#there had to be at least a little bit where she was so fucking terrified that she was too late

[memento-morri-writes]

#ooh good luck with the vengeance!#great excerpt even if the man himself may not be having a good time in it- i am#glad to hear he's currently doing well too 😆

@writeouswriter Thank you!!! Glad to hear someone else enjoys me tormenting this poor man. Unfortunately for my beloved boy, "well" is extremely relative. For most people where he's at currently would probably still be considered Pretty Fucking Awful.

bullet list of his past/future 24 hours under the cut

In the past 24 hours in game time he's:

been dragged back from the brink of death

reunited with his only friend from pre-campaign after not seeing her for 3 years.

reunited with his former mentor+captain after not seeing her in 3 years.

found out that said mentor knew all the details of the torture being done to him for 2 out of the 3 years but wasn't able to do anything about it because if she did Wolf would have killed him.

(relatedly, this means he's responsible for her being forced to stop sailing, which she loved, and all the bad things that happened to her since.)

had said reunion interrupted by the arrival of a giant snake.

said snake proceeded to eat the aforementioned best and only friend, after turning her into a bird.

(said snake also only showed up / was pissed because of Rook's actions, so this is 100% his fault even if he didn't know what would happen.)

gotten zero fucking sleep (which tbf has been his normal for months now. Yay for the demon lord curse!!)

pissed off the rest of the party by rudely setting down a crossbow he was gifted by a now-deceased party member (he was trying to make a point that he would fight this snake personally or not at all, despite being only hours out from nearly dying.)

fought said giant snake, including getting knocked to 3 hp in one hit (we're level 10, btw. That was 60hp of damage. (yay hold person auto-crits, lmao.))

Narrowly avoided getting killed by and then killing the snake instead. (Held action attack as the snake was barrelling down to eat him.)

Discovered that his friend was in fact dead. (RIP Jay. You deserved so much better. I loved you.)

Revived her, but she's still stuck as a bird and no one can turn her back. (So no fun/cute interactions for the two of them + still mountains of guilt.)

Today's session (still the same day) he has to:

Learn why Wolf hates Zara (captain/mentor) enough to want to kidnap Rook to hurt her. (and whatever it is, Zara seems terrified of his reaction to it. She has nothing to worry about, he'd forgive her anything. And I do mean anything. But that doesn't mean he can't be hurt by having the (idealized due to 2-3 years of rescue fantasies, fever dreams, and other unreliable thought processes) image he has of her being shattered.)

Get told that he is now the captain of her ship. (Which he does not believe he deserves, seeing as he literally just got his only friend killed, and he's also carrying about 13 tons of guilt for every bad thing that's happened to the party recently.)

Honestly at this point he's probably going to (at least almost) keel over from exhaustion and shock and stress. (He literally has not so much as sat down since he got out of bed this morning, and he was a prisoner for weeks, so all his strength has been lost.)

Tell People the (partial) Truth (which is terrifying and something he would avoid doing ever if he could.)

Talk to Zara again (and ask for advice on how to be a captain... 🥺)

Make a good(?) first impression on his new crew.

Deal with the dude who drugged him and sold him to Wolf the first time. (part of the first impression thing, in a way.)

This man's life is a nonstop rollercoaster of misery, and sometimes even I feel a little bit bad about it, lmao.

whump-y wednesday

I don't know if this is actually a thing, but it's Wednesday, and I wrote a really fucked-up snippet that I liked, so I'm posting it. But most of it's going under the cut because uh, well, it's fucked up. My boy was not having a good time before the party came to rescue him.

tw for mentions of blood, illness, and torture

A horrible screech pulled him out of the dark. He opened his eyes, trying to figure out where he was. Light poured in from the open door, illuminating the walls of his cell. The door. Its rusty hinges were what had made the screeching sound. He tried to lift his head to look around, but pain shot through his chest. Since when did it hurt to breathe? He heard the sound of metal against wood and the sloshing of liquid as someone set down a small bucket of water. “I dunno what the point of givin’ him any water is.” A gruff voice said. “He’s been burnin’ up for days now, and we all know the captain won’t let a healer within a hundred yards of him.” A grunt of agreement and another voice said, “If he’s still alive in a week, I’ll give Zafira a kiss.” The first voice laughed, and the last thing Rook heard as the door swung closed was, “Your funeral.”

Blindly, he reached towards where he had seen the bucket of water. His muscles screamed, and he felt scabs and dried blood cracking as he moved for the first time in… hours? Days? He wasn’t sure. His fingers met metal and eagerly he pulled the bucket towards him, too weak to lift it off the floor. Water sloshed over the sides, blissfully cool where it touched his skin. Hands shaking with effort and excitement, he dipped them into the bucket and splashed water on his face. He could have cried. How had he never known how good water could feel? He cupped water in his hands and brought it to his lips. Only a few drops actually made it into his mouth, but even those felt heavenly. Again and again he dipped his hands into the bucket, getting more water on the floor and his body than in his mouth. After several mouthfuls the water started to taste odd, slightly salty, and he distantly realized that the blood and grime from his hands must be washing off, mixing with the water. He didn’t care. It was still the best thing he’d ever tasted.  He thought he heard laughter. Who was laughing? Was he laughing? He couldn’t blame himself if he was.

[qoldenskies]

Oh god they definitely traumatized the little droid huh. Hnnn is Donnie scared to build him again? I feel like he’d be scared of “failing as a parent” again or something like that

oh god shelldon is going to be so wary of raph in particular .... like i dont think he can feel pain but he'll still be out of commission until some of the final chapters of CW so i'm sure he's going to have some issues being around him because he doesnt like losing so much time/it was still him coming face to face with destruction ... (honestly i havent super duper fleshed out that particular part of the story yet but his first reaction might be righteous rage above fear, kind of similar to april. he legit got destroyed half-joking about using lethal force so he'll probably be hostile the second he wakes back up!! you dont fuck with his dad like that!!!!!)

rebuilding shelldon is one of those things donnie's really terrified of doing yeah :( he's going to keep a tight hold of his ai chip because he doesn't trust leaving it out in the open, and a lot of his reluctance comes from distrust of his brothers (actually note that when leo comes about his phone after the family meeting, donnie IMMEDIATELY rushes to shield his desk in fear of things being broken when things get dicey. raph unfortunately set a precedent for it) but beyond that there's no way he isn't guilty as hell about what ended up happening, feeling responsible for raph's actions while under the curse because he "could have prevented it" (he thinks he could have prevented it had he not lashed out after coming out of the closet in the first place...)

[devil-in-hiding]

Okay but Virgin!Reader who is absolutely terrified of intimacy. It’s not a lack of knowledge on the subject; she’s knows more about it than a retired pornstar. But she just can’t handle the thought of giving herself away, especially to someone she doesn’t know or feels like she can’t trust! Back where she comes from, trust is a privilege and respect is a must. But what happens when she meets brutal, gruff, and one hundred and ten percent dangerous Simon Riley, who’s way more experienced and has a history of fucking just to let off some steam.

Ughhhhh 😵‍💫

Simon is your neighbor. Your first interaction is when he almost knocks you over in the hall, only offering a grunt and cold glare before slamming his apartment door shut.

It remains that way for a year or so, the rare times you do see him home. Nothing is ever said, but he acknowledges you with a grunt, and you always return a small nod of greeting. He’s cold and gruff, but every time he gets home from wherever he goes, you have to hole up in the living room to escape the moans and his headboard banging into your wall. the following mornings you can hardly look him in the eye as he stares at you rushing towards the stairs.

It’s not until after a particularly bad date, who is stubbornly trying to invite himself into your apartment, that Simon actually speaks.

“Jake please, I had a nice time but I have to get up early for work.” You protest, trying to block your doorway and the guy scoffs. “C’mon, you gonna leave me hangin like that?” He frowns, trying to shoulder past you.

“I would like you to leave now.”

“Listen here you little bitch, I’ve had to put up with staring at that rack all night, the least you can do is-“

“Think the lady told you to get the fuck out mate.” A deep voice growls, and the two of you jump, and your eyes widen at seeing Simon there, and there’s a dark look in his eyes as he stares down your ‘date’

“Hey man, this is none of you-“

“Considering this nice woman is my neighbor, I’m making it my fucking business.” He states before quite literally lifting Jake by the scruff of his neck and throwing him out into the hallway. “I see you bothering her again and I’ll kick your sorry ass up and down this god damn complex you got that?”

Jake is gone before Simon is done talking. You hear him take a deep breath, shoulders relaxing before he turns to face you, and you’re surprised by the concern showing in his eyes.

“That fuckhead didn’t hurt you, did he?” He asks, and you’re shocked this man’s voice can be so soft. You’re frozen, just staring at him before you find your voice.

“N-no, no I’m okay, he was just trying to shoulder past me.” You stutter out, nervously playing with your fingers. Your heart stops when one of his large hands reaches up, gently brushing your hair away from your face.

“Sorry it took me so long, couldn’t tell if it was you I was hearing.” He admits, and your heart flutters. He knows your voice?

He talks to you more after that, helping you with groceries when your hands are full, stopping by to ask if you’d watch his apartment while he’s away on deployment. You start to look forward to the two knocks on your door, finding Simon waiting for you, crinkles around his eyes letting you know he’s smiling at you.

But the women still come, along with your nights camped out in the living room, you’re heart just a bit heavier every time.

(might turn this into something)

[confused-and-dickless]

Am I. schizophrenic perhaps.

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 5

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing, Amren bashing, KITTENS!, Accidental Forest Burning?, Non graphic murder, Azriel is an idiot, Azriel's Mom is not having his idiocy and spends 3/4 of this chapter berating him (while being kinda a little bit unfair) and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Master.

Later! Azriel cut his shadows off sharply. He was somewhat busy right now.

It was harsh enough that the shadows actually shut up for once, which was startling in itself. But for the moment he didn’t think about it. Too busy with killing the leader of that Illyrian warband that had been destroying townships and temples left and right.  

It was a clean kill, fast and accurate, and Azriel didn’t blink as he watched the male’s body drop at his feet.

The adrenaline was coursing through his veins, as he slowly took in a deep shaky breath, his hands clenching around the knife handle.

Then he turned to the cleanup. The other warband members were still in the camp where they had made a temporary base. Quick, clean and efficient. That’s how they were taught to operate. It’s why Azriel was so damn good at these types of missions. 

At least two hours later, it was suddenly Rhys that was yanking at their mental connection, mental claws striking against his shields. 

Azriel swore as he felt Rhys’s talons strike against his mental shields. What’s wrong? he demanded immediately. Something must have been wrong, otherwise Rhys would have been more careful with his abilities. 

Amren cornered Eira, and Rhys spat out in answer. 

WHAT?! he demanded in answer. His shadows immediately started writhing agitatedly behind him, as panic and alarm shot through his veins.

Amren had done that? Even after Rhys had warned her off? 

Azriel should have fucking seen it coming. When Amren didn’t agree with her methods…she had her own. 

How bad? Azriel asked tonelessly. How had Eira reacted? What had Amren said?

The mental silence stretched for a moment before he felt Rhys’s presence return, the High Lord’s voice now filled with fury. As we have no idea where Eira is right now...bad. She must have winnowed in her panic to get away from Amren.

Fuck. 

Azriel was up on his feet in an instant, even as he felt his shadows swirl agitatedly around him. That…he needed to find her. He needed….

He could just imagine what Amren must have told Eira…Amren who had never learned how to soften her word and who he didn’t trust as far as he could throw her. A sinking feeling was already beginning to form in Azriel’s stomach.

Eira could have winnowed anywhere in Prythian. She could be in enemy territory right this second. He didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if Autumn Court got their hands on her, if…

She must be utterly terrified. And the thought of Eira…scared….

Panic and worry flared through his veins, as his shadows writhed even more furiously behind him. He needed to find her, find her and make sure she was safe, safe and sound and away from anything that might make her feel scared. He would not let anything hurt her. Not now, not now when he had just gotten her. 

She's in Illyria, his shadows snapped. Which we would have told you if you didn't tell us to shut up, Master!

Godsdamnit.

Azriel cursed, running a hand through his dark hair. Of course, she was in Illyria. Of all the places…Illyria. 

Azriel? Rhys questioned.

The shadows know where she is, he responded sharply. I get her.

Good. There was now a sharpness to Rhys’s voice, even through the mental link. Azriel could almost hear the order that remained unsaid. Get her and bring her home. 

And Azriel? Whatever you need to do to make sure she’s safe, Rhys said sharply. 

She will be. There was a silent promise in his voice. Azriel would ensure it. He would not let anything or anyone hurt her.

Do not let Amren anywhere near me, Azriel said evenly, his voice promising cold death. If they did, he was going to rip her apart from limb to limb. 

Agreed. We will take care of it. Rhys’s voice was as cold as Azriel’s, and the Illyrian could practically feel the anger radiating through the mental connection.

And then he let the shadows take him, let him take him wherever his mate was…

They threw him right through the wards that protected Rosehall. 

Somehow that was the most shocking thing of it all. 

The wind in lower Illyria was cold, the trees silent and still in the darkness. She hit a few trees with lightning, his shadows supplied quietly. Scorched them. No fire though.

That was not what he had wanted to hear. No fire, that was a small comfort. But the lightning? The fact that she had used her magic? It did not bode well. 

We led her to your mother. She took care of her, his shadows assured him quietly. 

That was a small comfort, but a comfort nevertheless. His mother was good at soothing, and that seemed to be exactly what his mate had needed. Especially after the panic that she must have been in. The fact that it had been triggered by Amren was an entirely different issue. Azriel would deal with that later.

Eira first. Eira was his first priority. 

The entire Hamlet seemed to be sleeping, the only sounds coming from the surrounding forest. Azriel crept in as quietly as he could, trying not to rouse the villagers. He made his way to his mother’s home, his shadows still writhing restlessly around him as they searched for Eira.

He didn’t bother to knock. Azriel just went up to the door and quietly pushed it open.

"Azriel." He froze. His mother was sitting in the living room, knitting. She fixed him with a look out of hazel eyes, and for just a moment he felt about 5 years old again. She looked towards the couch with a pointed look and he followed it.

There she was. Eira. Curled up on the couch underneath a thick woollen blanket, asleep. 

He could nearly taste the relief. 

"Don't wake her," his mother said, her voice quiet and fierce. "We'll talk in the kitchen."

Azriel nodded silently, his eyes still on the female lying on the couch.

She looked tired, exhausted. The paleness of her skin was nearly translucent in the dim lighting, making her look like porcelain. She had curled up on the couch, a woollen blanket thrown over her, hiding most of her body. And she looked so damn small. So breakable. 

It took all of his willpower not to rush to his mate, to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

Azriel had to forcibly pull his gaze away from her. Instead, he turned his eyes to his mother and the pointed, steely look she sent his way. He nodded stiffly, before making his way silently into the kitchen. 

Azriel was met with a sharp frown from her, as he walked into the kitchen.

His shadows were still writhing agitatedly behind him, while Esmeray’s dark eyes studied him in silence.

If only he could figure out what that look meant. Her eyes scanned his form, as if silently checking if he were hurt, before she let out a small sigh and gestured for him to sit.

"Is there a particular reason why you didn't tell me that you found your mate?" his mother asked him, crossing her arms.

Azriel’s eyes instantly flicked back to the open door to the living room, making sure Eira was still asleep, before he returned his eyes to his mother, meeting her intense gaze with his own.

He had to hold back a flinch. She was angry. 

“Because it just happened,” Azriel finally said, his voice as calm and flat as he could manage.

"It happened two weeks ago, according to your mate," his mother said drily. "Your mate, who I didn't know was your actual mate, and who some of my first words to were how sad it was that her twin sister wasn't mated to you!" she hissed.

Azriel winced at her words, silently cursing himself.

He really should have written his mother another letter. Or even gone to visit her. But he had been so busy with trying to wrap his own head around it that he had just…not thought about it. 

And he had also been quite sure that his mother would have thoughts about him being mated to the twin sister of the female he had waxed poetically to her about. 

How was he supposed to respond? Should he apologize for not telling her? For the fact that she had to find out from Eira? But judging by the sharp glare from his mother, any argument he made would be useless. Instead, he slumped into his chair.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I…I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Esmeray’s eyes narrowed, studying her son with a look that told him she was not happy with that answer.

“I would have thought that something as important as you having found your mate would be one of the first things to come out of your mouth,” she said coldly. “Instead, I find out two weeks later, and not from you.”

He grimaced. 

"I find out from your mate after she stumbles into my living room, looking like she just came from Hel and back! After she accidentally winnowed! And killed some trees with lightning of all things! And then, THEN she cries all over my kitchen table because she has been in love with my SON  she even became fae, while she was still human but he preferred her twin sister over her. Her twin sister who is apparently a Seer has been manipulating her visions from becoming true. And then the mating bond snapped for you and instead of begging your mate on your knees for forgiveness, all she brings out is that you want to TRY!" Every word his mother said was like a sharp blow to the stomach. Azriel just stared at her, his eyes wide, as he took in the information.

His mind was spinning, as he silently took in her words and the implications of them. Eira…Eira had been in love with him before she was even Fae?

“She was…she said that she was in love with me?” he brought out in a whisper. 

"That's what you concentrate on?" his mother snapped.

Azriel snapped his mouth shut, flinching at the note of cold anger in her voice.

“No…no it’s not,” he said quickly, his hands clenching around the fabric of his pants. “It’s just-“

He didn’t know what to say. His mind was still spinning, trying to take in the fact Eira had been in love with him before the Cauldron…before…

"It's just?" his mother asked him, her voice icy.

Azriel floundered his thoughts and emotions in a spin.

“I…I just…” he swallowed nervously, his mind grasping desperately for the right words to say. “I didn’t know she…”

How was he supposed to say that he had somehow preferred Elain over Eira? That he hadn’t even seen the fact that his mate was in love with him before she became Fae?

His shadows writhed agitatedly behind him, their agitation only increasing at his distress. Esmeray, who was sitting across from him, was also watching him like a hawk. The intense look in her eyes made it clear how very close he was treading to her wrath.

“You didn’t notice?” she repeated, her eyebrows raising as she spoke. “That your own mate loved you? Are you blind?” she spat out. Azriel flinched, his hands clenching into tight fists.

“I didn’t…I never saw…”

He had really been that blind, hadn’t he? All this time he had never noticed. Not once. He had been so focused on Elain, blind to the fact Eira had been right there all along.

"That girl...that girl adores you," his mother hissed quietly. "Your shadows dote on her and she lets them touch her without even flinching once, Azriel. You can consider yourself lucky that she is even willing to give you the time of the day anymore. She had every right to ignore you for preferring her twin sister of her!"

Azriel winced again, as a silent pang of guilt shot through his heart.

He knew she was right, damn it. He knew he had absolutely no right to ask her to even give him the time of day, not after he so easily had chosen Elain over her.

“I don’t deserve her,” he whispered, his voice quiet.

"No, you don't. Not with how you have been behaving," his mother shot back. "Do you even like her or are you only courting her because she's your mate?"

Azriel flinched hard at her words.

