#there's just objectively worse ways that could have gone

[loves0phelia]

Hi! I don’t know if you’ve watched part 2 of outer banks yet, and if you didn’t this request is a spoiler!!

Can you do JJ Maybank’s sister seeing him die and Rafe is just watching her break down and he’s comforting her while she cries in his arms? I’m sobbing over JJ right now 😭

Thank you!

Gone

Summery: outer banks season 4 episode 10/the anon

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: SPOILERS, death, grammar mistakes.

A/N: i also sobbed, i cant believe it and thank you for requesting love youuu.

The sandstorm hit suddenly. The air was thick, nearly solid with dust. You stumbled forward as the wind blew strongly, You screamed, begging JJ to come down before something terrible would happen but even if you pulled the scarf tighter across your nose and mouth every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass making it hard to speak. 

Everything was clouded and your goggles were smeared with sand dust. It was impossible to see your brother who was up high on that statue trying to find the blue crown you, the pogues and Rafe have been risking your lives for.

“Come down JJ!” You screamed as loud as you could, hoping he could hear you over the screaming wind. 

A surge of panic rose in you, he wasn't listening, only going higher and higher to reach the top.

“Hurry please!” You screamed again as the sandstorm was getting worse and worse. Squinting your eyes you could see JJ finally descending the statue after a while, carefully holding on to the rock.

“JJ, holy shit are you okay?” You rushed forward to him as he stumbled around frantically.

“I'm good! I'm better actually, I'm great. Look!” he yelled over the storm and held up the blue crown, it felt like a dream having it in front of you.

“No way, you found it” You both looked down at the dusty historical crown in silence for a second, sinking in it the victory that was so rare when it came to you and your twin.

“We got it!” He cheered, pumping his fist, jumping into place from all the adrenaline. The victory cheers didn't last long though, the next thing you knew shots were fired at you from the group who wanted to steal what was rightfully yours.

“Run, run, run” JJ shouted behind you as you ran through the sand blindly and desperate to find shelter.

The sandstorm roared with life around you, Yours and JJ's footsteps vanished almost as quickly as you made them, erased by the wind.

You coughed, your lungs stinging as you struggled to run down the stairs you had found leading inside the monument. 

But suddenly, a shadow appeared out of the storm. A strong hand gripped your forearms and in a sudden movement, your back was pressed on your “father's” chest, an arm around your neck holding on tightly, cutting your airflow and a sharp blade pressed into the side of your face.

“JJ!” you called out, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Let her go!” JJ shouted, his voice trembling with anger. He lunged towards you trying to rip you away from him but he only pressed the blade harder making you cry out. But Groff only shook his head.

You cried, struggling, and your heart pounding as Groff’s grip tightened. You fought against him, but his hold was unbreakable.

“You’re just like your mother,” Groff hissed, his gaze cold and unmoved. “Always standing in my way. Well, this time, you’re not going to stop me. Give me what I want”

“Let her go” He begged.

“If you had listened, we wouldn't be here JJ, you could have had everything. WE could have had the life we deserved as a family. All three of us. But now you get nothing. Nothing at all” Chandler pants like a maniac.

“I already have everything,” JJ says, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have everything I ever wanted. You want the crown? Sure, take it. I don't want it. Just let my sister go.”

“Give it to me, hold it out” He reached toward JJ for the precious object, his grip on you not loosening.

In a swift moment, an exchange was made. Groff grasped the crown, and JJ pulled you out of his arms.

“I got you” JJ breathed out with relief, like a weight was removed from his shoulders. He hugged you protectively. Holding your head against his shoulder like a shield. But then again, the victory was cut short.

“JJ, y/n” you were interrupted by the voice of your father, his call made both of you separate and turn to face him, JJ’s body still shielding you from further harm.

“It's a shame…you and I” You furrowed your brows and a gasp came out of your mouth when the sound of flesh being pierced rang out. 

“You should have given me the rope” Time was moving at a slow pace as the scene unfolded. Groff twisted the knife in JJ's stomach before pulling it out rapidly and running out into the desert.

"JJ!" You screamed, your voice raw with terror. You saw JJ stumble back, his hands flying to his side. Dark red blood was spreading through his shirt and across his fingers, and the sight of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

The world narrowed to the scene in front of you as you watched JJ fall, his face contorted in pain. 

“No, no, no” you cried, desperation thick in your voice.

You rushed to JJ’s side, catching him just as he stumbled. He looked up at you, his face pale and stained with tears.

“It's okay JJ, it's okay” You pressed into his wound, shaking terribly, sobbing when he let out a pained groan.

“No, please” you murmured, pressing your hand over the wound in a desperate attempt to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”

“Hey, hey,” He whispered, his voice breaking. “Take care of the others for me, okay?”

“No! No” Your breaths shakes, your chest tight with sadness.

“I love you, y/n. You're the best sister anyone could ever have.” His gaze was beginning to drift, his eyes unfocused, and the strength in his grip was fading. Panic clawed at you.

“I love you, please don't go” you begged, but it was pointless he was already gone.

“No! No, no. Please! JJ, please” you shaked his shoulder weakly.

“John B!” You screamed, your chest burning from the lack of oxygen your lungs were getting.

“Pope! Rafe!” Your hands gripped your brother refusing to let go.

“Please JJ!” Your heart shattered completely, a part of you gone forever. Your brother, your twin, your best friend, the other half of your soul, gone. 

“Please” You pressed your forehead against him, your tears falling over the blood-soaked shirt.

The pogues came running towards you, sinking to their knees, calling out to him, crying, sobbing, mourning.

Everything in you gave out as you held onto him, you couldn't even fight when hands grabbed onto your shoulder to bring you away from your brother's corpse.

Your body fell limp into Rafe's lap. His hands held your body up as if he was your lifeline. 

“It's gonna be okay” He whispered against your forehead but you barely registered any of it, only sobbing, and screaming in pain against him. 

The Pogues stood in a tight circle, all eyes fixed on JJ as if somehow their stares alone could bring him back. But no one spoke, and in the heavy silence, the truth crashed over them, settling deep in their bones. JJ was gone.

Kiara’s shoulders shook, a small, trembling motion that quickly overtook her entire body. She fell to her knees, hands pressed to her mouth as she fought to hold back the sobs. 

Pope was beside her, his eyes frantically looking over the scene, he didn't want to believe any of it, as if it was a cruel joke.

John B stood, rigid.  His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, and his jaw was set, teeth gritted as he tried to hold it all in, to keep the pain from breaking him apart. 

Rafe's arms wrapped around you gently, his hand resting on the back of your head as he let you fall into his chest. You buried your face in his shoulder, the grief and sorrow pouring out in waves as he held you.

He didn’t speak of the rivalry, the old wounds and the bitterness between your families; none of that mattered now. At this moment, all he saw was your pain, and he was there, his own heart breaking a little as he watched you crumble.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving you weak and exhausted, Rafe pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes filled with something you’d never seen in him before—softness, understanding. 

“It's okay,” he murmured, his voice a promise, his hand gentle as he brushed a stray tear from your cheek. “I’ve got you.”

You sat on the sand as a fire crackled in front of you, you had just buried him, the silence was thick nobody wanted to believe the truth. 

Your head pounded, even when you were softly laying on Rafe's legs using them as pillows. His calloused fingers gently rubbed your hair and you tried to concentrate on the movement in an attempt to forget about the previous moment but you failed.

“Groff said he was going to Lisbon” Rafe whispered above you, making your eyes open and looking up at him. His eyes met yours and he continued.

“If he was my friend or my brother… I would go after the guy that just killed him” The mention made your heart burn but he had a point.

“He's not wrong” Kie whispered, agreeing with your inner thoughts. You snuggled against Rafe's legs one last time before sitting up and leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“JJ would already be on his way to kill him if it was one of us,” you said and everyone's eyes snapped towards you, those were the first words you had spoken since it happened. 

“He'd get even,” John B added.

“Let's get revenge,” you said, your voice more confident than it was before, you felt a hand grasp onto yours and slowly you turned your head to face Rafe. He nodded and tightened his grip in a comforting way, never letting go.

Send request please xx

[rei-ismyname]

Logan tried to murder Chuck. What then?

After the sun set on Krakoa and the dust settled, Charles Xavier surrendered himself to 'human authorities.' He was being transported to his super prison built by Reed Snitchards and Tony Nark when...

Logan came to kill him in a very unsubtle way. Surely those guards died or at minimum suffered serious permanent injuries. What little we get of his motivation is an objection to Chuck's time as Sentinel X - killing a bunch of humans. Logan Behavior, basically. Certainly hypocrisy.

Pretty stylish entrance though, The Shining style. He's just about to gut him after Chuck declines explaining himself or speaking at all. Keep in mind resurrection Protocols just phased into another dimension - Logan is aiming to kill Xavier permanently (comic book permanent obviously) here despite the fact he's going to prison for life. He'd actually be subverting punitive state justice here.

I hardly need to say that this is pretty extreme for Logan. He's killed countless people, but for the last few decades he's worshipped the ground Charles walks on. After AvX, when Chuck committed suicide by Phoenix, Logan appointed himself the custodian of 'the dream' and ran the school (though he renamed it after Jean because he's a creepy and petty man.) Cyclops is often held up as Chuck's heir, but I think Logan is just as much. (Though Jean and Storm beat them both out and surpass him.) Maybe this is a hypocritical broken pedestal moment.

Magneto objects, freezing him in place and proclaiming 'no more martyrs.'

Did you know 9/10 failed murderers say 'cripes?'

Then he yeets him out of the prison and levitates it so he can't get back in. Mags and Chuck have a chat and we see nothing of Logan until Wolverine #1.

These people all need therapy. Emotional intelligence so low.

That murderous unilateral motivation seems to have cooled - 'Charles doin' what he did' is third on his list of things that took their toll. Not to minimise his pain, but everyone else has experienced those things too. Many had it worse. Scott, for example, was tortured for six months with his eyes sewn shut and a broken back (which... healed somehow.) If someone else was doing this he'd call them out at best, more likely he'd tell them to get over it. This is #Logan Behavior, though it's weird he doesn't mention Daken's death.

I'm 99% sure this is next chronologically. Scott says Logan was 'in the area so he asked him to investigate' - 'the area' being Santo Marco, a fictional South American country that Magneto briefly conquered in 1963. The X-Men answered his distress call.

No mention of Chuck here, and he greets Scott warmly. No thank you though. They patch him up back at the Factory. Looks like he does have use for X-Men.

Wolverine can absolutely give up. It's his thing.

From 'I never should have left the woods' this has to be after Wolverine #1, but before Uncanny X-Men #1-4, because that takes place over a few days and the phone call between Rogue and Scott implies so. We only get the end of this conversation, but it's very safe to assume it was a soft recruitment offer and assumption of a family relationship. No mention of Chuck here either. He claims he's done, citing Krakoa as a loss. It is a loss, but it also bought back the 16 million Genoshan dead and established a mutant paradise in a heaven dimension - one he could have gone to.

Also, Logan didn't build shit. He had nothing to do with Genosha, in fact he opposed and obstructed it. He bailed on Utopia and the narrative kept genocidal threats away from the school. He had little to do with building Krakoa itself and while he went on the missions he was asked to, he remained a skeptic the entire time. He didn't trust the island and lived on the moon in a polycule. Anyway, he tells Scott not to come looking for him. I promise you he wouldn't say that to Jean.

She's right, they're not strategists.

Looks like he's fine hanging out with Rogue and Gambit. Rogue seemed fine with joining Cyclops and co, but doesn't argue at all when Logan (who is hours away from leaving and has no intention of staying) shoots it down for... reasons? They were X-Men enough when they rescued him from Santo Marco, ingrate.

Neither should struggle to imagine a community 'run' by Scott Summers. Logan has been living with him for at least 3 years and he wasn't everywhere when Logan and Jean were banging. Rogue was on a Krakoan X-Men team with Scott and he and Jean prepped new leaders and stepped back. They all considered themselves Krakoan and Scott 'lived to serve.' How does it end this way? The Chuck question answers itself, though Logan doesn't say 'I wish Magneto didn't stop me killing him' or something. Scott? Uhhh, you took this misanthrope's grumbling as gospel. Go to Alaska and say hi! Or maybe he'll call you. Kate? Uhm, she just told you. She broke in Fall of X, you know this.

Interestingly, Logan uses the term 'fill Chuck's chair.' I thought he was quitting the parts that don't work? 'Why do you even want to?' should be self explanatory. Rogue receives a phone call after this from Scott, and she says he's 'the last person she wants to speak to.' Maybe Logan is right and he shouldn't be around people. He infected Rogue with Scott haterism very quickly.

The Outliers show up and less than a day later he leaves, heading for the nearest forest. Even the swamp hag that guts him thinks he's a whining bitch. Logan is aware that Rogue's group are planning a prison break, that children are being hunted, though it doesn't stop him leaving.

Put all this together and it paints a very human portrait of a traumatized person pushing everyone away, albeit in the most immature way possible. This is what Magneto referred to when he said Logan Behavior, and he's right. If I was talking about a real life person it'd be unforgivably callous, but I'm not. I wrote this piece to interrogate his continuity from Krakoa to FTA, and I was expecting it to make less sense to be honest. As I said, this is textbook trauma response. It portrays that well, but the whiplash of Logan going from 'murder Chuck no matter the collateral damage' to 'Chuck did bad things but Cyclops is worse - don't be friends with him, Rogue' is severe and unsatisfying.

Uncanny #700 was one of the last things written for Krakoa, so it's likely that information wasn't available for FTA writers. Except Logan and Kate had both sworn they'd kill Chuck with plenty of notice, so I don't think that deserves a pass. Is anyone surprised by this? Maybe I should just write a post that says 'From The Ashes doesn't care about smooth continuity and has clumsily broken up these teams by fiat. Just ask Havok, Polaris, Angel, Storm, Omega Red, Jubilee and Shogo, etc etc. Also, it's pretty fucking mid' and pin it on my Tumblr.

That's no fun though. Even when it sucks, when it's safe and nostalgic, when everything you loved has been swept away and replaced with cardboard cutouts, when it's 'fine I guess', and even when it's great; the play's the thing. I love the X-Men and fans have as much ownership of the story as anyone. Not entitlement, just the right to be a part of the narrative, close to the characters. I find it fun and if I ever don't I'll stop (or spend a few years covering Krakoa). I hope you do too. Importantly, you should be critical of the things you love in good faith. As for Marvel the capitalist entity - all bets are off. Fuck em. They do it for the money, we do it for the love.

[givehimthemedicine]

lumax as a premature relationship

first: I don't mean any of this like "the show shouldn't have done it". what I mean is that with lumax, ST is telling the story of a relationship whose flaw (if it can be summarized into just one) is that it happened too soon.

probably out of comparison to milkvan, and the delay of canon byler, lumax gets lauded as the wholesome ship based on true friendship that slowly blossomed into romance. but that's not accurate. Lucas is a good friend to Max, but Max isn't to Lucas, and it certainly wasn't slow.

even platonic lumax should've been a slow simmer but was a speed run

the newly-introduced Max has high walls, which suggests anyone who wants to get close to her will have to take a slow approach. but then before you know it, Lucas is just kinda. in there.

yes, it takes him most of the season to earn Max's trust, which sounds long, but isn't. the first time Lucas and Max ever spoke was Halloween, Wednesday. the arcade I think is Saturday, and the junkyard is the day after that? so she broaches the darkest subject in her life... 4 days after meeting him. with like. zero prompting. "that fog looks cool! btw my parents are divorced and..."

Max's walls are only so high because of how badly she wants to let someone in, so it's understandable that the right person could get in relatively fast. I have no problem with that trope. sucker, in fact. but opening up here was CRAZY for someone with huge trust issues:

you have to be careful who you confide in about abuse because if your confidant mishandles it so that your abuser finds out you told, things could get MUCH worse. she simply doesn't know Lucas well enough to know he won't accidentally put her in more danger (which actually he already did: by following her out of the arcade after she said not to, and again by showing up at her house).

this talk was moments before Max saw a demodog, meaning she's gone along with the supernatural story without any evidence. I'm not criticizing that; she's a kid who likes fantasy, wants friends really bad, and isn't above playing make-believe in order to be included. what bothers me is she confided in Lucas about her abuse BEFORE seeing a shred of proof this entire outing wasn't the elaborate prank she feared it was. in the infinitely more realistic scenario that these boys are just messing with her, and will ditch her after they've had their laugh, this could so easily have led to a much darker situation at home.

the timing of that conversation was so objectively, stupidly unsafe that I'd call it bad writing if it was an isolated incident. but, self-preservation instincts so terrible they can sometimes be better explained as elf-sabotage - that's just classic Max.

romantic lumax seemed kind of forced because as a new kid in town, all Max wanted was friendship

the snow ball is about a month after everything else. Max and Lucas don't seem to be a couple yet. it doesn't even look like they're dates. so to kiss him suddenly felt like another jump way ahead. he sure looked surprised.

I guess a month is a while when you're 13, but the romantic aspect felt rushed to me because the whole season is full of indications that Max only wanted friendship. and that's made super clear by her constant focus on group friendship. her dialogue throughout 2 is consistently group-oriented.

her behavior is too: as of Halloween, Max has Lucas and Dustin in her pocket. if she's crushing on Lucas, or enjoys attention from boys in general, why on earth would she go out on such a limb seeking Mike's acceptance after she already has what she wants?

because that's not what she wants most. she wants to belong to the whole group, like she keeps saying. (I'm going to ramble much more about this theme in another post soon)

Max continues to prioritize friendship / group activities even after lumax becomes a thing

a few examples:

lumax's idea of "romantic time" can include their friends, in contrast to milkvan prioritizing alone time.

Max (and Lucas) drop 1 on 1 time (washing out his eyes is a scene that's an easy kiss opportunity for your standard tv teen couple) in favor of a long trek in the sun to build a radio tower so Dustin can talk to a girl she doesn't believe exists. Max and Lucas do skip off together, but again in contrast to El and Mike who leave early to make out, they only leave because it's time to go home.

^that's the same Max who tagged along and earnestly participated in armoring up a junked schoolbus to fight monsters without any proof.

despite downsizing for trailer living, she kept the Michael Myers mask in memory of the first night she felt like a part of the party.

unlike others who yell for their loved one from the UD, Max calls out for Lucas and Dustin.

her life-saving montage includes many platonic as well as romantic moments.

alright killjoy, if Max only wanted friendship, how's it make sense that SHE initiated all the romantic stuff?

ST is not a universe where grabbing someone's hand in a tense moment is necessarily an indicator of romance. Dustin said he could feel "the electricity" when Lucas and Max held hands on the bus, but then, Dustin also ships stobin.

the kiss, I could actually come closest to calling a writing misstep because.. it wasn't written. it feels forced because it was, as a last-minute unscripted thing - not because the Duffers decided it fit Max's characterization, but purely because they thought it was funny how uncomfortable Sadie was with filming her first kiss. <- this interview is actually so gross.

but, that kiss is canon regardless of how I feel about bts lore, and it fits and it works in the sense that this is the story of a flawed relationship. Max initiated it despite not being ready for it, simply because she thought she was.

Max's childhood fears about bad relationships have made her overeager to prove a good relationship can exist. so the first time a boy is actually kind to her, she's like OH SEE LOVE IS REAL I DONT HAVE TO GROW UP TO BE MY MOM LET'S GOOOO and hurls herself into something she's not mature enough to realize she's too immature to execute well.

if that kiss was so misguided, how's it still Max's happiest memory?

there's no conflict there.

she grew up around terrible relationships and probably feared she was destined for the same, so to find a nice boy like Lucas must have given her such incredible relief and hope. in her young mind, that dance was her happily ever after. you never forget how good a moment like that felt, regardless of how well reality lived up to it.

that said. can I point out that reality hasn't lived up to it?

