seemed to do the opposite. You weren't known to be angry, so seeing you look so bitter and hateful made his heart ache but he knew he was making the right decision. 

“You're insane. I have to help” you tried to walk away but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him harder than he meant to. 

“No! Do as I say” he meant for it to come out commanding, but there was an edge of pleading. “Have faith in me”. 

“Faith?” You gawked, “faith? In you? What about you having faith in me?!” You yanked your wrist away from him and rubbed it. “I could've helped Sindel and saved her life, but you kept me down!”

“Sindel would have killed you! Forgive me if I can't allow that”

“So my life is more special than everyone else's? You let everyone fight, get hurt and die but somehow I'm more special? Do you not see how twisted that is?”. He didn't wanna think about it that way. He felt awful after Sindel's death, but he would've been paralyzed if it was you instead. It made him feel guilty, as if he personally killed Sindel himself. It wasn't like that though! You wouldn't have stood a chance! Why couldn't you see that?

“You never let me do anything. I love you, but you suffocate me! I can't be more than two steps away from you without there being a problem”. He was protecting you like he knew he had to. 

“I worry-”

“You worry too much! What good comes from being paranoid? I've said it before. Only bad things happen when you over worry”. You tried to walk away again and he grabbed your wrist again. 

“I can't let you fight with us!”

“Why can't I be your champion?!” You shouted. “Why Raiden instead of me?!”

“He won-”

“He won a mini tournament you didn't even let me participate in, even after I asked you to!”. You were right. He remembers you begging for days, but he always said no. He made the excuse that you were better by his side and for immediate support but in reality, you in Mortal Kombat was a risk he didn't want to take. 

You did something he didn't expect next. You pulled out the amulet Raiden was supposed to have, out of your pocket. “This should be mine”. 

“How do you have that?”

“Raiden is easy to steal from. I don't know how he's survived this long” you said dismissively. He didn't like it. That amulet gave you more confidence and he couldn't afford that. You'd understand why he was so protective once the fight was over. 

“It doesn't belong to you for a reason. You're not Earthrealm's champion for a reason. You can't fight in this war for a reason”

“You want to lock me up like I'm your enemy! Like I'm a prisoner! I'm not Bi-Han!”

“You are not a prisoner. You're protected”

You let out a frustrated sigh and took a moment to collect your thoughts. “I'll return this, but when are you gonna realize the only way we're gonna work is if you let me out this cage you built?”. The sudden softness of your words took him by surprise and his grip loosened enough so you could slip your wrist out. 

You walked away and the further you got, the more that pressure eased up on his shoulders. It didn't make sense. Why was that feeling changing now when you were leaving him? You weren't supposed to leave! You were supposed to stay here, safe and sound and wait for him to come back to you!

His mind was moving fast and without truly thinking, he shot fire in front of you. “Stop!”

He regretted it immediately. You had no warning and as the fireball passed you, it burnt one of your hands badly. You screamed and held your hand with your other, trying to soothe a wound he knew wouldn't stop aching that fast. 

His heart sunk and he froze. To say he felt awful would be an understatement. He wasn't quite sure how to place it, but “bad” or “awful” weren't the right words. He never meant to actually harm you. It was the last thing he wanted to do. 

Feelings of dread reached an all time high when you turned around, a mix of hurt and rage on your face. “You'd hurt me to make me stay?! Enough of your madness! If I have to fight you, then so be it!”. 

He felt the same feeling he had when he watched you die. Everything was so fast, yet slow at the same time. 

You pulled out the amulet and lightning flew. Liu Kang shot fire at it and that's when he realized his mistake. 

A reaction happened and since the lighting was attached to the amulet, all that power surged back at you, throwing you back and severely burning you. 

“By the gods! No!” he shouted and ran towards your body, which seized before going limp. 

No. This was not meant to happen. 

This isn't what he wanted. 