It was like a blow to the stomach, and a dagger to the heart. Gods. Did his own mother think he was so….so callous, so heartless that he was only with Eira because she was his mate?

"I do," he said quickly, the words practically tumbling out. "I do like her."

He was terrified by the fact that his own mother even thought he would be so cruel as to be with someone he didn't care about, just because of the bond.

"Gods, I do like her, mother," Azriel repeated again, his voice firmer this time. "I…..I know I have not been treating her the way I should, and I...I know I don't deserve her. But I like her, mother. I like her and I want to be with her."

Esmeray studied her son, her eyes cold, before she let out a loud sigh and sat back in her seat.

“Good,” she said quietly, her eyes still fixated on him. “Then, what are you going to do about it? Because she deserves better, Azriel. She deserves everything, which is far more than you have given her so far.”

His mother's eyes roamed over his face, studying him like a hawk. Azriel could practically feel the weight of her gaze on his skin.

Finally, after a moment of quiet tension, Esmeray's lips flattened into a thin line, making it clear she was still displeased.  "Have you told the poor girl that you actually want to be with her? That you don't just want to be with her because of the fact that she is your mate or because of whatever vision that sister of her was trying to keep from becoming true?!”

Azriel’s heart sank, the weight of her words pressing down on him.

No, he thought, his heart twisting at the thought. Gods, he had…..he had done nothing, absolutely nothing to convince her of the fact that he actually liked her.

He looked up at his mother, his eyes weary. "No," he said quietly, "I haven’t. When the mating bond snapped...she got hurt a day later...an attempt on the life of Rhys' son...she...she threw herself into a dagger so that Nyx wouldn't be hurt," Azriel recounted, the words sticking in his throat. "Rhys tried to take the pain from her...he accidentally got thrown into her memories. And we all..realised that we had been treating Eira abhorrently," Azriel said quietly. "And then we realised what Elain had been doing, what Elain had been keeping from us."

But the knowledge that Elain had attempted to sabotage her own sister's fate, that she had been manipulating Eira's visions...Azriel went silent, his throat tightening.

"...She...It was a vision she had...of Eira and me and...and of our children," he choked out.

His children with Eira. A future that could have been, if things had been different.

His light-haired, winged little girl, ran about and dug in the dirt. 

How he wanted that. How he wanted to see them, see Eira and their little ones, surrounded by their family and friends… 

Esmeray's eyes were wide, watching her son as realization dawned in her eyes. Azriel could feel her studying him as if trying to gauge his reaction.

He just stared down at the table, his eyes fixed on the smooth surface, the images of Eira and their children of his own flashing before his eyes.

Children. There would be children.

He would have a family with Eira.

And that Elain had tried to take that from them…it made him so utterly furious. 

"When Eira was awake...I went to her and I apologised. I told her that Elain may was the pretty one but she was the kind one and that I knew that she would protect our children fiercely," Azriel said quietly. His hands clenched around the edge of the table, as he forced himself to continue. "And...and then I asked if she would let me court her. The human way, to show her that I meant it."

"You told your mate, hours of off being stabbed, that her twin sister was the pretty one?" his mother hissed.

Azriel winced again, his head hanging down.

He was going to be the biggest fool in Prythian, he was sure.

Gods, even saying it now, it sounded like the stupidest thing he could have said. Of course, it had been the wrong thing to say. Why in the world had he told his mate, who had just risked her life, that her sister was the pretty one?

His mother’s voice was cold. “Why in the name of the Mother did you think that was the right thing to say to your mate? That her twin sister, the one who has been manipulating her own vision, tried to keep your children from you, is the prettyone?"

Azriel flinched at the icy words.

He knew his words had been the wrong ones. He knew that he had said the worst thing he could have said at that moment. But in that moment, all he could think of was that he had always been so blinded by Elain. Blinded by her beauty. Blinded by a pretty face and a veneer and had never seen what lay behind it…

And then there was Eira. Just as beautiful but in a different way. Elain was immediately…blinding. Eira…she snuck up on him. Eira was beautiful but quiet. A quiet sort of realisation, like the moon rising at night, until everything was bathed in her light. 

And still…Still, he had said those words out loud. To his mate. 

"I am shocked that she even agreed to let you court her after that," his mother said with a snort. "She ought to have hit you atop the head and told you to come back to her when you were willing to actually compliment her. Besides, that's the bestyou could come up with, son?! Her twin is pretty but your mate is kind and would protect your children fiercely? Of all the characteristics, all the abilities she has, that's what you land on?!" 

Azriel winced again, clenching his jaw so hard it hurt, as his mother's words rang out in the small room. She was right. Of all the things he could’ve chosen to say, all the things that he could have pointed out, he had gone with that?

Azriel slumped down in his chair. Gods, what had he been thinking?

Esmeray watched her son for another moment, her eyes roaming over his defeated form before she let out a quiet huff. “You really are a fool, aren’t you, my son?" she said, her voice softer than before. "A total and utter fool."

Azriel closed his eyes, hanging his head down.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I am a total fool who does not deserve my mate and probably won’t until I have grovelled enough and apologized a hundred times.”

His mother let out a low hum, her eyes still fixed on him. “You certainly do not," she said darkly. “But if the girl is willing to give you a chance, even after you have acted like an imbecile of a male…you best make sure you try your hardest. And start grovelling now.”

"I am sorry, " he apologised.

His mother snorted. "You don't owe me an apology. Unless you count it for not writing to me and telling me what exactly is going on in your life," His mother said drily. "I am not angry, just disappointed."

Azriel’s stomach churned at my mother’s words.

That was even worse. Azriel flinched, looking up and meeting her icy gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, quieter this time. “I am sorry that I have disappointed you, mother. I am sorry that I have not written.”

His mother’s eyes softened slightly at his words. “You’re my son. And I love you and am proud of you and what you have become. But I won’t have you acting like a total fool, not when that poor girl has had such a terrible life,” she said, her voice gentler than before. “You will not hurt her. You will prove to her that you want her for her, and not only because she is your mate. Is that clear?”

Azriel nodded, his throat tight.

“It’s clear,” he said quietly.

The shame and guilt twisted in his stomach, but he forced it down. He had been an idiot. A fool and an idiot, in denying not only what his heart truly desired, but also in the way he had acted towards Eira.

He wanted- Gods, he wanted her. And he wanted to prove it. Wanted to be a better male and a better mate. Wanted to earn her trust, her affection, her love.

His mother watched him for a moment, seeming to search his face, before she nodded, satisfied.

“Good. You better not keep me in the dark about your life, my son. And you better treat that girl properly from now on,” she said, her voice still stern before the soft, gentle look returned to her eyes. “And I want to see her. You bring her to dinner with you the next time you come, and I will judge for myself that you are treating her properly.”

The corners of Azriel’s mouth twitched, almost in a smile. “I will,” he promised, a little easier now. “I will bring her the next time I come.”

And he would bring her. He would bring her and his mother would see that he was trying to court Eira properly. He would prove to his mother, to his friends and even to Eira herself, that he didn’t want to be with her just because of the bond. That he wanted her. Wanted her for her.

"Now, what exactly does a human courtship even entail?" his mother asked him. “I imagine it’s not like the Illyrian way. 

No, it really wasn’t. The Illyrian way was bloody, and violent and involved more than one display of strength. 

Maybe that would have been easier for him, Azriel thought weakly. He would gladly go hunt a hundred rabbits and have the fur fashioned into a cloak…Somehow that was easier than the Human way. 

“Well…it’s traditionally the male who does the majority of the courting,” he said after a moment of pause. “He…ah…he spends time with the female, takes her out on dates to different places to get to know her, brings her gifts… that sort of thing.”

His mother’s eyes were fixed on him, studying him like a hawk. "How many times have you done that?" she asked, her voice dry. "Spent time with her, taken her out to the human way of dates, brought her gifts?"

"For the very first gift, I gave her a harp," Azriel said softly. "We had lunch together once or twice. Then I brought her flowers when we went to the symphony."

“A harp and some lunch and flowers,” his mother repeated quietly. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve done so far, to woo your mate?”

Azriel felt his face flush again, under her disapproving gaze.

“…yes,” he admitted, his head dropping down slightly.

"It's a start, I suppose," his mother said drily. “A very poor one,” she muttered under her breath.

Azriel’s cheeks flushed once again in shame, at yet another jab from his mother.

"How did you come up with a harp of all things in the first place?" his mother asked him.

"Nesta told me she used to play. Then her family fell on hard times and they had to sell it," Azriel explained.

"And you bought her a replacement harp," his mother said, a slight note of incredulity in her voice. "You didn't think that might, I don't know, bring bad memories to the surface? Remind her of the poverty she had to endure?"

He opened his mouth to respond and then froze. No. No, he hadn't even thought about that. Not once.

"She liked it," he said, slightly defensive. She had liked it...right? She had kissed his cheek, she had thanked him, she had told him that that was the most thoughtful gift anybody had ever given her.

His mother let out a small, disapproving huff.

“Of course she liked it,” she muttered. “Any gift from you she would have liked!”

At his mother’s words, Azriel’s heart sank.

Of course, Eira had liked the harp. He had given it to her, after all. He was her mate. And she was kind, to the point that she probably would have thought whatever he gave her was the greatest gift in the world.

He was being a fool again. He had given her a gift that had brought up terrible memories of her past, without ever thinking of the consequences.

“And how did you even have a lunch with her?” his mother asked, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Did you...did you go into the city to dine with her at some restaurant?”

His cheeks flamed again, his head dropping lower at his mother’s questions.

“No,” he muttered. “We had lunch at the River House with everybody else.”

He could feel his mother’s disapproval without her even saying anything. He didn't even need to look at her face to know the disappointment that would be on it at his answer.

“You ate lunch with her in front of the entire Inner Circle,” his mother stated, her words blunt. “And you thought that counted as a date?”

Her question made Azriel wince, because when she said it out loud like that...it sounded so obvious. "We did go to the symphony with Cassian and Nesta," he defended himself.

His mother let out a sceptical huff.

“Because there is nothing more romantic than sitting around in silence for 3 hours!” his mother snapped. “Have you ever had a proper conversation with her, Azriel?! What are her hobbies?" his mother asked with a sigh. "Can you even tell me that?"

"She's a seamstress, like you," he answered quietly. "She takes commissions from the alterations tailor in Velaris to make some money, and she makes dresses for her sisters. She also likes to bake and cook and she gardens for vegetables.”

"Are that her actual hobbies, or just the chores she prefers to do?" his mother asked him drily. Azriel winced at his mother's words, because...gods, were those Eira's actual hobbies, or just the chores she preferred to do?

His mind reeled at the thought. He knew she took commissions, and he knew she cooked and gardened, but was that what she preferred to do? Or was it simply just chores? Chores that he had never thought to ask to learn if those were what she truly enjoyed?

Was it just what she had done at the cottage? And then continued in the Night Court for lack of other options? 

That—gods, that possibility chilled Azriel to the bone and made him feel so ashamed. Had he never even bothered to ask her what she liked to do, aside from what she had done to help her family?

His mother let out another small huff, reading his expression. "You never asked her, did you? You never even bothered to ask if those were her hobbies, or if those were just things she had done out of necessity?”

"She embroiders the things she makes. That's not out of necessity, right?" he asked weakly.

His mother studied his face for a moment, her expression stern as though she was seeing right through him before she finally sighed.

“No, I suppose not,” she conceded after a little while. “And do you know what her favourite colour is?”

Azriel froze at his mother’s unexpected question.

Her...her favourite colour?  He was stunned into silence, the realization that he didn’t even know as simple a thing as Eira’s favourite colour suddenly hitting him like a punch to the gut. 

“You don’t know her favourite colour, do you?” his mother said, her voice flat. It was more of a statement than a question.

Azriel winced, his silence an answer.

Gods, what kind of mate was he? He hadn’t even bothered to ask any simple questions, like what her hobbies were, or what her favourite colour was. Even something as basic as what her favourite food was, or her favourite time of day, or her favourite place in all of Velaris…he had never bothered to ask her any of those simple, basic questions. He had only assumed. 

"You don’t know your own mate’s favourite colour. You don't know what her actual hobbies are. You just know what she did to help her family when she was human. And you took her to the symphony without asking her if she even liked that sort of thing, without even asking her when you are supposed to talk to her and spend time with her and get to know her,” his mother said, her words biting. “Are you even trying to court her?"

The words struck Azriel like a dagger to the heart.

He had truly botched the entire thing, hadn’t he? He had botched every single part of courting her. He hadn’t asked her any questions at all. Not her favourite colour, or her favourite food, or her favourite time of day, or her favourite damn colour. He had taken her to the symphony, to a place she might not even have even liked, had assumed that she would just be fine and would still like it, and he hadn’t even thought of asking if there was anywhere better to take her.

“That was the most pathetic attempt at trying to woo your mate,” his mother said in a low grumble. “That wasn’t attempting to court her. That was you assuming what she might like, rather than asking her what she would actually be interested in doing. And you never even bothered to ask her if she actually enjoyed the times you spent together!”

Azriel closed his eyes as the words stung.

That...that was all true, wasn’t it? He had never thought to ask her a thing. He had just assumed, assumed, assumed, without ever making the attempt to check with her to see if she enjoyed herself or not.

He was an idiot. A stupid, careless, thoughtless idiot.

"You'll do better," his mother demanded.

Azriel nodded, his head hanging down.

He would. He had to. Or he wouldn’t be worthy of being her mate.

He was going to ask her everything about herself. Everything he didn’t even know. He would ask her what her hobbies were, and what her favourite colour was, and what her favourite food was…

He would ask, and he would get to know Eira. 

Azriel. Feyre's mental touch and he let her in without a second thought. How is my sister?

Azriel's eyes closed as he felt Feyre’s presence in his mind, and he almost winced at her words.

She...is well enough. She is resting right now.

The silence that followed the mental communication stretched for only a moment, but to Azriel, it felt like an eternity of waiting, as Feyre pondered his words.

Amren...Amren said...some things to her... Feyre’s words came again, her voice laced with anxious worry even in his mind.

Azriel’s jaw clenched.

Damn it. Of course, Amren had said something to Eira. And of course whatever Amren had said...whatever things she had said…had hurt Eira.

Where did you find her?

My mother's house. The shadows brought here there

She’s at your mother’s house...? Feyre’s question came after a moment, her tone even more surprised and bewildered than it had been before.

We are coming, Rhys said softly into his mind.

His mother stared at him for a moment. "Rhys and Feyre are on their way," Azriel said quietly.

Azriel intercepted them at the door, keeping his voice quiet. Feyre was looking extremely anxious and Rhys’ face was taut with worry.

“Thank the Mother you’ve found her,” Feyre said first, rushing over to him, her eyes already darting around, looking for any sight of Eira.

They found her, still unmoving on the couch. Deep asleep.

Azriel could see both Rhys’s and Feyre’s shoulders visibly relax when they saw that Eira was asleep. But Azriel could tell from his high lord and lady’s eyes that they were both still worried.

“Is she…?” Feyre asked quietly, looking up at him with a worried frown. “Is she alright?”

Azriel stared down at Eira’s sleeping form, his chest aching at the sight.

"She's magically exhausted," his mother said calmly. "Rhysand."

The sound of his mother’s voice drew Rhys’s attention, and the High Lord raised his eyes to glance at her, a small smile on his face

"Esmeray," he responded, leaning down to hug her.

Azriel watched silently as his mother and the High Lord embraced each other, while Feyre continued to look between the two of them and Eira.

"You came quickly," his mother said to Rhys, pulling away from his embrace to look him in the eye.

"Of course," Rhys said quietly. "You wouldn’t be telling us our sister is here and expect us to take our time getting here, would you?"

“You know very well that I wouldn’t,” his mother said, her tone dry. “Now come. And don’t you two look at her like that. She is not harmed, nor wounded. She’s simply exhausted.”

"She was just hurt weeks ago," Feyre said quietly. "Badly hurt. She's still supposed to take it easy."

Azriel felt his muscles tense at Feyre’s words. The reminder…Azriel’s hands curled into fists as he remembered seeing Eira bleeding, bleeding profusely from the wound in her side. At seeing her grey skin…her laboured breathing…

You look...murderous, Rhys said into his mind

Murderous was too weak of a word, considering that Azriel wanted to personally hunt down and kill the fae that had dared to harm his mate again. He wanted to be murderous.

Ma had words with me. I fucked up, he admitted.

Rhys was studying him, his eyes sharp like he was reading every emotion in his head. But Azriel could see the slight sympathy in his gaze.

I’ll bet, Rhys said with a sigh. Your mother is brutal at times when she needs to be.

Brutal was an accurate word to use. Azriel had certainly felt the full brunt of his mother’s wrath. Still, he deserved it. He deserved every word she had said. And he would do better.

"Eira?" Feyre said suddenly, kneeling at her sister's side and Azriel's head snapped up to find her move slightly, a whimper coming from her lips.

Azriel held his breath as he watched Eira. Even exhausted as she was, she still looked so fragile, so soft. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to hold her, to reassure her that she was safe, to brush her long curls away from her face. But he kept still.

Feyre let out a soft gasp, reaching out to hold her sister’s shoulder, her touch gentle, as Eira’s head turned to the side, her eyes opening slightly.

"Eira," Feyre repeated quietly, gently squeezing her sister’s shoulder. "Can you sit up?"

Azriel watched as Eira slowly opened her eyes the rest of the way, her brows furrowing as she struggled to focus her eyes in the dim light.

"Fey..." she began weakly, her voice cracking as she struggled to sit up."I am sorry, Feyre," she whispered, wetting her bloodless lips.

Azriel’s heart ached as Eira struggled to sit up, and his hands fisted at his sides as he watched Feyre put a hand on Eira’s back to give her some support.

"No, you are not apologizing for anything," Feyre said firmly, shaking her head as Eira continued to struggle to move. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I didn't help you. I should have helped you. You were the youngest," Eira disagreed, her voice so weak. "I am sorry."

Azriel’s heart broke at Eira’s weak words, and his chest ached as though he wasn’t able to breathe.

Feyre’s hand continued to support her sister as Eira struggled to speak, until finally, Feyre spoke up before her sister could say anything else.

“You did nothing wrong, Eira,” Feyre insisted, her voice firm. “You did help. Yes, I hunted, but you cooked the meat. You did the laundry. You planted potatoes and carrots and sold whatever you canned and had left over. You made sure we had clothing to wear. You helped, Eira," she promised her.

But Eira’s eyes were still wide and miserable, filled with guilt and shame.

“It wasn’t enough,” Eira whispered. “I wasn’t enough.”

“You were enough,” Feyre promised her. “You did enough. You did the best you could. You did nothing wrong.”

"I don't want to be a weapon."

Azriel’s throat closed at Eira’s words, and Feyre’s eyes squeezed shut, her entire body going stiff even as she held back a sob.

“You are not a weapon,” Feyre said fiercely as she held her sister close. “You are not a weapon, do you hear me?”

"You will never need to be," Rhys said softly, placing a hand on Eira's hair. "It's alright. We won't make you be a weapon or a soldier or anything you don't want to be."