Max choosing the moment lumax began, as opposed to any moment from the year-and-change of its actual contents... might be less good the more you think about it. like. she doesn't describe this as her favorite memory. she says it's the time she was happiest. in other words, she hasn't been as happy before or since.

that kiss marked lumax's moment of greatest potential, which I think is what made Max so happy. not the relationship she's actually gotten so far.

mmkay and then what do I do about the fact Max STILL wants to date Lucas?

once again, Max is the one who makes things overtly romantic by doodling a picture of them holding hands. but as you may know from my recent lumax diatribe, I don't see how the ship is seaworthy at present.

so the top layer of my interpretation is that Max is still operating under the same ideas that caused her to kiss Lucas in the first place. she's not thinking about how it'll work; she just wants. this is fast-forward Max again. it's a similar moment of hope to the snow ball kiss. romance with Lucas once again looks like her lifeline out of an awful situation.

the layer underneath that is less fluffy:

Max might've accepted this invite in as much an "I might die tonight so it won't hurt to make some lighthearted plans for the future, he did just save my life so why hurt his feelings for no reason" way as anything else. I don't mean her affection is fake. she just might consider the movie date a pipe dream.

consider that her attic monologue happens only a couple minutes after the doodle, and shows that her suicidal ideations are barely behind her. like, the wanting-to-die part is just bait at this point I think, but the deserving-to-die sentiment still feels fresh and sincere.

consider that Max so recently scolded Lucas for assuring her things would work out because that's "never true" in her life... and now here she is drawing a doodle of things working out.

sure, this could be a girl who's thinking "yes!!! ✅ Attending Event! I genuinely expect to be alive, deserving of love, and in the mood for romance this Friday!" but to me, it honestly seems more like a girl thinking "God, I wish."

btw the doodle would've been perfect as the advent of romantic lumax, imo

if lumax had grown slowly out of a healthy mutual friendship, Max really could be ready right here.

imagine: s2, Max earns her place in the party, but to grow especially close friends with Lucas takes a year; the bus talk happens in s3. we can tell their friendship is starting to want to become more. depression interferes in s4. but their bond helps pierce the fog, and they protect each other from Vecna/Jason.

you hit me with the movie doodle after THAT buildup? adorable, precious, showstopping. at that point, that date could've been their happily ever after. <- this is what people think it is already!

lumax is one of many flawed relationships (and that's okay)

another sign that lumax is supposed to be flawed is its place in the larger pattern of flawed relationships: parallels with other characters and ships.

Max and El in particular share a similar stumble into their relationships: both bond with the first boy to treat them with kindness, and throw themselves into a relationship that actually costs them the friendship they should've had with that boy.

and all the party relationships illustrate different friendship/romance progressions:

lumax is the story of a romance that should've been a friendship first/also and isn't going to succeed til it gets this right

byler will be the story of a romance that was a friendship first and will succeed by remaining one also (or so the themes and patterns suggest)

mileven is the story of a romance that should've been a friendship instead.

literally all of ST's relationships, including the endgame romances, have flaws that are intentional and meant to be explored. in fact that's like... most of what the show is. and most fans can readily admit that about all of them, until they get to lumax, which they think is uniquely meant to be perfect and is flawed only in its writing. this view strips lumax from its broader context and ignores many lessons it's there to teach us about ST's overarching themes.

understand: my aim in pointing out lumax's flaws is not to persuade anyone to enjoy it less or stop shipping it!

flaws don't mean you aren't allowed to like a thing. if anything, it makes them way more interesting to discuss, and more compelling to root for/against. we don't have to pretend our characters are perfect in order to enjoy, ship, and learn from them.

more on all this coming soon in another post exploring different types of love in the Max plot!

[im-sleepdeprived]

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again. 

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him.  The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away. 

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion. 

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged. 

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad. 

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch. 

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it. 

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved. 

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.” 

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place. 

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her. 

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already. 

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything. 

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book. 

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving. 

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. 

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you. 

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together. 

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more. 

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter. 

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten. 

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge. 

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly. 

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe. 

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response. 

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird. 

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail. 

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay.  He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start. 

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that. 

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away. 

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred. 

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay. 

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again. 

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault. 

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated. 

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. 

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you. 

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe. 

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit. 

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home. 

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away. 

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer. 

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead. 

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face. 

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!” 

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again. 

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. 

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging. 

[girlgenius1111]

throw it all away part 2

part 2 of 2 :) [putellas!reader] just because she knows, now, doesn't mean the path to recovery is straightforward. alexia struggles to help you the way you need. you struggle to even want help. tw: this is a fic about r struggling with an ED. proceed with caution.

—

The protein shake glass sat empty in front of you when Alexia walked into the kitchen. Olga was in the chair next to you, rubbing your back slowly. There were tears running down your face, but your expression was stony. 

Alexia took the seat next to you without a second thought, pulling you into her side. “I’m proud of you.”

“I hate myself.” You murmured, almost against your will. “This shouldn’t be so hard. It’s ridiculous.” 

“It’s not ridiculous,” Alexia objected. “It’s okay. This happens, it’s normal, pequeña.” 

You looked at her strangely, pulling away from her embrace and your sister winced at her own words, scrambling to fix her mistake. “I just mean this is how you’re supposed to feel. In recovery, this is normal. It’s going to be hard, but you just have to push through and-”

“Ale,” Olga interrupted, shaking her head gently. 

Alexia looked back at you, falling silent as she did so. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment, or maybe anger, and you were staring at the plate in front of you like it had personally harmed you. The blonde couldn’t take the look on your face, wanted more than anything to just say the right thing and have all the answers for you, and she started blabbering again before she could stop herself. 

“You did a really good job finishing your protein shake-”

At this, you rolled your eyes, and Alexia started talking faster. 

“-maybe we can get your favorite takeout for dinner? The pasta place you like, with the– ow, Olga.” 

Again, Alexia fell silent, rubbing her arm where her girlfriend had elbowed her. Olga was shooting her a look and your sister sighed, rubbing at her forehead with her hand. Obviously discussing food was a no go, she should know better than that. She thought hard, trying to think of anything that would make you feel better, get rid of the horribly sad frown on your face. 

“Maybe you can come to training tomorrow and watch! So you don’t miss out on too much, and-”

“Alexia, for the love of god, shut up.” You snapped, throwing your hands up in the air and rising from your chair. 

“Pequeña, I’m just trying to-” 

“You don’t want me to miss out on too much training, I got it. Football is the most important thing. I know that, Alexia. I know. I know I’m fucking my season right now, I know I’m fucking the team, so please just, for once, stop talking about fucking football.” 

Alexia couldn’t help the hurt that panged in her chest, or the pained look she was sure flashed across her face. You felt guilt split your chest open at the sight, but you pushed that away, trying to hold onto your anger, which was quickly fading. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You turned to walk out of the room, but Olga’s voice behind you made you freeze in your tracks. 

“Nena? Can you leave the door open a crack please?” 

You felt everything inside of you seize up at her words, shame and frustration and embarrassment and hurt welling up, until a few tears fell down your cheeks. God, you hated that they knew. They didn’t even know but they knew, and that was awful. Incomparably, singularly awful. 

“Why does she have to– oh.” Alexia said. She hadn’t really considered that as a possibility. She thought you just weren’t eating. This seemed… worse, somehow. When you turned around to look at her, you could tell she thought it was worse. 

“Yeah.” You agreed, turning back around and practically stomping out of the room. 

As soon as you were gone, Alexia turned to her girlfriend. “How did you know she was… doing that?” 

Olga exhaled heavily, leaning back in her chair. The two of you were going to give her a migraine, but she didn’t really blame you. Alexia on the other hand…

“I didn’t. I wasn’t sure, but I asked her to leave the door open just in case. Her reaction, though… she is.” 

“Oh.” Alexia mumbled, unconsciously reaching for her girlfriend’s hand. Olga pulled away with a shake of her head, sitting up straighter in her chair. 

“Ale, you have to relax. Talking her ear off isn’t helping right now, she’s already overwhelmed.” 

“I’m just trying to help!”

“I know you are, amor, but you have to think about how she’s feeling right now,” 

“But I don’t know how she’s feeling! I want to, but I don’t understand! I can’t understand. Keeping your body healthy is the most important thing in football, and I don’t understand why she’s done this, because I would never do this. How am I supposed to help if I don’t understand? I can’t, Olga. I can’t fix this.” 

Both women were speaking too loudly to hear your footsteps returning to the kitchen, though you paused just outside the doorway, catching the end of your sister’s sentence. 

I can't fix this. she'd said. 

I can’t understand. 

I would never do this. 

How am I supposed to help?

It sounded like she’d already given up on you. She’d decided she couldn’t understand, couldn’t help, and it was all your fault. For pushing away her attempts to help earlier, snapping at her when you knew she was just trying to make you feel better. You felt like a lost cause, but now she felt that way about you too. 

You took a deep breath, walking back into the kitchen before Olga could reply. You looked oddly pale and shaky, and though it was because you’d overheard your sister and misunderstood, Ale didn’t know that. She glanced over at you, doing a double take as her eyes widened. 

“Nena, did you…?” 

Next to the blonde, Olga suppressed a sigh. You blinked at her for a second, confused, before recoiling backwards, a scowl etched onto your face. “No. I left the door open like you told me to, and I didn’t do anything.” 

Alexia relaxed, just barely, clearly about to say something else that would be entirely wrong when Olga spoke first. 

“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a little bit, pequeña? It’s been a long day, you must be exhausted and overwhelmed.” 

Your sister nodded her agreement, and you felt your heart sink even further if possible. Of course they didn’t want to deal with you anymore today. You didn’t say you’d rather be with them, because the loneliness would be almost too much to bear. You just nodded, eyes fixed on the hardwood floor under you as you turned and left the room once more.

—

Alexia felt slightly more prepared to talk to you when she knocked on your door a half hour later. She’d done some quick research, compiling another list in her head of what to say and what not to say. She’d tried to convince Olga to go up and check on you instead of her, because all the midfielder seemed to be able to do today was mess up, but Olga had insisted that it be Alexia. You needed your sister, and Alexia needed to make up for the absolute disaster she’d been earlier. 

All she got in response to her knock was a sharp huff. 

“Chiqui? Can I come in?” 

“I guess.” You called back. Alexia opened your door, slipping inside and finding you sprawled on your bed, staring hard at the ceiling. 

She hovered in the doorway uncertainly, opening and closing her mouth a few times before she settled on what she wanted to say. “How are you feeling?”

“How do you think I’m feeling?” You snapped, glaring at her harshly. 

“Hey,” Alexia tried, though she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to scold you for catching an attitude with her. She didn’t know what any of the rules were anymore. 

You shook your head with an annoyed huff. “What do you want, Ale? I thought I didn’t need to talk any more today.”  

And Olga had promised you that. Alexia was just hoping, perhaps naively, that you’d want to talk to her more. Instead, it seemed like you were barely holding yourself back from forcibly shoving your sister out of your room.

Any other time, any other situation, Alexia would have shouted at you to be respectful. Both of you knew that. It only made you feel worse that she felt that she had to tiptoe around you. She was treating you differently already and you hated that. 

Alexia studied you for a few moments, before walking over to your bed and taking a seat on the edge of it. She put her hand on your shoulder, but you shrugged it off, and Alexia bit her lip.  You noticed she was wearing this absurd shirt you’d gotten her as a joke a few years ago, one that proclaimed her as the world’s best sister. Really, you’d given it to Ale to spite Alba after arguing with her, though you’d also gotten Alba one a few days later, just to make sure her feelings weren’t hurt. Alexia wearing it now could have been completely accidental, or it could have been some kind of weird confidence boost she was trying to give herself. Either way, you felt emotion try to claw out of the pit you’d shoved it into, but you pushed it down again. 

“I just want to help you.” The blonde said finally, her hands fiddling with a stray thread on your comforter. 

You scoffed, sitting up off your bed and turning to face your sister. “You don’t mean that.” 

Alexia’s head whipped up to look at you, an absolutely crestfallen look on her face. “Of course I do. Why would you say that?” 

“You don’t. You said so earlier, you don’t understand, you can’t understand, you’d never do this. How are you supposed to help? You can’t, so don’t pretend that you want to.” You were fully crying now, pacing around your room but absolutely refusing to make eye contact with Alexia. 

The midfielder’s heart sank as you threw her words back at her. She hadn’t known you’d overheard her, hadn’t realized how that had sounded. She’d been begging Olga to give her some guidance, not expressing that she’d given up on you, that she didn't really want to help you. 

“Oh, mi pequeña,” Alexia whispered, standing and pulling you into a hug. You didn’t hug her back, even as her arms wrapped tight around you, and she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “That’s not what I meant, not at all. I’ve never been through this, nena, and it’s hard for me to understand, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you. I do, more than anything.” 

“You shouldn’t bother. It’s hopeless, I can’t do this.” You sobbed, finally hugging Alexia back, clinging on tightly to her shirt. 

“It’s not hopeless. It might feel like it is, but I am never going to give up on you, on trying to understand, on trying to help. Never, nena.” 

You pulled away for her, guilt once again replacing anger. Taking a few shuddering breaths, you tried to get your thoughts in order, or, you supposed, your feelings in order. You looked at your sister again, her arms at her sides as she looked at you helplessly. 

“You’re being too patient with me.” You whispered, sitting down heavily on the edge of your bed. 

Alexia took a seat next to you, feeling like maybe… maybe she did know what to say. “No. I don’t think I’m being patient enough.”

You shook your head, though still allowed your sister to grab your hand in hers. Whether it was for your comfort or for hers, you weren’t sure. Maybe both. “I’m not…I’m not sick. This problem, it’s all mental. I don’t deserve for everyone to be this kind and this patient. I chose this.”

There was a certain guilt that accompanied all of this. A real sickness, in your mind, wasn’t something that a person inflicted onto themselves. This was your fault. You had started it, you had continued it, and you’d let it get so bad that other people had to intervene. You didn’t deserve your sister’s patience. 

Alexia gripped your hand tighter. “You are sick. Your brain is sick. And while you get better, you deserve all the kindness and patience. You made choices that got you here, but you are sick, hermanita. Just a different type than you’re used to.” 

You looked at her tearfully, an almost pleading expression on your face. “I don’t know how to get better, Ale. I don’t know if I can.” 

Alexia understood, then, that you weren’t pushing her away because you didn’t want her help, necessarily. You just didn’t want to waste her time when the task ahead of you felt so entirely impossible. 

“I don’t know either. I don’t really know how to help you, but I’m going to find out, and I’m going to do it. Whatever it takes, nena. You are my baby sister, and you are worth the effort. I’m not going to give up on you. Not ever.” 

For a moment, you looked at Alexia like you used to look at her. When you were tiny and she was your perfect, safe older sister. Your Ale, who let you sleep in her bed after bad dreams, who double knotted your shoelaces in the morning, and carried your backpack to class. Who taught you how to kick a football, and that you could be anything you wanted. You looked at Alexia like she’d hung the stars and the moon, like she could do anything. 

That look used to make her feel like she could do anything, your belief in her something she could always count on. Now, the determination in Alexia’s eyes made you feel like you could do anything, just for a moment. You needed more than a moment, though.

—

If it wasn’t bad enough that you couldn’t play, couldn’t train, couldn’t even spend time in the gym without close supervision, you were seeing the specialist psychologist that the club had brought in every single day. The first few sessions didn’t heed much. It seemed she was trying to create a rapport with you, getting to know you before she tried to get you to bare your soul to her. 

It was after your fourth session with your therapist, Lucia, that she began to press you to talk about the issue at hand. And it was after your fourth session that you found yourself speed walking out of Lucia’s office, not watching where you were going, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

You were desperately hoping not to run into any of your teammates, as the facts of what was going on had been kept strictly between the captains and the coaching staff. Your teammates, however, would have had to be blind to not realize something was going on. All they’d been told was that you were out of training and matches for the time being. 

Maybe some of them would have asked more questions if not for the terrifying shadow that your sister had become. She walked you to Lucia’s office every day, tried her best to be waiting outside when you were done. Any time you spent with the team, normally just coming out to the pitch to say hello, Alexia hovered behind you, shooting anyone a death glare if they so much as looked like they were going to ask you something deeper than “how are you?” 

You half wondered if your Mami had put her up to this, because the last time you’d seen Alexia this protective was when you were 6, and you’d been getting teased at school. A few words from Eli to Alexia had your sister walking you to your classroom one morning, and making verbal threats to half the boys in the room. Alexia had been scary then, even as a teenager, and her actions had been more than effective. 

This behavior might just be all Alexia, although you knew she’d told Eli and Alba what’s been going on. You didn’t want them to know, and Alexia had hesitantly agreed not to tell them. Later, though, Olga had pulled you aside and said that it would probably be helpful to both you and Alexia to have other opinions involved, and for Alexia not to carry the stress of this all on her own. She had a point, there, and you’d given Ale the go ahead to inform your Mami and Alba. She’d done so, but aside from phone calls from each of them, they’d been respecting your space. 

Everyone, really, had been respecting your space. Aside from a new meal plan from the team’s nutritionists that you’d been trying your best to follow, no one had been forcing you to talk. 

Until today. 

Lucia had pushed you for the first time, and you’d tried your best to be open with her. It went against every instinct you had, though, and you could barely stick to a narrative with Lucia. For half the conversation, you’d admitted that there was a problem. For the other half, you’d denied it, until you were sure you’d contradicted yourself several times. 

She’d let you go 10 minutes early, probably because you were in tears and had gone pretty much silent on her; she must have decided she’d pushed you enough for the day. It was in this state, tears falling freely down your face, that you exited her office. You turned the corner towards the changing room, intending to grab your bag from your locker and see if Olga would come pick you up early, instead plowing directly into Mapi. 

“Woah! Where’s the fire?” She joked, grabbing your arms to steady you. Her smile fell, though, when she saw that you were crying. “Pequeña? You okay?” 

It was clear for anyone to see that you weren’t okay, but Mapi wasn’t quite sure how willing you’d be to talk to her, so she decided to give you an out in case you wanted to go find your sister instead. Mapi wasn’t expecting the broken sob that you let out, or the way that you shook your head, so easily admitting that something was wrong after so long of pretending the opposite to be true. 

“Do you want me to go get Ale?” The defender asked softly. 

Again, you shook your head. How could you explain that you were crying because of your sister to your sister. “N-no. She’s busy.” 

“She wouldn’t mind, nena, you know that.” 

That was entirely the problem. She was being too patient, too perfect, it was almost overwhelming. There was too much pressure on you to be perfect, too. A perfect recovery didn’t exist, but you felt like it had to. For Ale, for Lucia, for the club and the team. It felt like you were hurtling towards some unknown end, the pressure building everyday. You weren’t sure how much more you could take. 

“She’s dealing with enough of this. It’s fine. I’m fine.” You spoke as if you were trying to convince yourself, but the wobbling of your voice gave you away. 

“Venga,” Mapi sighed, opening her arms for a hug. She half expected you to reject her, but was pleasantly surprised when you stepped forward and wrapped yourself tight around her. You were trembling, and she tightened her grip on you, wondering if she should ignore what you’d said and go get Alexia anyway. She didn’t want to betray your trust, though, and it seemed very obvious that you didn’t want to see your sister at the moment, so Mapi settled for some empty words she hoped were somewhat comforting.

“It’s all gonna be okay, pequeña. Whatever it is, you’re going to be okay.” 

“How do you know?” You mumbled, sniffling into the shoulder of her training top, half embarrassed and half too tired to even care.

Mapi rubbed your back slowly, thinking on her answer. She just… knew.

 “You don’t give up. You’re a determined person, and you can do anything you put your mind to. Whatever is going on isn’t any different. You’re strong enough for anything, nena.”

Pulling away, you wiped at your face, managing a weak smile for the defender. “Thanks María.” 

She smiled sadly back at you, as if she knew what she’d said hadn’t really helped. “Anything you need, I’m here, sí? We all are.” 

You nodded, thanking her again before you continued on your way to the locker room, hopefully where you’d be able to grab your stuff and get out of her before seeing anyone else. Especially Alexia. You got lost in your thoughts again rather quickly, barely able to focus when Olga answered her phone and told you to wait for her outside. You were too wrapped up in what Mapi had said. 

‘You’re a determined person.’ 

‘You’re strong enough.’

You didn’t feel strong. You didn’t even feel very determined. You felt weak, like it was only a matter of time before you cracked and let everyone down. And everyone would see just how weak you really were.

—

The house was too quiet when Alexia and Olga arrived home from dinner. No music playing, no mindless reality show on the TV. And you were nowhere to be seen. Alexia slid her shoes off, offering a hand out to steady Olga as the other woman removed her heels. 

“Something’s wrong.” Alexia murmured, looking up the stairs as if she could see through the walls into your room. She didn’t know what was wrong or what had happened, but she just knew something wasn’t okay. “I shouldn’t have left her.”

Olga shook her head, though, giving her girlfriend a sad smile. “You can’t always be with her, Ale. This is something she has to do herself sometimes.” 

The blonde frowned. “But what if…” 

“If she did, you tell her it’s okay. You tell her that relapsing is a part of getting better, and that you’re not upset with her.” Alexia nodded slowly, worrying her lip between her teeth. Olga grabbed her hand, squeezing once. “If she did, she probably just wants a hug, amor. She doesn’t want to hear that you feel guilt for leaving her to her own devices. She’s already going to feel like she broke your trust, and that would only make it worse.” 

For a second, Alexia just stared in wonder at her girlfriend. Because, of course, it all made sense when Olga explained it, but Alexia would never have considered things from that perspective. Before Olga even knew what was happening, Alexia was wrapping her in a tight hug, tucking the shorter woman’s head under her chin.