He held your now bloody and burnt form, hoping that someone you'd make a recovery. He wanted to scream and burn everything down to the ground. How did he manage to fail again?!

“Forgive me…” he muttered. 

You said nothing in return. 

As he sat there in complete silence, the smell of burnt flesh filling his nose and tears falling down his face, he thought back to your words from before. 

“Over worrying only leads to bad things. Remember that”. 

“You worry too much! What good comes from being paranoid? I've said it before. Only bad things happen when you over worry”.

That's when it hit him. 

Your death to Sindel may have not been his fault, but him carrying the guilt of your death plus others clouded his judgment. He refused to listen to reason. He attacked Raiden and he was killed because of it. 

He was so focused and worried about you during your battle against the revenants, that he became sloppy. If he was focused, he would've noticed Kung Lao throwing his hat at him. He would've reacted in time. You wouldn't have had to kick him away and you wouldn't have died. 

If he let you go, you could've helped and saved Sindel. 

If he let you join the final battle instead of being paranoid, he wouldn't have accidentally harmed you and you wouldn't have attacked him. He wouldn't have had to fight back and you wouldn't have died. 

If he wasn't so paranoid to begin with, you wouldn't have been as frustrated and maybe you would've actually stayed behind. 

How did he not see it before? He gave up his power as a Titan, fearing he'd go insane like Kronika, but in his own way he had done the same thing. His need to protect became over worrying and that became paranoia and he allowed it to destroy himself and worst of all, he allowed it to destroy you and your relationship. 

The crushing feeling getting lighter when you talked about him letting you go, or you walking away, was because that's what he was supposed to do. There was nothing wrong with protecting, but his paranoia led to your downfall more than once. Maybe there were even more timelines that ended in your death or both of your deaths. 

The more he understood, the more his chest burned and the louder his sobs got. How could he have been so blind? How many times had he failed? Why did the Elder Gods punish him instead of the actual evil people in the world? He wasn't perfect by any means, but where was this sort of punishment for people like Shao? Or Shang Tsung? Or Quan Chi? Or anyone else who had wickedness in their heart and fed off chaos and strife? Why did he have to suffer such a cruel fate over and over again?

Maybe if he could somehow get his powers back or see if Geras could reverse time or erase this timeline and start again, he could do better. 

He could erase all he did wrong. He could keep his era of peace. He could save everyone. He could save you. 

All he needed was one more chance. 

Although I think this is buns, the reader’s death mimicking Liu Kang’s death in MK9 eats down

[trendywaifus]

imagine you and qingque making out in her office and get caught by fu xuan. cw: none. implied poly

“ i think we should stop before fu xuan catches us.” you suggested in–between kisses, nervously glancing over at the door. qingque whines, holding you closer to her body and peppers your face with kisses. “ c’mon babe, it’s my work office. she knows i’m not here that often. “ you sighed, gently pushing her back by the shoulders to look her straight in the eyes, qingque pouts.

“ so, the times where you were in your office, does she come to check up on you? “ you inquired, unsure of her assurance. she laughs awkwardly, giving you a goofy smile. “ y-yeah, but fu xuan almost always visits my office when it’s my nap time! i usually nap here to replenish my energy!” rolling your eyes, you squished her cheeks, making her face smush together adorably. “ so you’re telling me that you only use your work office to nap—wait, what time is your nap time?”

“ u-uh, twhoo thwirty? “

you peered over at the electronic clock on her desk. it’s only 2:15pm so you have at least fifteen minutes to spare. “ bwabe, cwan youu lwet goo uhf mwy fwace noww? it hwurts. “ she whines, looking at you with pleading eyes. you let out a deep sigh and released her from your hold. “ sorry, qingque. to be frank, i shouldn’t be here. i’m suppose to be with the general but, i don’t feel like hearing his babbling and old man yawns today. i’m quite sure he has already contacted our other woman about my absence. i better leave before she comes here— “

qingque holds your waist tighter, “ w-we still have time, right? just five more minutes, please? i don’t get to see you until the next six hours! i need my daily dose of (name)! “ she begs, giving you the puppy eyes. you paused for a moment, pondering over the current situation. if you stay now, you get to spend a little more time with your slacker girlfriend. but, you’re also in risk of getting in trouble by your other strict girlfriend. if you leave now, you avoid the scolding but you have to tolerate your boss being a sly bum for the rest of the day.