"All you ever have to be is our sister," Feyre continued in a slightly choked voice, stroking her sister's hair. "That is all you have to be. You do not have to fight or defend or be a warrior or anything like that. You don't. I promise you that you don't."

“Let's get you home," she said softly. "Let's go home, Eira."

Feyre began to pull Eira up from the couch, and Azriel moved instantly to offer support, going to Eira’s other side to help Feyre pull her older sister to her feet.

Her grey eyes blinked, seemingly suddenly realising that he was there. "Azriel," she whispered.

Azriel’s heart raced as Eira finally turned to look properly at him, and his heart twisted at the sight. She was pale. So pale. And she looked so fragile and exhausted, her eyes hollow. But it was her voice that nearly broke his heart — the way she had said his name. So softly. So quietly.

A demanding meow broke that moment, a white kitten clinging to Eira's legs.

Azriel’s jaw slackened briefly in surprise, as did Feyre, as they both looked down to see the little white kitten clinging to Eira’s legs.

From behind him, Azriel could hear Rhys’s stifled laughter.

His mother laughed out loud, clearly amused as she leant down to scoop up the wayward kitten. "It seems like she got quite attached to you," his mother said quietly. "You should let Azriel bring you back soon to play with her."

Eira’s grey eyes widened as his mother told her that — though whether it was from surprise or exhaustion, Azriel couldn’t tell.

“I…I would like that,” she said softly, her voice rough, and her words lit up something in Azriel’s chest. Something…warm.

Azriel’s mother gave Eira a long look, her head tilting.

“You are welcome. It is my honour and pleasure to get to know the young woman that my son has taken as a mate,” she said softly. 

He was saved from having to respond by a shudder working through Eira's body.

Azriel’s eyes darted back down to Eira as he felt the shudder that went through her and he frowned in worry, his arm around her shoulders instinctively pulling her closer to him.

She was cold, he could feel it even through her clothes, her entire body like ice as she shivered in his arms.

"We should get going," Rhys said apologetically. "Thank you, Esmeray."

"You should come visit more often," Esmeray said drily. "And remind my son of actually keeping up with his correspondence for once."

[traveler-at-heart]

Doctor's In - Part 9

Wanda Maximoff x Doctor!R

Summary: New Year, new... relationship challenges? Sharing a home isn't all fun and games.

A/N: Everyone, please don’t tell me how much you hate where this story is going just because it seems like R will cheat on Wanda. There’s more to the plot and it’s not something I’m doing just randomly, I’m spending time and effort into creating a fic that is a bit more nuanced or at least I hope it is.

Natasha is not a people person.

Which is funny, considering her profession. She’s created a system that allows her to interact with patients as little as possible, and to focus on what she understands best: the human heart.

Not as a metaphor for sentimental stuff, but as a perfect machine.

She’s out of her element now, and considering the stupid drunk that is shouting in the middle of the ER, Natasha thinks it’s better to check if you’re around later.

“Is anybody going to take a look at this?” the man raises his messed up hand, slurring his words. He approaches Natasha, and she busies herself reading a chart. “Are you going to help or not, hot stuff?”

“I don’t work here” she grumbles, deciding that she’ll have to wait for you somewhere else.

“I was hoping you could take care of me. Where are you going? I'm talking to you” he says when she turns to leave, his good hand flying to grab her by the elbow.

Natasha is ready to throw a punch, but she never feels his touch in any part of her body.

“Lay a hand on her and I will strap you to a hospital bed and give you a colonoscopy without anesthesia” you say, surprising him with your strenght. “Now, sir, sit the fuck down and someone will be with you shortly”

“I’ll handle it” Barnes, the new nurse, approaches with his signature frown. He is equally attractive and terrifying, though most of the nurses ignore the latter.

“Thank you” you smile, watching the man become quiet as Barnes grabs him by the shoulder, knowing he won’t be able to say anything stupid to him. “Hi, Nat”

“Hey, stranger” she smiles at you. “I was hoping I’d run into you here”

“Is that why you were wandering the ER? You could just text me” you smile, walking with her to the cafeteria. “My shift ended an hour ago, which is why I wasn’t the one dealing with that asshole”

“Thank you for that, you are such a gentlewoman. I am dissapointed, though. I was hoping you’d stay for our first lesson today”

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t miss it for the world”

Most of the hospital was buzzing with excitement at learning the new surgical technique that had earned Melina Romanoff a Nobel Prize. The exception was Tony, but that was only because he was convinced the Romanoffs had a secret, evil plot to take over. Even Pepper had told me to chill in front of everyone.

You sit at the front, saving a spot for Darcy and follow every word Natasha says. She’s just going over some of the theory and the process of how the research came to be, which is still very interesting to you. Medical research required patience and focus that you did not have, so you had turned your professional development to trauma, as well as search and rescue training.

“We’ll meet on Wednesday to start the first exercises” she finishes the presentation, and winks at you discreetly.

You smile, leaving the conference room, Darcy right behind you.

“What was that?”

“What? Were you expecting exercises from the get go?”

“I meant the wink. Why was she winking at you?” Darcy insists and you shrug your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Friends wink at each other. I wink at you!”

“If you winked at me, I’d think you’re having a stroke” Darcy insists, and you have to roll your eyes. “It was flirty”

“Natasha knows about my relationship, we are just friends” you say, eager to finish the conversation.

“I just think there’s something fishy about this”

“You too? Stark got to you, Lewis” you mock, nudging her shoulder. “Come on, it’s all fine. I gotta get home, though, I forgot to tell Wanda I was staying longer”

“I hope she kicks your ass for that!” Darcy says as you run out of the hospital.

“Yeah, yeah”

As you drive home, you stop by the shopping street to get Wanda some flowers. You don’t think she’ll be too upset about you being late, but it never hurts to be safe.

Still, as you park in the driveway, you take a couple of minutes inside your car, looking at your old home in the rearview mirror.

Truth be told… you’re stalling. Though you love everyone inside the Maximoff house very much, you’ve had so much work these past two weeks, and it’s always a bit exhausting to get home and find the kids running around or Pietro complaining about something.

As someone who went from living alone to sharing a house with four other people full time, it was definitely overwhelming to say the least.

You take a last, deep breath and step inside the house, Pietro watching a show while the twins play in the backyard.

“You’re late” he comments.

“Work stuff” is all you say, not feeling in the mood to justify your tardiness to someone who isn’t Wanda.

But, as you enter the kitchen and your eyes meet hers, you can tell she’s also a little upset.

“Sorry, work ran long” you apologize, offering the flowers. She tries to smile and you put them down on the counter. “I really am sorry, Wands”

“No, it’s ok. I’m just behind with the book and the kids were a little difficult today… I could have used your help, that’s all”

I could have used some rest, you want to say, but that won’t help. It’s not forever, you keep thinking. Pietro will get better and move out, and things will be less crowded.

“I’ll be here all day tomorrow, I can take care of anything you need” you promise, saying goodbye to the prospect of a good nap. To keep yourself busy, you take out stuff to make a sandwich, sighing when you notice you’re out of cheese. “Like going to the grocery store, I guess”

Pietro keeps eating everything and by the time you’re home, there’s barely any food left.

“And you’re coming to the twins game on Wednesday, right?”

“Oh” you pause, scratching your neck. “I have to go to the hospital”

“Again? It seems like you’re there all week” Wanda protests.

“Well, yeah, we’re understaffed, between people being sick and others taking time off. I have to go and head the department, it’s my job, Wanda” you say, suddenly not hungry.

Nothing’s enough, you’re not good enough.

“I just… miss you. That’s all” Wanda says, and you sigh, feeling like an asshole.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s always crazy during January, plus we’re doing a new training with a doctor from Boston. Things will settle in a couple of weeks, I promise”

“Ok” she nods, smiling as you approach her, kissing her temple. “But you’ll have to make it up to me”

“I have a few ideas for that, Miss Maximoff” you smile, pulling her against you and kissing her temple. “And none of them include clothes”

“Good” she laughs, standing on her toes to kiss you.

—

You wanted to have a good day, you really did. Wanda needed some work done on her new study so you dropped off the kids and drove to the hardware store, trusting Pietro could be fine on his own for a while.

What really ruined the mood happened on the way back home.

While turning on a busy street, your mother calls and instead of pressing the ignore button, you answer.

“Fuck” you mutter and it’s too late to hang up. “Hey, mom”

Wanda perks up at that, curious about your mother. She has never even heard her voice, let alone watch you have a conversation on the phone with her. She can tell your posture stiffens.

“Hello, Y/N. I missed your call for the holidays”

“Had lots of work” you lie.

“Oh, well. Hope you liked your birthday present” the woman says in a kinder tone and you almost want to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks. Really appreciate it”

“So, I don’t have a lot of time, wanted to let you know we’re flying there next week but we’re just gonna stay for three days. I don’t think we’ll have the time to meet you. Plus, it’s just us family, you know”

“Right” you try to sound disappointed, but are actually tempted to stop the car and dance around the street. “Some other time”

“Just make sure you’re available in case we need anything. It’s the least you can do”

“Of course” you agree, looking out of the corner of your eye at the confused expression on Wanda’s face. “Have fun, say hi to everyone for me”

“Ok, you take care now”

The minute she hangs up, you let out a huge sigh of relief.

“What was that?” Wanda says, frowning.

“Which part, love?”

“Everything! Ok, first of all, the birthday present. What did she get you? I didn’t see anything delivered”

“Wanda, she doesn’t even know where I live. What happened was, someone walked by and she pretended to be nice. She’s always done it” you explain, feeling irritated. All you want is to be happy that you won’t see her, but Wanda is pushing the subject.

“And what about them coming? And not making the time to see you? Just us family? You’re her daughter!”

“Wanda, please, drop it” you plead, parking outside your home and stepping out of the car.

“Why is she like this? Why don’t you call her out on it? And I’m sorry, I just can’t understand someone being so horrible to their own child”

“Wanda!” you snap, slapping the trunk of the car. “I know, she’s horrible. I don’t care if she lies about getting me a birthday present and I don’t care enough about her to call her out for being mommy dearest. I am just so damn happy that I don’t have to be around her anymore, can we please focus on that?”

“I am just trying to understand. You never tell me anything about her” Wanda protests and you can’t believe she’s still talking about this.

“Everything there is to know, you already know, Wanda. What else would you like to learn? That sometimes I went to bed without having dinner because she thought I was getting fat? Or that when I got a summer job and was out too late she only let me sleep on the porch? What other fucking twisted things would you like to learn about that awful woman?”

“I…”

“If I say it’s complicated or I don’t want to talk about it, maybe just listen once. Here” you toss the car keys her way, not caring if she catches them or not. “I’m going for a walk”

You’d do more than walk if you were wearing different shoes and it wasn’t so damn cold. Still, you don’t make it very far, running into a black and white bunny in the middle of the street. None of your neighbors have pet rabbits, not that you can recall.

“Where did you come from?” you say, hugging the little thing and feeling relaxed as it moves its nose and settles in your arms.

“Señor Scratchy!” Agatha yells from her porch, and you turn around.

“I take it he’s yours?”

“Yes, Rio gave him to me. Señor Scratchy, what are you doing outside?” the woman says with a soft voice, taking him back. “I don’t know how he got out”

“Maybe your fence? Let’s take a look” you walk around to her backyard, pointing at an old part of her wooden fence. “Aha!”

“Oh, great. It will take forever to find someone to fix it” she grumbles. “He’ll have to stay inside for the time being”

“I can fix it. It will only take an hour or so” you say, eager to stay out of the house for a bit longer.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Agatha squeezes your cheek and then slaps it gently. “Just remember, I’m already taken, hot stuff”

“I’m just fixing your fence, Miss Harkness” you wink. “I’ll be back with the stuff we need”

Wanda seems to be in her study when you go back home. The fact that you feel relieved instead of sad for making her hide does make you a little guilty.

Truth is, you’ve never lived with anyone you had a relationship with, and neither did she. Maybe you’re both expecting things to be perfect, and it’s just not realistic. Disagreements are bound to happen when you share a home.

Right?

As you work on Agatha’s fence, you keep thinking about a way to make things work for everyone, because you’ve had a couple of fights with Wanda in the span of two days and you really don’t want to make it a habit.

“Did that fence do something to you?” Agatha interrupts you, handing over a glass of water.

“Huh?” you look up at her, taking it and nodding your thanks.

“You're nailing that wood a little too hard, hot stuff” she says, dragging a garden chair and sitting next to you. “Spill”

Saying it’s nothing won’t stop her from asking, so you keep working and tell her everything that has been going on. How the house feels too crowded sometimes, and work is kicking your ass. It takes a minute, but you admit that Wanda really upset you, questioning why you didn’t stand up to your mother.

“I don’t know, I guess it’s something I’ve always wondered myself. Why didn’t I say something instead of being weak. It struck a nerve when Wanda said it out loud”

“Did she call you weak?” Agatha says, frowning.

“No, that’s me being dramatic” you chuckle.

“Look, it’s what I told you the other day. Not everyone understands it, because most people have a semi functional relationship with their parents. And from the sound of it, Wanda’s were straight out of a sitcom”

“I guess”

“She doesn’t have to understand it. She just has to respect your boundaries” Agatha says and you nod, still thinking about everything. “Have you ever thought about going no contact with your mother?”

“Is that what you did?”

“Oh, honey, my mother’s dead. So unless I pull out a Ouija board, we’re no contact already” she cackles, which makes you laugh.

“I don’t know. If she needs something, I guess I would try to help her. If she was a bad mother, that’s on her. But I won’t be a bad daughter”

“You’re too good” Agatha pats your back, and you smile at her.

“Alright, well, your fence is fixed. Can we call it even with the therapy session you just gave me?” you stand up, making sure everything’s in its place.

“Nu-uh, you owe me” Agatha jokes, taking the bunny out to the backyard. “You’ll be fine. Tú puedes”

“Duolingo?”

“Rio’s been teaching me Spanish. The other stuff I can’t say it to you because it’s dirty and for her ears only” the brunette winks, which makes you blush. “Bye, Y/N”

“Bye, Agatha” you roll your eyes at her antics, feeling better as you walk back home.

You figure it’s better to start working on what Wanda needs, so you carry the stuff upstairs and knock before entering the guest room turned into a study.

“Hey” you say, as Wanda looks out the window instead of working.

“Hi”

“I’ll fix the lights and then adjust your desk, or do you need to work now?” you ask, unsure if she’s also upset at you.

“No, that’s fine. It’s not even important, you should rest, work has been crazy for you” she finally turns, and you can tell she’s trying hard not to cry.

“Hey… come here” you step closer, pulling her into a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m really sorry for pushing the subject. I can’t imagine someone being so awful to you, and I made you… I should have kept it to myself”

“It’s… yeah. It wasn’t nice and I really don’t like to look back at everything that happened. But I know you didn’t mean any harm, ok? I love you, baby” you kiss her temple, feeling her relax in your arms. “Why don’t you go check on your brother? He’s been too quiet, which can only mean he’s getting into some sort of trouble”

“Or buying more stuff from Amazon. We barely fit here” Wanda grumbles and you laugh, kissing her. “I’m sorry”

“I know. You’ll make it up to me in bed” you joke, which makes her laugh.

“Maybe now that he’s busy…”

In that precise moment, her brother decides to call for Wanda.

“Go” you kiss Wanda again, wishing you had more time just with her.

—

Natasha’s not excited about the day ahead, the only silver lining being that she gets to see you. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. She’s flirting and constantly eyeing you, but nothing’s gonna happen.

Not on a lack of desire on her part. It’s pretty obvious you’re not the type of person who cheats. Pretty ironic, she finally meets a decent woman and you’re already taken.

What does that girlfriend of yours have that she doesn’t? Aside from two kids that adore you. Is the whole housewife thing really that appealing to someone like you?

As she enters the room for the next lesson, Natasha notices you’re sitting a few rows behind. That’s a little disappointing. Still, your eyes follow her every move and she feels a little surge of pride at that.

If only you were single, Natasha might get you to roleplay that teacher-student fantasy she’s had.

Still, as she finishes her explanation, you walk up to her, smiling.

“That was brilliant, Natasha” a brunette doctor walks behind you, and you reach out to stop her. “Hey, come meet Doctor Romanoff, Darcy”

“Pleased to meet you. We’re loving the lessons” she says, not wanting to make small talk. “Y/N, come on. I’m starving”

“Oh, I was thinking we could go out for a bite if you’d like?” you turn to Natasha, smiling.

“I’ve got surgery in half an hour” Darcy says, glaring at you.

“Nat?” you turn to the woman, smiling. “Bishop can take care of the ER for me”

“Yeah, I’d love to” Natasha says, kicking herself over how fast she agrees to doing anything you ask.

“Awesome, I know this great place” you begin saying, but she gets a phone call. Natasha looks at you apologetically, but you smile, while Darcy is pulling at your sleeve and giving her a strange look.

“I’ll only take a moment” Natasha promises.

“Yeah, that’s fine”

“A word, Y/N?” Darcy finally gets your attention back and you frown.

Natasha doesn’t care much about the new doctor, unless she’s also fighting for your attention. She finds an empty room to take the call, shutting the door behind her.

“What is it, mother?”

“How’s the second lesson?”

“Fine. Do you keep a timer on your desk?”

“I just like to know if the study plan I designed is working, Natalia. That way, when we move to the next one, it can be more efficient until we manage a global, scalable solution”

“We? I’m only doing this here and then I’m going back to my research, you agreed” Natasha reminds her, blood boiling.

“This is your legacy too”

“Then how come I wasn’t up there getting the Nobel with you?”

“Natalia, those are insignificant things compared to what we can acheive” Melina scoffs.

“I’m not going to spend another month in a different hospital just because you’re too paranoid about someone stealing your research”

“Fine, then get me a new Head of Trauma for Boston and we’ll consider it even” Melina says. “You know Yelena wants to focus on that, she needs someone who can teach her”

“There are tons of applicants. Choose one from the pile in your desk, Mother” Natasha sighs, knowing where this is going.

“What about that doctor you told me about? You sounded so enamoured last time”

“She wouldn’t move to another city, her girlfriend’s here” Natasha says.

“Girlfriends aren’t wives. Well, even spouses can get divorced. Maybe she just needs to hear the right offer” Melina insists.

“Mother…”

“You’re not resuming your research until you find a new Head of Trauma. That’s final, Natalia” the woman loses her cool, hanging up on her daughter.

Natasha feels so stupid, of course this would happen. Melina never cared about anything other than herself and her accomplishments.

“Fuck” the woman says, kicking one of the chairs. You walk inside that precise moment, jumping at the outburst.

“You ok?” you say, locking the door.

“Yeah. It’s nothing”

You let out a sigh, sitting next to her in the bed of the on call room.

“We can skip lunch if you’re not hungry”

“It’s not that. I mean, I’m not hungry anymore, my mother just pissed me off” Natasha shakes her head, trying to calm her racing heart.

“You got one of those too, huh?” you chuckle. “I’m sorry, Nat, honestly. It’s the worse feeling in the world. Someone who should support you trying to bring you down, and then no one believing you because there’s this collective denial that mothers can be bad people”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it. To everyone else she’s a genius. To me, she’s the woman who’s always reminding me how ordinary I am compared to her” Natasha fiddles with her hands, not used to being vulnerable. Not with someone who understands her so well.