“Thank you. I would have messed this up so many times without you, and I’m so grateful that you’re here and you’re so willing to help.” 

Olga hugged her back with a matching ferocity, feeling a small smile grow on her face. Once, she’d expressed to Alexia that she felt the other woman wasn’t expressive enough. It was hard to know what the very tough captain was thinking, even harder to know what she was feeling. Since then, Alexia had made a concerted effort to speak her feelings aloud. It wouldn’t ever not make Olga smile to hear Alexia expressing her appreciation for her. “You don’t have to thank me.” 

“Maybe I don’t have to, but I want to. I don’t want you to ever doubt how perfect you are.” Alexia replied sweetly, pressing a gentle kiss to Olga’s cheek. 

It wasn’t the perfect date night that either of them had imagined, but it was still them, and that was enough. 

—

You really hadn’t meant to ruin Ale and Olga’s evening. When they’d left, you thought it would be nice to have some time to yourself. And it would have been, if you hadn’t tried to push yourself to eat dessert on top of an entire dinner. You’d managed a few bites before you began to spiral, and it had all gone downhill from there. 

Even still, you were hoping your sister and her girlfriend would slip into the house, say a brief goodnight, and not bother themselves with you. You certainly weren’t going to tell them what happened. Not today. It was your every intention to deal with your shame and embarrassment yourself in your room, which likely entailed crying into your pillow until you fell asleep. 

Alexia ruined your plans, though, with her magical ability to sense when something wasn’t right. It allowed her to sniff out one of Pina’s pranks before it happened, allowed her to turn around and squirt Mapi with water just as the defender was about to do the same to her. It was a gut feeling, and it was even stronger when it involved you. 

It wasn’t really magical. It was a lot of little things she picked up on. The little smirk Pina got before she pulled a prank. Mapi’s quiet giggling as she tried to sneak up on Ale. Now, it was the lack of noise in the house. The abandoned bowl of ice cream on the kitchen table, the light and fan left on in the downstairs bathroom. Your sister had known you all her life, and she knew what she’d find when she opened your bedroom door. Just like when you were little, and you’d sit at the foot of your bed when you’d gotten in trouble. Tears streaming down your little face, you’d turn away from Ale when she’d come after you, but she just had to wrap her arms around you, and you’d break. 

You’d never been able to deny yourself the comfort of an Alexia hug. 

Ale knocked softly before entering, finding you with your chin resting on your knees, wiping roughly at the tears falling down your face. 

“Hey, chiqui.” She said softly. 

“Hi.” You said, clearing your throat when your voice cracked. “How was your night?” 

Alexia ruffled your hair, knowing exactly what you were attempting to do, and took a seat next to you. “It was nice, dinner was good. We had fun.” 

“That’s good.” 

Alexia wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “You can tell me if something happened.” 

“Nothing happened.” You said firmly, though you leaned further into your sister, like she could protect you from something you’d done yourself. Something you’d done to yourself.  

“Pequeña,” 

“Nothing happened, Ale. Nothing.” 

How could you tell her? How could you tell her that you’d failed, that you’d messed up, that you’d deviated from the plan? She was going to be upset, you knew it. She expected perfection. She always had. This would be no different. Alexia wanted you to have a perfect recovery. 

As you continued to pretend nothing was wrong, Alexia felt a flash of frustration run through her. You still weren’t very willing to talk to her. Was she doing something wrong? Was she not not being patient enough or kind enough? What more could she do for you? What would it take for her to be enough? 

She looked at you again, though, at the way your lower lip was wobbling, and the tears in your eyes that you refused to let fall. You were barely hanging on to your strength, and Alexia wasn’t sure why you were so resistant to being vulnerable with her, but she knew she couldn’t stop trying. 

“Let me in. Please, you’re hurting, I can tell. Just talk to me.” She tried. When you stayed silent, she reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I just want to help, nena. Let me help.”

You couldn’t take the pleading tone of your sister’s voice anymore, and the words streamed out of you before you could stop them. 

“I’m sorry. I– It was all just too much, I didn’t have a choice, I had to,” You choked out, eyes fixed firmly on the wall in front of you, even as your voice cracked and you started to cry. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ale.” 

“Nena, why are you sorry?” Alexia asked, pulling you into her. You sobbed, unrestrained, into her sweater for a few moments, leaning back to take a few gasping breaths as you tried to answer her. 

“I– I messed up,” you cried. “I broke your trust and–”

“No, cariño, don’t think of it like that.” Alexia interrupted, wiping a few tears off your cheek, though more replaced them quickly. 

“But it is like that! The minute you left I made myself–” You cut yourself off with a sharp shake of your head. 

“Tell me. Tell me what happened, and we can talk through it, yeah?” 

“You don’t want to hear.” 

“Yes I do. That’s why I asked. Walk me through what happened and we can make a plan for next time.” 

It was always about plans with your sister, but you weren’t in much of a state to argue with her.

“I– I ate dinner. And it was okay. It was better. I think it got too confident or I wasn’t thinking hard enough but I got myself some ice cream but I only had a few bites before I was thinking about all the calories in it and how I’d have to skip breakfast tomorrow to make up for it, and then I remembered I have breakfast plans with Alba and I would have to eat and so I knew I had to–... I went to–,” 

You couldn’t go on, crying too hard to get another word out. You covered your face with your hand, more than humiliated at your tears and what you were trying to tell your sister. It felt horribly private, and you didn't want to see the disgust and judgment on your sister’s face. You’d never given her this much detail before, and you were sure she didn’t want to hear this. 

If you’d just opened your eyes, though, you would have seen the opposite of what you were expecting. Alexia was near tears herself, simply from seeing the pain that you were in. You were normally so good at hiding it; even when Alexia knew something was wrong, she couldn’t truly see how much it affected you. Now, though, something in you had broken, and you were falling to pieces in front of her. 

She hadn’t seen you cry like this since you’d broken your ankle training with her a few years ago. All she’d been able to think to do while she waited for Eli to come pick you both up was pull you into her lap, though you were too big for it. 

And it was all she could think to do now, allowing you to tuck yourself into her and cry as hard as you needed to. She held you tightly, as if she could stabilize the world as it crumbled around you, her own tears falling freely now. 

“Alright, alright. It’s okay. It’s all okay, hermanita.” 

“It’s not.” You sobbed, bordering on hysterical now. “I le-let you down.” 

“No,” Alexia disagreed.  “No. You didn’t let me down. This is part of it, chiqui. Part of recovery is relapsing, and I will never ever be disappointed in you for that. I know this isn’t easy.”

You simply didn’t believe her. She had to be disappointed, so you had to keep trying to justify it. 

“I-I hate feeling like this.  I just needed to control something. I just needed to be in control.” 

“I get that. It must be really scary to give up control over what’s going in your body. Listening to the meal plans and eating what we tell you has to be so difficult.” 

And though it was what you’d wanted all week, to hear Alexia acknowledge how hard this was, it didn’t feel right. You were convinced she was just saying whatever she needed to to get you to stop crying, that she was disappointed, even if she wasn’t showing it. She shouldn’t have to push down her justified anger because you were a disaster, she should be mad at you. 

“No, Ale, stop.” You said, though you didn’t have the strength to push away from where your face was buried in the fabric of her sweater. “You’re disappointed, you want to yell. Just yell, please. It’ll make you feel better, and you won’t be mad at me anymore, so please. Just yell. I messed up. I deserve it.” 

Alexia was quiet for almost a full minute. It felt like a stab to the chest that you thought she had to yell in order to work through her feelings. That you were so convinced she was angry with you, disappointed in you. That you were willing to sit through a lecture because you felt so guilty for what you’d done. She hated it all; you weren’t to blame. You were doing your best. She could see that, everyone could see that, so why couldn’t you?

It was as if you thought of yourself as a bad person for having an eating disorder. As if every relapse, every action you’d taken in the haze of your illness, made you a bad person. Being sick didn’t make you bad, and your sister ached to make you see that. 

“Tell me something. After you make yourself throw up, what do you feel? What goes through your head?” 

The question felt like it came from nowhere, the confusion you felt putting a stop to your tears. Instead, you breathed deeply for a minute, thinking. Hearing her say it made your stomach drop. You didn’t like to name it in your head. It was just… something you did, and if it remained unnamed, it wouldn’t matter. 

But it did matter, and even though she was supposed to be mad, Alexia was rubbing your back like you mattered, and it was all so confusing that you just found yourself answering. 

“Awful. Ashamed and embarrassed and disgusted. Guilty. I hate myself after I do it. It feels like the world is ending because I have to start over, like all the progress I’ve made was for nothing.”

“Does it make you feel like a bad person?” 

At this, you jolted away from Alexia, staring at her with wide eyes. What was the right answer? What did she want to hear?

“I guess. I… I know I’m doing something wrong, something I shouldn’t be doing. I know I’m hurting my body and I know I’m hurting the team and my career. I’m doing something wrong and that makes me feel like I’m bad.” You admitted. Completely unsure where that confession had come from, you stared at your sister as you waited for her reply, as if you were shocked by your statement. She didn’t seem to be. 

“It is wrong because it is unhealthy. It is wrong because you are hurting yourself. But… doing something ‘wrong’ doesn’t make you bad. You aren’t a bad person for being sick, you aren’t a bad person for relapsing. You’re doing your best, nena. You are trying. And even if you weren’t, that wouldn’t make you bad.” 

You didn’t fully believe her, and Alexia could tell. This wasn’t something she could fix with a few words, though, and she knew that. Tomorrow, she’d make sure you talked to Lucia about this, but for now, she was content knowing that you weren’t crying anymore, and you looked significantly less distressed. 

“You’re really not mad? Or disappointed?” 

Alexia swallowed the lump in her throat at your question. “I’m really not. I’ve done my research, I’ve talked to your doctor, I knew to expect this, nena. It’s okay, it’s part of getting better. It can’t all be perfect, it won’t all be perfect. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to try, and I’ll be proud of you. I am proud of you.” 

You wondered how Alexia had gone from a disaster that could barely put a sentence together without saying the wrong thing to this; saying exactly what you needed to hear from her and more. Likely, it was a combination of Olga, the research you know she’d stayed up late doing, and sheer determination to help you the best she could. 

“I know this is hard in a lot of ways,” Alexia continued. “But you can talk to me. Always. Without worrying that I’ll be mad or upset. I promise you, pequeña, you can tell me anything. I’m here to help you.” 

“I just hate talking about this.” You admitted. “I don’t like being vulnerable.” 

“I know you don’t. You never have.” Alexia chuckled, thinking about how Eli used to have a jar set on the kitchen counter called the feeling’s jar. If you were upset about something, you were supposed to tell your Mami or your sisters about it, but that almost never happened. Instead, Eli gave you the option to write the feeling down and put it in the jar for someone to read later, when you weren’t in the room. It was the best any of them could do to understand what was going through your head, even as a child. “Would it make it better if I was vulnerable too? If I talk about something hard with you?” 

You laughed, thinking she was joking, but when you glanced at her, she was completely serious, earnestly staring at you. 

“Maybe.” You said suspiciously, highly doubtful that Alexia was about to tell you anything that really mattered to her. If you were stubborn about your feelings, it was because Ale was too. 

Alexia just nodded, almost solemnly, fixing her attention on the ceiling above you both before she began speaking. “This season… this season has been harder. It’s always been hard switching off from football and taking a break when I need to, but it’s like… I have all this stuff outside of football that deserves my attention too. And it’s even harder now.” 

“Other stuff… being Olga?”

Your sister nodded, blushing just slightly. “I need to spend less time doing extra training and watching film and obsessing over strategies.  I just… I can’t. I can’t do it. I have to train every day. I have to do the most that I can.” 

“Or what?”

“Or… I don’t know. I’d feel bad. I’d fail the team. But if I don’t find a better balance…” Alexia paused, taking a deep breath. You could have cried, again, from how much you appreciated her in that moment. Telling you things you knew she struggled to share, so you’d feel less alone. “Olga is always on me about self care, and I’m worried I’ll lose her if I don’t figure out how to take breaks and leave football behind when I come home, at least a little. And I really, really don’t want to lose her.” 

You thought hard, knowing that Alexia deserved the absolute best advice you could give her, even if she wasn’t explicitly asking for it. 

“I don’t think you’re going to lose her, Ale. But I think she deserves better than being second best to your job until you retire. It’s like you said, you need a balance. Sometimes, football is going to come first. That’s just part of the job. But you also have to make sure she comes first too, sometimes. Even if you have to do something that makes you uncomfortable, like miss an extra training session or not watch all the available film you can get your hands on.” 

By the time you stopped talking and looked at your sister, she looked almost stunned, as though she wasn’t expecting you to have anything very helpful to say. 

“When did you get good at giving relationship advice?” She asked. “The last time I asked you for advice like this you told me to spray paint I love you on Jenni’s car as an apology.” 

You laughed. “That was like… 10 years ago, Ale. I’ve grown up.” 

“You really have.” Your sister got a rather pensive look on her face, as if she was just seeing for the first time that you were no longer a little kid. In effort to avoid any further sappiness, you voiced the idea that had popped into your head a few minutes ago. 

“Didn’t Olga say she doesn’t have much work to do tomorrow? You should take her to lunch.” 

“We have training.” Alexia said automatically.

You rolled your eyes. “I know. Skip. It’s a gym session and film that you’ve probably already watched. Skip it and take your girlfriend out. No one will care.” 

It was clear that the idea made Alexia uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. Her posture had become stiff and her hands were clenched almost as tightly as her jaw was. 

 But she thought about the last time she’d done something spontaneous for Olga, and the way the brunette's face had lit up. It had just been flowers picked up on the way home from training, but it had clearly meant a lot to her. Alexia wanted to see that look on Olga’s face again. Soon. 

“Okay.” She agreed hesitantly. “How do I skip? Is it like school? Should I lie and say I’m sick?” 

You laughed again, but Alexia joined in this time. “No, tonta. Just say you have a personal commitment. It’s not like anyone is going to ask questions.” 

“Mmm. Well, you’re coming with us.” 

You looked at her like she was stupid. “No I’m not. That would ruin the romantic date with your girlfriend.” 

Alexia frowned, trying to think of a way she could make you a part of this too. A way she could make you want to try because she was trying. “Fine, but I’m bringing you back lunch, okay?” 

Suddenly, you looked just as uncomfortable as your sister had, but you agreed nonetheless. You couldn’t not try if Alexia was trying. And you both knew that what you had to do was harder than what she had to do. It wasn’t really about that, though. It was about your sister understanding how difficult this process was, and telling you that you didn’t have to be perfect, just like she wasn’t. 

Recovery wasn’t perfect. Existing wasn’t perfect. It was about trying. It was about knowing there needed to be a change, and doing your best to make one. 

Trying your best didn’t have to be perfect, or without fault. Alexia almost threw herself into a panic attack the next day when she remembered she was missing a captains meeting, but Olga had calmed her down and Irene had promised to send her copious notes. 

The look on Olga’s face had made it all feel worth it when Alexia had asked her of the plan you’d come up with. 

“Do you want to get lunch tomorrow?” Alexia had asked casually, as her and Olga stood side by side at the stove, cooking dinner. 

“After training?” Olga had wondered, confused. 

“No. No training tomorrow, I’m taking the day off.” 

It was very worth it when Olga practically dropped the wooden spoon she was holding and launched herself at Alexia, wrapping the taller woman in a tight hug. It was so, so worth it when Olga whispered a soft I’m proud of you in Alexia’s ear. 

It wasn’t easy when you tried to eat lunch the next day. It wasn’t easy when you were done, and when you cried into your sister’s shoulder, when all you wanted to do was get rid of it. 

But it was worth it later, when Alexia told you how proud she was of you, and you knew she meant it. You believed her. The next day, when Lucia told you she thought you were making good progress. Every step forward wasn’t without some faltering, but you moved forward anyway.

You moved through recovery. Forwards and backwards. Mostly forwards. Returning to training, to matches, to doing what you loved. To feeling like yourself again. 

It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t perfect, but change was worth it. Getting better was worth it. 

—

didn't plan on finishing this and getting it out tonight but it was flowing really well and i... think... i'm... happy... with.... it??? anyway! thanks for reading <3

[moonstruckme]

hi there, you did a james drabble some time ago with financially insecure reader and i'm just wondering if that's something you'd write again! maybe one where james is showering the r in gifts and they're just thinking "this is so expensive, you shouldn't be spending so much on me" and james comforts them? totally fine if you don't though, thank you anyway 💐

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: reader is financially insecure

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 825 words

When you go to put on your shoes, yours aren’t there. In their place is a lookalike pair, but whole and squeaky clean where yours are worn and dirty. 

“Jamie?” you call. Excitement and dread mixing up in your gut until they’ve become one thing. 

“Yeah?” Your boyfriend’s head pops out of the kitchen. His eyes fall to where you’re sitting on the floor, the new pair of shoes in front of you, and his smile breaks out like a sunrise. “Oh, yeah. I got you something.” 

“They’re for me?” You hold the one shoe up in front of you like a foreign object, speechless. 

James laughs. “Well, they’re not likely to fit me. Yeah, angel, they’re yours.” 

Something guilty twists in your gut. You take a breath. “Thank you.” 

“It’s no big deal.” 

“It is. And I appreciate it, but—” 

“But?” 

“But I can’t accept these.” You set the shoes back down on the floor, looking up at him remorsefully. “It’s too much.” 

“Sweetheart,” James laughs. He leans his hip against the wall, giving you a fond look. “Don’t be silly. You needed a new pair. Your old ones are torn to shreds.” 

“They’re not that bad,” you say embarrassedly. 

“There’s a rip in the side big enough to stick your entire foot out of.” 

“I know they’re not perfect.” Your voice goes a tad sharp, and James’ smile starts to slip as he realizes he’s the only one who’s joking. “I’m going to get another pair eventually, but I just can’t afford it right now.” 

“Hey.” He lowers himself down onto his haunches next to you, voice and expression going extra gentle. “It’s okay. Now you don’t need to worry about it, because you have them, right?” 

You suck on your bottom lip, feeling your expression pinch as you shake your head at him. He doesn’t get it. How could he? James has never been in a position where he was forced to take and couldn’t afford to give. 

“I know you’re just trying to help,” you say, tempering your tone, “and I really do appreciate it, Jamie, but you give me so many gifts and I—” 

“Okay, hold on.” He sets a hand on your knee, still with that indulgent look on his face. “There haven’t been that many.” 

You give him an exasperated look. Just last week it had been chocolates from the fancy shop downtown, and before that he’d gone back for a skirt you’d passed by because it was out of your price range. You know he hasn’t forgotten. 

“But how many have I given you?” 

James blinks. “Um. You gave me that nice waffle iron for my birthday.” 

It sounds like a lame gift when he says it out loud, compared to all the things he’s gotten you since then, but you’d skimmed savings off the tops of your paychecks for three weeks to get him that. Your face is beginning to feel hot. You’re not ashamed of how much you make, but it’s frustrating to think about how your boyfriend won’t ever be able to understand the way you think about money, why you get so stressed out about it, how you’re constantly worried it will run out. 

“It just makes me uncomfortable to take so many things from you when I can’t give anything back,” you admit. “I know that’s not why you’re doing it, but it makes me feel bad.” 

James’ brows press close together. His hand smooths from your knee up your thigh, and you can see how hard he’s trying to understand. It makes you feel even worse. 

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says. “You know I don’t care if you get me things, right?” 

“I know,” you promise him. “It’s just, I care.”

He nods, a warm sort of concern in his expression. “Then what do you want to do, angel?” 

You take his hand from your leg, tracing the lines with your fingers. “Maybe we could keep gifts to birthdays and holidays?” you ask tentatively. 

“Hm. Yeah, I think I can manage that. Like Easter?” 

You smile down at his hand. Kiss one of his fingertips. “Maybe only the traditionally gift-giving holidays.” 

James sighs heavily, but it’s for show. “Fine. Hey.” He closes his fingers around yours, and you look up to find him studying you with soft, kind eyes. “You know I’m not upset, right?” 

You drop your gaze again. “I’m just sorry I’m not being more grateful. They’re really nice gifts.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he leans closer, touching his lips to yours sweetly, “but I don’t need you to be grateful. I’m glad you told me how you felt. It’s only fun if you enjoy them, yeah?”

“I do enjoy them,” you say. James smiles, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your palm. 

“Good. Then keep the shoes, please? If you keep using those other ones through winter I’m afraid your feet will fall off.” 

[sunderwight]

Reverse transmigration bingqiu except instead of Bingge turning up in Shen Yuan's world, it's white lotus disciple Binghe who does.