yeah, the former’s better.

you said nothing and pulled her into a kiss. qinque let out a small noise of celebration and kisses back ardently. the next few minutes were filled with nothing but small giggles and obnoxious sounds of kissing. you two entirely forgot about being mindful which led to you not noticing the door fly open and a familiar voice shouting into the office.

“ (name) and qinque! what are you two doing?! “

like deers caught in headlights, your heads whip towards the doorway, looking absolutely dumbfounded and lips completely swollen. fu xuan crosses her arms, tapping her foot impatiently with an angry expression on her face. “ and (name), general jingyuan is looking for you! do you know how worried i was when he informed me of your absence?! i attempted to call you and your phone immediately went to voicemail! and you, qingque, i tried to message you about their possible whereabouts and you didn’t even answer me back! so i came straight here to find you—o-only to see you two fools shoving your tongues down each other’s throats like no tomorrow! explain yourselves because you two are in big trouble! especially you, (name)! “

you quickly rose from your chair, “ w-well, first thing first, we were not shoving our tongues into each other’s throats, fu! w-we were um—“

“ yeah, we were! “ qinque chimes, casually standing up from her seat.

“ wh-what the hell, don’t tell her that—“

“ we were too busy sucking each other’s faces off that we didn’t notice any of our notifications. matter of fact, we ignored your calls and texts, hoping that you’ll come here to find us! we want you to join us, our dear lady fu! “

you caught second hand embarrassment from seeing the astonished look on fu xuan’s now beet red face.

[barleyo]

Deck the Halls.

Tendou Satori X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: frequent posts? from me? what a rare sight, someone take a picture! i know this is super super short, but i thought it was a cute idea.

Tags: Christmas fic, one shot/short fic, established relationship, timeskip tendou obv, handjobs, oral (m receiving)

Wordcount: 400-ish

Having a chocolatier as a boyfriend really paid off, especially around Christmas time. Any little treat you dreamt up, he brought to life. Endless homemade hot chocolate, cookies, brittles and barks of all kinds.

What you loved most, though? The advent calendar. Every day, Tendou would usher you into the kitchen to open the treat of the day. 

He started off strong on day one. Some sort of lemon and white chocolate bar, complete with zest and edible glitter. The next was a toffee and chocolate covered pretzel with sea salt. Each day seemed to get better and better, so, reasonably, you looked forward most to the big day. 

You woke up on Christmas Eve, padding down to the kitchen without Tendou. You hadn't noticed his absence from your bed, too focused on what your newest sweet would be. Maybe he had tried something new and outlandish, or perhaps he perfected a more tame, classic recipe? Either way, you were practically beaming as you reached into the handmade calendar hanging on the wall. 

Your hand brushed against a piece of paper. Strange. You pulled it out with one hand, skimming over it while your other hand grabbed at that day's item. 

'Sorry, got lazy. Still love me? ;)'

Clever devil. You smiled at the bottle of strawberry flavored lube.

"Ah, slow down," he said with a chuckle, feeling the cool, sticky lube coat the length of his cock. "That's a little much, don't you think?"

"Whatever happened to the spirit of Christmas? Can't I be generous?"

You wrapped your hand around his once you were satisfied with the slick mess you made. As you pumped Tendou, the almost sickeningly sweet scent of the lube filled your senses. Something so strong would normally give you a headache, but a different kind of haze filled your brain when you saw how flushed his face was getting. 