“You’re not ordinary, Natasha” you say with so much conviction that the redhead looks up, eyes meeting yours. “And if your mother thinks that, I’m sorry to say that she’s not as smart as I thought”

Natasha laughs, blushing a little at the compliment. You nudge her with your elbow, standing up.

“Want some coffee instead? If you’re not hungry anymore” you place your hand in the doorknob, checking if she’s ready to step out.

“Yeah, sure”

As you nod and open the door, Natasha stands up, reaching for your wrist.

“I… thank you. You’re too kind to me” she says in a low voice.

“I guess I know how isolating it can be. If you ever want to talk, I’m here” you squeeze her arm in return, smiling at her.

Natasha is about to say something else, something probably really stupid, when a voice calls behind you.

“Detka, there you are”

“Wanda? Hi, what are you doing here?” you step out of the room now, looking at your girlfriend. Wanda, however, is focused on the very attractive redhead that follows behind you, noticing you were alone seconds ago

“Am I interrupting something?” she says, eyes not leaving Natasha’s figure.

“What? No, this is Nat… eh, doctor Romanoff. She’s the doctor from Boston who is giving us the course” you explain, looking between both women. Natasha is the first one to give up the staring contest, extending her hand to Wanda.

“Nice to meet you. Y/N has told me so much about you and your boys”

“I’m happy to hear that”

Happy that you know she’s taken.

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” you ask, still thrown off by Wanda’s presence. Ever since Pietro was discharged, she has never been back to the hospital. If you recall correctly, she said she had enough of hospitals for a lifetime.

“I need to talk to you for a second. Alone”

“I’ll meet you in a second” you smile as Natasha walks back to the conference room and she nods. When you turn to Wanda she has a strange look in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You never told me she was this pretty”

“Who?”

“Natasha”

“I didn’t notice” you mumble, scratching your neck. “And anyways, that’s not why you’re here, is it?”

“Right. I just… I wanted to apologize again for yesterday. And make sure we’re ok. I know these past few weeks have been hard. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to come over and see you”

“Hey, we’re ok” you promise, pulling her by the waist. “I love you, you love me and we have a pretty nice family, don’t we? Even with stinky Pietro”

“I’m trying to convince him to shower daily” she laughs against your lips. It’s pretty clear that he was clean during his hospital days because he got sponge baths.

“It’s either that or hosing him down in the backyard”

“I’d like to see that” your girlfriend laughs and you take her hand, bringing it to your lips. “I’ll let you get back to work”

“Ok, if I can I’ll leave early” you kiss her cheek, squeezing her waist until you’re hand goes dangerously lower. “And maybe we can have some makeup sex”

“Mmhm you’d like that wouldn’t you” Wanda slaps your shoulder. “Go”

But as you wave goodbye and walk up to meet Natasha, Wanda doesn’t miss the look on the redhead's eyes.

She knows it, because it’s the same way Wanda looks at you. And that’s all it takes for her to decide, she doesn’t like the other woman.

—

It’s not as late as you thought, because when you get home everyone’s finishing dinner.

“She lives” Pietro says when you walk in.

“He bathes” you say, noticing his wet hair. “Did Wanda tell you I was going to hose you down?”

He doesn’t get to reply, because the kids jump in your arms.

“My stinky minions! Did you win the game today?”

“No, you have to come to the next one. You’re our lucky charm” Billy says.

“Pinky promise, I will come to the next one” you nod, moving to kiss Wanda. “Hey, gorgeous”

“Moya lyubov” she says and you smile, always loving that accent. “Come have dinner while the kids shower”

“Can you read us a story when you finish?” Tommy asks.

“Of course. Now go with Mom, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done”

The kids cheer as you get a plate and serve some delicious lasagna. Now you really don’t regret coming home early.

“Alright, I’m calling it a night. I’m exhausted” Pietro says.

“From showering?” you joke, but he fake laughs as he pushes his wheelchair away. “Leave your plate, I’ll clean it up”

“Thanks, sestra”

As you eat, you remember to send a text to Natasha, asking if she wants to have lunch with you tomorrow before she heads back to Boston for the rest of the week.

The kids are ready for bed and you walk upstairs, sitting between their beds and reading Dragon Feathers, which was your father’s favorite bedtime story to tell. Billy and Tommy laugh as you make different voices, the way your dad did when he told you the tale.

As soon as you’re done, they settle in bed, and Wanda’s the one who tucks them in, joining you at the door.

“I missed this” you say against her temple.

“I missed you” she agrees, leaning against your side. “Come to my study, I want to show you the drawings I made for the book”

The new working space was starting to grow on Wanda. Even if it was smaller, she had enough room to fit everything she needed, and her view was much better from the second floor.

You admire the sketches she hands you, looking at every detail and stroke of her pencil.

“Could I see you work one day? I don’t think I’ve ever done that, baby” you say, in awe of her talent.

“I don’t know, I might get too nervous”

“Please?” you pout, hoping that will change her mind. Wanda rolls her eyes and leans forward, standing on the tip of her toes to kiss you. Her movements turn more frantic and she catches you off guard when she pushes you against the small sofa, straddling your lap.

“Tell me more about her”

“About who?” you say, completely lost in the way her shirt strains against her breasts.

“That new doctor”

“Natasha?” you blink, trying to form a coherent thought. “Why?”

“Because. You’re working a lot, and apparently it’s next to a very beautiful woman whose name I hadn’t heard up until I saw you walking out of a room together”

“We were just talking” you mumble, more focused on undoing the buttons on Wanda’s shirt. She takes your wrists and pulls them away, forcing you to look up.

“I hope she knows your girlfriend is incredibly possesive and jealous” she whispers against your lips. “Or I might have to remind you who you belong to”

“I haven’t forgotten” you promise, looking at her lips intently.

“Then show me” Wanda says, her nails digging in your scalp. Whatever you were about to say dies in your lips as she kisses you, biting your lip and making you forget your name. You open your mouth, allowing her to explore it with her tongue and you carry her to the desk, pushing away everything so she can sit on it.

Wasting no time, Wanda holds her hips up so you can pull down her pants and underwear, and you kneel, moaning against her center when you begin to eat her out, desperate for her taste.

It feels like forever since you’ve had the chance to worship her body.

“That’s it” she moans as you bite the inside of her thigh, pleased with the way her legs close around your head. “I’m gonna…”

“Hold it”

“No, please”

“Did I fucking stutter? God, you are so impatient” you say, squeezing her throat as you move up, sliding two fingers inside her wet cunt. “Why can’t you just let me fuck you?”

“Oh, God” she says, getting wetter at your words.

“I think you’re the one who’s forgetting her place, baby” you say, hitting her G spot over and over until she can’t speak.

“Fuck” Wanda sighs, biting your neck as she finally gets her release. You kiss her, muffling her moans until her breathing evens out. “I missed that”

“Mhm” you smile, letting Wanda taste herself in your lips. “Come on. Let’s go to bed”

As you get changed and clean up, your phone pings several times.

“Work?” Wanda asks, but you’re smiling as you type.

“Huh? No, not work” is all you say, getting in bed and kissing Wanda. “Night, baby”

“Goodnight” she says, watching the screen of your phone light up again. You don’t notice because you’re already asleep, exhausted.

Wanda has to resist the urge to look at the text you just got.

You’ve never given her a reason to doubt you.

And yet, as she goes to bed, looking at your sleeping shape, Wanda can’t help but feel, there’s a part of you that’s not being honest.

[spideysbruh]

Secret

She was getting tired of it, the sneaking around, the hiding from not only cameras but from everyone. It’s been a huge hit to her confidence, which is crazy because she’s usually a very confident person, she spent her whole youth being insecure and vulnerable and worked her way out of it. She didn't think she’d ever feel this way with Timothée. 

To be fair, she didn’t feel like this at first. She knew that given their jobs, they had to be private for at least a little while initially, but it’s already been a year. A year and four months actually, she thinks that's more than enough time, they should definitely be able to go out and post about each other and just not give a fuck anymore.

So why doesn’t he want to?

Right now, they’re in their hotel room in Chicago, and Timothée is looking out the window to see how many people are waiting outside for him. He groans and walks to the mirror in the bathroom, “I can’t wait to shave this mustache off.”

Y/n smirks and sits up, “I think it’s cute. You look very French.” She responds, Timothée peers over at her as his cheeks redden.

“Yeah?” He grins and walks over to the bed, crawling over her as he kisses her lightly, “Maybe I’ll keep it then.” He says softly, moving down to kiss her neck. Y/n sighs, feeling every kiss before she gently pushes him away, sitting straight up and moving her legs to the side of the bed, “What’s wrong?” Timothée questions, placing a hand on her thigh.

“I…. I kind of don't want to be a secret anymore.” She answered, looking down at her legs, not wanting to meet Timothées eyes.

Timothée is quiet for a second before he responds, “Look baby, I just- I worry about what’ll happen if everyone finds out. People are evil and ruthless and- It’s terrifying. I want it to just be us… just for a little longer.”

“I can’t even be seen with you, god forbid I walk next to my boyfriend, right?” She sarcastically asks, making him huff.

“Babe, it's not like that! You know it's not.” He soothingly says, moving his hand to her back, rubbing circles around it. “I'm trying to protect you.” 

Y/n looks up at him, she recognizes the sincerity in his eyes and sighs, “Can we at least walk out together tonight? We don't even have to touch.” She says, making him laugh.

“I think that if I touched you in public, I’d never let go.” He replies softly, making her smile.

“I think I’d be okay with that.” She giggles as he leans over to kiss her cheek, “But… you promise we can go public soon?”

He nods and brushes a strand of her hair behind her ear, “Yes, baby. Of course, just another month or two.” He smiles, and she nods.

That night, they leave the hotel together, and he holds the door open for her which she appreciates. She sends him a smile as she walks past him, hearing the people gasp as they see her and Timothée together.

“Y/n!??! What are y’all doing together?!” A fan asks, she laughs and stops to chat with them.

“We’re friends! We hang out quite a bit.” She responds, right before the fan goes to take a picture with her.

“You guys would be such a cute couple!” Another one says.

“Ahaha thank you, thank you.” Timothée chuckles behind her.

“It was nice meeting you guys!” Y/n says before getting in the car, sighing as Timothée sits next to her.