Shen Yuan, currently in his last year of high school, finds him and thinks he's a troubled homeless kid who has latched onto a character from a web novel as an intense form of escapism. He's initially just going to hand him over to some authorities of some kind but the kid seems so lost and scared, instead he ends up deciding to personally use his family's connections to help him or at least find his actual family or something (of course, doesn't turn anything up).

Baby Binghe is brand new to Qing Jing peak in the timeline he left from, so he doesn't have any idea of cultivating. With his demon blood still locked, he's a normal kid. But he's smart! He figures out basic appliances and picks up other modern facilities pretty quickly, wins over SY's family, and eagerly decides to keep living with him when SY moves out for the first time. SY's almost feeling bad because he definitely got the better end of this deal. His family manages to enroll LBH in school and they get him a bunch of lessons on things he seems interested in, and even so this kid still finds time to do a better job cooking and cleaning than SY, whose schedule is less packed.

A couple years pass. SY is beginning to accept that this is a permanent situation. So is LBH, who is kind of sad that he won't be able to fulfill his mother's dream of him becoming a cultivator, but actually really likes living in the magic shiny future with Shen Yuan and wouldn't change it now even if he could. SY is looking at long-term things for organizing Luo Binghe's further education, travel, etc. He's come out of his shell, is more active in the world and with his family because he needs to make sure his young ward gets proper socialization! (SY's family think LBH is the best thing that ever happened to him, and don't point out that they're actually only a few years apart in age; except Shen Meimei, who is the same age as LBH.) Meanwhile Luo Binghe's life plan is veering towards "housewife" aspirations, but he's still too shy to mention that to the object of his crush. It's okay though, he's got time! He'll get older and then figure out how best to approach the situation! (And in the meanwhile run off anyone else who tries to date his future husband...)

Of course, that's when it turns out that the system sent him here as an emergency measure to get him out of the way while it resolved a major issue with the actual setting. When the issues are repaired, it yanks LBH back. He finds himself returned to the exact same moment he left, in the same physical state, the years he spent living with Shen Yuan seemingly erased.

Going back to Qing Jing Peak after all that is difficult. No, worse, it's almost completely intolerable. Luo Binghe has been treated right and had a good life and now it's just gone. He has no idea how to get back.

But, that's why he has to stay. Because if there is a way to get back, then his best shot at figuring it out is learning how to cultivate, and devouring every single book in Qing Jing Peak's library, and then every other sect's library if need be. It is possible to move between worlds! He knows, because he did it! He just needs to find the way to do it again, permanently. So he stays and he deals with Shen Qingqiu's cruelty and the bullying of his sect mates, but he doesn't hold out any hope for them to improve. Instead he tries his best to hold his own ground, uses things he learned from Shen Yuan's world to steal whatever advantages he can, and pushes his way through any obstacles or competition.

He hates Shen Qingqiu, though. Especially because he has the surname Shen. Shen Yuan's family was good to him, so it seems like a cruel joke of fate that his shizun is so dead set against him. Something that could have been a comfort is instead a bitter twist of the knife.

But then a couple of years into this, Shen Qingqiu... changes?

After suffering a qi deviation, he stops beating Luo Binghe at the slightest provocation. He stops beating any of his students, in fact. He gives Binghe medicine, actually starts teaching classes, rescues Luo Binghe from a malicious skin-stealing demon, takes the blow of an incurable poison to save him from another demon, even gives him the side room of his own house to stay in. The bullying ends and the atmosphere on Qing Jing Peak changes, like night and day. Somehow he goes from being Shen Qingqiu's most hated student to being his clear favorite, even doted on disciple.

Luo Binghe is not going to fall in love with this new reformed Shen Qingqiu, though. He isn't! His heart is not so fickle that he will just fall in love with anyone who is kind to him! His love for Shen Yuan, that was real. And Shen Yuan would tell him that even though Shen Qingqiu seems to have changed, Luo Binghe shouldn't just forget about the past, because what if Shen Qingqiu returns to that behavior? It might not happen, but if it does then Luo Binghe must react accordingly.

But it's difficult, sometimes. This new Shizun, he's... he's really... sometimes he seems just like...

But Luo Binghe won't fall in love with him!

No matter what, he won't stay. He has to figure out how to move between worlds, and get back to Shen Yuan. Who he REALLY loves. Not Shen Qingqiu. He is in love with Shen Yuan and he is not falling in love with Shen Qingqiu.

At all.

[starseungs]

kim seungmin x gn!reader. fluff, humor, apartment neighbors au. 0.7k wc.

note: whipped this up for no reason other than i was feeling like writing something short before i write another entry in my college crush series !! tune in for whose entry is next 👀💌 (this drabble is for you @starlostseungmin have fun)

2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.

[ 9:01 PM ] A pained groan spills out of your mouth, adding to the uncomfortable thumping you were unfortunately feeling. “You cannot be fucking serious.”

While nine in the evening wasn’t exactly that late into the night, it wasn’t objectively early either. For those who liked to sleep early, they would’ve already gone to bed at least half an hour ago—and even for those who slept late, one would expect that they would be trying to relax by now.

It wasn’t that you particularly kept a strict sleeping schedule where you had to be in dreamland by this hour, but the you right now really wanted for that to happen. Desperately wished for it, even. If sleeping early was the only way to get rid of the horrid migraine you were nursing, then so be it. And on a normal night, that wouldn’t have been a problem for you to achieve.

Except, apparently, this wasn’t any normal night.

Your next-door neighbor’s karaoke session echoed loudly throughout your own apartment, to the point that you’d think you were part of whatever celebration they had going on over there. The booming bass of the speakers rhythmically followed the pounding in your head, accompanied by the carefree voices that seemed to pierce through your eardrums. To put it simply: it was hell on Earth for you right now.

To give your neighbor (and his friends, you assume) some credit, they were actually really good at singing. You could’ve enjoyed their small-scale performance if only you didn’t have a raging headache that made you want to freeze all of them into ice and throw them into the pits of the Antarctic. To make matters even worse, you didn’t even know them.

That was a realization that suddenly came to mind right after you banged irritated knocks on the entrance door next to yours. Too bad for you; you couldn’t even get to contemplate whether this was the right choice to make or not as the door swung open not even five counts later. 

“Uh, hello?” The guy before you starts sheepishly, making you suddenly aware of how the voices inside the room immediately ceased upon your knocks. “Are you my neighbor? Were we too loud? I’m so sorry; we’ll stop the singing now!”

See, you would have loved to sass him for it. To throw your frustration over your less-than-ideal state all out at him. Make him feel bad as much as you can. It was petty, but the little mutters inside your head were tempting you to do it—only for you to catch your tongue before all of it got spat out because, fuck.

You didn’t know you had such a hot neighbor.

His hair was dyed a burnt caramel color, falling down softly until right before it reached his eyes that you couldn’t help but stare at. The baggy white shirt he was wearing perfectly hung around his frame, enhancing the comfortable vibe he was exuding. To add salt to the wound, he looked exactly like your type.

“Are you alright?” His concerned question shook you out of your dazed state. “You just seem a little pale for your complexion.”

Now you were sure that all the gods had abandoned you because all you somehow managed to get out was a simple, “I’m sick.”

If you could only pinch yourself as a punishment for ruining your chance of having a decent interaction with this neighbor of yours that seemingly fell down from heaven, you already would’ve. You only felt way worse when you saw his eyes widen before sputtering out a frantic “Shit, I feel so bad now, uh—” He looks back into his apartment. “Do you want some soup? We have some soup. Leftovers—if you’re fine with that. It’s my birthday today, so we have some other stuff if you want some.”

He was rambling. Oh, that’s so cute. He’s so cute, you’re heating up—are you having a fever?

“Soup would be nice,” you mumbled quietly. At this point, you didn’t know if it was because you were completely lost in whatever sickness you were nursing or if it was just a side effect of being in the presence of the angel in front of you.

The guy nods immediately. “Sure,” he replies, stepping aside in an inviting manner. “You could come in while I heat it up for you. We won’t do anything, don’t worry. Call me Seungmin.”

Seungmin. Even his name sounds lovely. 

It looks like stranger danger doesn’t apply now—you technically know him already. You could almost see your mother’s disapproving eyes, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Especially since you’ll be bringing home her son-in-law soon.

“I’m Y/N.”

MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶

@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @lixxpix @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.

[samcarter34]

Since people seem to once again be having trouble remembering the order of operations, let me just remind everyone:

The ability Laudna possesses to feed Delilah is Hunger of the Shadow. In the fight with Bor’dor, Laudna used that BEFORE Orym’s head nod. Bor’dor attacked them and her response was to do the thing she knew would give power to Delilah. Matt even makes the sound of Delilah’s heartbeat.

The spell she used after the head nod? Whither and Bloom. The same spell she later attacked Orym with, which isn’t even a warlock spell.

And speaking of the head nod, you want to know what’s it’s prefaced with? ‘Laudna you can do whatever you want.’ And Marisha responds by saying that Laudna is ‘barely present’ because she’s having ptsd flashbacks to all of the times something horrible happened to her and she couldn’t do anything about it. So she kills Bor’dor because it makes her feel in control of the situation.

And yeah, the 4SD where Liam says Orym thought Delilah might come back. Except y’all somehow took that and made it seem like he’s the one who shoved Laudna over the edge when what actually happened is that Laudna flung herself off it because betrayal is triggering to her.

And the sword. The sword which apparently wasn’t triggering enough that Imogen contemplating whether the Vanguard were good guys didn’t cause any reaction. Or for that matter, make her object to Ashton’s ‘this is permission statement.’ But she saw Orym wearing it, got uncomfortable and then all it took was one sentence from Delilah for her to decide to steal it. Delilah, who mutilated her, murdered her, has been possessing her for decades, and who basically held her soul hostage when BH wanted VM to resurrect Laudna. But what Delilah didn’t do? Tell Laudna to steal the sword.

I wasn’t around for campaign 1, but in campaign 2 I definitely noticed a trend that people who were all ‘I love women! Female characters rock!’ would, the second one of their alleged faves did something controversial (or just something they didn’t like) would find a way to shift the onus onto someone else so she could remain blameless. And that is definitely continuing this campaign, and if anything is getting worse (which, not to get into speculation, but I wonder if it’s because all of the female characters this go round are more traditionally feminine than last campaign.)

I think the reason Orym’s been getting raked across the coals so hard by certain parts of the fandom is actually because of this. Because Imogen’s repeatedly gone ‘what if the Vanguard have a point’ and Laudna agrees with everything she says, whereas Orym’s been pretty consistently ‘no, the murder cult that murdered my family are bad guys.’ And well, can’t go around admitting that our faves did something wrong.’

And so we have a situation where Laudna attacks Orym, but somehow that’s Orym’s fault because the possibility of Laudna doing something wrong ruins people’s lesbian cottegecore fantasy. But the thing is, that whole thing was all Laudna. She chose to listen to her first murderer when Delilah said ‘maybe it’s cursed’ and then she chose to blanket the room in magical darkness (sorcerer ability, not warlock) chose to cast an area of effect spell to destroy the thing Orym was using to sheath the sword (sorcerer spell, not warlock) and, upon hurting Orym, chose not to drop said darkness, which meant Orym couldn’t see who attacked him. And when she got caught, she tried to downplay what she did, tried to say that because she didn’t mean to hurt him it didn’t count, refused to apologize for actually hurting him, kept shifting her argument (and even low key got called out on it by Imogen when she asked Laudna why she’s want its power inside her if she thinks it’s so evil.)

There is an alternate universe where Laudna wakes Orym up and they have what probably would have been an intense discussion about the sword (and that might even have been what Marisha was aiming for before Delilah got involved) and THAT truly would have been the ‘both sides are equally right’ scenario, but that’s not what we got. And you can say Orym shouldn’t have taken the sword unilaterally (but somehow Laudna’s allowed to unilaterally steal and absorb it?) or that she’s being manipulated by Delilah, but the fact is that Laudna’s an adult and is responsible for her own decisions. Yes, Delilah is a powerful and malign presence that they all downplayed/ignored, but, to use Marisha’s addiction metaphor, making amends with those you’ve harmed is a part of recovery for a reason. Because ultimately, you are the one who did that. Yes, it does immensely suck for Laudna that she’s been handed the cards she has been, but it’s up to her to make the best play she can.

Wow this got long, but my overall point is that Laudna is a character with her own agency and makes her own decisions (well, Marisha makes them, but at this point y’all should know she’s not conflict averse and is willing to have her characters make controversial character choices). And really, take all that away, what’s left? How much onus can you take from a character before you might as well go look at a painting?

[artiststarme]

A Grudge Be Held

Based on an enabling comment from @estrellami-1. Hope you guys like it and please leave me your opinions in the comments!

~*~*~*~

There are a few well known facts in the universe; the earth revolves around the sun, George Michael is gay, Tim Curry has sexy legs, and Eddie Munson holds grudges.

It wasn’t because he was a bad person or because he thought people were inherently bad, he’d just been through too much to waste his time on people that had already wronged him. He didn’t give more than one chance and if they fucked that up, well, they didn’t deserve another one.

He was usually lenient on what constituted a grudge to be held. Unless someone did something directly to him or someone he cared about, it didn’t really bother him and they certainly didn’t make his list. His parents were on there (because why wouldn’t they be?), Mrs. O’Donnell was on there because he was positive at least one of his failed senior years was due to her having a bone to pick with him, and Principal Higgins was on there too because fuck that guy.

Tommy Hagan was on the list because of a rumor started that made life hard for Eddie for awhile (it was true but needless to share), Jason Carver was on there now for starting a mob trying to kill him, and Billy Hargrove earned a spot for being an asshole to anything that moved.

A person that many people were surprised wasn’t on the list was Steve Harrington. The DnD party was shocked when they heard King Steve wasn’t an object of resentment in Eddie. But he’d never done anything out of malice to Eddie specifically. Where others saw confidence and pride, Eddie looked at a lonely and broken teen that was willing to do anything to fit in. He couldn’t hate him for that. And the time where Steve stood up for Eddie against Billy Hargrove at a drug deal gone wrong forever cemented him as a good guy in Eddie’s eyes.

After his experience with the Upside Down, psychic murders, and overall shitshow that was his Spring Break, Eddie and Steve got closer. Steve coerced everyone of authority to clear Eddie’s name with help from Robin, Nancy, and the passed Chief Hopper that apparently wasn’t actually dead. He housed Eddie and Wayne until they could find a new trailer that they could afford. Then he spent every waking moment making sure Eddie was alright and included as part of the group. In laymen’s terms, Steve saved his life.

So in true Eddie fashion, he made the internal dramatic decision that he would hold grudges on Steve’s behalf. He would be a guard dog of sorts, protecting and defending the love of his life his friend. What he didn’t consider was how difficult the task would be.

Through a new lens, Eddie saw that everyone walked all over Steve. The cashiers at the grocery store blatantly charged him extra, the customers at Family Video talked over him nearly every sentence in response to questions they asked, and teens on the street laughed at the scars in their view. Worse of all though, the Party didn’t respect him. Dustin and Mike told him several times a day how stupid he was, Nancy looked at him in pity and shut down all of his opinions, Lucas talked about not having sports in common with anyone right in front of him, and Robin kept blowing off their plans to hang with Vickie.

Through it all, Steve appeared fine. He smiled and nodded in all the right places but as soon as he thought the eyes moved on, his smile would slip to reveal something sadder. And so Eddie’s vengeance began.

He “accidentally” knocked over sales racks near the registers in the grocery store when they charged an extra $2 for milk. He keyed the cars of the teenagers that laughed at the evidence of Steve’s pain. When he saw Officer Callahan yacking at Steve for speeding, he picked up a dozen eggs and pelted the man’s house in revenge.

Dealing with the kids in the Party was trickier. His glares and barbed comebacks were clear enough for Nancy and Robin to change their ways. The kids though just weren’t observant enough to pick up on the clues Eddie tried to drop. One session of a campaign though, the perfect opportunity presented itself.

“I didn’t know there were dragons in the game. If you losers had told me there were dragons, I might’ve considered playing ages ago!” Steve exclaimed from his seat on the couch, intrigued eyes meeting Eddie’s.

Eddie smirked at him. “Oh yeah, Big Boy. You should know by now that I’m full of surprises.”

Steve blushed a little bit but as he went to respond, Mike interrupted. “Steve, you’re not even playing. You shouldn’t even be here much less interrupting the game!”

Steve’s flush turned pale and he shrunk into himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can just uh, I can go. I’ll see you guys later.”

As he moved to get up though, Eddie stood and towered over the table.

“Wait Steve, you’re gonna want to see this part.” He glowered at Mike and rasped his voice to transition back to DM’ing. “A comet flies from the dragon’s cavern and lands on Sir Madeon. Roll for damage.”

“What the hell! No, you can’t do that!” Mike stammered with a dropped jaw.

“I just did, pipsqueak. Roll for damage or die trying.”

“14,” Mike muttered. He glared at Eddie then Steve before pouting in his seat.

“The comet is too large to escape from. Sir Madeon tries to run but he’s not fast enough to avoid the flying stone. It lands on his back in a fiery crumble. The intense heat eats through his flesh, bones, and organs at once leaving only his head and limbs intact, scattered amongst the rest of the Party. He dies a horrendous death and his friends are left alone with only the smell of charred remains to remember him by.” Eddie ends his tirade with a quirked eyebrow. That’ll show these little assholes what happens when they mess with him. A quick glance at Steve shows him excitement and surprise, he absolutely was not expecting that.

“What the fuck. This is supposed to be PG,” Dustin stares at Eddie in horror. “You really just killed a character in the middle of a campaign for Steve?”

“Roll stealth and damage.” Eddie tells him deadpan.

“God-fucking-dammit! Eddie, no, please…”

“Roll or face the consequences!”

“3 stealth, Nat-20 damage,” Dustin whispered with his face in his hands. The other kids watch Eddie in a mixture of confusion and aghastment. But Steve is beaming, teeth shining from ear to ear.

“The dragon hears your cries of grief and turns its burly head towards you. Its glimmering eyes reach the you and the rest of the Party and you see its scaled lips open in a human like smile. With a speed you could never have anticipated, it slithers toward you before standing on muscled hind legs and flapping its leathery wings. Its lips curl around a blue flame. The last thing you feel is a flash of ice before you see no more.

Your friends see you disappear into a pile of ash, the heat of the flame too powerful to escape. The dragon whips its tail towards the party while they stare at where you used to stand. Will the Wise can’t even list his magical staff before the weight of the tail crushes him to the ground in a pile of shattered bones and bloody sinnew.

Luther is impaled by one of the dragon’s back spikes and killed immediately. The light in his eyes fades and all he sees is a figure with a crown waving at him in the distance. Prince Stephen and his pet dragon prosper in the face of their trespassing adversaries once again but the only witnesses to the horror are erased from the Earth.”

The boys stare at him in shock while he arranges his papers and stands. “The end. Steve and I are going to the movies. You bitchasses aren’t invited and if you’re even a little bit nasty to Steve again, I’ll pulverize you in real life just like I killed you in the campaign. Think on that.”

With that, Eddie grabs the hand of a stunned Steve and drags him from the Wheeler’s basement. After that debacle, he’s sure that the kids have gotten their point. And now he’s got a movie to see with his main man.

(The kids absolutely get his point and moving forward are a lot nicer to Steve. And a little scared of how Eddie’s mind works.

Eddie holds a grudge against the kids for months and will still reference their comments when he sees fit for the rest of their lives or at least the rest of his.

And Steve? He starts dating his DM in shining armor a mere two hours later.)

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[anneapocalypse]

I'll be interested to see what further developments happen in the patches with Alexandria, but so far I think Wuk Lamat is handling the situation very delicately, and very smartly.

Alexandria is, undeniably, an invading force in Xak Tural. It's a foreign nation that has moved onto Turali land and claimed that land and its people under its own sovereignty, with the intent to harvest a resource from it at the direct expense of its people. This is, obviously, wrong, and needs an answer.

Wuk Lamat as the Vow of Resolve has, with the help of her allies, already achieved something pretty significant and challenging here: she has defeated the invading government (Sphene and Zoraal Ja) without directly declaring war on Alexandria's people (most of whom probably had little to no say in the invasion). Her diplomacy during her initial introduction to Alexandria has probably gone a long way here; she has not given the people any more reason than absolutely necessary to believe she is a threat to them.

Declaring the very young Gulool Ja Alexandria's new king feels undeniably weird in more ways than one, but I think that politically it's probably the smartest thing Wuk Lamat could have done.