You gave a small lick to the head, tongue gliding over his slit. It tasted artificial and sweet— not quite as good as his natural taste, but you enjoyed it enough to place another tactful lick to the underside of him. 

You could tell he was loving this, perhaps a little too much, with his smug grin and raised eyebrows. Looking up at him from between his thighs, you popped off of his cockhead, stilling your greedy tongue. 

"Why are you looking at me like that, silly?" you asked, tasting the residue still on your lips. 

"Oh, nothing," he said, grin widening, "just looks like you're enjoying yourself."

You huffed, leaning down to lick a thick strip down his length. 

"Sure am. This is the best thing I've tasted all month from you."

Tendou mumbled something incoherently as you began to take him deeper in your throat, hands placed on his thighs. After a second, your playful insult dawned on him. 

"Hey, wait a second!"

[1000plants]

You Don't Know Pt 5

Steve Rogers x Reader (GN)

Summary: Steve Rogers and his pretentious “know it all” attitude is getting on your last nerves. Neither of you know what to do about it. 

Warnings- general swearing, bad writing :l

Word count- 2.1k

Author's Note- This chapter and the next one is gonna be really short bc I have fianlssss!! Next week's chapter will probably be late, don't expect a Thursday release :/

Chapter 5/?

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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

Steve’s POV

They had been the topic of conversation between Steve and Bucky all week. Which was equally cathartic yet agitating to Steve. They just had to be there- in the back of his mind- constantly, hm?

After that talk with them, (the one where they unceremoniously barged in, mocked his state of being when he was in his OWN room, and then basically hurled insults at him the entire time) he felt on edge. Yes, he liked how the two of you didn’t talk for the week! He thought. They weren't sneering at him, glaring, or making snide comments under their breath towards him… and he noticed he himself had felt a sense of relaxation.

What truly bugged him, though, was that it still felt like they were always around. He expected to see them in the kitchen in the mornings, wake up late at night to see their form silently sneaking to Bucky's room, even not seeing them in the gym working out or sparring was messing him up.

If he was going to be truthful, he hated their sudden absence. What he once thought was a thorn in his side, he realized it was more like a rose. A loud, annoying, obnoxious, childish, cute, snotty-- wait? Cute? No. Not that.

It was the next morning he apologized to Bucky, who had been out with Sam for the night. Steve had been restless, tossing and turning for most of the night. He was pissed off, worried, and the guilt that clawed in his stomach had him making multiple trips to the bathroom for fear of throwing up. The worst part was needing to talk to Buck, he knew the man wouldn't be happy. Not in the slightest.

🗯️

“Mornin’” Bucky grumbled, voice thick with sleep as he shuffled past Steve. The Cap was more put together in the mornings, he managed to look more awake and had most likely already achieved world peace… or something. Bucky was hardly paying attention, he had been out late with Sam and forgot to turn his alarm off. Which, naturally, meant he couldn't fall back asleep after it blared in his ear.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve muttered under his breath, watching Bucky warily. He was trying not to fidget anxiously in his bedroom doorway. At least watching a groggy Bucky walking to the kitchen distracted him from how last night went. Remembering how you had confronted him, yelled… and the absolutely shattered look in your eyes when he made his accusation.

Steve awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight on his feet as he silently followed behind Bucky. The smell of coffee had already started to invade the air. A usually welcoming smell just made Steve feel worse. The soft drip drip drip sound of the coffee falling into the glass carafe was something Steve honed in on. His eyes locked onto the pot as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Wan’ s’m?” Bucky mumbled, his voice practically intelligible currently. He probably needed a glass of water more than anything, but, what was coffee if not bean water? Bucky was already pulling down a coffee cup from the cupboards as he grabbed the coffee pot in his other hand.

Steve shook his head, “No-- er, yeah, actually, sure.” he stumbled out, the sound of a stray drop of coffee evaporating as it hit the hot plate sounded booming in his ears. He crossed his arms over his chest as Bucky grunted in acknowledgement and prepared two cups of coffee. Steve was running though a hundred things he wanted to say, how to say it, and when exactly to say them.