“Little by little, baby.” He says, wrapping an arm around her.

~~~

Three months later. 

They’re still not public. Nothing is even going on right now, they’re both on vacation for the first time in a while, did Timothée just completely forget about their conversation? 

They’re both relaxing at her apartment, where he finds himself being more than his own.

“We should go to the movies or something, " she says, looking at him on the couch. He hums and nods.

“That sounds nice, are there any later showings?” He asks, looking up at her from his comfortable position.

She rolls her eyes, “You don't wanna go earlier? Then we can get something to eat afterward.” She tries, going to sit next to him.

He shrugs and wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer, “Just feeling so lazy right now, and it’s probably so crowded today-”

“Y’know what, Timothée? That’s it. I gave you enough time, I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.” She snaps, making him go mute, his eyes peering into hers with furrowed brows.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you really not remember our conversation from like, three months ago? I want to be able to hold your hand and- and fucking kiss you in public! It’s like you’re ashamed of me or something.” She says, looking up at the ceiling to stop the tears from falling out of her eyes. Don’t cry right now.

Timothée quickly sits up and caresses her face, “Don’t ever say that. I could never feel that way about you… What happened to that confident girl that I know so well?” He wonders softly, and Y/n scoffs.

“This happened! All of the hiding and secrets… We’ve been together long enough, unless you don’t want to be anymore and that’s why you-”

“Stop. That’s not true, baby. I love you. I want nothing more than to show you off. Do you know how often I think about the dates we could go on, the things we can do out in public? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says, Y/n smiles a bit at that.

“That’s nice Timmy, but you’re still not making any effort to go public.” She shrugs.

“Fine. Fuck it. Let’s go out then.” He says, her eyes widen.

“Seriously?” She grins, excitement now coursing through her entire body, Timothée nods.

“Yes. You don’t deserve to feel like this. I hate that it was my actions that were making you feel like that. I also despise that I waited so fucking long, and for what? Just because of what people will say? I’m sorry.” He says before leaning in to kiss her gently. She kisses him back deeper, wrapping her arms around his neck to be as close to him as possible.

“I love you.” She breathes against his lips.

“I love you more. More than anything.” He says, kissing her again, and then pulling away. “Let’s go, what are we watching?”

They pick a movie and get ready, Y/n puts on her cutest clothes and Timothée lets her style his hair however she wants, she opts for the usual way he does it which is her favorite.

They step outside and get in his car, she interlocks their fingers and he doesn’t let go as he drives silently.

He speaks up when they’re almost at the theatre, “You’ve been so patient with me, Y/n. More patient than you maybe should have been. I’m grateful for that, and I’m sorry.”   

Y/n smiles at that and nods, “Thank you, Timmy. It’s okay… I understand where you were coming from.”

He parks the car in the parking lot and leans over to kiss her, he kisses her lightly first, but when he pulls away he meets her eyes and grins, leaning in again and kissing her deeper than the first. His hands gently hold her face as he slips his tongue in between her lips, “Fuck, maybe we should skip the movie.” He mumbles against her lips, she giggles and kisses him one more time before taking off her seatbelt and getting out of the car.

“Come on, we’re already here, lover boy.”

Timothée sighs and grins as he also gets out.

During the movie, Timothée has an arm wrapped around Y/n the whole time, mindlessly playing with her hair as she rests her head on his shoulder.

Towards the end, he whispers to her, “Someone down there is recording us.” She looks down and sees the camera, they both wave in sync which makes them laugh.

When the credits roll, Timothée kisses her head before standing up and offering his hand to her.

They discuss the movie on their walk out when Timothées phone rings, he apologizes and answers it as he opens the car door for Y/n.

“One second, baby.” He quickly says before shutting the door and leaning against the hood of the car. 

She sighs and unlocks her phone, seeing a couple messages from her best friend. 

The most recent one says- Y'ALL ARE TRENDINGGG

She smiles and clicks the link that she also sent, the headline of the article makes her laugh “NEW RELATIONSHIP ALERT: TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET AND Y/N L/N SPOTTED ON A MOVIE DATE TODAY” 

“That was quick.” She mumbles and sees the pictures are of their little makeout in the parking lot.

Timothée gets in the car and chuckles, “Apparently people are wondering why you're with me cause you're way too beautiful.” He says, Y/n giggles and shakes her head.

“Sure they are.” She rolls her eyes.

“I'm serious! I shouldn't have been worried about you, cause why am I lowkey hurt.” He jokes, Y/n kisses his cheek and pinches his other one.

“Stop it. You're my beautiful boy.” She smiles, he grins and kisses her again, starting the car.

“I can't wait to show you off.” 

*

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

🎄 Under The Mistletoe 🎄

Someone in Hellfire plays matchmaker between you and Eddie ❤️ Featuring mischievous Hellfire members, pesky mistletoe and lots of fluff 🎄

Going to open my requests for a little while so if you have any holiday requests then let me know. 💌

🎄❄️

There's a very good reason. Why the holiday season is a wonderful time. For a boy and girl to fall in love.

Cause Santa and Cupid, planned exactly what you did, When you kissed me by the mistletoe above.

We stood there kissin' by the mistletoe. Tingle, tingle. Muah, muah, muah, and away we go, jingle, jingle.

Kissin' by the mistletoe, love came to stay and now it's Christmas every day.

Aretha Franklin - Kissing by the mistletoe 🎄

❄️🎄

Christmas had arrived in Hawkins. The snow was falling casting in the town in an image of a perfect winter wonderland. All Eddie had heard for the last couple of days was festive tunes and jingles, he did like Christmas but this was a bit much.

He couldn't exactly say that he had the best Christmas growing up, when his mom was around it felt special to him, she adored Christmas and Eddie loved that it made her happy.

Then he was left with just his old man and those were the worst times, Uncle Wayne was his bubble of safety and normality then and now. Thanks to uncle Wayne his love of Christmas has returned slowly.

Did that mean he wanted to be driven crazy by hiliday tunes? No. Then there was his enemy of the season. Mistletoe.

All week he had seen giggly, kissing and loved up couples, they were driving him mad. It made him grumpy and twitchy and he avoided the cursed plant like the plague.

At least when he was in the drama club and safely ensconced in all things Hellfire Club related he could relax. He had spent some time earlier setting up for the campaign and it was a good one, a mini adventure which was Christmas themed of course and very exciting.

For a few hours he could be in total DM mode and nothing mistletoe related could happen...

🎄⛄

At five o'clock on the dot Dustin arrived with Lucas and Mike, then everyone else hurried in. Eddie ignores the way his heart skips a beat when he sees you.

"Gentlemen and ladies welcome to this special edition of Hellfire, where we can enjoy the delights of our new festive themed quest and avoid the evil plants of doom... I swear If I see one more hint of mistletoe I'll..."

"Eddie" you say softly and that captures his attention as you point up to the ceiling, he stops mid-rant and his eyes bug out as he sees the mistletoe hung above him. No. Jesus H Christ, no.

The mistletoe was directly above you and Eddie.

His eyes narrow and he looks around the room immediately suspicious, Jeff and Gareth are sniggering to themselves but stop at the look on his face.

"Who did this?" he hisses to the rest of the group and looks at each of them in turn. No one is owning up to putting the mistletoe there and that frustrates him even more because that dreaded thing wasn't there at any other point of the day.

It wasn't there when he was setting up earlier, no pesky mistletoe was in sight and yet now it was just casually hanging above his head, directly above his chair. "That wasn't here earlier, so one of you little shits did this" he snaps.

He could feel himself sweating as you peered up at him, fuck. It's not like he didn't want to kiss you, he really wanted to but he highly doubted that you wanted to kiss him. Why would you?

"We don't have to do this" he says to you, he would never want you to feel pressured into kissing him. He was going to kill (the character) of whoever did this in the most violent way possible.

"Eddie" the way you say his name makes his knees turn to jelly, his usual confidence and don't give a fuck attitude is long gone and now he's terrified.

You see Eddie was totally smitten with you but didn't realise you were equally smitten with him. Which is what brings us to mischievous elves (Hellfire members) plotting this escapade.

Then your lips meet his and he swears his brain short circuits just for a second, he melts into the kiss and then he's kissing you back and you let out a soft moan that goes straight to uh...places and he wants nothing more than to just keep kissing you.

"Ugh that's enough dude, gross" Mike groans and Eddie reluctantly pulls away from you, feels pleased with himself that your lips are all kiss bitten and your eyes mirroring his in complete lust and adoration.

"About time" Gareth sags in relief, now the two of you could stop tiptoeing around your feelings for one another. Eddie sends him a death glare but completely softens when you take his hand and lean across to whisper in his ear.

"We're totally doing more of that later" your gaze is full of need and a tiny bit of mischief and it may be the first time that Eddie has ever wanted to speed run through a campaign. He couldn't wait for later but for now he had to get into DM mode.

If only you would stop looking at him like that, all impish and beautiful then he might be able to concentrate.

While he's making moon eyes at you for a few seconds Dustin, Erica, Lucas and Mike huddle together and discreetly high five.

"Mission accomplished" Dustin beams until Erica frowns and lets out an exasperated huff. "Yeah sure, like you bunch of nerds could have done this without me" Lucas is about to argue but Erica stops him.

"Nope, don't say a word dumbass. I hung the mistletoe because I'm not afraid of Munson like you three are, so this is down to me" She takes a mini bow and leaves the three boys gawking at her as Eddie finally starts the session.

🎄❄️⛄

[spacedace]

Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

-

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

i doubt that Arata's going to make any major appearances now, but i think it would be so funny if VBS starts travelling and he is made to supervise them, because Ken is busy and tells the kids, "sorry, i am not trusting you guys by yourselves abroad in a million years." so he calls up Arata, since he's travelled before (to America)

Arata is like "yeah, sure. how hard could it be?"

about everything that could go wrong goes wrong.

in the middle of the night, they were all meant to meet at WEG, from where Ken would drive them to the airport. all of them except Toya forgot at least one thing at home and had to go all the way back to retrieve it.

Arata ordered a cup of strong coffee while they all waited for An to come back after running up to her room for the sixteenth time.

at security, An, Akito and Arata seem to accidentally create a "whose jewellery can set off the metal detector more" competition. Toya is highly disappointed in Akito. and just before the trip, Emu had given Kohane a tiny little robot that has recorded messages from all of W x S, to remember them by while she's away!! so cute!!

it gets Kohane pulled away to be searched.

not even anything dodgy in it, it's just as if the machines could detect the Made In Rui Kamishiro's Room essence. Kohane was terrified. it took Arata, Akito and Toya to hold An back from fighting security and getting them all arrested. Rui woke up at home a few hours later to fifty missed calls from Akito, An and the airline.

Arata bought another coffee at duty free afterwards.

oh, and since i'm silly about my headcanon of Iori and Arata being twins, STANDOUT happens to be doing a world tour at the same time. Arata prayed he would not see his sister at the airport. he is not God's favourite. she sees him struggling with the kids and immediately takes the piss. he retorts that he hopes her plane crashes. nearly gets jumped by the other band members (minus Mio)

he needed two coffees to recover from that.

Kohane is super excited about taking as many photos as she can while in the airport, wanting to capture everything. Arata sees her struggling with holding the camera while dragging her suitcase and decides to be nice, offering to hold it. she accidentally calls him nii-san and he feels joy for the first time, thinking that maybe it's all worth it. which is very quickly dissolved when An takes him holding Kohane's bag as an invitation to drop her bag on him ("cheers, Arata!!"), followed by Akito. Toya tries to scold them and help carry all the things, though sheepishly finds that he does not have the strength to.

"why the fuck do i bother." ~ Arata Tono, 2024, on his fifth coffee.

Arata gets a call from Souma checking up on him and is so relieved that he's positively beaming (and maybe even tearing up) while he walks away to answer.

"ehhh, he hasn't smiled at us like that all night, even though we've been so good!!" ~ An. she and Akito tease the hell out of his relationship with Souma when he returns.

while waiting to board the plane, he has to deal with standing next to a bickering An and Akito, the sleepiness starting to really get to the both of them, making them more snappy. Toya is starting to really realise that flights involve... heights. and is staring into space while having a silent panic attack. Kohane unintentionally wanders off to go take more photos, nearly giving Arata a heart attack when he thinks he's lost her. or that might've just been the caffeine.

he is unable to buy another cup of coffee at this time.

the second Arata gets into his plane seat, he goes "do not talk to me" to all of them and immediately falls asleep. some poor flight attendant has to shake him awake to ask him to put his belt on because he'd forgotten. he starts sobbing right then and there.

he gets to order his now hourly coffee from that same flight attendant a bit later.

he tries to drift off once more, though is awoken again, this time by poor Toya in the middle seat digging his fingernails into both his and Akito's arms from fear, like a cat, while the plane takes off.

Arata downs some more coffee and reflects every one of his life's decisions while his arm is taken hostage.

An, who is much too peppy at this sort of hour, in Arata's opinion, reaches across the aisle every ten minutes to shake his free arm and ask "are we there yet??" so he makes Toya keep an eye on how many exact miles away they are and regularly report it to her, to both distract him from the height and satisfy An's curiosity.

when they arrive at their destination, VBS is ecstatic. Arata promptly goes to his room in the hotel and passes out for about twelve hours.

he gets offered coffee during breakfast and feels sick at the thought... before remembering that he's with this lot for a good few days and quickly accepts.

[jintaka-hane]

Someone Worried About You

Masterlist

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Summary: After a brutal attack leaves you badly hurt, a crewmate secretly takes care of you, doing little things he thinks you’d like without you knowing. Word count: 1900 Notes: Wire x f!reader. Platonic Killer. Taking care. Fluff.

Everything happened so fast.

The crash, followed by the shouts of your captain, ordering you to get out of the way. The fire, thick smoke swirling around you, and the stench of burning flesh. The explosion, the memory of the hard impact with the unforgiving ground, your body numb, hands desperately feeling for injuries. The image of horror as you stared at your blood-soaked palms.

Then, the silence. The darkness. The void.

*******

You woke with a dry mouth and a searing pain.

Where am I?

The blinding light of the room assaulted your eyes as you opened them, forcing you to squint in discomfort. As your eyes traveled down your body, you saw a white sheet pulled up to your chest. Your arms were wrapped tightly in bandages, not a sliver of skin visible, and when you tried to move them, they didn’t respond. Panic surged through you, your breaths coming in quick, terrified gasps as your legs, too, refused to obey your brain’s commands.

Shit, shit, shit.

“... help…” you tried to scream with all the strength you had left, which wasn’t much.

Aware that your weak voice wouldn’t reach anyone, you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to calm down. You inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly and repeated the process until you regained some control. Once steady, you began to assess your surroundings.

The room was bright and airy, with a large open window that let in a soft breeze. The bed beneath you was surprisingly comfortable, and a small nightstand sat beside it. Through your still-blurred vision you could see a bottle of water, a book, and a fresh flower resting on top.

“You’re awake!?” Killer’s voice nearly shouted, followed by the hurried thud of footsteps approaching the bed. “KID! SHE’S AWAKE!”

It was the last thing you heard before everything went dark again, and you slipped back into unconsciousness.

*****

Your eyes flickered open again, and your fingers trembled slightly as you tried to move your hands. A good sign—at least they were beginning to respond.

You looked around, recognizing the now familiar room. The open window, with curtains fluttering softly in the breeze; the nightstand beside the bed, holding a freshly picked flower; and, right below it, the book.

That book.

To your surprise, you recognized the cover—an image you had caressed hundreds of times, from a story you had read just as many…, a book whose pages you knew by heart.

Your favorite.

A bookmark was carefully tucked between the pages, showing it had been started again.

Confused, your eyes roamed the room, searching for answers, stopping at something you hadn’t noticed before: right beside your bed was a large, rather uncomfortable-looking armchair, with visible wrinkles in the seat, as if it had been occupied not long ago.

“How are you feeling?” Killer’s soft, calming voice came from the other side, startling you from your thoughts.

You attempted to turn your head toward him, clumsily, wincing in pain from the effort.

“Easy now, don’t push it. I’m right here,” he said, holding one of your hands in his and positioning himself where you could see him.

“What happened?” Your voice was a rough whisper, and your mouth tasted of blood. “I feel like crap.”

“The attack... the explosion..." he faltered, his chest heavy with emotion. "You went wild, charging at them all by yourself, defying Kid’s orders. It was brutal. We... we thought we’d lost you."

You looked at him, remembering bits of what he said.

“You, fucking reckless, stubborn brat…” he continued, tightening his hand around yours. “You saved us.”

The corners of your lips twitched into a brief, weary smile.

“Where are we?”

“On solid ground. Kid’s ordered we’re not setting sail again till you’re back on your feet.”

“Will I get better?” your voiced trembled.

Killer’s thumb caressed your wrist. “Of course you will, but it’s going to take time. You need to rest.”

You nodded and closed your eyes, drained from the conversation. Killer noticed the gesture and got up to adjust your pillow.

“I’ll leave you to get some rest.”

As you heard him move toward the door, a question crossed your mind, and you quickly opened your eyes again.

“Kil, wait…”

Your first mate turned back towards you.

“...the flower, the book… Who put them there?”

You could almost sense him smiling behind his mask. “Someone who’s really worried about you.”

And with that he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

You were so exhausted that you didn’t have the energy to ponder who it might be.

*******

The days slipped by, and with them, strength gradually returned to your body. You still needed to sleep a lot, but your waking moments, though still brief, grew more frequent.

Each time you opened your eyes, they would eagerly settle on the nightstand, where a freshly cut flower would be waiting for you. Each bloom seemed more beautiful than the last, with a variety of colors that was simply breathtaking.

Next, your gaze would fall on the book, carefully placed beneath the flower with its pages slightly spread apart. A faint smile would tug at your lips as you noticed that the bookmark had moved forward again. As your sleep had become lighter, you found yourself dreaming of a deep, warm voice reading passages aloud — ones you knew almost by heart.

You always ended up glancing at the chair, slightly angled toward you, its cushions marked by recent use. On colder days, a small blanket was casually draped over the armrest. On the days when your arms had more strength, you’d reach out to touch the seat, always finding it warm to the touch.

But the chair’s occupant was always absent, as if fate wasn’t yet ready to reveal the secret of the person who spent so many hours at your side, watching over you.

Until one day, your curiosity was finally satisfied.

As usual, you opened your eyes and instinctively turned toward the nightstand, expecting to find the familiar sight of your book and the usual flower. But this time the book was missing.

Confused, you scanned the room, and your eyes flickered around until they landed on something unexpected — a pair of knees wrapped in black fishnet stockings, legs so long they bumped against the side of the bed.

Your eyes traveled up the tall figure slouched in the chair, noting the black shorts, the belt with metal rings, and the harness strapped across his broad chest, adorned with the skull that always reminded you of someone. One hand rested on his chest, fingers curled loosely around your open book, which rose and fell with each breath he took. The other hand hung loosely over the armrest. His head was uncovered, drooping slightly forward, his hair a bit tousled, and his distinctive sideburns were more unkempt than usual, though they did nothing to diminish his usual air of elegance.

With some effort, you stretched out your arm fingers brushing against his hand, feeling its warmth. The moment you touched him, he turned his palm upward to grasp yours, lifting it slightly into the air. His eyes fluttered a few times before fully opening, and his head straightened as he looked at you, fully awake now.

"Y/N..." was all he could muster. His eyes were tired, and roamed your face with a hint of something you sensed was emotion.

You smiled and squeezed his hand, and the gesture spoke more than any words ever could. You were genuinely surprised that of all your crewmates, he, who was usually so reserved and distant, with his eternally annoyed expression, had been the one by your side throughout your recovery. Day and night.

"Thirsty? Hungry?" he asked as he sat up straighter.

You shook your head, realizing too in that moment that he had probably been the one ensuring you were nourished and hydrated all along. What else had he been doing for you? You needed to know.

“Wire... the flowers…”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if pondering his next move. Then, he reached for the nightstand and held the flower thoughtfully, studying it before brushing your hair aside to tuck it behind your ear.

“They reminded me of you…” he said, his smile tinged with sadness that tightened something inside you.

Your gaze fell on the book, now resting in his lap. 

“And the book…” you began, your voice trailing off.

"You seemed to be all into it before the accident, so I thought... maybe I could help you finish it,” he said, his thumb absently tracing the edge of his sideburn.

As you listened to his words, a rush of affection and tenderness filled your heart. Finish it, he had said, as if you hadn’t read it countless times before.

“Thank you, Wire,” you said softly, offering him a grateful smile.

He fell silent, simply watching you, and you couldn’t help but think that he was definitely much quieter than Killer.

“Wanna keep reading it now?” he asked so suddenly that you had to stifle a laugh. His lips curved into a faint smile, misinterpreting the sparkle in your eyes as enthusiasm.

He opened the book, cleared of his throat, and began reading, slowly, with his deep, resonant voice filling the room. You closed your eyes and focused on his words, the next sentences already forming in your mind. It was a part you knew completely, nearing the end of the story. Your favorite. You continued to listen, enchanted, when suddenly something struck you.

Oh, no.

You opened your eyes right away and looked at him. 

“W-Wire… listen,” you said, anxiety lacing your voice. 