Her goal, as it's always been, is to maintain peace for her people. A good number of her people are now directly entangled with Alexandria. A rebellion against Tuliyollal rule by the Alexandrians is a direct threat to her people, particularly the ones living in Heritage Found. Even with Sphene gone, Alexandria is still possessed of substantial military power and weapons technology that could conceivably be commandeered either by existing military personnel (because even an army of robots requires some level of manpower to maintain) or by a civilian militia were one to arise. Bottom line: even with the head cut off, Alexandria still poses a threat to the safety and sovereignty of Tuliyollal. And even if the Dawnservants could be reasonably certain their own forces could overpower the Alexandrians--which they conceivably could based on sheer numbers--there would still be a bunch of their own people caught in the crossfire.

Furthermore, the defeat of Sphene and the shutting down of Living Memory means that the end of regulators and spare souls is coming. (The new raid series suggests too that the Warrior of Light may have a hand in ending the use of souls.) This is going to be highly disruptive to the Alexandrian way of life, and probably really fucking scary to a people who have become reliant on this technology. There are bound to be objections. While it's unclear to me at this time how many people knew what Sphene was actually doing, it's not inconceivable that more could find out, and that someone might seek to put her plans in motion once again in order to preserve the soul economy.

This is, in short, a pretty precarious situation politically, and a lesser Dawnservant would already be looking at a city teetering on the edge of revolt.

So, how do we convince the Alexandrians we aren't a threat to them in the short term, while we figure out how we're going to handle this in the long term?

Well, a good first step is probably to give them their king. Alexandria is, at least in name, a monarchy. By the rules of that system, Gulool Ja is a rightful heir to the throne. By allowing him to claim that birthright, you make a show of respecting Alexandrian "sovereignty." You also declare him family--he's your nephew, after all. Now you have a familial connection, the stuff of which royal alliances are made. And of course, the new king is just a child. He's going to need advisors, a regent, and a lot of guidance. You can have a hand in that.

Sure, the Alexandrians are going to notice your influence over their ruler and might still have feelings about that. It's not a perfect solution. But by the same token, snatching their one living heir away from them and openly declaring them under your rule now is probably going to go over a lot worse.

Like I think the game kind of downplays this being a calculated choice, especially since Wuk Lamat doesn't come across as a calculating person. But if we were to observe this scenario in any other fantasy setting... that's how you install a puppet king. I don't especially like to use that term in this case, because I think Wuk Lamat genuinely cares about her nephew and isn't simply using him to maintain power. Nonetheless, it is an undeniably political move, and one that benefits Tuliyollal.

It's likely the Alexandrian people are here to stay--thanks to the dimensional compression, they're in the unique situation where the land they live on is both theirs and not theirs, and that is a problem, but forced relocation also isn't a great solution.

Judging by Wuk Lamat's goals, ethos and the example of her father, I think her hope is probably to bring Alexandria under the banner of Tuliyollal without having to shed blood for it, not least the blood of her own people who would be caught in the crossfire. She understands now that sometimes there's no more room for diplomacy and you have to fight your enemies head on, but if there's a chance she can do this peacefully, through diplomacy, then she's going to try, because that's who she is. She also probably understands that most Alexandrians had no choice in this, and a show of good faith might go a long way toward earning their trust as they adapt to the loss of their queen and the changes that will inevitably follow.

It's a bad situation without a doubt, and one that's already been very destructive to the people of Xak Tural. Gulool Ja Ja sought to unite rather than to conquer. I think Wuk Lamat's hope is to do the same, for the practical purpose of limiting further damage as much as possible.

[rippersz]

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝑰𝑰𝑰

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

A Larissa Weems x F!Reader four-part mini-fic. Read the first and second parts here: Heat, Heat II; (NSFW: Vulgar, Breeding Kink, Mommy Kink, G!P, All That Jazz)

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

“Well… it’s um- hot. Of course.” You started, choosing to look down at your knees in embarrassment. “Like my skin is always… sticky. Sweaty. That’s why my shower is literally constantly drying,” your arm gestured vaguely to the open bathroom door. “It helps but not for long because… b-because… um…” god it was so humiliating, “because I just get like all- I get all-” your hands pinwheeled, catching at the air like moving tires as you sifted through your vocabulary for the perfect word, “I- I get all!- you know-”

“Needy.”

You startled, looking up with wide eyes.

Larissa’s gaze was unexpectedly intense. Dark. Staring into your soul with a depth and weight you couldn’t decipher. The sight of it had you freezing in your spot, blushing as she stared at you unblinkingly. There were cogs turning in the older woman’s head. You wondered about her thoughts before you nodded, feeling the embarrassed heat of your cheeks start to turn into a blaze. Needy… she had called you needy. She looked you in the eye and called you needy. The feeling of the duvet curling around your fingers, pushing into your sweating palms, had you pulling your mind out of the gutter with gusto. The object of your affections (and daydreams) was right in front of you. Fantasizing was off the table. Many things were off the table. Including yourself… which could be on the table if there were a table nearby and Larissa had the nerve to bend you over i-

“Apologies, it was- just the first word that came to mind. Please, continue,” she said suddenly, looking sheepish about her outburst.

You observed her for a moment longer, noting the straight posture and the fidgeting hands and the dark blush on porcelain cheeks. She just wanted to help, you reminded yourself. She just… wanted… to help. So you looked away, unclenched your hands from your duvet, and nodded.

“Right- yeah- that. I get um… that- easily. And it’s- it’s really hard. It gets to a point where it hurts. A lot. And then at that point it’s just- all sense is… gone. Disappeared. I sort of fall into this- this haze… where I feel the um- the need to like get rid of the- the feelings really badly. The… desire.”

Oh. Oh it was… it felt like heaven to finally get it all off of your chest. Like the weight of your situation, the strength of the lust that overtook you, shameful and devious in its nature, was lugged off of your shoulders and thrown onto your bedroom floor. You’d been hiding it for nearly four weeks, knowing it would only get worse. The desire would overtake you at some point, you were certain. And then- well then you weren’t sure what you’d do. Die, maybe? Or pass out? Goodness, how terrible would that be? If you fainted and couldn’t wake up without the assistance of another? Surely, someone would find you eventually, no? Larissa would make sure of it - even if she had to show up herself. Maybe. Probably. The very thought of that had you letting out a sigh; one of mixed relief and exhaustion.

“So,” your boss started gently as she rounded the bed and headed toward the windows. Her pace was slow. “You… get flare-ups, so to speak… and have to ‘cure’ them… by uh- well- let’s say ‘taking care of it’? Am I correct?” You were a bit confused as to why Larissa’s voice sounded so strained- and why she was facing the window and not you- but you eventually decided it was most likely a way of giving you privacy. Rather sweet of her, honestly. It made you feel better as you looked at the bedroom door and nodded.

“Yeah it gets pretty intense. Like.. umm..”

“Painful?”

You hummed out a ‘yes’, figuring that was a good word.

“Excruciating?”

You hummed again.

“Just……. agonizing?” Larissa sounded breathless.

You turned, too focused on the tall figure by the window to notice the way the straps of your nightie slipped down the curves of your shoulders. Larissa looked tense, but you could see the way her body moved with breath - as though she were breathing heavier than normal, but you couldn’t hear anything. In fact, the world was quiet. Weirdly quiet. Like the lingering notes of nothing before it exploded into everything. Or the calm before the storm, as some liked to coin it. You weren’t sure what had changed exactly, but you knew something did. The tone of Larissa’s words… her desire to help, practically shining out of her eyes… did she- no. No, there was no way. You blinked, squinting in the dim light of your bedroom as if that would help you peer into Larissa’s thoughts.

…Just what was going on in that head of hers?

—

Larissa Weems knew exactly what was happening.

She knew exactly what was happening and she knew exactly how to help. Or- how to aid you in what you needed.

What you craved.

Oh you poor thing… her poor thing…

Trembling with restrained lust, nearly bursting at the seams with it. Trying oh so hard to act ‘normal’; to keep up appearances and mask the desire simmering- bubbling- beneath the surface. Waiting for it to boil over. Nervous for the moment in which it would.

Larissa had clocked you even before you opened the door. Her senses were sharp. Her veins swam with blood that sang for you; that smelled your… predicament… and wanted to relieve it. Wanted to get rid of it. Wanted to satiate it.

Wanted to make it all her own. Grasp the situation with both hands. Push you down and take you until your begging ceased and fell into mindless whimpers. Until you couldn’t stand being awake anymore and fell asleep in her lap, plush thighs framing her own, warming her throbbing co-

“Are you… okay? Larissa?” Your sweet little tone rang out, hesitant and questioning. It made blue eyes turn from the window, seeking out the slightly worried expression on your pretty face.

She swallowed as discreetly as she could and worked to unclench her hands from the fists they found themselves balled into. Clearly things were affecting her far more than she realized. It wasn’t really her fault though. No, it wasn’t her fault you smelled… so… so good. Larissa took a deep breath, utilizing it as a sigh when all she wanted was to push her head into the slope of your neck and breathe you in, swallowing your scent like a woman that had gone without water for a week. And it wasn’t her fault, likewise, that you were so… lovely. So beautiful. So perfect opening the door like that, trying to hide the way you were dying inside with desire. If she were a bolder soul that lived without shame, Larissa surely would have stepped up and walked into your room, slammed the door behind her with a click of the lock, and pulled you into the most passionate kiss you’d have ever felt. Oh yes, she would have given into her own instincts and taken control with vigor. She would have slipped her fingers beneath the lacey straps of that nightgown and pulled them further down your arms - slowly, teasingly, just to fuck with you and see how desperate you’d get if she took her time. And her nails, trimmed and painted a deep red, would caress so mindlessly - up and down and around in circles that would lapse over each other so many times they would become uncountable…

But she wasn’t that bold. And she cared far too much about your feelings to act so recklessly. So instead of listening to the hum of warmth that tugged at her soul, Larissa kept her head and clasped her hands politely at her waist.

“Yes, of course. I’m merely- trying to understand,” and she smiled as gently as she could, preening secretly beneath your undivided attention.

—

You hummed, looking your boss up and down once more. There was something up… but it wasn’t your place to ask. If she wanted to leave, she knew very well that she could. If she was uncomfortable, she’d just have to say so and the conversation would end. So whatever was going on… it was not for you to know just yet.

“Okay.” It was a simple response but you mirrored her smile to signal that everything was alright. The topic was strange… the last thing you wanted to do was put her in an uncomfortable position.

Larissa didn’t seem to mind too much though as she stepped away from the window and turned to sit in one of the armchairs in the room’s alcove, working to make herself comfortable. You observed like a captivated audience at the opera, unable to take your eyes off of every move she made. The measured steps of her stockinged feet… the steady sway of her hips and canter of her legs and the almost lazy way her arms fell to her sides… you felt your lust rise again, laughing maniacally from somewhere inside you as it spread from the depths of your abdomen up to your heart. There was an ascending pinkness to your cheeks and heat to your body that you sincerely hoped Larissa couldn’t see.

If she did, she didn’t comment on it and instead gestured with a flippant hand wave for you to continue. Her posture was finally relaxed, you were happy to see. Reclined, one leg crossed over the other, pulling her skirt tight while she pressed her elbow to the arm of the chair and rested her cheek on the hills of her knuckles. If she stayed just like that, contoured beautifully by the dim light of the room as the sun waved her last goodbyes, you were sure even the most esteemed artists would pay good money to catch even a glimpse of the Larissa Weems. Beautiful woman and shapeshifter extraordinaire, looking natural and calm in her willingness to help. God she was stunning…

“Um- yeah I think that may really just be it. The pain gets really bad and I just kind of- need to get rid of it at that moment otherwise I… freak out? I guess? The flare-ups are the worst part though,” you frowned, knowing that the eventual next wave would be worse than the last.

Larissa replied with a hum, looking thoughtful for a moment as her eyes- blazing and dark- traced over your form. You weren’t exactly the prettiest picture, you knew. Hunched over as you were on the edge of the bed, playing with the lace hem of your nightgown and anxiously bouncing your right foot off of the floor without much thought. From her perspective, you probably looked like a strange sick mess. Out of your mind with desire - itching to get rid of the buzz your body felt 24/7.

“...Are you aware of what usually happens during heats?” She paused. “Besides the- lust, of course.”

You nodded. “Um yeah, I think so. Usually, I mean for wolves I know there’s an alpha and omega and they do that whole thing. With the mating and the nests. And then the um- like um- the- the b- b-,” ugh god how embarrassing that you couldn’t even say it- “the br- bree-”

“Breeding?”

Your hands flopped down to the bedspread, fisting into the fabric without thought as a whimper- keening and loud and pathetic- threatened to fall off of your tongue. Your throat bobbed with the willpower it took to swallow the sound.

Breeding, she had said. Breeding. Breeding, breeding, breeding… Bearing children for one’s partner… giving up the body to accept the sacred fruits… oh it- it sounded- it sounded delicious rolling past Larissa’s lips. Breeding… oh just the concept-!

‘Yes…,’ your soul called, ‘meant for it. To breed. To be bred. To take. To take and take and take and take and take. To be good. Take her seed- her children- warm her. All for her. Every part. Meant for Larissa. All Larissa’s. Larissa’s. Meant to be hers. All hers.’

You could feel yourself trembling. Keeping the noises in, locked away, and the heat down, resistant in its simmer, was becoming too much. You swallowed, only to feel that your throat was dry. You sniffed, only to find yourself sniffling instead, trying to calm the sudden pound of your heart. It was in your ears. Your neck. The aching heaven between your legs.

“Oh Y/n, I’m sorry,” you dragged your eyes up to look at Larissa. Her expression was full of remorse. “I didn’t mean to trigger anything.”

You shook your head immediately, working through the grasp of your libido as you could feel it pull at you. None of it was Larissa’s fault. She didn’t know. She didn’t have to apologize. And when you tried telling her that, allowing your quivering lips to part so you could explain, the only sound that came out, rising from the back of your throat, was a sharp whine. It sounded like an instrument note for just a second before you abruptly closed your mouth and swiftly brought your hands up to your face, shielding yourself from embarrassment. If you were in better control of yourself, you would’ve apologized immediately, but the best you could do was shake your head and try to regulate your breathing. In and out… in and out… slowly but surely…

Larissa waited with patience as you collected yourself. She was silent, observant… tense. You couldn’t see the way she leaned forward in her seat, lips parted, heart throbbing within her own chest, mind running wild with thoughts that surrounded you and only you.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of your mouth when you finally managed to come back down to Earth. It was murmured on repeat, without thought. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-”

The whispers in your psyche were fading but they still threaded themselves through your body, making your blood hum with ardor, signaling that ‘the next wave’ was going to come about soon and you had limited time to prepare. Not that there was much to do from a preparation standpoint. Throwing the nightie off of your body and laying back on the bed was easy. Cracking your knuckles, taking deep breaths, and waiting was a little harder. Like the anticipation that grew within your body, waiting for the switch to click from off to on, would kill you if it didn’t happen soon enough. And maybe it would. Maybe that was something you had to ask Larissa. Yes. Definitely.

So with as much sense as you could muster, you stopped your apologetic rambling and said into your hands, “Will- will this kill me, Larissa?” You preferred not to think about the pathetic crack in your voice. “Cuz it f-fee-feels like it will….”

That was no exaggeration. It did feel terrible. It did feel fatal.

“Oh… darling, no,” came your savior’s soft voice as she stood up from her spot and crouched before you, placing one cool clammy palm on your bare knee. “You’re not going to die, Y/n… You’ll be alright.” And her coo made you shiver as her thumb, most definitely without realizing, drove you to the brink of madness with its slow circles over your sensitive skin.

It was strange, the reaction you had then. As soon as Larissa touched you, as soon as her long fingers clasped your knee gently and caressed the softness found, the whispers went away. Blinked out of existence. Threw themselves into the ether. Your heart still pumped wildly, remnants of what happened, but there was no more anxiety. No more harm. It was as though your soul had just decided to… settle. Nearly unnaturally. Nearly… impossibly. You felt the graze of your eyelashes along your fingers as you blinked and breathed into your palms. Slowly, the burn in your lungs went away. Slowly, the fierceness of your libido was tamed. Laid to an easily awoken rest.

“Y/n, darling…” Larissa’s voice made you sigh in relief. It felt like cool water being poured down the rivets of your spine. “...look at me.”

And she sounded so sweet… so careful… so aware of your predicament… that you couldn’t help but obey. Like a bitch with her master.

You moved your fingers and peered through the spaces between them, not at all surprised to see the concerned line between your boss’s eyebrows. Oh she looked so beautiful even like that… looking at you with a small pout on her face, like she really did feel bad about your situation. Though when your eyes met, the expression melted into something that nearly had you closing your fingers and covering the entirety of your face again. The corners of her lips drew up and her eyes started sparkling and the lines of her face deepened with warmth, happy to see you listening to her and being so good- being so… so….

“There we go,” Larissa cooed, “Hello~” And then she grinned, silly and amused, looking hopeful in her endeavors to calm you down just with her closeness alone.

It worked, thank goodness, and you found yourself rolling your eyes begrudgingly and smiling behind your hands. At least she didn’t think your reaction was embarrassing. At least she understood.

“Thanks,” was all you could think to say as you took your hands away from your face and sniffed. Larissa wasn’t going to judge you, you finally realized. She was just going to roll with the punches - and hopefully help. Her comfort alone was already doing a whole lot. And the nod she gave you, paired with the kind smile on her glorious face, had you relaxing even more. Just another reminder that it would be okay. Only a few more days. It would be fine. Everything would be fine.

“Are you alright now?”

“Yeah- yeah I think I’m okay. It just- blegh,” you gestured to your head and sighed.

Larissa chuckled very softly beneath her breath before she tilted her head, blue eyes shining with eternal mirth.

“Blegh?”

You nodded, confident in your words and rosy with humor. “Blegh. Yeah.”

“Well alright then…,” she supposed as she shrugged and stood up, put her hands on her hips, and bent her back to straighten it with a firm groan. “Gods, these old bones…”

That little comment had you giggling as you admired her from your place, tempted to swing your feet as you looked on with appreciation. So beautiful in her casualness… so stunning in her calm demeanor…

“Old bones?” Came your soft exclamation, “You’re not old at all! You’re just- um-...”

Larissa paused while you searched for the proper word, putting an end to her stretching so she could look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Just…?”

A hint of challenge crawled around behind her gaze. It made your hands return to the bedspread, grasping onto the duvet for discreet support. The way she was- she was looking down at you- so tall… so strong… so aware of your little vocal slip-up. Your position wasn’t really helping either… when you removed your focus, trying to look anywhere but at her face with its shifting expression and domineering sort of arrogance, you found yourself at eye level with Larissa’s waist. And her hips. And that soft portion of stomach that one could see through a pencil skirt, with the way it pushed gently against the fabric, all womanly curves and respected existence. Protecting one of the most precious things about her… protecting the sweetness of her womb… the promise of life…

Usually, you wouldn’t focus so much on having children. But evidently, a woman’s heat had no qualms about outwardly desiring a baby. Or two. Or three. As many as it would take to have the emptiness of one's womb filled up entirely. And yours begged for it.

Oh if only… if only Larissa had a cock. The things she could do with it… the pleasure… it had you biting your lip as you stared off into space.

Then a cool hand was placed on your forehead and suddenly you were blinking, looking up at your boss with confusion.

“Um-”

“Hmm,” she cut you off, “no fever.” And then the hand was taken away.

You scoffed, swatting her out of your personal space (mainly for your sanity).

“Yeah duh- I’m not sick,” you spat playfully. “And you’re not old, your skeleton is just- I dunno- speaking to you,” you shrugged, spouting out whatever damned thing came to mind just to distract Larissa and keep her attention from getting stuck on your behavior.

And it seemed to work as she stared down at you, blinked, and then let out a confused little laugh. It was tinged with hilarity - like she was finally unwinding after a long day and could allow herself to break through whatever seams she was stuck in. Principal Weems, you noticed, had become Larissa- in every beautiful and silly way. It was heartwarming to see her place a hand on her chest as she laughed. You wished you could take it into your palms and kiss it. Over and over until she grasped your chin and shoved two fingers into your mou-

“Speaking to me! Ugh- goodness, honestly where do you come up with the things you say?” She giggled as she shook her head.

Your only reply to that was to smile a little wobbly smile, trying with all of your might not to remove your eyes from her beautiful face. One look down and you knew you’d descend into madness again. Your mind would run away from you. Your heart wouldn’t want to chase after it. And your libido would rise from its slumber, grumpy and angry and raw as it faced the tantalizing curve of Larissa’s lower belly. Just the thought of it had you sighing wistfully and looking away, pulling your attention to the windows behind you.

“It’s getting late,” was your quiet observation as you noticed how the sun was nearly gone, only leaving the very last lingerings of her golden rays.

“Ah. So it is,” Larissa agreed, her voice taking on a quiet hush as night fell like a stage’s red curtain.

And with the red curtain came the momentary silence before the audience erupted into cheers.