“I’m really sorry-” Steve just blurted out, knowing if it dragged out any longer he’d go crazy. He was tense as he waited for Bucky's reaction, the man was never very expressive, and the back of his head was much less so.

Bucky turned around, brows pulled together just slightly. The only sign he was confused. The  ceramic mug slid across the marble countertops, the sound echoing in the kitchen.

“Sorry?” Bucky repeated, taking a sip of his own drink, “Sorry about what?”

“I… was under the impression that you were hooking up with…” Steve trailed off, nodding towards the side of the floor where they lived. It was more than enough for Bucky to get the idea. Steve grabbed his hot mug in both hands as he stared down at the near-black liquid, avoiding looking directly at Bucky. His own reflection staring back seemed almost mocking.

Bucky sputtered on the sip of coffee he had taken, “Wh- ah, shit!” Bucky hissed, having choked on his scalding drink. It had even splattered a bit over his chest, soaking his thin shirt with the morning lava. Bucky huffed and grumbled as he quickly turned to the sink to wash off his hands and set down his cup.

Steve felt all of his muscles tense up, body going painfully ridged as Bucky’s form was hunched over. He set down his cup with as much gentleness as he could. Too afraid to make noise and accidentally blubber out the entire conversation from last night. He was already highstrung, having been up all night- restless and guiltstricken.

“You- You fucking thought what, punk?” Bucky grunted, the faucet rushing cool water on his right hand before a light burn had the chance to settle in. Bucky had his back to Steve, which Steve was grateful for. It gave him a brief moment to collect himself, clear his throat and a moment - brief, fleeting moment - to get his words in order.

Steve ran the pad of his thumb against the blunt edge of his mug, “Sleeping together, hooking up, I don't know what the modern phrase for it is, exactly…”

Bucky's brows drew together harshly, he quickly turned to look back at Steve. He shut off the water quickly, thinking a hundred things at once. A small, slightly confused grin toyed on his lips. But he couldn't laugh at the ridiculousness of Steve's confession just yet. The guilt of the Captain was truly palpable and Bucky was going to MILK this moment.

“You thought,” Bucky slowly says, drawing out each word, “We were fuckin’?” Bucky asks with a scoff, raising an eyebrow and leaning back against the sink. He grabbed a towel and wiped his hands dry.

“Why the hell would you think that?” Bucky grunts, crossing his arms as he watches Steve. Steve’s lips were pressed into a tight pucker, one hand gripping the edge of the countertop and the other fumbling around with his mug. If the topic of conversation wasn't important, Steve would’ve slapped himself for how much of a wus he was being.

“Well, I mean…” Steve huffs, clenching his jaw as he feels Bucky's withering stare. He was convinced Buck would be pissed. Hell, Steve would be upset if everyone thought he was sleeping with Natasha or Tony! These rumors were nothing that should be spread, and he was a dumbass for even letting himself think it!! “I- I’ve seen them sneaking around late at night…”

Steve let out a heavy sigh, releasing his mug to rub his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose sharply, “And, just-- sneaking into your room. So I… I got the wrong impression.”

Steve cleared his throat, finally forcing himself to look at Bucky and deliver the heartfelt apology his friend deserved, “So, yeah, I'm sorry.”

🗯️

“‘M really sorry,” Steve had offhandedly muttered to Bucky for the hundredth time this week. 

It was already the following Friday, and Steve lost count of how many times the words had left his mouth. Training, meetings, every meal, reading, relaxing, anything- Steve was mumbling the words “I’m sorry” to Bucky.

And he knew it was a bit much. 

It was made painfully obvious at one of their meetings. 

Steve had a quick in and out meeting with Bucky, and Tony to discuss the logistics of the upcoming mission. Making sure Bucky's arm wasn’t going to malfunction or something due to new upgrades. 