He paused, shifting the book aside to look at you. “Yes?” 

“Maybe… we should put the book down,” you suggested.

“Why? We gotta find out if the guy works up the nerve to tell the girl how he feels."

“WE gotta?” You raised an eyebrow, amused. 

“WE gotta.” He replied with a face so solemnly serious that it made you giggle.

He put the book right back in front of his face, but you interrupted him once more, partly to buy yourself some time and partly because of the irresistible urge to tease him a little more.

“Why, Wire? You getting ideas?”

“What if I am?” he answered from behind the book, showing no sign of being bothered.

“Got any particular girl in mind?”

This time he hesitated for a split second before answering.

“Maybe…” He said at last, still holding the book up in front of his face, using it as both a shield and an excuse to avoid your gaze as he tried to get back to reading.

And with that, you let him continue reading, your hands gripping the sheets tightly to shield your face burning with mortification, knowing that once he turned the page he would reach the most explicit, unrestrained, and scandalously steamy passage you—and possibly he—had ever read.

...................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece <3

[mypoisonedvine]

Prompt 18 with Angus Tully it’s giving best friend’s creepy brother or something lol

i knew it was only a matter of time before i wrote something a little darker with angus >:)

18: "it's not what it looks like!" "is that a picture of me?!"

warnings: dubcon (technically) sexual content 18+ ONLY!!!, male masturbation, perv!angus, degradation kink (but not what you're thinking hehe), sliiiiiightly dom!reader??

"Oh shit," you realized as you padded your pockets, "I forgot my lighter at home. Can I borrow yours?"

"Sure," Amelia offered, "but I think my brother had it last."

You sighed, not really wanting to deal with him-- he was always... looming, which you didn't appreciate-- but figured it would be quick enough to run upstairs and snatch it out of his room. "I'll go get it," you decided, "you go ahead and I'll catch up with you."

"Okay, see you there!" she agreed, slipping out the front door as you bounded up the stairs and hung your purse over the top banister quickly.

Honestly, you didn't even think about knocking before you barged in. You figured he was reading, if he was even in there-- you hadn't seen him since you first got here and he disappeared. But, it turns out he was pretty busy...

You caught him with his cock in his hand, hunched over a polaroid in his bed; he looked up at you with wide eyes as you burst in, falling back into the sheets, trying desperately to cover himself as he gasped and coughed. "Wh-what the fuck?!" he blurted out.

Before you could decide if you should laugh, or apologize, or just run away, your gaze fell down to the polaroid-- his dramatic physical reaction and pulling the sheet up quickly over himself had launched it right in front of your feet. Your eyes wide when you saw it, and you quickly snatched it off the ground as he jumped up; he looked like he might get up to take it from you, until he seemed to remember that would leave him exposed and so he sank back into the bed helplessly.

"It's not what it looks like!" he tried hastily to explain as you looked at the image in your hand.

"Is this a picture of me?!" you realized-- it wasn't a question, you knew. It was obviously you... even if it was taken from behind. You'd recognize your own swimsuit anywhere.

"Fuck, I-- um--" he stammered, "that's-- I-I just found that--"

"You took this!" you accused. "This was at Amelia's pool party!"

"I-- um--" he choked.

"Oh my god, you're such a creep!" you spat. "You took this picture and you get off to it?! I didn't even know you took this-- I didn't know you-- you're a fucking pervert!"

"Don't talk like that," he whined-- at first you assumed it was because his feelings were hurt, but you could see his face getting redder, and your stomach twisted as you realized...

"Jesus," you groaned, "is this turning you on?"

"U-uh," he grumbled, but even that sounded a bit like a low moan, and you smirked a little as you stepped further into the room.

"You're actually disgusting," you informed him, though the tone of your voice changed a bit. "I knew you were weird, but this? Taking stalker pictures from the bushes... that's where you were, right? Or maybe behind the fence? Were you jerking off then, too?"

"N-no," he denied nervously, watching you come closer, "I... I waited until I got back to my room, at least..."

"And what did you think about?" you wondered with a smirk. "You thought about getting your jizz all over my bikini, right? That's so gross."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth-- you thought he looked pretty cute like this: turned on, but a little terrified.

"And just now, looking at your little picture," you cooed, crossing your arms, "were you gonna come all over it? Or try to save it so you can use it whenever you want?"

"Stop," he pleaded, "I-- I might-- I was so close--"

"You wanted to get caught," you decided, seeing his eyes get even wider as you looked down at him tangled up in those sheets (which didn't do a whole lot to hide his throbbing erection, by the way). "You wanted me to come in here and see you, you wanted me to know what a sick little freak you are--"

"God, I'm--" he warned with a whine, but you kept going.

"You wanted me to tell you how dirty and bad you are," you scolded with a purr, "'cause you're a pathetic, desperate perv!"

"Fuck!" he whimpered, shuddering under the thin sheet, and you watched with sick delight as a wet patch began to form on the fabric, growing with each sudden flex of his hips.

"Wow," you grinned, "you came just from that--"

"I-I was really close already!" he defended, as if that were enough of an excuse: as if being nearly finished jerking off to a picture of you was something to be proud of.

"I'll keep this," you decided as you slipped the polaroid in your back pocket, seeing him open his mouth in protest only to shut it. "You're just gonna have to stick to your imagination next time, Angus... I'm sure it's plenty creative."

You turned and were nearly out the door when he spoke up: "W-wait!"

You looked over your shoulder back at him, noticing the way his eyes drifted over you.

"You could... stay longer," he offered-- like you were leaving because you thought he wanted you out. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

"I told your sister I'd meet her at the record store," you explained. "You think I wanna sit around with you and, what, blow you or something?"

His throat caught and he looked beautifully flustered. "W-well, I dunno, I just--"

"Whatever, loser," you scoffed, about to leave again.

"Y-you should give me something," he decided, surprising you with his confidence, "since you're taking my picture."

"This is a picture of me," you reminded him, "I should have it."

"But still--"

You interrupted him with an annoyed groan, and he shut up quick when you started to unbutton your shirt. "Okay," you relented, "I'll give you five seconds. Is that enough?"

He didn't answer, just watched your hands intently, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You opened your shirt enough to expose your bra, and quickly pulled it down to give him a good look at your tits. He sighed, hand wrapping around his cock under the sheets again, and you frowned as you realized he was going to get himself off again so soon after coming. Was he really that insatiable?

You counted to five in your head before pulling your bra back up and starting to re-button your shirt. "Was that long enough for you to remember?" you asked, annoyed.

"Yeah," he breathed, "don't think I could forget if I tried."

"Great," you announced sarcastically before you finally left, grabbing your purse again and quickly getting downstairs and out the door again.

It didn't take you all that long to catch up with Amelia, even though you were already breathless before you started jogging. She was only a few blocks down, and she smiled when she saw you.

"Did you get the lighter?" she asked as you walked side-by-side with her.

"No, he lost it," you shrugged, making her groan in frustration.

"Oh my god, why does my brother have to be such a dweeb?" she wondered.

"I don't know," you laughed, "I think he's kind of entertaining."

[threepandas]

Bad End: Chosen

I used to love Otome games.

Used to love the genre, predictable as it could sometimes be. It was bright. Fun. A colorful bit of escapism built on love and power fantasies. I read the books. Watched the animes. Engaged with the fandoms freely and with an enthusiasm I can barely remember now.

It was a lifetime ago.

Before I... before, like a monkey's paw wish, I got granted every OI fan's DREAM. I somehow, someway, died and was reborn. A genuine isekai all of my own. I laugh now... I really do... I was so fucking EXCITED.

I was a FOOL.

The world is not a story. PEOPLE are not characters. You can not push the "right" social imput buttons and have a happy ending pop out. Time moves as it always has and always will. Day by day. And? Just because you are HERE? Does not mean you are SPECIAL.

I was old enough to know that, thank the Gods. Or I would have made a likely terrible mistake. Probably a fatal one, by now.

How, you may ask? Surely if you are reborn, you are special! Important to the "plot"! HA. Ah yes, the all forsaken PLOT. That damnable thing, chaining out fates and making us dance, like toys, for the Gods amusement. No, I was merely a replacement part for one worn out and broken down. A soul that gave up.

This dance repeats, you know.

They aren't done with us yet. Not bored of us, all the twists and turns we might take. She could not keep fighting. Keep raging. And so she was replaced. Now I live... a changeling in her place. Knowing my role yet careful to defy it. But... oh...

Oh, how almost IMPOSSIBLE it is to defy it.

I am supposed to HATE her. The Protagonist. The Chosen One. Saintess and beloved. The God's special little thing. Showered in adoration and silks, pampering and protection. While we all DIE. In this, their STUPID fucking Holy War, that we CAN NOT WIN, against "The Dark".

How HELPFUL, my liege. How incredibly SPECIFIC. Is "The Dark" the demons that tore apart my squadron a fortnight ago or the undead that rose and devored an entire village of terrified innocents? How do we STOP them? END this infinite string of atrocities?

Oh? "Only the SAINTESS can push back The Dark"? Well then! It's a good thing she safely tucked away in the CAPITAL THEN, isn't it!? Far from the front lines where we NEED her! Thank the GODS she's getting her chance to play "fuck, fuck, marry!" with the nation's finest while we all DIE!

I remind myself again, desperately, I am not allowed to hate her.

If I hate her, I become an antagonist in this little play. Doomed to die a gruesome and needless death. My men need me. The people need me. The live and breathe and fear for their lives. At the mercy of cruel God's who do not care.

I almost... It is enough that I almost wish my Master was here. But no, HE stayed back at the Magic Tower. Lost interest in me the second the merest HINT that his beloved pet prophecy might be about to be fulfilled. I was his student for most of my life. Chased up and down that mind-bending hellhole for years, giving my everything to meet his every standard.

Does he even remember my name?

Ha ha... gods, as I stare down at the battle map, one of so SO many... I feel brittle. How long will we fight? How many of my men must DIE, before that God coddled BITCH gets off her ass and comes to do her JOB?! We've lost Redwell. Lakehill is covered in ghouls. And no one we sent near the forests of Mirth ever reports back.

But at least the crown prince is getting his fucking birthday party while his people starve. While they run for their lives. Cower from demons and the damned. Because his Twue Woooove~ can't be allowed to put her dainty little self in DANGER now CAN she?!

I'm seething. Furious. Nails digging into the wood on the table before me. I know I should be planning... but I just... gods, I just so ANGRY. So tired. How long can this continue? Am I going to die here, just so those fuckers can DRAMATICALLY "save the day" at the last second? As though they had not let thousands die? Only for it all to begin again? What am I supposed to d-?

Like a roll of thunder and an earthquake combined, the non-physical world SHAKES.

Weight. POWER. Like a mountain appearing from no where, to drop down upon us all. It is CRUSHING. And every bit as dark as being buried beneath tons on soil and stone. My legs nearly give out. My grip on the table before me the only thing keeping me up and alarm bells start clanging outside my tent.

This is it.

I don't know what's about to happen, but I can FEEL it. I... I can not possibly hope to win. It's over. I know, in my heart, I will go out there and fight. Die. Because I refuse to die cowering. Because maybe it'll make a difference for my friends, for the others, for those that yet live. Every monster I slay is one less they fight.

But... this is it.

It's over.

I wish I felt braver. Glorious and filled with light. A beacon of hope, perhaps. But all I can offer is fear and anger and SPITE. Locking my knees so I can stand. Blinking away the tears so I can grit my teeth and bare them. Grabbing my staff so can go a die with the others. Today I shall burn the world. I promised myself.

Take them with you.

Take every last one of those fuckers WITH YOU.

The battle is ugly. It always is and always will be. I heal where I can but kill faster the most can blink. Waves of fire. Blood turned to ice turn to shrapnel bombs turned to flying storms of blood ice shards. Wind attacks and void pockets. Puppets made of mud and rock and bits of armor. The blood of the fallen only making it all that much stronger, that much more terrible.

Magic in war hold no beauty.

I wish I never had to see it again.

"Grandlearner, you've been practicing." A rich voice observed from behind me, sounding pleased. "Good~"

Between one instance and the next, the crushing ocean of power moves between the far side of the battle field to right behind me. I move, spin. Fire my strongest short-range piercing in the desperate hope to gut the man now far too close. I... am effortlessly countered.

He didn't even have to move his hands.

There, standing in the heart of an open battle field, is a man in impeccable fomal clothes. Spotless, dispite the ash and dust, the blood and gore. Almost inhuman in his otherness, compared to the death and suffering surrounding him. He looks like a proper well-to-do gentleman ready for a stroll. The sort of ambiguously ageless bachelor that had haunted the royal university's halls every time I was sent there, to collect something for the Tower.

Too old to be some boyish flirt, too young to be a rougish mistake. It feels false. Mocking. Like a mask held up by some grinning beast. Something older then it seems, effortlessly blending in with the Power of the current age, all the better to play them like fools.

Then the words register and my blood runs cold.

"Learner". It's what a Master calls their personal magical students at the Tower. There are lineage, of a sort. Like bloodlines, almost. Since most never leave. A way to pass on your teachings. Your name and traditions. It's not like we often have the chance to have biological kids. Too busy with our studies. So it's considered effectively the same.

My Master's Master. Who was said to be one of, if not THE, greatest Mages of the last thousand years, possibly longer. Said to have simply vanished one day. Rumored to have "lost his mind" and left the Tower for places unknown after some great argument. Foremost expert on The Dark.

Now standing h...here. Right... Right here. With the enemy army. Of dark and terrible things. The very abominations he once studied "academically". Oh gods. It doesn't take much to put two and two together.

"I've come to collect you, my dear." He says, the very picture of charm as my men scream and suffer around him. As they fight for their lives against his monstrosities. As... as they LOSE. "It has come to my attention, that my unfortunate disappointment of a student has been neglecting his duties to you."

He sweeps his hat gallantly from his head, holding it against his heart at just the right angle, as though offering to merely take me for a stroll. Picture perfect etiquette. As though this were high society and not a warzone. The disconnect stuns me for long moments. "Collect" me?

He strolls forward. Expensive shoe leather somehow unstained by the terrible muck of the battlefield. The blood and mud, the spell water and ash. Amusement rolling off every line of his form, as I try to keep the distance between us. As I struggle against the sucking filth to keep my feet under me.

"I would like to say I am surprised... but honestly? I am not. He always WAS easily distracted by shiny trinkets of little worth. The shinier the better. Like an empty headed little magpie. Disgusting really, how little he values loyalty. I DID try to instill some values. Hard work. Good, honest, study. Some modicum of rationality..."

"It did not work." He sighs, stepping over the fallen body of my Cordelia, my reserve healer. Gods, please no, I told her to RUN... "Unlike myself of course. I, my dear, know EXACTLY what your worth. How you have been WASTED on that little ingrate. It truely has been a theme with him, hasn't it?"

"Tossing aside anything who doesn't fit his perfect little vision. His Master, his Learner, nothing is sacred to him. All he shall ever care for is his little divine tart, won't he?"

The grin that spills across his mouth is like poison through veins, it terrifies me. His face is arranged in a mask of pleasantry. But the look in his eye... that look was coldly covetous. The sort of hunger that would sooner kill than release its hold. It wasn't lustful, I was a child too him. An infant. But I was, perhaps, all that remained. The last piece of his lineage he could possibly still steal away. Corrupt.

I refused.

It... it did not matter much, in the end.

Every spell, he counters. Every attack, he matchs with effortless neutralization. The well of his magic is like the sea. Deep, dark, and crushing. I rage against it, even knowing I stand no chance. I... I have to TRY. I can do no less. Even as I slowly collapse.

Water and ice, electricity and transformation, wind and fire. I try to EXPLODE HIS ORGANS for the Gods sake. In the end, with nothing left, the well of my magic nearly bone dry... I swing at him. Put my back in to it. A staff is a staff after all. It even has a pretty hefty rock in it. It'd probably take out a few teeth.

He, of course, catches it.

Bastard.

He looks CHARMED. Utterly delighted. As though my defiance and struggle are some cute little game. The tantrum of an adorable child that does not wish to submit to their nap. The world swayed as my body begs me to just pass out. To escape within myself. Recover. My legs can no longer hold me. I glare. At last, long last, I let myself HATE.

If that BITCH had just DONE HER JOB. I would not be here, at the mercy of a mad man. While she frolics about, in her happy little tale of love and misunderstandings? I have suffered. People have died! The world has fallen to slow and crumbling RUIN.

Gloved hands cupped my cheeks.

"That's it, little one~ My precious child. Get angry. RAGE for me. Let Master see your fire~" thumbs stroked my cheeks. Looming and entirely too close. There is a glee in that eye, a madness. "We are going to set this world FREE. You? Oh dearest you are utterly PERFECT. Master will take care of everything, understand? All you have to do?"

"Is give in."

Next -->

[samkerrworshipper]

let me love you | Leah Williamson x Reader

a lot of angst, ending in fluff, themes of eating disorders, depression and alcohol abuse, 5900 words

please keep sending request yall i need something to feed my brainnn

i’m stuck on a blurb for this so basically just what happens after a rough moment in r and leah’s relationship, can they fix it? can they learn to love each other again? the photo i’ve used says it all lol

it’s piecy and i think u can see my sleep deprivation in this one but hope you enjoy!

I’d known going into camp that I was in trouble. That as soon as the team doctor did our pre camp exam that I was going to be fucked. With the extensive weight loss I knew that it was only a matter of time before I was approached but I hadn’t expected it to be the first night.

I’d been lying in my bed, in my room by myself. I was rooming with Keira this camp, but luckily enough she spent most of her time in Lucy or Leah’s room so I didn’t see much of her. I’d had the tv playing in the background, to fill the room with something other than the sound of my breathing and the sound of me scrolling through my phone. Then my little bubble, my perfect barrier that I’d created was broken by the resounding noise of someone knocking at my door.

“Y/n, it’s me.”

Sarina. Fuck.

“It’s open.”

It was probably the polite thing to get up and open the door but I was comfortable in my bed and while Sarina was terrifying I couldn’t see her getting mad at me over something so minor. The door cracked open and I switched the tv off out of respect for the manager who had closed my hotel room door behind her. Her face was unsteady, like she was unsure how to approach the conversation, something that I’d never seen on her.

“You missed dinner.”

“I feel asleep, the jetlag has tossed me around a little bit. I didn’t even realise until I woke up twenty minutes ago.”

It wasn’t a lie, I had travelled an obscene amount in the past twenty four hours. I’d flown from Cabo to New York, then spent 20 hours in New York with Kristie and some of the Gotham girls before getting on a plane to take me to Barcelona, where I’d spent a very short eight hours with Keira and Lucy before we got on a plane to London to bring us to camp. It had been hectic to say the least and had resulted in one of my suitcases being lost and me being in a very lengthy back and forth discussion with British Airways about how my luggage had ended up in Austria and that no, I didn’t have the time to go to Austria to retrieve it.

“I think we need to have a talk.”

Sarina’s foot was tapping nervously at her side, it was her tell, she was about to have a hard conversation that was not going to be easy to go over.

“Okay.”

She nodded at me.

“Meeting room 2, five minutes?”

I gulped, fuck, a meeting room. It had gone from informal to a little bit to formal for my liking. I nodded regardless, too scared to reply in any other way.

“Yes Ma’am.”

As soon as Sarina had left my room I was throwing myself out of the bed to throw on some proper clothes and make myself look a little bit more presentable. I threw on my light blue tech fleece and puffer jacket that we all had and then very haphazardly threw my hair into a greasy high pony. I pushed some mascara through my eyelashes and some moisturiser on my skin before coming to the conclusion that no amount of makeup was going to be able to disguise the purple bags under my eyes. Once I was done making myself look a little bit less dead I picked up my phone and keycard from my bedside table and left the room, making my way down the hallway towards the meeting rooms.

The meeting rooms had a multitude of purposes, zoom calls, skypes, video review, contract signing. Business stuff mainly, not a talk with your coach. That was what had me trembling a little bit as I made my way closer to the meeting rooms. When I got to the door of the second one, the one I’d been told to go to I waited outside of it for a few seconds before lifting my fist and knocking twice on the door. I didn’t have to wait long for a reply, Sarina was at the door opening it for me in a matter of seconds. I stepped into the room quickly, my eyes recognising all the faces in the room.

I was directed to a seat at the table, sitting directly across from Sarina, Leah, Millie and our team doctor. Lucy and Keira were seated on either side of me and the whole vibe of the room was enough to tell me that I was royally fucked.

“We are all here to have an open conversation about your recent medical exam.”

I kept my eyes on my own hands, which were resting on the table, playing with the rings that adorned my hands. I couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to look into the eyes of a woman who a few weeks ago I had loved so intensely and now couldn’t even think about without crying.

“You're here to tell me that I’ve dropped a dangerous amount of weight considering my normal weight class, that I should get some further tests done even though we know that there is nothing medically wrong with me. We’ll beat around the bush a little bit, try to ignore the fact that we all know that you can’t allow me to play when I’ve dropped this much weight and then you’ll send me home.”

Sarina’s jaw was set firmly, I could make out that much as my eyes darted up to the older woman quickly to catch a look at her facial expression.

“Do you want to die Ms y/l/n.”

I was taken aback massively by the question, because who asks a person that question, especially in this context.