But there, in the dark of your Nevermore quarters, with the door locked and the rain picking up outside, you figured there would be no applause. And no cheering. And no congratulations and smiling faces afterwards. No, it would just be the quiet of your shared breathing and the steady pound of your heart that you could hear ringing in your ears. The moment felt like a strange reset. Or a lull, perhaps. Not so tense but not so relaxed. You felt your body teetering on the edge of desire. Instead of nipping at you, tugging at your heart and lungs with sharp claws, the symptoms of your heat rose like a wave. Impending. Inescapable. Just waiting to take you under and drown you. Just sitting there, on standby, smiling something evil as its dark ministrations plucked at your nerves. The muscles in your thighs twitched, wanting to move, wanting to push you into motion and make you rock back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Eager to quench the thirst your instincts craved. Eager to have you writhing around on the bed, grinding against anything you could find.

“Larissa,” your voice fell into a gasp, “you- you have to go. I- I- can’t do this.” It was time. It was time and she had to leave immediately before things became worse.

“Another flare-up?” She questioned gently, worry in her voice.

You nodded and turned to look at her. ‘You gotta go’ was on the tip of your tongue. ‘Unless you wanna stay for this next part you have to g…o…’ but the words died. Perished. Disintegrated as you came to find that she had gotten closer. Much closer. So close you could smell her perfume - gardenia and jasmine. It filled your lungs and made you dizzy; made you grasp onto the hem of her skirt, thumbing the fabric and tugging on it gently - like a lifeline; made you swallow and crane your head, nearly whimpering as you felt your chin graze the plushness of her abdomen. A whimper pushed at your lips, eager to fall into the silence, eager to seal your fate as you stumbled into a gaze of pure deep blazing blue. Dark with passion and desire and something else. Dark with… with… with need? You swallowed.

No. No no no. She wasn’t- she couldn’t be- she- well- you felt your heart stop. Was Larissa….?

“You’re going to be okay,” her voice interrupted, soft and kind as two palms, beautiful and desirable and heavenly, cradled your head. You felt her fingers card through your hair, tender and light.

If you were in a different situation, you were sure you would’ve sunken into the feeling and embraced Larissa’s closeness - but you were rooted in the moment and very much aware of the fact that her expression had changed. She was suddenly very serious, looking down at you with hesitation. Like a push and pull was happening inside of her. You didn’t even realize you had moved your hands from her skirt until they were framing her palms, running over her knuckles, silently telling her that she could speak. That she could be honest. That whatever was spoken about in that room would stay in that room. You were to be trusted. You were different.

And so the cord snapped - and Larissa began speaking.

“Y/n…” she started, voice shaking with breath, “…I need you to listen very closely.” You nodded, your thinking thrown to the wind; hanging onto her every word. When she paused, looked between your eyes, and saw your sincerity, she continued. “I may have an idea as to what’s causing this… but you have to stay with me while I explain. I understand it’s difficult, but you’re strong. Can you do that? For me?” And her blue eyes widened, fixing you with a stern look and a demand.

Yes. Yes yes yesyesyesyes all for you for you for you Larissa yes yes yes. You nodded again, immediately, without a second to lose, and croaked out a gravelly “Yes. Of course.”

Her explanation would be important. Her knowledge would be valuable. Even though your body was quickly warming up, becoming acquainted again with the desire to fuck, you grasped your mind and held it tight. The fingers in your hair were distracting. The closeness of her warm body was distracting. The smell of her perfume was distracting. The little relieved smile on her face was distracting.

But… if you got to see that smile again at the end of her spiel, as sweet and soothing as it was, then holding on until the last second would have been worth it. So you worked against your instincts and sat tight, giving all of your attention to Larissa.

—

Y/n was making it very hard for her to focus.

Very very hard.

So hard that she could barely keep herself in check.

Her pupils were blown, she knew. And her hands were shaking. And her cheeks and chest were flushed and her throat was dry and she really couldn’t help the way she ran her tongue over her lips as she looked down at the sweet thing beneath her.

You were very cute, not even realizing the extent of your own desire. How it showed on the outside. How the clench of your thighs was quick and rushed and desperate. How the bob of your throat and quiver of your lips signaled that you were holding back pretty sounds. How the tendons in your hands flexed when you twisted the duvet into your palms, poorly concealing your slipping self control. It was arousing.

And distressing.

Larissa remembered the first time she had gone through the cycle. She was capable of falling into a heat and a rut considering her genetic makeup. Born a female at birth with the ability to change that if she so wished; at a base level, that made for an interesting time with intimate partners. But on a level more carnal, more animalistic, it was something else. Something entirely different. Something… she didn’t often like to show. It wasn’t everyday that she stumbled upon people who experienced similar things anyway. Werewolves were fascinating creatures and those that could shift into animals had interesting abilities, but Larissa had yet to meet a person who satiated that side of her.

Who… gave themselves up to her. Submitted. And allowed themselves to be owned.

Others often took one look at the headmistress and saw a challenge. But you… oh you… you saw a dream. You saw all of your wishes coming true. And as Larissa watched the depraved little fantasies play out within that brilliant mind of yours, she was brought back to the painful glory of mating season. And just how delicious it was to feel the burn between her thighs and the ache within her core. And just how nice it was to relish in her own touch and embrace her own desire. And just how precious it was to drive her partners mad. Crazy. Insane with lust. Bonkers with ardor. To run them into the ground with need and push them off the precipice of the most wonderful climaxes. It was nearly addicting. It flashed through her mind during the times she wasn’t drowning in her heat. It flashed through her mind in that exact moment.

While looking down at you. While collecting her thoughts. While trying to explain.

Larissa inhaled a shuddery breath and averted her eyes from the tantalizing beautiful twinkle in your gaze. The dark ceiling, she found, was much less distracting. It gave her enough reprieve to begin speaking, allowing her fingers to play with your hair mindlessly as she picked through her words.

—

“Last year, over the summer, I returned to the United Kingdom to visit my brother.” Blue eyes glanced down at you before darting away again. “We stayed in Norfolk, deciding that we both needed a break from Worthing. That’s in West Sussex, it’s-”

“I know,” you interrupted softly, giving her a small smile once she looked down. You’d also gone to Norfolk over the summer. It was just for a week- a vacation of sorts- to get away from the drone of everyday living. It was crazy that you’d both gone during the same summer, but there was no way you’d been visiting at the same time. Right? You were sure you would’ve noticed her. You were sure you would’ve taken the chance to say hi.

After a delayed nod, Larissa continued. “Of course. Well, it was a nice trip for what it’s worth. It was good to see him again. But…” she swallowed, raising her eyebrows, “toward the end of my stay, something happened. Neighbors were complaining about bad water. The taste had changed, the color too. And when authorities found out what it was…” Larissa trailed off, getting lost in thought for just a moment. You watched with interest as the cogs turned in her head - and then blinked when she finally cleared her throat and continued. “..well. Turns out a werewolf died in one of the lakes. It happened near one of the smaller intake structures, the ones that take clean water and make it consumable. By the time authorities found out, it was too late.” She sighed, her chest heaving with breath.

You frowned. The water… that definitely rang a bell. It had been a strange thing at the time; the water tasted vaguely of metal and it sort of burned the back of your throat, prompting you to switch to plastic water bottles. You’d only had a few cups at most before making the change, but still. You’d still… you still had… some. Your eyebrows scrunched together in mixed confusion and surprise as you stared up at Larissa. Before she opened her mouth, you knew what she was going to say.

“I’d already had some of the water…” she paused, taking that moment to massage your head and tilt it back the slightest bit; fingers framing the space beneath your ears and the apples of your cheeks. Her expression was warm. Apologetic. “...And I know you did too.”

—

Larissa let out a little sigh when she saw your face fall. Part of her wanted to strengthen her hold and keep you in place when you began moving away, but she controlled herself and let you go; watching with eyes of pity as you reared away from her hands and put your feet firmly on the floor. When you got up, she took a few paces to the left and went to turn on the lamp on your bedside table - to distract herself and give you space.

“...A Himalayan salt lamp?” Larissa couldn’t help but question once she saw it, letting out a sweet little chuckle as she trailed one finger down the side of the pink-tinged crystal.

She was amused by the sight of it… and quite delighted when the beautiful golden glow lit up a small portion of the room. It was very adorable. It was very ‘you’.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” she heard you say distractedly with the slightest bit of hesitation - as if you were nervous that she was judging you. She wasn’t, of course. She’d never.

And to prove that, Larissa turned to you, a soft look in her eye as she watched you think over her words.

—

It was a lot to take in, but you knew it was coming. There had to be a reason for all of your strife - it couldn’t have just happened. And there it was. A bit strange but apparently true. You drank werewolf’s blood. Without realizing it. That was that. Done and done.

Well - not entirely. You had one question.

“How did you know I had it too?”

Your gazes met. Larissa’s eyebrows raised as she let out a breath.

“Well I… saw you. It was an odd coincidence, at first I thought I was hallucinating,” she let out a little amused scoff, “but no. There you were. Drinking a glass of water at an inn.” The look she gave you then was pointed- as if to say ‘My story is true and I was correct in my assumptions.’

But you knew she was right. You remembered that glass of water - and you remembered cringing at the odd taste. At the time, you finished it because you were parched, but after that you switched to the water bottles. And Larissa had seen you drinking, there at the same time, entirely unaware of the overall predicament and how it would affect you b- oh.

Oh.

Your eyes widened, body tensing with surprise once your mind caught up and everything clicked into place. Larissa’s flushed skin… her odd breathing… her dilated pupils and enraptured, concerned, knowing expression… You looked away from her so quickly you thought your head was going to snap off of your neck.

Larissa… Larissa was in heat. Or- or rut?

Oh god Larissa was in rut-!

“I was unsure of how to tell you earlier… if you are uncomfortable now, just tell me and I’ll g-”

“No. No no no no no,” you whispered, harsh and quick. “I want you, Larissa.” You were facing the wall, unable to look her in the eye as you spoke and cut her off as softly and kindly as you could. “I want- I-” your eyelids fluttered until you closed them and pressed your lips together, letting out a sigh as one of your hands went up to rest against your forehead. It was so hard to say- so hard to admit- but it was obvious what had to happen. It was obvious what you wanted to happen. “I want you… but only- only- if you want me too.” Your words hid the plea you yearned to share. Please. Please want me back. Please want me too. Please do this with me. Please be mine.

And as if stirred by your words, by your realization, your body came alive; thrumming with many strong lightning bolts of want. Of pure want and desire and ardor and admiration and lust. Your mind was running in circles, jumping from one fantasy to another.

Larissa on top of you. You on top of Larissa. Hips bucking and lips grazing and little moans- little muffled whimpers- leaving each of you and ringing like songs. Pretty beautiful songs that left your thighs shaking and fingers twitching and body humming for her. All for her. All for Larissa and her white teeth and red nails and red lips and pink cheeks and oh god- Larissa’s hands on your hips, Larissa moving your body back and forth and back and forth and back and forth, again and again and again against her. Pressing and writhing and coming undone beneath her touch. Bouncing on her lap, her soft velvety thighs; pulling her closer to your face, mouth open and wanting; seeing your legs out of the corners of your eyes as she pushed them up and back, pressed to your chest, so she could sink deeper and deeper and deeper into you-

“Y/n,” the object of your affections softly called from behind you, voice heavy with mixed concern and uncertainty.

An anxious sigh escaped your pursed lips. Of course - you shouldn’t have said anything. Of course - she didn’t want you. Of course - she thought it was odd. As your boss, god as your boss!, she definitely thought you were mad, didn’t she? Yes, terribly mad and terribly horny and just out of your goddamn mind with lust - to the point where you didn’t realize (until it was too late) that you were propositioning your own boss!

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” you began shaking your head, moving your hand down to cover your mouth with a sigh. The heat coiling within your abdomen wasn’t helping in the least; it only served to haunt you as you figured out how best to escort Larissa out of the room without jumping her bones.

She was in- in rut, for gods’ sakes! She was in rut and she was- oh just the thought- of her at night… hand between her thighs… moaning into the pillow… wrapping around her length or sinking into her heaven and thrusting, thrusting, thrusting… You swallowed hard to hold back a sudden moan and blinked rapidly, grasping onto your dwindling sanity and trying to dispel the wandering thoughts. Your heart was a rock concert in your ears. Sweat gathered along your spine.

It seemed, for once and for all, after teetering on the edge of desire for so long! - it seemed that it was finally time. So you spoke quickly and swallowed your embarrassment, shame, and lust for just a moment more. You’d deal with repercussions later - after getting Larissa the hell away from your bedroom.

“I’m sorry I even suggested that. If you don’t want this, just- just go. For your sake and mine I can’t- I can’t- be around you right now.” It was unnatural hearing yourself so panicked and serious, but it was necessary. The situation had become dire. If she thought you were rude, you’d handle that later too.

The sound of stockinged feet padding up behind you had you tensing. Your body felt stiff already. Tired. Hungry. Like you’d spent your entire life in heat and this quick reprieve left you sore and exhausted. The feeling would be gone in a few moments you knew. Soon enough, the pleasurable warmth in your womb, kind and gentle at that moment, would blow up and start screaming and scratching at you - and then you’d have no choice but to turn around and shove Larissa out of the room. But even when you were about to turn, to gently take her hand and lead her away and insist that staying wasn’t worth it and that she could probably find someone else to help her through her rut - someone better, more equipped - you were stopped. By hands. Two elegant feminine hands that gripped your biceps and kept you in place, facing the wall, body rigid and breath dipping into the shallows. Her hold wasn’t tight, but it was enough. It was enough. You felt your legs quiver.

“Y/n,” she spoke slowly, her tone a deep velvety whisper, “I do want this.” Her hands squeezed gently. “But I need to know,” and she stepped forward until your back was pressed to her front, resting against her, soaking in her warmth, “that you’re not just saying it.”

“I’m n-”

“Shush.”

You shushed.

“I know. I know you think you want this, but Y/n heats are… intense, for lack of a better word. They make you say yes to things you may not usually agree to. They make you-” Larissa inhaled sharply before she let out a bone-shaking sigh. The clammy press of her forehead against the top of your head had you blushing. “-they make you regret. And I don’t want you regretting something… I know I will cherish,” she finished in a whisper.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until you gasped for air, chest heaving with relief. The scent of her- of your boss- elegant and mischievous and everything everything everything- blanketed your lungs like a cold woman’s duvet at night. It was intoxicating. Liberating. The scent of… of-... of your mate?

“I won’t.” You spoke suddenly- sharply- desperate to make her see that you’ve always wanted her and you were sure you always would. “Even if I wasn’t in heat, even if this- this wasn’t happening… I’d still want you Larissa. I’d still say yes, if you asked.” And though you felt the need to hang your head in some strange mix of shame and embarrassment, you didn’t want to displace her resting - so you stayed still. Eyes facing the wall, peering at the wallpaper for all it was worth, allowing yourself to revel in the closeness of her. Finally finally finally - the missing puzzle piece your body longed for. The hymn it yearned to recite and sing and cry.

“You will be the death of me,” Larissa whispered sweetly, quickly, like a prayer, before you were being turned around and pushed.

Your back hit the wall with a thud. Your gaze melted into hers. She looked between your eyes- hurried and desperate. You’d never seen Larissa so close to the edge before. Her chest was rising and falling unsteadily, shakily, and there was a wildness to her expression that felt so terribly deliciously exciting. Her lips were parted, her cheeks were very flushed, her eyelids were fluttering. The only word you could think of to describe Larissa, as you gazed at her and felt yourself melt, was the word need.

“I need you.” It was true. It was perhaps the most truthful thing you’d ever said in your life. You wanted her, yes - but if you had to survive the night, since you finally had her in front of you, then you needed her. Her and her warmth and touch and body and all of the pleasure she could give and give and give.

“I know,” she whispered, leaning closer, pressing your chests together, forcing your gaze up through your lashes. You could feel her through the fabric of her dress and your nightie. The hardened peaks of her nipples, the soft flesh of her body- her midsection- the tops of her thighs. Her head was bowed, her nose nearly grazing your own, her shoulders caging you in. Larissa was staring at you; dark blue depths invading your senses, asking you only one last question and insisting that you answer it. She took a shuddering breath; you watched, enraptured, as her lips moved. “Are you certain? Are you- are you absolutely certain?”

You were. Absolutely.

But you knew that if you said no, if you changed your mind and didn’t want it anymore, she would step back immediately. She would step back and she would nod and she would understand and she would politely excuse herself - hunger and desire be damned. She’d leave you be and probably never mention it again. She’d bid you goodbye with a sweet smile and leave you to your own devices. She would never hurt you. She would never cross that threshold. She would never destroy that line. If you reconsidered, Larissa would understand. No matter what.

“Yes. I’m certain.”

And that’s why you couldn’t let her go.

“I’ve never been so certain in my life.”

You craved her.

Larissa’s eyes darted down to your mouth as you spoke. Lust curled like mist within her eyes. It reached for you. Called for you. It whispered your name and beckoned you closer.

So close… until your lips were pressing against each other, into each other, heads turning and mouths melting. Drowning in bursts of warmth. Interlocking finally. Both of you groaned, filthy and deep and full of breath, chests rumbling with satisfaction as the beasts within roared excitedly. Distantly, you felt clawed hands grab at your waist, wrapping around the thick of your hips, eager to be close. Eager to hold. Eager to own. God her lips were so soft. And full. And talented. Wicked. Devilish. They parted, teased, kept you slow and eager as your hands fumbled for purchase somewhere on Larissa’s body. Eventually, they ran up to her shoulders before draping over her neck and playing with the little baby hairs at the base of her updo. It would be ruined by morning. You couldn’t wait to be the culprit.

Larissa pulled back to glance at you, admiring as though you were the stars. “Open your mouth.”

The part of you that burned for her nearly collapsed, entirely too pleased by the demand to give you any pause as your lips fell open instantly. Then you leaned back in, both of you meeting halfway, acting as one until her tongue licked at your lower lip and dipped into your open mouth, curling in and dancing with your own tongue. The sensation had you whining, heart squeezing with pleasure, throat humming with sound. Larissa’s lips twitched into a smirk, smug and proud as she kissed you breathless. As she ran her hands along your sides. As she bent her knees and tucked her palms beneath your thighs, quick and smooth, before standing tall again. Taking you with her. Lifting you like Hades with his bride. Never letting your mouth leave her warmth for even a second as her muscles flexed beneath her shirt. And whatever surprised little sound you let out was quickly muffled- rectified- by a low moan from your lover’s lungs. Oh, she sounded so beautiful. So happy. So satisfied. And enraptured. And starved. Not even a tremble wracked her body as she leaned forward and kept you pinned to the wall. Pinned and spread. Your legs pressed against her curves, your thighs squeezed her waist, not letting her go even though you knew she didn’t want to be anywhere else. Even though the way your body fit against hers was something no god could ever experience. It was too good. It felt too right.

And you kissed until your lips tingled, pink and swollen and just as gorgeous as Larissa’s - both of you smeared with the red of her lipstick. The taste of her mouth, red-wined and human, lathered your tongue, making you swallow as you tried committing her to memory. But even as you leaned your head back against the wall, catching your breath, trying to relish in the feeling, Larissa continued her attack and struck gold.

Wanting lips trailed from the side of your mouth to your chin, soft and slow, running down down down until they grazed the sensitive skin of your neck and had your mouth opening with a gasp. She was ravenous but restrained, moving like a hungry snake to strike at your flesh and kiss kiss kiss her way to heaven. The little wet sounds her mouth made had your eyes rolling back, quickly falling into darkness as you closed them and hummed in delight.

“How long have you wanted this?” Larissa’s voice was gravelly, interrupted only by her soft pants. “How long have you wanted me?”

“So long,” was your whimpered response. “So long- so l-long-” there was a crack in your tone when she moved her head and decided to lick a long thick line up the side of your neck, pushing her tongue against your skin with fervor. Like she was trying to eat you. Consume you. Resist the instinct to sink her teeth into your warm flesh.

“Hm,” was the last thing you heard before Larissa removed her mouth and started to loosen her hold on your body.

Panic tugged at you.

“N-no no, what are you doing?” You shook your head, trying to tighten your hold around her. But Larissa had always been stronger and she easily let you slip away and forced your feet to touch the ground. “No no no-”

“Shh,” she murmured, running her hands up to your face. “Do as I say and get on the bed for me. Yes?”

You swallowed, resisting the urge to smile as your heart did somersaults within your chest. Yes! It’s happening! Yes yes yes finally! This is it this is it! Yes yes!

“Yes. Sure,” you nodded into her hold, blushing hard when her palms tightened around your cheeks.

There was a sudden sharp edge to her eyes as her brows set, falling to shadow her gaze.

“Yes, who?”