Bucky just grunted in response, already tired of the constant apologies. Leaning against one of the work benches as he sat back with Steve as they watched Tony work. Tony usually tuned out the pain during these moments. Though, the captain apologising was … odd to say the least.

“Youre… sorry, cap?” Tony questioned, pausing the buzzing of the solder iron as he tilted his head towards the pain, “Sorry for what?”

Stve shifted uncomfortably on his feet, he was slowly starting to feel better about his mistake. Tony knowing about it would practically undo all of that progress. He sighed and shook his head slightly, dipping his gaze down to the floor. He toed at a stray pebble that had gotten into the lab, and though his facial expression told Tony it was nothing important; Bucky's expression told Tony it was big.

“Nothing-” The two soldiers said at the same time, a bit too loudly for Tony to believe. Steve winced and tilted his bowed head towards Bucky briefly, sending him another apologetic look. Bucky just mumbled an oh my god as he stared at his arm.

The scientist scoffed, setting down his tool to lean back in his chair. It squeaked slightly as it turned towards them. The grin on his face only grew once he saw the embarrassed flush that crept up Steve's neck and the way Bucky was intensely staring at the metal prosthetic.

“Nothing, huh?” Tony chuckled, sucking in a breath and tapping Bucky's arm lightly with the solder iron. He ran his tongue over his lower lip, seeming to debate how much he would prod into this.

Knowing Tony? Oh, yeah, he was gonna prod.

“Y’know,” Tony sighs, pointing towards Steve, “Nothing normally doesn't involve you turning the same color as my suit.” He clicked his tongue, turning a little dramatically towards Bucky.

Steve mustered up the courage to look up, he’s dealt with Tony's shit before… this wasn’t any different. Right?

“Tony-” Bucky started to chastise, but he was cut off by the shorter man. The man whose excitement over the potential gossip was only growing by the moment.

“Nononono-” Tony quickly tutted, standing up and taking a few steps towards Steve, “I’ve heard whispers of apologies from you all week. Didn't think much of it… but Terminator here is making me think it's more.”

“Wh- I didn't-" Bucky began to argue his defense, but he stopped himself knowing it was futile against Tony. He resigned himself to letting Steve crawl out of this hole he dug for himself, “whatever…”

Bucky grumbled something about coming back later, taking two long strides to grab his arm and get the hell out of the lab. The whirring of his arm reconnecting was quiet to Steve, he hardly even heard it over the sound of the blood in his head. 

Steve shot a glare Tony's way, the two of them stuck in a stare down as Bucky left the lab. Steve desperately wished Bucky wouldn't leave, but he wasn't about to create another reason to apologise. And, keeping Bucky trapped in the lab with him and Tony was definitely apology worthy.

“Spill,” was all Tony simply demanded.

And, Steve did.

Not the full story, just that he had a bit of miscommunication with Bucky… And he felt the need to say sorry over and over.

It was clear Tony knew he was holding back, but given Cap had admitted it so easily just proved how deep seeded his guilt was. Also, Tony rarely got information that quick from the man.

🗯️Your POV

It didn't take long for you to hear the dramatic retelling from Tony. And Nat. And Wanda. And Clint… A few hours at most and you had heard 4 versions of the same story. They were all similar, just little parts here and there tweaked.

If you had been thinking logically, you would've realized the story spun was a bit out of character for Steve.

Tears in his eyes, voice quivering, sorrow in every inch of his body language! …  a broken record, remorse pouring from him every hour of every day the past week…

The story was too theatrical to be true. Yet you believed it. Hook, Line, and Sinker.

All because he didn't say a word to you. Neither he nor Bucky had tried to talk to you all week, but they'd tell everyone else, huh?

Makes sense, Steve was just proving to you every single day he didn't actually care. Maybe Raynor was right, maybe he did have feelings for you, but it was clear he hated them as much as you did.