“I don’t feel comfortable having this conversation with certain people in the room. I don’t want to die necessarily but living right now isn’t exactly ideal either. I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, I’ll admit that, I’m aware. I’ve neglected my body, prioritised other things. I knew walking in here that I’d dropped 2 stone and I wasn’t proud of it. I just went through an intense break up though, I’ve been in Cabo for three weeks, most of which I don’t remember. I know that it’s bad, I know that as an athlete we have expectations but I need some wiggle room, I need you to give me a shot to make this better. Because I honestly believe that in this environment I can fix it, I’ll get the weight back, I’ll get back into therapy or whatever. I’ll give up the bad habits, I just need a period of grace.”

I couldn’t look at Leah, couldn’t let myself out of fear that my brave face would fall and I’d be left in shambles sitting here. I just needed to convince Sarina that I could get my shit together.

She was in front of my brooding for a few minutes, leaving everyone in the room in an awkward silence.

“Everyone out besides Leah and you.”

Fuck.

I watched as everyone else slowly got up, Lucy giving me a reassuring pat on the back before exiting the room.

“I’m giving you both five minutes to explain what the fuck happened between you two, because as much as you both want to make it sound like nothing it isn’t. Everyone can feel it and obviously it's affecting the both of you.”

I still couldn’t look at her, it just hurt.

“Seems like I’m the only one who’s suffering.”

“That’s not true nor fair y/n. Leah’s having her own struggles.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes at the table.

“She’s the one who caused the problems in the first place so I’d call that karma.”

The tension in the room was thick, like a cloud laid over us.

“That’s not fair, you had a part in it as well.”

“I had a part in you kissing Jordan at a party?”

“Jordan kissed me first off, drunkenly, she apologised profusely to both of us when she was sober. You soberly made the decision to kiss fucking Alexia.”

If the tension could have thickened anymore, it did.

“You cheated on me with your ex, I think I can cheat on you with my ex situation.”

“Do you realised how fucked up that whole ideology is? I didn’t want to cheat on you, anyone who was there that night will tell you that I physically pushed Jordan off of me, I didn’t want it to happen. I know it hurts you, but you wouldn’t even hear me out, you didn’t answer my calls or texts. I didn’t know where you went, just heard from Lucy that you’d decided to go abroad for a few weeks and you were turning your phone off. I spent 3 days sitting in Keira’s apartment balling my eyes out because I missed you so much, I haven’t slept properly ever since, I can’t fucking live without you y/n/n.”

Leah was sobbing and it hurt a part of me that I didn’t know existed. I wanted to hug her, wipe the tears from her face and apologise for my stupidity, to make it all better. But I was stubborn as shit and I also hadn’t really forgiven Leah. I hadn’t forgiven myself either.

That night had been the worst one of my life. Seeing Leah making out with Jordan had broken my heart and before I knew it I’d been running out of the bar we’d been celebrating in and calling Ale because she was my person and then she was picking me up and taking me back to my apartment and she was comforting me on our sofa and then we were kissing and Leah was walking in, mascara smeared and tears down her face and then Ale was running out of the apartment. I ended up waiting for Leah to fall asleep before I’d fled. I’d been terrified, my fear response was flight, when I was scared I fled, so that was what I’d done on that godforsaken night.

“I don’t really give a shit who did what. You both fucked up, that’s evident. We have the olympic coming up, Leah you are coming off of an ACL injury and you are going to be our captain, y/n, we need you on top of your game for us to win. I won’t deal with this team being torn into shreds because the both of you are too stubborn to talk about your feelings. Am I understood?”

Both Leah and I nodded meekly at Sarina, the both of us equally terrified of the dutchwoman and the tone of voice she was using towards us, like we were six year olds.

“Y/n, I’ll give you a grace period, two weeks. You’ve got two weeks to show that you can make some improvement in your habits, but there will be conditions if you wish to continue training and playing during those two weeks. You will eat every single meal, with the rest of the team. You aren’t going to work out beyond our team scheduled gym sessions. You will go back to talking to a therapist on a weekly basis. You are going to socialise with your teammates instead of holding yourself up in your room by yourself. You and Leah will room together until you can prove to me that you can be civil. If any of these conditions are broken you will find yourself sidelined, am I understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Sarina nodded at me, her blue eyes staring intensely into my own, I was trying to get away from this situation, away from the confrontation that was only bound to get worse the longer Leah and I were stuck in a room together.

“You are free to go, I expect to see you at breakfast tomorrow morning.”

I’d given Sarina a quick nod before bolting out of my seat and straight out of the room. I was pretty sure I’d had the worst 96 hours of my life. My whole body felt like it was on fire, my hair and face were still greasy from all of the airplane travel and my eyes just hurt. I half jogged my way back to my room, slamming and locking the door behind me almost as soon as I’d closed the door behind me. I slowly slid down against the solid wood, this whole situation was so fucked.

Not only did I have to focus on being fucking civil with a woman who I hated, I had to fucking turn my whole life around in a matter of two weeks, which right now seemed pretty fucking impossible. I wasn’t a person who cried very often, I wasn’t in touch with my emotions like that. But right now, fat, warm, wet tears were dripping down my face and my lip was wobbling between my two front teeth trying to suppress the sobs that were coming up from my throat. Love hurt. Loving someone and being loved is one of the hardest things that I’d ever done, because it’s not easy to spend every day loving a person, it fulfilling but it also is so fucking painful.

I could hardly make up the energy to get off the floor, so I didn’t. I sat against the door, crying, shaking and trembling as I let out the feelings that I’d built up for the last month. I was a person who didn’t cry very often, when I was drunk, when someone died, when I was really hurt. That was the extent of my emotional release. Leah was similar, that’s why we’d hit it off, neither of us were over emotional, we didn’t read into things and we didn’t over complicate anything. At the end of the day neither of us had to worry about the other one getting offended by a joke or drunken words. I’d honestly believed we were soulmates, for a long time, but that night had wrecked it all.

Both of us had been stupid, it had been the celebratory night of our win in the Nations League, we’d beaten Spain, it was a big deal. Everyone was completely wasted and I didn’t remember much of the night until Leah had been on the dance floor with Jordan, Chloe, Millie, Rachel and some other teammates and one moment Leah is motioning for me to join me and the next Jordan is making out with her and I’m running out with Lucy following me. Then Lucy called Ale because I’d locked myself in our hotel room ensuite. Then Ale was there and she was comforting me and hugging me and I was pissed off at Leah and then I was kissing Ale and she was telling me no and the Leah walked in to comfort me and it was just a fucking mess of alcohol and emotions.

Just thinking about that night had hurt, I hadn’t let myself in the last month. Not when I’d been in Cabo drinking all day and night, clubbing and partying and spending all of my spare time trying to push my emotions away. Then I’d gotten the call from Sarina, I’d been expecting it but it had still shocked me for some reason. In a matter of 24 hours I’d been packing up all my shit and hopping on a plane back to the one place that I couldn’t have been more desperate to avoid. I’d contemplated turning down the call up, but a call from my agent had told me that I couldn’t expect an invite back if I turned one down now. The Olympics was a big deal as well, it was something that I did want to do but the overwhelming anxiety I had felt being faced with the reality that I was walking into a group of people that worshipped the ground that my ex girlfriend walked on.

My thought pattern was interrupted by the sound of knocking directly above my head. The sound pulsated against the wood and across my body, seeping deep into my bones. It was a resounding knock, loud, echoing across the room.

“Y/n, open up.”

It was the voice that I least wanted to hear at that moment and I tried my hardest to ignore it but the sound of the knocking repeating made it harder.

“Y/n/n, c’mon, open the door, I know you're in there.”

It was the nickname that only she called me, a nickname I hadn’t heard in a month and it hurt my soul hearing it. It made fresher tears fall from my eyes that I rubbed at furiously with the sleeve of my jumper. I wiped as much of the smudged mascara and tears from my face, I knew subconsciously that my eyes were red and puffy and Leah would one hundred percent be able to tell. For my dignity though I rubbed it all from my face before standing up and opened the door.

Before I could say anything Leah had slipped past me and into the room, making herself at home and sitting down on Keira’s bed, resting herself at the very top so she was leaning against the headboard. I pushed down any thoughts that I had about Leah being in the same position in our own bed, except with a lot less clothes covering her body.

“You’ve been crying.”

It wasn’t a question, a statement, but it held a question in it somewhere. Leah wasn’t used to me crying, so the fact that I was crying was probably a little bit of a shock to her.

“What do you want?”

Leah pouted at me, sarcastically, it pissed me off how confident she was when I felt like I was tearing at the seams.

“In case you didn’t remember, we’re roomies now. I wanted to talk, I think we both have stuff we need to get off of our chests. I love you y/n/n and I’m worried about you.”

“Go worry about Jordan.”

I was leaning against the dresser, trying my hardest to keep my shit together in front of the woman that was making me feel so many things that I had been denying myself for a month.

“That’s fair, but also not necessary. I didn’t kiss her y/n, I didn’t even get as close as a metre’s distance from her, anyone there could tell you that. I pushed her off me. So yes, she kissed me, without my consent or my desire for her to do so. I love you, not her. I promise you that. She means nothing to me beyond being my friend, I don’t love her.”

I didn’t really know what to say. Leah wasn’t really the root of my anger, because I knew that it had been Jordan all over Leah, and at the end of the day she’d come to my room that night to apologise instead of going back to Jordan’s, I was her priority.

“She loves you, and I can’t do anything about that. That hurts and I know that it shouldn’t, I have no right to be jealous but it hurts.”

Leah looked contemplatively at me, like she was trying to understand what I was saying but knew that she couldn’t really.

“Do you love Alexia?”

I gulped, that was a fucked up question that I didn’t have a answer for. My immediate silence gave enough context to that.

“That’s not a fair question.”

I was deflecting and also furiously toying with a loose thread on the edge of my jumper.

“I think I deserve to know if the woman I love loves me the same way.”

It was hard hearing those words come out of her mouth as well.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t love her. I dated her for six years, I thought I was going to marry her. I don’t love her like I loved you. We broke up because we couldn’t love each other that way. It was a surface relationship, but we both knew at the end of the day that we couldn’t get married or have kids or get old together, we didn’t love each other like that. We didn’t have a messy break up, I didn’t have a phase where I hated her and I wanted nothing more than to be away from her. We just stopped physically loving each other. She’s still my person Leah, you know that. I regret kissing her, I was so drunk and I was so fucking upset and she was so familiar to me in that moment. So maybe I do love her, in some fucked up way, but I don’t love her long term. She’s not the woman that I want to spend the rest of my life loving, not the person that I want to wake up next to, not the person that I want to write vows for, not the person that I want to be with every minute of every day. I don’t yearn for her.”

I realised now that there were tears in Leah’s eyes, which shocked me a little. Leah never cried, I could count the amount of times I’d seen her properly sob on one hand. Four times. When we won the Euros, when she did her ACL, when she woke up from ACL surgery and that night when it had all happened. Apart from that she was a brick wall, she wore a facade everyday, that very little people got to see broken down. I considered myself very grateful to have been able to see past it, to see the side of Leah that not a lot did. She’d let a stray tear go every once in a while, but proper crying, proper emotional, vulnerable crying was very rare to see.

“Do you love me long term?”

“Leah, that's not a fair question either.”

Tears were running down Leah’s face, similar to the tears that had been falling down my face less than five minutes ago.

“It's not fair? I’ve been here for the last month y/n, wondering if we still stand a chance. Wondering if you still love me, wondering if I should wait around for you? I want to know if you still love me as much as I love you.”

I could feel more tears coming to my eyes, Leah was sitting not even three metres away from me and yet it felt like we were oceans apart.

“I don’t know. Does it really matter?”

Leah was wiping at her face, she detested vulnerability and it was clear in her actions.

“Does it matter? Y/n/n, I am trying to figure out if I am going to spend the rest of my life fucking mourning losing the love of my life. I want to know if I stand a chance, if there is something here that we can salvage, something here that we can try and fix. I will spend everyday making it up to you if I have to, anything you need us to do I am down to do it.”

I shifted from toe to toe in my spot standing, Leah’s words were so genuine, they had so much power over me, sent shivers down my whole body.

“I love you. I love you enough though to tell you that I’m a fucking wreck, some of it’s because of this, some of it is just me. Leah I’m trying to fucking sort myself out now and I love you but I’m not going to tell you that your my priority right now, I love you but I also am trying to learn how to love myself and I’m also trying to learn how to love my sport again.”

Leah pursed her lips, wiping the last of her emotional admission tears from her face. She looked so raw, her blonde hair was thrown up in a messy high bun, an unusual look for her, her face was stripped bare of any makeup and her jumper looked a tad bit too big on her. She looked stripped, stripped of her dignity, stripped of her facade, stripped of everything that made her Leah motherfucking Williamson. I wasn’t looking at England’s captain, I wasn’t looking at Arsenal and England’s world class defenders. I was looking at just Leah. The Leah who would wake me up with forehead kisses every morning, the Leah who would give me foot massages after a rough training, the Leah who would only look at me in a room full of people.

“I’ve worried about you so much that I started to get scared I was praying. You took off and I didn’t know with who or where. I mean I know that I fucked up but y/n/n, we could have talked it out, or we could have tried to. You fled and you didn’t even give me a goodbye. I didn’t know if we were done or if I was ever going to see you again and it fucking broke me. I stayed in bed for a week, I didn’t eat, I didn’t leave. Keira and Lucy literally had to drag me out of bed to get me to do anything. I cried, non stop for a week, it was horrible and I felt like shit. Then Lucy got Alexia to come over and we talked it out and she told me that she didn’t mean for it to happen and all she wanted was for us to be happy and it broke me because how am I supposed to be happy when the woman I love is nowhere to be seen.”

A sob echoed from her chest and it broke my heart, because I hated seeing Leah in pain, I hated seeing her hurt. When she’d done her ACL it had been the most gut wrenching thing I’d had to witness. The only difference was that now I was the source of pain and it hurt ten times more.

I pushed myself off of the dresser and towards the bed. Leah’s head was buried in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees as her palms rubbed furiously at her eyes. I sat down onto the bed and pushed myself up against the headboard beside her, putting one of my arms down on her shoulders and gently nudging her head into my neck. It was uncharted territory but also felt so familiar and right. Hearing Leah’s sobs hurt my soul, but my contact seemed to calm her a little bit. She flinched away initially, unsure but then she was seeking it out, leaving into me and everything about it felt right.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for what happened with Jordan, I’m sorry if I didn’t make you feel loved, I’m sorry if I didn’t treat you well enough, I’m sorry if I’m not good enough. I’m trying to work on it, I’m trying to be better,” I stopped Leah before she could say much more.

“It’s not your fault Leah,” My voice came out with exasperation, because I hated that Leah felt that way,

“You made me feel loved everyday, you treated me perfectly. You are perfect Leah, you were a perfect girlfriend, a perfect captain, a perfect person. We had our moments but you are a good person, you don’t need to be better. I’m the one who can’t fucking handle herself, who had to flee the country when it got rough and I’m sorry for that, I’m sorry that I ran when it got hard.”

Hearing Leah hiccup on her breath was so painful for me, painful enough that I reached my hand down to her face to try and wipe some of the tears off of her cheeks.

“C’mon, you're too pretty to be crying.”

It was a weak compliment that died with the mood of the room, Leah let out a depressing laugh that honestly just made it all worse but her sobs did quieten down a little bit and I noticed that the tremors that were haunting her whole body had slowed down and had become less of a repetitive pattern.

“You haven’t been eating, you lost two stones, did I do that to you?”

Leah’s voice was so shaky, so insanely innate for her.

“Me not eating has nothing to do with you and I won’t have you taking the blame for it. Not everything is your fault Leah and you don’t have to take the blame for it all. I know how your brain works, that you are going to take the blame for everything that has happened between us, but it’s not your fault, a lot of it is mine, my eating habits though have nothing to do with you.”

My voice was a mixture of steady and stern, I had a point to get across and I needed Leah to understand that, I needed her to know that. She wasn’t as fearless and brave as she constantly tried to prove to anyone, she was always the first to blame herself for anything, always getting down on herself and I knew that, I knew that Leah could send herself into a downward spiral.

She pulled her head out of my shoulder and locked eyes with me, her dark brown eyes felt like they were violating me, I felt like I was naked under her gaze, like I was so incredibly vulnerable.

“Why haven’t you been eating?”

I felt like I was under a magnifying glass, like Leah could see every single part of me and could see into my brain. She always worried about me, always. To the point where sometimes it was concerning, I had as much as a sniffle and she was doting over me like my mother.

“I’m fine Lee.”

“If you were fine you wouldn’t have lost two stones.”

She could read me too easily and she knew that I was pretty much putty in her hands as soon as she started talking.

“It got dark for me when I left, I needed to leave but then I was gone and I realised that I was so alone and I was partying to try and avoid my feelings and it worked but you know how I am when I’m depressed, I stop eating, I stop functioning. I lived off of alcohol for three weeks and then I got the call from Sarina and for the first time in three weeks I was completely sober and it hit me like a freight train. I realised how bad it had gotten and I was in shambles.”

Leah nodded at me, she knew how I worked, knew that when I was starting to spiral I tended to push it all down until it got so bad that I had a nervous breakdown.

“You need to eat, we need you playing, I need you on the field. It broke my heart when Sarina came and told me, when she asked me if I’d seen any of the warning signs or if I’d noticed and I couldn’t give her an answer.”

I brought my hand back up to rest on Leah’s face, she was still shaking, still hiccuping with every word that she said. I pushed the tears that were pooling on her face away with the pad of my thumb.

“I couldn’t even tell her anything.”

Leah’s words were thrown out between choken sobs and hiccups, it was so strung out and painful that I felt it in my chest.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that, I’m sorry I deserted you. I’m so sorry I hurt you Lee, you deserve better, you deserve someone who has their shit together.”

Leah pulled herself out from beside me and scooted herself so she was sitting in front of me, between my legs looking at me directly.

“I want you though, I want to love you and I want you to let me.”

I couldn’t do much more than look at her, look at her eyes, look at how heartbroken they were. They were full of so much pain, so many sleepless nights and a part of me wanted to fix some of that.

“Let us be happy, let all of this devastation come to an end and just let us be happy. We’ll work through what happened, we can try therapy, or something else. I want you though y/n/n, I want you forever and I don’t want us to give up on that because of some stupid shit that happened when we were drunk.”

Those fucking eyes, they held the sun and the moon, they had the power to make me do anything.

“I want to try, for us. I still think that you are my forever Leah. I just don’t want either of us to get hurt in the process.”

“Love hurts, we work through it. Please just try it for me.”

Her lip was wobbling in between her teeth and it took every single piece of self control I had to not take that lip in my own and just kiss the woman like I wanted to.

“Okay.”

Leah’s face lit up almost immediately, like a kid in a candy store. She leant in towards me, her lips hovering centimetres away from my own and her eyes looking into my own and it took literally every piece of my self control not to initiate anything.

“Is this okay?”

Leah’s voice was calmer this time, less rough on the edges, less broken. I nodded eagerly at her and relaxed into her body as she pressed her lips to mine. It was soft, tender, relaxing, so perfect.

“How about this?”

It was murmured against my lips, a small smirk forming along Leah’s lips.

“So good, but I think we are both overdue for some sleep.”

Leah frowned against my lips but nodded, we were both tired and it was obvious in our actions. She plopped herself down next to me, relaxing into my body and laying her head against my chest.

“Flick the lamp of love.”

The term of endearment sent a shiver down my back, it was so normal and yet so shocking to me. I obeyed her immediately, turning over to the bedside lamp and flicking it off so we were left in the dark. I shrugged my jacket off before relaxing down into the pillow. Leah shifted around for a few seconds, finding a comfortable spot on my body before stilling herself. She looked so small curled up against me, I tugged her hair out of its bun and rubbed her roots just the way I knew she liked me too and rubbed her back the way I knew sent her straight to sleep. It probably took not even a minute before Leah’s body relaxed fully and her breaths evened out and when they did I smiled a little bit looking at her exhausted form. I leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before relaxing myself fully against the pillows and preparing myself for my own sleep.

“I love you Leah, always.”

[luvrdrop]

# “ WATCH YOU “ !!

ft. izana kurokawa x afab! reader smut

synop: izana had seen you walking and became infatuated with you to say the least, but when you get home late once night and have a surprise waiting.. what will you do?

cont: stalking! dub-con! pussy eating ( with panties on as well ) , cursing, reader passing out during sex, izana still fucks her, forced eye contact , spanking, squirting, reader submits to izana because she is affection deprived! , no clear aftercare!,

it really wasn’t supposed to go this far. he swears it wasn’t. he had seen you walking down the street from your house heading to what he guessed to be a small convenience store down the street. he layed eyes on you and that’s when he felt it, that burning in his chest. you were beautiful, once it started he couldn’t stop it.

5:47 pm