Yes… who? You frowned.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Yes. Who.” Larissa repeated herself, leaning down until the tip of her nose brushed yours. Her hands moved, one shifting down to tug at your waist, to bring you even closer, while the other wrapped around your chin and tightened. “Think, darling. I know you have a brain in there somewhere,” she whispered, sounding like velvet and feeling like heaven.

She was right, naturally. You did have a brain. It was half mush due to her attention, but it was still somewhat there. You took a moment to search through it. Yes who yes who yes who yes who yes- who-

“Yes, a-alpha?” Came your little squeak. It didn’t sound quite right but if she wanted to be technical about it, and if she liked that, then that was what she was.

A warm twinkling laugh met your ears. It was soft and amused, leading you to smile in reply as you admired the way Larissa’s eyes squinted with mirth. Clearly you’d gotten it wrong.

“Cute,” she nodded, “but not the one I’m looking for, sweet girl. Try again for me.”

Right. Try again. Okay. You bit your lip, growing antsy in your waiting.

“Um- Yes… Mistress?” It was a shot in the dark - and you missed.

Larissa tsked, her breath huffing against the curve of your lips as you watched her raise an eyebrow. She felt so good… so warm… you swallowed, eyes darting down to watch her lick at her lower lip.

“No, darling… Do I really need to coax it out of you?”

Then her tone changed- flipped like a tossed coin; it became high and taunting and coy as she moved her head and pressed her lips to your ear.

“Or are we both going to pretend that you don’t want to call me Mommy?”

It was said so sweetly- so slowly- that you thought you may be hallucinating. When you go to move your head back, to look into her eyes properly, the hand on your chin wraps around your throat and presses. It’s not hard, not by any means. Just the slightest pressure - barely there. A silent claim. Ownership. And Larissa doesn’t stop.

“Hm? Is that what we’re going to do sweetheart?” The hand on your hip moved down to squeeze your ass; the bite of her nails through your slip, digging into your skin, made your thighs clench- desperately trying to provide friction for an ache you had yet to take care of. “Are we going to ignore your desire for Mommy instead of Mistress?” There was a pause as she pressed a soft kiss to the shell of your ear. “Unless you want to call me Alpha-”

“No,” you gasped, quiet and quick. Alpha was not her title. She wasn’t a dog. And she wasn’t a ruthless violent angry horny authoritative creature.

She was Larissa.

She was..

She was -

“No.. Mommy.”

The noise that rumbled up from her chest made your skin run hot. It was full of deep pleasure. Like the bits of wolf that ran through her blood were very happy with your submission. So happy, in fact, that she pulled back to give you a large toothy grin.

“That’s my girl.” Came her chimed praise as the hand around your throat slid away and her fingertips went to caress the side of your face. “So obedient for me… so good…”

Yes yes yes so good always so good always hers always need her- need to be kissed by her- fucked by her- dominated by her- always-!

Your hands landed on her shoulders before you could blink, instantly going to push- push push push until she’s backing up. Spurred on only by your deep desire to see her on the bed, spread out, panting, just as wanting and desperate as you. But you don’t get very far. Maybe one or two steps backward, making you think you’d actually be able to bend her slightly to your will - but then there are strong tapered fingers wrapping around your wrists and tugging them off of her shoulders.

“Ah ah ah,” Larissa admonished, shaking her head and looking deep into your eyes. “I don’t remember you being the Mommy.” She was smug, so smug, as she turned you both around and began walking forward.

You nearly stumbled over your own feet in your haste to back up toward the bed.

“I can be the Mommy,” you grumbled, shooting her a playful glare.

It was a lie, of course. You were a strong soul, but rarely one to take full control of a sexual moment. If it was something less… kinky… then you could certainly provide pleasure; but in that moment, with every inch of your libido working against you- forcing you to desire the floor beneath your knees and the thick of Larissa’s cock in your mouth- well. That was different.

“Oh can you?” A light eyebrow rose, ticking up at the exact moment that the backs of your legs hit the side of the bed and went buckling beneath the sudden feeling.

Your hands reached up to go for her shoulders, but the iron grip around your wrists kept you suspended. Then her hands were gone, in the blink of an eye, and you were released - and Larissa watched, with a flicker of sadistic delight, as you let out a small hiccuping gasp and fell backwards onto the mattress. When you looked up at her, an unserious glare in your eyes, you felt your heart skip several beats. Back again were you in that position… with her hips so close… and her body towering… and her carmine lips curled into an evil smirk.

“You were saying, love?” God she sounded so good… So soft and perfect, with her strong accent and delicate words and good lord- you couldn’t stop staring!

The only thing standing between you and the heaven between her legs were only about three pieces of cloth that could easily be torn in half- right off of your bodies- thrown to the floor. Your hungry gaze traced the curve of her thighs- from the soft dips of her skirt’s drape, to the plush spot in which those long gorgeous legs pressed together… leading right up to…

Your fingers twitched.

Please… please let me feel… please I want- want so bad- want to- have- lick- need-

“Y/n.” You looked up. Larissa tilted her head.

“Yes?” God you sounded so hoarse-

“Yes…?” Her nostrils flared.

Oh. Right.

Warmth shot through your heart.

“Yes, Mommy?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, taking a moment to run her gaze over your face- your body- your soul. “...Tell me what you want.”

You blinked.

“What?” There’s no time for that! I need you and I need you now!

“I said,” two large palms slid into your hair, cupped the back of your head, and pulled you closer, “tell me what you want.”

She smelled so perfect. All floral-y and jasmine-y and precious and when your face was lightly pressed to the fabric of her skirt, you couldn’t help but take a deep breath and close your eyes. If heaven existed, it was most certainly between Larissa Weems’ thighs - both under her skirt and above it. Your arms, meanwhile, wrapped around the backs of her legs and curled under the skin beneath her knees, keeping her steady as she held you there. Not with enough pressure that you couldn’t breathe, but with all the intent to make you flushed. To have you panting. Thinking. Wanting.

Wanting so much… desiring so much… needing her- needing all of it- everything she’d give you-

“A-anything,” you stuttered, pulling your head back into her hold. Mmm her palms were so warm- so soft-

“Anything?” There was a gentle blush on the apples of Larissa’s cheeks - magnified only by the vague glow of your lamp. She outshined the sun, then. By far more glorious than any beautiful phenomena at dawn or dusk…

“Mhm,” you nodded, “anything.”

A bit of her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth, tucked under her teeth, bitten hard by a woman who clearly had things on her mind. Seeing you there, looking up at her as though she placed the very moon into the sky… oh she wanted to see you ruined. She wanted to see you owned. She wanted to see you begging, pleading, needing her, barely able to breathe without her in you- taking her- wanting her- calling her name- calling Mommy- Mommy-!

Falling prey to your body again, your gaze drifted back to Larissa’s waist- taking in the curves and the feminine beauty- imagining your hands gripping her hips, her thighs, her ass, pulling her closer; looking lower still to rest on- on- o- on… on…. oh… was- was that-

A bulge. Beneath her skirt. Straining against the material, held back by her waistband and her panties. Obviously hard and obviously- so obviously- big.

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Wow Ripley, way to drop this out of nowhere and end on such a vulgar note oooo.

Anyway, there will be a part IV (4). At some point. Don’t hold your breath. I love you. - Rip x

(Tell me if it’s good cuz I’ve never written smut before and I know we’re not even there yet.)

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Tag list: @weemssapphic @eveymay @enchantressb @machi-avelli @kimiinou @fyrecatz @i-wanna-be-a-deer @gwendolinechristieiscute @maviscreates @im-a-carnivorous-plant @readingtheentrails @queercodex @a-queen-and-her-throne

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[scottiexmariee]

Gullible

Characters: Sylus, MCReader (Luke and Kieran mentioned)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Slightly suggestive, Sylus’ fav nickname

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: After making a bet with Luke and Kieran, you sneak into Sylus’ room to locate an object. Unfortunately, you find out later on that it may have been a trick...

Masterlist

Note: This is slightly inspired by Midnight Stealth, but does not have the same plot. I wanted to include how Luke & Kieran are devious little instigators and pushing our favorite ship.

“Can I help you with something?”

Shit.

You froze at the unmistakable sound of Sylus’ voice sounding out from behind you. You’d snuck into his room while he was away, rummaging through every nook, cranny and drawer you could find. Your target? A dime-sized purple gem that Sylus apparently kept around here somewhere.

Why? Because Luke and Kieran bet you that you wouldn’t be able to find it. Did it sound like complete bullshit? Absolutely. However, a bet was made, and you’d be damned if you didn’t actually try to win that bet.

“Nothing!” You responded, quickly slamming the drawer of his nightstand shut and whirling around to face him. There was no reasonable way to pretend you weren’t just digging through all of Sylus’ personal items, but you were definitely going to try.

“Really? Nothing?” He drawled, taking a purposefully slow step forward. “Because it seems to me that a certain kitten is in here causing trouble,”

Great. Of course you’d get busted. You glanced toward the clock, realizing that you’d lost track of time during your search. Realistically, you should have dipped a half an hour ago. You looked back to Sylus. He stood there, arms folded across his chest as he inspected you, clearly waiting for some kind of bullshit excuse or lie. He raised an eyebrow, silently urging you to speak. His silence was eerie, and his overall presence was authoritative. Demanding. You took a breath, attempting to steel your nerves before you spoke.

“I misplaced the brooch. I was looking for it,” You lied.

Silence.

Sylus blinked a few times. After a moment, the corner of his lips curled up into a smirk. He took another step forward, giving you a skeptical once-over. “You lost the brooch?” He asked, a hint of mirth in his tone. It sounded more like a statement than a question.

You swallowed, attempting to battle the sudden dryness in your throat. “Mhmm. It’s gone,”

“Interesting,” Sylus responded, taking yet another deliberate step forward. He maintained eye contact as he came to a stop about two feet away. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you somehow lost the brooch I gave you…so you’re in my room looking for it. Is that correct?”

It sounded even worse coming out of his mouth. There was absolutely zero chance that he was buying it, and you quickly realized that it would be better to cut your losses and escape before this got messier.

“Well, the good news is that it wasn’t here!” You chirped. You mentally cringed at how awkward your voice sounded. You were undoubtedly blushing from the embarrassment, and you most definitely looked guilty as hell. “So, uh…I’ll just be on my way, then.”

“I don’t think so,” He chuckled, catching your wrist with ease and completely extinguishing your hope for a swift escape. Bastard. He pulled you slightly closer, leaning down to get closer to eye-level. If your cheeks weren’t red before, they definitely were now. He studied your face, his crimson eyes piercing right through you. “Would you like to try that again with a better lie?”

It felt like you’d been punched in the gut. “W-what?” You stammered out, trying to play it off. Truthfully, you weren’t surprised. That man wasn’t an idiot, and you’d given him a very lame excuse. “I don’t know what you’re–”

“I thought I’ve told you to get better at lying if you want to fool me,” He said, grabbing your chin with his free hand. His tone was almost….mocking. He dropped your chin and began fiddling with your shirt.

The noise that left your mouth could only be described as a startled squeak. “What the hell are you–”

You were cut off by Sylus lifting his hand in front of your face. Nestled between two of his fingers was a black and red object that gleamed in the light. “Next time, make sure you aren’t wearing the object you claimed to have lost,”

Oh.

Before you could fully process what was happening, you were being guided toward the door.

“I can explain-”

“Not interested,” He said curtly. “Leave. I have things to do,”

When the door shut behind you, you stood there like a scolded dog with its tail between its legs. Out of all the possible bad endings, getting caught red-handed by Sylus and then telling the worst lie imaginable was probably the worst ending.

You realized that you very quickly needed to come up with a different approach.

—

After two more failed attempts to search for the elusive purple gem, you decided a friendlier approach would be worth a shot. You took a steadying breath outside of the door to Sylus’ room, your fingers tightening around the neck of the ‘peace offering’ Luke and Kieran had given you. They had insisted upon a peace offering and given you a bottle of an alcohol that you couldn’t even pronounce the name of. “He won’t be able to resist!” Kieran had insisted–so you’d taken the bottle as a last ditch attempt to not lose that stupid bet. The significance of the gem meant nothing to you, but losing that bet would cost you your ego, and that was a price you weren’t willing to pay.

Knock, knock.

“Sylus? It’s (y/n),”

There was a pause, and for a moment you weren’t sure if he was going to acknowledge you, until the door swung open just enough for you to enter. You could see the remnants of a black and red mist dissipating from around the handle. Sylus’ commanding voice rang out from somewhere across the threshold, “Enter.” Based on his tone, he wasn’t in the mood for games.

You entered and quietly shut the door behind you. Sylus was at his desk, eyes glued to some papers in his hand. He made no attempt to look at you when you entered.

You quietly closed the distance to his desk, raising the hand that contained the mysterious alcohol, brandishing it as if it were a trophy. You cleared your throat and gestured to it with your free hand.

Sylus finally lifted his head, his eyes immediately landing on the bottle in your hand.

“A peace offering,” You explained, setting the bottle down in front of him.

There were several long moments where Sylus didn’t say anything. He slowly looked at the bottle, then you, then back to the bottle. “Kitten,” He said, raising an eyebrow. “Where exactly did you get this?” His eyes settled on you, and the unmistakable amusement was clear.

Why does he think this is funny? Does he not like this stuff?

“Um…do you not like–”

“Can you even read what this says?” He questioned, spinning the bottle to face you. That signature, infuriating smirk was back on his face. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I would think this was a little…suggestive for a peace offering,”

You froze.

Suggestive?

You snagged the bottle off of the desk, desperately scanning the bottle and trying to make sense of the words. Sylus leaned back in his chair, looking like he was having the time of his life at your expense.

For some reason, the thought of admitting that it had come from Luke and Kieran hadn’t crossed your mind yet.

“Okay, fine,” You grumbled, feeling a familiar frustration well up in your chest. This was a very common feeling around a man like Sylus. “I don’t know what it is, I just thought maybe it would work as a peace offering,”

Sylus let out a huff of air. “Peace offering,” He echoed, rubbing his chin. He seemed to be fighting off a smile. “I don’t think an aphrodisiac beverage is going to get you the ‘peaceful’ results you’re searching for,”

“What?!” You brought the bottle even closer, as if that was somehow going to make you understand the language. “Where does it–”

“That’s a pomegranate and honey infused liquor,” Sylus explained, staring holes through you. “That, kitten, is an aphrodisiac. Are you sure you’d like to use that as a ‘peace offering?’”

Gears began slowly clicking into place as you realized what was happening.

You had been completely, 100% set up by Luke and Kieran. And you were certain that they were having the time of their lives as they waited to hear exactly how this had gone.

“Those two!!! I swear!!” You groaned in frustration, sinking down into the chair across from the desk and running a hand through your hair.

You were going to throttle them after this. Better yet, you were going to strangle them both.

Suddenly, another thought occurred to you.

“Sylus,” You began, “You don’t happen to have a small purple gem around here anywhere, do you?”

You raised your head to look at him. He furrowed his brows, studying you carefully before answering. “I don’t. Why? Would you like one?”

Your palm connected with your forehead.

Yep, you’d been absolutely had.

Sylus, upon your reaction, seemed to connect the dots. He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation and sighed, looking at you with an expression that was much softer than the previous one. “You’re so gullible, kitten,” He said, shaking his head. He rose from the desk and walked around to the front of it.

You were suddenly lifted from the chair and placed on the desk, eliciting a startled gasp from you. He placed his palms on the desk on both sides of you, effectively boxing you in.

“Ground rule,” He began, his tone serious. “You can ask me anything. Anything. Instead of making yourself look like a fool, ask me first to spare yourself the trouble. I have nothing to keep from you. Understood?”

You nodded, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. Whether it was from the embarrassment or his proximity, you weren’t sure.

Sylus brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Now. Tell me what those two sent you on a hunt for,” He said, maintaining eye contact.

“A small purple gem,” You responded, averting your eyes. “They bet me that I couldn’t find it,”

Sylus rose, folding his arms over his chest and, thankfully, giving you room to breathe. He looked thoughtful.

“Let’s go,” He said, motioning for you to follow, leaving no room for protest.

You hopped down from the desk, and you were certain you had visible question marks above your head. Where was he taking you?

Sylus, sensing your confusion, chuckled. That infuriating smirk had returned.

“I said I didn’t have a gem like the one you described,” He said, giving you a once-over. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know where to acquire one,”

You felt your eyebrows shoot up. He was going to help you?

He turned and began walking toward the door, once again beckoning for you to follow.

“Sylus, wait! Why are you helping me all of the sudden?” You asked, quickening your pace to catch up with him.

This time, when he turned to face you, he had a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Games get a lot more fun when I’m involved. And the look on someone’s face when they lose a bet they weren’t expecting to lose…is worth the price of a measly purple gem,”

Note: Updated the formatting for this with new banners, will be sticking with this format from here forward! This was my first official fic. Thank you for interacting! :D

[aliceintheworld]

PURE ATTRACTION | JJK | TATTOO ARTIST

Pairing: TattooArtistJungkook X NaiveReader

Summary: "I shouldn't be watching a man undressing, especially not from the house next door."

Warning: Intolerance, toxic religion, parental relationship, Jungkook taking off his clothes 😮‍💨🤲 very dumb reader.

A/N: This is my first fanfic on Tumblr and my first BTS one. I know, it's embarrassing. The story isn't that great, and it probably shouldn't be the first one I post here, but the characters took on a life of their own without my consent, and I've been writing this since 2022 (fuck), so here we are. Please keep in mind that English is not my first language and that the reader is extremely annoying. See you on the next chapter! Thank You.

Next Chapter

Chapter 1

I organize the things from the bazaar as I go through the accessories spread out on the table. It's a calm easy task and I've done it more than a thousand times, so even with my eyes closed the job is done masterfully. My mother is next to me, quietly, listening to music on an old radio that she refuses to throw away. It seems that, since it's a radio she got as a teenager, the object has a deep meaning for her and she doesn't even like the thought of exchanging it for something more modern. I hum along too, trying to tune my voice in some parts where the music gets harder and the notes get higher.

Usually on the weekends, every Sunday, my mother and I go to church and the bazaar after the service, to raise money and help the pastor's project. Pastor Leen is a good man and always helps everyone in need, so this semester, during these last months of the year, he has been focusing on the animals that live on the streets. Everyone in the community who goes to church participates and helps in whatever way they can, whether through donations or fundraising, like my mother and I do. That’s why we gathered some clothes and items for the church bazaar, and with the sales, we can do our part. It's exhausting, but rewarding in the end.

During the week, I study at the university in my town and work at the library, so there's not much time for rest, but I like having a busy life. Although I know that, for some people, my idea of a busy life might not seem busy at all. At twenty-one, I’m supposedly supposed to be somewhere else in the world, enjoying my youth and partying with my friends, but strangely, I never wanted that. Whether it’s because of my mother, who always instructed me not to follow that path, or because I’m just introverted, I’ve never gone to parties or had adventures that I could look back on later. The most out-of-the-ordinary thing I've ever done was drink beer when I was eighteen and regret it the next day, feeling guilty for being influenced by a friend.

I’ve never left this town. I’ve never dated. I’ve never been to a party. I haven’t done many memorable things in life. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll regret not having these experiences someday, but I’m so tied to the way I live my life that it’s hard to change, even just a little. Habits are hard to break, whether for better or worse. I’m pulled from my thoughts when the store door opens and Mrs. Jeon walks in with a smile on her face and two heavy bags in her hands. I quickly get up intending to help her, but my mother is faster.

“Good morning, Eunji,” Mrs. Jeon greets my mother, letting out a relieved sigh as the weight of one of the bags is lifted from her hands. “Good morning, Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Mrs. Jeon. How has your week been?” I ask, taking the other bag from her. I peek inside and notice that it’s full of men’s clothes, judging by the size and the predominantly dark colors.

“Radiant, actually. My son arrived in town last night,” she says, her smile widening. I’m surprised because I didn’t know she had a son. Mrs. Jeon moved to town six years ago, and I don’t recall any son visiting her or her mentioning him. This is the first time she’s spoken about it, at least in front of me.

“Your son, Jungkook?” my mother asks, curious, and our neighbor nods, still beaming. “Doesn’t he live in Seoul?”

“Yes, he does. But he’s been expanding his business, and I invited him to visit, and coincidentally, he decided to open a branch here,” she explains, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. My mother instantly flashes a smile. An interested smile that I know all too well.

Of course, because I’ve never dated, my mother is always trying to set me up with someone. Not that I want her to. I never asked her to make all this effort, much less to convince the church ladies to introduce their sons just because I’m single. It’s embarrassing, as if I’m not capable of finding someone on my own without my mother’s help, but she doesn’t listen, even when I had an honest conversation with her asking her to stop trying to play Cupid.