“ yeah, kenny.. “ you responded to your best friend over the phone, as you heard him walking into his home. you were down the street from your own home, you had a car but you liked walking. you walked almost everywhere. once you made it your apartment, you opened your mailbox and you instantly freaked out. “ what the actual fuck… ? “ you whispered to yourself. “ what’s wrong, y/n? “ draken had asked you, hearing your distraught curse. “ nothing, i seen something, i’m just tired. “ you said, lying. you were actually freaking out because for the past three days, you had been getting really weird mail in your box. the first day it was a love letter, you were scared to open it because you didn’t have any clue what it might have said. the second day, it was a box of chocolate. and now today, the roses.. a very pretty bright bouquet of red roses.

when you got in your apartment, you locked your door. and headed to your kitchen, laying the roses onto the counter. you lived alone, and you only knew a handful of people.. so who would be sending you roses? and why? you had been getting this feeling that you may have been being watched but you brushed it off, blaming it on the few scary movies you had watched with your homeboys recently. but now it was getting a little weird. “ y/n? “ you heard your friend call your name. you were zoned out and he had been calling out for you. “ oh, my bad. what’s up kenny? “ you asked while heading to your room. he chuckled, “ are you still coming to the meeting tomorrow? “ he reminded you that you had made plans to go to the meeting tomorrow, but now, you were a bit paranoid to go anywhere. “ i’ll see if i finish this work up in time, i’ll pull through. hey kenny, i’ll call you right back. “

pulling your headphone out of your ear, you took a deep breath. “ what is really going on? “ you asked yourself. was there really someone stalking you.. watching you? the thought was terrifying. you had never been through anything like that before. and what could help you figure it out…wait, the letter. maybe it can give you some type of lead on who was sending all that shit to your house. you went to the living room and looked on the tv stand seeing the cream colored envelope with the red heart on it. you open it and read the paper that was inside.

“ hello, i just want to tell you how stunningly beautiful and perfect you are. i hope i get to see you soon, mahal. “

your eye twitched as you read the words on the paper, “ mahal? “ what even did that mean? who wrote you this? it was no help at all, you were still as lost as before if not even more. you sighed, placing the letter back in the envelope and putting it right back where you had it. you decided to leave it alone for tonight, making you way back to your room grabbing your laptop. your work would keep the fear off your back. little did you know, while you were working with music blasting inside your ears from your earbuds, deep purple eyes lurked from the left side of your bedroom window, watching you very quietly and closely. this went on for hours until you fell asleep with your laptop right open.

you woke up the next morning, jumping out of your sleep with a gasp. you were trying to catch your breath, snatching the earbuds out and placing your hands on your chest. “ what the hell.. “ you coughed out, you had a dream where you were running down a dark street, pitch black almost hearing something chasing you with this.. evil laugh. you shook your head, trying to dissipate the sound out of your head. looking over, you see the clock it was 11:35 am. you had worked hard on your work last night and only had one more paragraph to do so you decided that you’d get up and go to the meeting with your friends. your friends were in a huge gang, once they realized how lonesome you were, they started inviting you to hang out with them after the meetings.

you grabbed your phone, dialing your bestfriend’s number. once he answered you placed him on speaker and sat the phone down, yawning while grabbing your toothbrush. “ good morning kenny.. “ you said, you and draken, or kenny as you called were very close. you met by quite literally bumping into him getting off the train one day in town. he was really sweet about it, he ended up bumping you again that same exact day in a convenience store. you two were inseparable ever since then, he grunted very sleepily “ good morning y/n.. “ he was falling back asleep, you furrowed your brows before questioning him, “ why aren’t you awake? you know i’ll be over there soon right? “ she finishes up brushing her teeth and washing her face. “ mhm.. i’ll be up.. “ you rolled your eyes, hearing the lies in his words.

after around an hour or so, you were showered, dressed, and ready to go to draken’s house. you were gonna walk to his house and ride to the meeting with him. he lived around ten minutes away, so you didn’t mind making that small trip. once you had everything you made your way out the door, something in you ushering to open the mailbox and check. you did and there was nothing. “ hm.. that’s not a bad thing i guess “ you closed it back and placed your hands in your pockets , en route to draken’s apartment. you only had one earbud in so you could still hear what was going on around you. the walk seemed kind of quick, you were already a block away from draken’s place. you picked up your pace to hurry and make it there an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.

stupid little you, you had no clue that a white haired boy was walking right behind you. he was on the same foot as you, loving slower though. he wasn’t exactly doing anything, just walking behind. catching your sweet scent as the wind blew it right into his direction. he wanted to just hold you in his arms, never letting you go.. but he knew that sooner or later, you’d be his. he wasn’t too sure on how yet, but surely, you would belong to him. completely.

you knocked on draken’s door, and he opened it almost instantly making you jump a little bit. he noticed and frowned a little. “ you good, y/n? you made it fast, cmon. “ he let you in. and you nodded, “ m’ fine. i was zoned out. “ you answered. your friend was grabbing his keys and turned to you. “ you want anything before we head out? “ you shook your head, “ nah i’m good. “ he nodded before grabbing his toman jacket, tossing it to you. “ i can wear it? “ you looked up at him. “ nah, put it on your head. “ you slapped his arm, and put the jacket on over your tshirt. “ cmon. “ before you knew it, you were on the back of his motorbike, holding onto him so you didn’t fall or jump too much. the rides with draken were always fun, quiet but super fun.

once you made it to the building, you seen all your homeboys, they all said hey to you, waving and some of them coming up and hugging you. it started with baji, then kazutora, mitsuya, chifuyu, and the rest just stood around talking to you. “ where’s manjiro? “ you asked right before you heard the familiar voice. “ is that y/n? “ you smiled, before looking at your friend. “ hi, mikey. “ you laughed before walking up to him and nudging him. “ what’s up? you came to chill? “ he tilted his head. you nodded. after a while, the meeting started and you were sitting watching, the boys always handled what they needed to and then it was time to have fun. everyone stood around talking and having drinks, some eating some food. you found yourself standing in the corner with mikey, talking to him.

your intuition was nothing you ignored, so when your gut told you to ask this question. you did with no hesitation. “ mikey, do you know what.. mahal means? “ he turned his head , laughing. “ mahal? “ he repeated, sounding a bit more different than how you said it. “ that’s tagalog.. it means love. where’d you hear that? “ he’s curious now, but your heart sank when he explained. whoever wrote that note called you love.. in another language. you pretended like it was nothing and you just heard it somewhere but it was actually starting to freak you out. you decided to just have a good time and you would handle it later.

after about two and a half hours it was time to go, draken dropped you off at your house, you hopped off the bike and waved at him. “ bye kenny!! call me tomorrow!! “ you opened the door, slipping through it and closing it, you turned and locked the door. as soon as you started to turn around you felt a hot, very hot body against your own, it happened in the matter of seconds. a hand pressed agains your mouth, and your back pressed against what felt like a chest. the shriek you let out was loud, you started to panic. “ mahal.. “ you heard that damned word again from what sounded to be a male. you felt tears pool in your eyes and run down your face falling towards his hand. “ why are you crying.. “ he asked. you didn’t say anything, not that you could with his hand pressed against your lips.

how did he even get in here.. did you forget to lock the door or something? “ i’m not gonna hurt you.. i promise. “ he said sweetly, pressing his tongue flat against the shell of your ear, giving it a lick. you shivered at feeling.. he was strong so you didn’t bother to fight, thinking he’d possibly kill you if you tried to fight. “ mahal.. i just wanna make you feel good.. feel special. “ his body pressed more against yours, pressing you up against your own door. he licked and sucked at the skin under your ear, softly nibbling on you. you’re weak attempts to push him eventually, stopped as the feeling he gave you started to feel.. good. it was crazy. you had no idea who this was on what he looked like. “ i’m gonna move my hand.. if you scream.. i’m going to hurt you. okay? “ he snatched your head back to lean on his shoulder roughly. “ i asked you something.. “ your eyes closed as tears still fell from them. you were helpless against this man. you just nodded, letting out a small whimper. his hand found it’s way to your throat. “ s’good.. you smell amazing, baby.. mahal ko ito (i love it) “ you were still confused on why he was doing this if he didn’t even know you.

he ended up leading you to your own room and that scared you even more, he had to have been here way before you got back home to know his way through the house. he bends you over on your own bed. you cried out, “ please.. listen i don’t know why you’re doing this but i- ah! “ you shouted when you felt a stinging pain on your ass, “ i told you not to scream.. “ you feel him get even closer, he whispers in your ear, “ only i can hear you, mahal.. stop being so bad. i don’t wanna have to keep spanking you. “ he spoke very softly, but you could tell he was serious. he started to remove your pants and you cried softly, “ please.. “ you begged. he ignored your pleas and cries, sliding his arms under your thighs, flipping you over. and there he was.

those same purple eyes that watched you for three weeks, walking up and down your street, the eyes that watched you do your work and carelessly fall asleep with your laptop open, the eyes that watched you from aisles down at the convience store were now staring you back into yours. he was… beautiful. his made your breathing start to even out a little. the tears still sitting on the edge of your eyes as you watched every detail about him, he smirked. “ oh, stop looking at me like that.. you look like a sad kitten.. cmere. “ he pulled you closer by your thighs, you clenched your thighs together when he did so, but that earned you a fat red mark on your thigh. “ don’t. “ he wasn’t even looking at you at this point. his eyes were now focused on the way your panties were soaked, the darker spot covering the whole area of your pussy.

his white hair stuck to his forehead, he was sweating at this point, the way you twitched and grabbed at him but failed because of the grip he hand on your wrist, all you could do was cry out and whine. he was licking and sucking at your clit through your panties, watching you squirm and quiver at his actions. “ mahal.. you taste so sweet.. what’s wrong? “ he rubbed his thumb against your wrist in a soothing way, “ i won’t stop.. won’t stop until you pass out. promise. “ he smiled as he said it, lifting your panties from your pussy, he gave it a long lick, before placing his right hand down your abdomen, rubbing at your clit with his thumb, he was still watching you. “ you like it? “ he whispered, “ gusto mo ba? hm? (do you like it? hm?) “ he asked and you nodded your head .. “ yes.. “ izana laughed once again, finding it oh, so funny. he placed his lips around your clit once again. you almost screamed, but you remembered he told you not to. you heard the zipper of his pants coming down and you looked down, but he started to push you up and down, your hips making him switch from licking your clit and going into the cavern of your sex. this alone made you squirt all over his face.. he loved it. “ fuck.. you’re so dirty, baby.. “ he stood up and leaned over you, face wet with all of your essence, his earrings dangling over you as well. you looked down before he grabbed you by your throat once again, squeezing slightly.

“ look at me, mahal.. i’m right here.. “ you looked at him and before you could say anything, you felt his tip slowly entering your pussy. “ wait- oh shit- “ you heaved out. “ ah.. you have a potty mouth, baby.. hush.. “ he kisses your cheek, as he bottomed out into you, releasing one of the intoxicating moans in your ear. “ fuck- masikip.. (it’s tight..) “ izana groaned.. he pushed until his stomach was flat against yours, and he didn’t waste time either. he went fast, incredibly fast. “ f-fuckfuckfuck- “ you tried not to scream, izana was in your ear, moaning saying all types of lewd things both in english, and his native tongue. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he chuckled in your ear before tapping the side of your face. “ wake up.. “ he kept going, not letting up or slowing down his speed. “ ah- baby.. i’m gonna cum if you keep squeezing me like this.. fuck.. “ izana started to squeeze your throat. “ i’m c-cumming!! oh god.. i’m cumming.. “ at this point your legs were in the air.. you chocked out that you were close and you came, you came everywhere. your juices leaking all over him, and yourself but he kept going even after you came, you gripped the back of your thighs, mouth hanging open and breath short. your head started to spin at this point.. you were at a lost of words for not only how he was fucking you. you still didn’t even know his name and he was fucking you like this.

this was about to be your third orgasm, you choked out again, “ fuck.. p-please… “ and izana looked down at you. “ what is it.. mahal? “ he spoke into your skin.. he was still fucking deep into you, what you didn’t know is that he had came once before as well, he never stopped fucking into you, the mixture leaking and pouring out of your hole as he choked you, fucking his load deep into you trying to bust another. “ please i- “ you felt your conscious lose you.. you passed out, legs and arms falling, that didn’t stop izana.. he kept fucking you until he came. he pulled out watching the milky white seed drip and pool from his cock and onto your tummy.

it took izana 10 minutes to clean you up, and place you under your sheets. he cleaned himself up as well, leaning down over you once he was dressed. “ i’ll see you soon, mahal. “ he kissed her forehead and disappeared into the night.

you woke up the next day with a banging headache. “ what the fuck.. “ you sat up wiping your eyes, you thought it all was a dream until you looked down and seen your pants were off.. and you seen another note right beside you.. you opened it, reading..

“ i loved make you feel so good, mahal. - izana. <3 “

…. izana was his name.

kai:3- this was really fun to write i can’t lie xxx, i don’t really know toooo tooo much about izana, he’s such a cutie patootie though i really had fun writing for him!! i’ll def write for him again!! i think i’m going to do a chifuyu smut next, ( chifuyu & rindou have been melting my brain:333) buttt this was my second ask & dedicated to @yourefavsakura !! i really hope you enjoy this<3

©️luvrdrop <3 reblogs are appreciated!!

( not proofread!! )

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! Thank you for all the amazing writing you do!!! My humble request is of a reader who brings Jamie to meet her family and he’s appalled that someone so kind and gentle is treated w such lack of love/respect (ex: first comment out of her granddad’s mouth is sm about her weight/job/look/etc) and it puts a lot of things about her into perspective. At some point he can’t take it anymore and defends her and then vows to her that he will undo all of that pain and will prove to her she is worthy of all the love:) sorry it’s a long one (got lots of personal experience lol) so no worries if u can’t but it would mean the world thank you!!!

Hi cutie! Here you go! I’m sorry that you have personal experience with this, families can suck sometimes. It’s definitely from Jamie’s POV, so keep that in mind😅 Boy’s a rambler.

stuck by you

Jamie sure knows how to pick them.

No really, he does. He’s always had stellar taste in girlfriends, except usually they have shit taste in men.

It’s different this time, he swears. Keeley swears, too. Swears she’ll break every bone in his body if he so much as looks at you funny, and Jamie… well, Jamie’s not actually terrified of Keeley, just respectful, like.

So he’s going to make sure he doesn’t fuck this up because you’re funny and gorgeous and brilliant and he's also those things, so you’re like a power couple. And when you beg- no, ask, because you only have to ask once- him to come with you for a family event, he says yes without a second thought. 

It’s off-season, but he’d do it in-season in a heartbeat (just with a bit of fear because Ted’s alright, but he’s a little gun-shy since the whole ‘practice’ thing).

It’s also fucking BOILING, so he’s going to wear his least-slutty shorts (it’s a family event) and a shirt that is not see-through. 

He’s not going to fuck this up, not with how sweet you are, how generous, how-

A football hits the side of his head, and he’s brought out of his thoughts. 

“You’re daydreaming, bruv,” comes Isaac’s voice. “What’s the point of a friendly if you can’t even pay attention?”

Jamie gives himself a shake, and he’s firmly in the present. He’s at the mid-off-season-Richmond-party or whatever, and football is a mandatory affair. He makes the mistake of glancing to where you’re standing under a tree in Colin’s backyard and fuck you’re sneaking sweets to the few kids who are flitting around the grass. Fucking Declan and his adorable children. You catch his eye and give him a little wave, and his heart jumps like he’s in primary school and not a world-renowned Premier League athlete. 

Yeah, he’s good and fucked. 

He makes a mental note to get you into bed tonight, he’s pretty sure it won’t be too difficult, but he’s going to have to convince you to leave early. But can you blame him?

(No, no you fucking can’t.)

—

Jamie isn’t nervous to meet your family. Seriously, he isn’t. It’s your family and a) he’s fucking greatwith families and b) he’s fucking great with you. He rocks up with you on his arm, and he’s already making plans for the sundress you’ve got on, mainly how to get in on the floor once you go home. 

You’re both looking fucking fit. Jamie hopes a little bit that someone sneaks a picture of you two and it ends up in the press because this look CANNOT be wasted. 

He almost misses the way your grip tightens as you walk up the steps. He tilts his head in your direction, assessing your expression. 

“You okay?” he asks and receives a tight-lipped smile. 

“Yup,” you reply. “Let’s fucking do this.”

Not the response Jamie was expecting, but he’ll roll with it. You push open the door and walk into the family room and the first thing out of your granddad’s mouth is, “Oh, there she is! Bold of you to wear that dress with the way you’ve been eating, my dear,” and Jamie half-expects you to say something. 

Or for someone to say something. 

Except no one does, they just carry on, and an aunt comes up to you to make a snide comment about your job. 

“You absolutely must be struggling financially dear, but aren’t we all? I just wish I could screw a footballer and have my rent paid.”

She’s gone before Jamie can say anything, and he only needs one look at your face to understand exactly what’s going on. 

You’re not sweet and kind because your family is sweet and kind. Oh no. 

You’re the way you are out of sheer willpower, out of spite; kindness born the way of a weed in concrete. Out of a refusal to die. A decision to be different. 

And it pisses Jamie off. 

He squeezes your hand once, twice, in reassurance, letting you lead him to your parents. He recognizes them from pictures and still retains a vague hope that they’ll be like you. 

Vain, vague hope, but still. 

He catches the way your mum’s lips tighten into a line at your approach, and the way your dad barely suppresses a scoff. 

“Oh look,” your mum says without an ounce of inflection, “you’re here. That’s wonderful.”

“Good to see you mum, dad,” you say with more grace than Jamie would have if the roles were reversed. Your dad holds out his hand to shake yours, barely acknowledging Jamie. Jamie opens his mouth to say something but you clock it, and shoot him a warning glance. 

He freezes and meets your gaze. You shake your head almost imperceptibly and mouth don’t and he almost ignores you, but you’re begging him with your eyes and he swore you’d never have to beg him for anything. 

So he turns away and doesn’t say anything, because he won’t be responsible for breaking you today. 

And it’s just… like that. All day. It’s relentless and he feels powerless to do a single thing except watch as you refuse to let your armor crack, barely letting it dent the surface. 

How did he not know?

It comes to a head when your cousin (a banking twat who Jamie’s certain had a shriveled dick) manages to comment on your weight, (supposed lack of) beauty, and finances in one fell swoop. 

And that’s it. Jamie’s done. 

They want to be pricks? Well, Roy’s been calling him the Prince Prick of all Pricks for fucking years, so let’s fucking go then. 

“Fuck you, you giant limp-dicked twat,” he says with a smile on his face. You freeze, and so does your cousin. 

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said,” Jamie repeats loudly, taking a step closer, “fuck you, you giant. Limp-dicked. Twat.” He punctuates each word with a poke to this arsehole’s chest and fuck, does it feel great. 

He loves you, he’ll respect your wishes moving forward, but he’ll be FUCKED if he lets your family’s behavior continue. What would mummy say?

The entire room has gone silent, and you’ve gone pale. 

But Jamie, Jamie loves an audience. 

“Fuck you all, actually,” he sing-songs, and there are audible gasps. 

Jamie doesn’t give a shit. “You’re all fucking arseholes to my girl, who, by the way, is the fucking best, except you’re all too fucking busy taking shots at her to notice. Don’t know what the fuck she did to all of you, but you can all piss off with that. We’re fucking leaving.” He grabs your hands and pulls you toward the door. 

It’s not like you need much prompting, you’ve been counting down the minutes since you walked in the door. 

“Oh,” he says turning around one last time. “Don’t bother calling. Or writing, or whatever you old twats do, unless it’s an apology for however fucking long you’ve been this shitty. I’ve only got one shit parent, can’t imagine the hell it’s been having two.”

And with that, he ushers you out the door. 

“Jamie,” you gasp as soon as it shuts behind you. “What was that? What were you thinking?”

There’s a strange tightness to your voice, one Jamie’s having trouble placing. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that the sun is setting and it’s tingeing your skin with gold. 

Either way, it’s starting to get to him. “Dunno,” he says with a trace of belligerence. 

You gape at him for a moment before saying, “Can we get in the car, please?”

Jamie says, “Yeah,” and then helps you in, suddenly aware of every bone in his body. 

He swore he wasn’t going to fuck it, and he did. Christ, Keeley’s going to skin him alive. 

He drives in silence the whole way home. You’re just staring straight ahead, and he can tell you’re still processing. Still replaying. You’re better than any VAR, that’s for sure. 

“Jamie,” you say slowly once he’s parked in the driveway. You’ve unbuckled, but you’re still in your seat. “Why did you say all of that?”

Jamie says again, “Dunno,” but you don’t believe him. 

“Why?” you ask again, voice cracking. “It’s not worth it, I’m not worth it.”

And just like that, Jamie understands. 

“You are,” he replies forcefully, except that just makes you cry. 

(He’s pretty sure they’re good tears, though, so he tests it by reaching for your hand. You don’t pull away, which is a good sign.)

“You are worth it,” he says again, in case you didn’t get it the first time. “Shit family’s… it’s shit, babe. I get it, I really fucking do. I’m sorry about them, I really am. And I’m sorry about me, too. Didn’t mean to say ‘fuck’ so many times, suppose I’m around Roy too much.”

That succeeds in lightening the mood, and you smile ever so slightly. 

He says, “They don’t deserve you,” which just makes you laugh. 

“I know,” you reply. “I just always wanted them to be a good family.”

Jamie hesitates. He knows what you mean. 

Finally he says, “People don’t change like that, love. It’s almost- hardwired into them. They get fucking stuck and you can’t change them, no matter what you do. Sometimes you just gotta let them go.”

You nod and take a deep breath. Easier said than done, you suppose. 

Jamie cups your cheek. “I’m with you, babe. It’s you, me, and whatever family we can put together. We’ll put in the work, yeah? Be different.”

“Yeah,” you echo, “we’ll be different.”