"What kind of business?" my mother asks, and I try not to roll my eyes. For a woman of God, she worries way too much about money and status. It's a controversial topic that has led to arguments between us in the past.

"He's a tattoo artist. He owns a tattoo studio in Seoul," Mrs. Jeon explains with a proud smile, and my mother's face immediately turns serious. The charm of a potential son-in-law is lost. Of course, no one is ever perfect enough for her—or for me, in her eyes.

I love my mother. She’s strong, and many times I look up to her when making important decisions, but she judges people too harshly. Ever since she joined the church when I was younger, she’s changed. She changed her clothes, the way she speaks, and even her thoughts. I can’t even remember what she was like before, and even though all these changes were a support for her after my father passed away, some aspects of the situation still bothers me. The fact that she believes people are going to hell just for having different opinions and ideas is one of them. Of course, I don’t argue with her about it and rarely express my point of view. If she knew how I really thought, I’d be a princess locked in her room, with no peace and even less freedom than I already have at home.

"He's a tattoo artist?" my neighbor nods, not noticing the bitter tone in my mother's voice. I decide to step in, anticipating some sharp comment from the woman beside me.

"Mrs. Jeon, thank you so much for the clothes and for your help. Just today we had three customers, and the clothes you donated sold very quickly," I interject, changing the subject. The tension in my shoulders eases as my neighbor shifts her focus to the bag in my hands.

"Oh, no need to thank me. I want to do as much as I can to help the animals. I adopted a puppy last week and I’m in love!" she says, placing her hands on her cheeks with joy, and I can’t help but smile. Mrs. Jeon is one of the few older people from the church that I enjoy talking to.

"What’s his name?"

"Gureum. He’s an angel," she says, forming the small size of the puppy with her hands.

"Gureum? Don’t tell me he’s all white," I guess, laughing at the name.

"He is!" she laughs with me, jingling the keys in her hand. "Anyway, I hope we get plenty of donations this month. I can't wait to see the results of our work."

"That’s true, Misuk. This month the winter will be harsher, so we have to act more quickly this year," my mother continues, and the conversation shifts to the church project. I feel more relieved as the minutes pass and Mrs. Jeon leaves. Not because of her, of course, but because of the situation itself. My mother is very straightforward and usually says what she thinks, no matter who it hurts. I don’t want my relationship with our neighbor to be ruined just because my mother doesn’t know how to hold her tongue.

"Did you hear what she said?" Eunji asks, her eyes wide, one hand on her chest as if she’s deeply shocked. "Her son is a tattoo artist! Do you think he has those awful marks all over his body?"

"Probably, Mom," I sigh, trying to focus on the clothes Mrs. Jeon just brought. "And Mom, don’t talk like that. She’s our neighbor."

"Even so! Y/N, that only happens when parents don’t know how to properly guide their children. How can a mother, who goes to church, let her son go down such a horrible path in life?"

"We don’t know how her son lives, and it’s none of our business, Mom!" I try to keep calm as I fold a large black T-shirt, but then I remember that before organizing the items, we have to wash them, and I couldn’t be happier about that.

Usually, the clothes are washed at our house, and my mother still has to stay at the bazaar for a while longer. Honestly, I don’t want to be around her listening to how good of a mother she was just because I go to church and don’t have a tattoo on my arm. It irritates me, and it’s hard not to let her notice, but for the sake of peace, I try my best, nodding and agreeing with all the nonsense she says.

"Mom, I’m going to take all these things home and get everything ready for the bazaar, okay?" I try to force a smile, but my face feels stiff. My head is throbbing, and I can’t wait to get home. I’ve been out of my room all day, and there’s nothing more exhausting than that, at least for me. She murmurs in agreement, probably annoyed that she can't keep talking badly about Mrs. Jeon’s son, but I don’t care and just leave.

I regret it a little halfway home because the bags are heavy, and even though the distance isn’t long, it’s hard to carry all the clothes by myself. I arrive home out of breath. The sky is overcast, with dark gray clouds covering it, but I’m sweating as if I just ran a marathon. I laugh a bit at my lack of fitness, promising myself that I’ll start the morning walks I keep putting off, and I head to the laundry room to start organizing the clothes.

When I open the bag, I’m surprised by the items. Not only are they of good quality, but I’m also certain they don’t belong to Mr. Jeon. He dresses well, but not in this style. I can hardly imagine him wearing black jeans or a heavy jacket. I’m intrigued by who the owner might be, but I don’t waste time pondering it, too tired to unravel mysteries that aren’t even important. I leave the laundry room once everything is organized and head to my room, throwing myself onto the bed.

My room isn’t particularly special or different, but what I love the most about it is the bookshelf filled with books covering almost the entire wall. It was my dream from a young age to get a job and buy every book I was interested in, and luckily, that’s been possible since I started working at the library. It’s the perfect job for me, even if it’s temporary. I’m studying literature to become a teacher, and I can’t wait to start working in my dream job.

I sigh and pull my phone out of my dress pocket, too lazy to take off my clothes and go shower. I groan, placing my hands over my face, knowing there’s no escaping it after being out of the house all day. There’s no way I’m going to bed like this. Reluctantly, I get up and untie my hair, which falls in waves, heavy against my neck.

I bend down to grab the hem of my dress and start pulling it up, feeling even more tired. Today was such a long day. I can’t wait to go to bed and sleep until tomorrow. I take off my socks, lifting one foot behind the other, and as I head to the towel inside the wardrobe next to the bed, I unhook the bra that’s been bothering me all day. The relief is so immense that I let out a sigh, touching my breasts with my fingers and playing with my nipple, hardened by the cold air.

On my way to the bathroom, I stop and look at the window when I notice that the neighbor’s window—the one that had never been opened until now—is, in fact, wide open. I need a few seconds to realize that there’s someone on Mrs. Jeon’s balcony, and worse, it’s not her on the other side. It’s a man. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.

I hide behind the bookshelf in my room, afraid that he might think I’m spying on him, but for some reason, I keep watching him with curiosity, hypnotized by the way he moves around the room and among the furniture. His dark, wavy hair falls over his face when, out of nowhere, he starts pulling his shirt over his back, taking it off lazily while focusing on the phone in his hands. He gives a small smile, almost as if he subconsciously knows the effect he’s having on me. My heart beats hard against my chest, and my breathing quickens; my mind fills with fantasy images of his pink lips and large, seemingly soft hands.

He is... gorgeous. Different. With tattoos all over his body. One of his arms is completely covered in designs, and his chest is adorned with images that I can’t quite make out. My mouth waters as my eyes roam over his strong back and shoulders. His pale skin glows under the dim light of the yellow lamp, and it’s hard to catch my breath. It’s like observing a work of art. A forbidden work of art, I know. It’s wrong. But I can’t convince my mind that I should stop. The man, still a stranger, smiles at his phone as the screen lights up his face. Unlike his body, which exudes sensuality and is intimidating, his smile is sweet and gentle, and the most charming I’ve ever seen. He tosses the phone onto the bed, unbuckling the leather belt around his waist and deftly undoing the buttons of his jeans. That’s when the trance that literally had me delirious breaks. I slam the window shut, desperate at my own madness.

What was I doing? How could I have seen a stranger stripping like a complete pervert? I feel so bad, guilty for having crossed the line and done something as wrong as this. I gulp, covering my face with my hands. I let out a tortured sigh and feel my heart racing uncontrollably. I am sweating, as if I had done a heavy workout, when in fact, I had been standing still the entire time. I peek through the gaps in my window to see the room in Mr. Jeon's house, but I can't see anything anymore and I don't have the courage to open the curtains and try to look at the man again.

It's the first time in many years that I have felt something like this. Could it be desire? I can't remember the last time I felt anything like this. I recall having a small and first crush on a boy at school, something innocent, when I didn't even know what it meant to like someone romantically or as a friend. This was, throughout my life, the only consistent experience in recent years. It scares me that suddenly I feel something different for someone, even if it's minimal. I let out a sigh and cover my face, embarrassed by my own behavior. To make things worse, I'm not even wearing clothes. I rush to the bathroom and close the door, staring at myself in the mirror. I am so dazed that even my cheeks are dark red. I close my eyes tightly and head to the shower, trying to let the water wash away my thoughts. It doesn't work. I spend the whole night gazing at my bedroom window, full of images that I can't forget or erase.

I have a normal day after the almost exhausting night. I study in the morning about different approaches with children on the autism spectrum, which I find completely interesting and complex, and then I work in the afternoon at the college library on campus. This is actually great because I can study even during my work hours with free access to all available books, which has saved my life in recent months. The first semester of classes was tough, but this second one has been terrible, with piled-up assignments and deadlines that are almost impossible to meet, at best. My life has revolved around this routine, and the ordeal of exams hasn't even started. On my way home, I stop at a convenience store to buy something to eat and bike towards my house, which, honestly, isn’t very far but is extremely tiring.

I get home exhausted, collapsing on the sofa almost immediately. My mother appears from the kitchen with a serious face and a tense expression, as if something very grave had happened.

"You won't believe who invited us to dinner." she comments, placing one hand on her hip.

"Who?" I ask, just out of courtesy. Besides not being hungry, I'm not interested in the subject, too stressed with college stuff to pay attention to my mother.

"Misuk."

"And what's the problem, Mom?" I roll my eyes. Until yesterday, my mother had no problem with our neighbor, and now she acts like the woman is forbidden or not good enough to be her friend.

"Did you forget, YN?" she asks, crossing her arms. "Her son, the one from Seoul, will be at the dinner."

I turn pale, my mouth dry. How could I have forgotten this? College has consumed all my thoughts during the day, but I would never forget that man. The man I saw through the window is Mrs. Jeon's son, I suppose. I concluded this after spending the whole night mulling over my thoughts and reliving that body and face, which I can’t even recall without blushing. I’ve already eaten at college and feel satisfied, but the first thing I do when my mother mentions the dinner is smile.

"I’ll go with you." I affirm, unsure. If my heart raced so much from a distance of Mr. Jeon's son, I can't imagine what will happen if I see him up close. But I'm so curious that I can't avoid it. I want to see him. I want to prove that everything I felt last night wasn’t just a product of my imagination tainted by romance novels.

"The truth is, I wanted to cancel the dinner."

"You didn't cancel, did you?" I ask, trying not to sound too desperate. My mother shakes her head, which makes me sigh with relief.

"No, but I'm curious about the guy. I want to see what he's like and make a better judgment about him. I just ask that you don’t get involved with that kind of person. He’s a tattoo artist and lives alone, so young. Who knows what he does alone in a city like Seoul." she says, and I agree with a noise in my throat.

I’m also curious about him, Mom, but not for the same reason as you. I stay silent as I go upstairs to my room. I look for some slightly nicer clothes without much expectation but I don’t have anything different from conservative or old. I feel sad for no reason and convince myself that it doesn’t matter what I choose to wear; a man like the one I saw last night will never be interested in me, no matter what I put on. I quickly shower, then, after my mom calls me from downstairs, I look at myself in the mirror, staring at the dark blue dress that goes down to just below my knees. I roll my eyes and simply go, with little enthusiasm.

My mom has a bowl with a freshly baked cake, and after saying it's for the neighbors, we head out. It’s the house next door, but the short walk feels like an eternity to me. My heart races as we approach, and I let my mom lead the way, walking ahead. She knocks on the door with three taps, and we don’t wait long before Mr. Jeon appears. He’s a man in his fifties, but very handsome and friendly, wearing a long-sleeve shirt and comfortable house slippers. He smiles at both of us, still holding the doorknob and giving us space to enter.

"Good evening, Eunji, good evening, Y/N." he greets us. I nod, a little embarrassed. Unlike Mrs. Jeon, I don’t see him often, as he is very busy with work and doesn’t attend church regularly.

"Good evening, Yejun."

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you for having us." I smile, genuinely grateful. I truly like the couple, as every time I see them, they always treat me very well.

"What a polite girl, isn’t she?" he says to my mother in a joking tone, then looks at me kindly. "You don’t need to thank us. We love having you two here. Please come in and make yourselves comfortable."

"I brought a cake for after dinner." my mom says with a smile. "Where is Misuk? I want to give it to her."

"She’s in the kitchen, finishing organizing things. Shall we go there?"

I follow them in silence, having little to do. My mom is more accustomed to the environment, as she comes here a few times for church meetings. I take a few steps toward the kitchen when a noise on the stairs catches my attention. Then he appears, and like magic, everything I felt before resurges, ten thousand times worse. I catch my breath as I see him slowly descending the stairs. He is much taller than me and different from what I imagined, now up close.

His eyes are dark, bright and large, which strangely complements his sharp jawline. His lips are a beautiful pink that makes me run my tongue over my mouth, enchanted by their apparent softness. Pink is now my favorite color. He exudes a powerful aura with his heavy clothes and his body built like a big mountain towering over me, but when he smiles, I am captivated. His smile is sweet, friendly, and inviting, making me want to get closer. However, the thing that catches my attention the most is the eyebrow piercing. My God. What a man.

"Hello, how are you?" he says with a boyish smile, and I blush instantly. I try to maintain a mantra in my mind, repeating several times: calm down, calm down, calm down! "My name is Jungkook, are you my mother’s neighbor?"

"Y-yes." I stammer and almost instinctively close my eyes, frustrated with myself. He smiles even more, squinting his dark eyes as if he finds me amusing.

"Nice to meet you. What’s your name?" he asks with a soft voice, and I feel embarrassed for not having said my name earlier.

"My name is Y/N. Nice to meet you." This time I don’t stammer, but I speak so quietly that I fear he might not have heard me.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. My mom talks a lot about you." he says, confirming that yes, he did hear me.

I open my mouth to try to say something, but suddenly my mother appears. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I wanted more chances to talk and discover new things about him, but all I was managing to do was look like an idiot who hasn’t left the house in years, completely antisocial. My shoulders slump, and I follow my mother to the dining room in silence, feeling embarrassed. I can almost feel Jungkook’s presence behind me, but I don’t have the courage to turn around and glimpse his expression. I almost automatically remember him taking off his clothes, showing the tattoos that are now hidden, and I flush even more, almost choking on my own saliva.

"Good evening, Y/N!" Mrs. Jeon smiles at me, already seated at the table. I feel guilty for almost drooling over her son earlier but I smile, greeting her in the same way.

"Good evening, Mrs. Jeon. The smell of the food is delicious, as always." I say, seeing the vegetables on the table and the meat next to it that looks divine. If I hadn’t eaten earlier, I’d be attacking the food, with respect, of course.

"Always so sweet, Y/N." she smiles. "Please, have a seat. Jungkook, sit next to her." she requests. I try to not choke again, just nodding, watching the man I am incredibly attracted to sit to my right side.

His parents and my mom engage in a lively conversation, and I try to pay attention in case they ask me something, but the truth is, I can’t follow along at all. Jungkook eats in silence and occasionally answers my mother’s questions, which I’m sure are meant to gather more material for judgment when we get home, but I can’t follow any of the reasoning. Besides being handsome, polite and kind, he also smells good.

With the clothes he wears and the tattoos decorating his body, I would swear his perfume would be woody and strong, but it’s quite the opposite. His scent reminds me of spring, or nature like a field full of flowers. It’s a scent I could absorb all day. Lost in thought while I play with the fork on my plate and the cabbage kimchi I served myself, I don’t notice him coming closer to me and my ear. My whole body shivers with his breath. I try to not make it too obvious, but I think it’s in vain since I hear his soft laugh even closer to my neck.

"Do you want to go to the kitchen, Y/N?" Jungkook asks in a whisper so close that I look around just to make sure no one is watching, especially my mother, who seems to have already formed a prejudiced opinion about him.

"Why?" I ask in a whisper, confused.

"I want to ask you something." he smiles crookedly, which makes me even more disturbed. I nod, still unsure about what I’m agreeing to. He quickly stands up, and I almost instantly follow him. When we get to the kitchen, he turns around quickly, watching me attentively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"W-what do you want to ask me?" I swallow nervously.

"I was thinking whether I should talk to you about this, but after meeting you tonight, I think it’s for the best, anyway." he says with a serious face. His previously relaxed attitude changes completely, as if all the fun from earlier had drained away.

I become worried, my mind filled with questions, until something occurs to me. What if last night, somehow, he realized I was watching him? My body turns to jelly at the thought, and my heart beats faster as I look at his face. I would die, seriously. I would fall to the ground and never wake up again. My hands tremble as I wait for his question.

"Are you and my mother very close?" he asks in a whisper, this time with a weak voice, looking at his own intertwined hands. I nod in agreement, even more confused. Since Mrs. Jeon moved to my city, we’ve become something like friends, despite the significant age difference. I consider her, even if mistakenly, like a mother.

"Yes. I think we have a close relationship. Why the question?" he shifts uncomfortably. He tries to smile but can’t. I am worried but silent, waiting for his answer.

"My mother is sick, Y/N." he says quietly, with a weak voice. My eyes widen at the news. I never imagined this is what he wanted to talk to me about. From his seriousness, it seems to be something very grave. "That’s why I came to the city. She had depression years ago and last month she tried to take her own life for some reason."

"She didn’t tell anyone, I’m sure." I say as much as I can, still shaken and shocked. Mrs. Jeon seems so happy lately that I could never imagine something like this. My eyes fill with tears, but I try to contain the flood of emotions inside me, embarrassed to act this way with a previously unknown person.

"I know. I was shocked when I found out." he explains, running his fingers through his dark hair as if he were tired. "She wants to spare people from the situation, but I wish everyone could know and support her. She shouldn’t be thinking about anyone’s well-being right now, except her own. That’s why I came to Busan, to take care of her."

"I understand." I whisper with a lump in my throat. I want to take his trembling hands and assure him that everything will be okay, but I don’t have that much courage. I wish I were casual and authentic and had the ease to simply say what I’m thinking. It’s the first time that not being this way makes me upset and sad. I wish I could be someone else right now. I wish I could help more.

"I apologize for bringing this up so suddenly. I hope I haven’t ruined your evening. I’m sorry." he smiles awkwardly, puffing his cheeks, and a previously hidden dimple appears. His face turns red and I can’t help but like him even more.

"Don’t worry. Really. Thank you for telling me the truth. I want to help in any way I can. I'll try to keep her company more often."

"Thank you so much, Y/N." he smiles, with his eyes shining. "I knew it was a good idea to tell you the truth. I knew I could count on you."

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[restinslices]

Everything

PJO Show Ares x Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 2459

Summary: Ares supposedly hates kids, so it’s really strange that he comes when you call. (Do not let the summary fool you, this is not fluff. Based on a dream I had a couple days ago. Warning for possible ooc Ares and brief mentions of abuse. Blink and you’ll miss it type shit)

“I don't wanna say”, Grover fingers fidgeted with each other as he purposefully avoided eye contact with you. 

“We're friends, right?”

“Of course!”

“Then you have to tell me! You spoke to my father, I gotta know what he said! What was he like? I bet he was really cool! Man, I wish I could've been there and talked to him”, you looked down at your shoes and added more misery to your face than was necessary. It was extremely childish and petty but Grover kept refusing to tell you what your father Ares was like. You had to know though. You doubted he brought you up, but you still wanted to know what he said and what he was like when he was just out and about. Grover had the opportunity to have a long talk with him and that was something you'd kill and suffer for. 

“I doubt you'd wanna do that” he mumbled, but you heard him. 

“Why'd you say that?” You asked. 

Grover refused to expound on what he meant… at first. 

Everyone knew Grover couldn't hold water so it didn't take too much prodding before he spilled his guts. 

The memory replayed in your head more than you'd like to admit, and if it were up to you, you'd no longer be a half blood. 

It made you feel pathetic. Tons of gods- no. All the gods were shitty parents. After all, they had children with mortals and left the children on Earth, knowing they'd be hunted down. Plenty of half bloods died in a gruesome painful way and at a young age. Plenty of gods never claimed their children, even if they made it to Camp Half Blood. But Ares did claim you, so you assumed that that meant he cared for you in some way. He even gifted you with a double sided sword. Surely, he must've loved you. 

You were foolish and you hated how foolish you were. You should've known he didn't care. He left you here with mortals and watched as your home life got worse and worse which was due to multiple factors including a piss poor mother and step family, the aura children of Ares give off that makes people around them experience rage and of course the random monster attacks that your family blamed you for. It was as if they thought you begged Ares to be his child. As if you'd ever do something as stupid as that. 

The rain soaked through your hood, making your hair all wet and gross. You were an idiot. You tried coming home for the school year, thinking maybe your family changed. They said they did. They tended to lie a lot though. You got into a huge fight and stormed out and you were in such a hurry that you completely forgot to grab your pouch full of drachmas and you didn't wanna step another foot in that house. So now here you were, outside with freezing cold hands that couldn't be warmed because your hoodie was soaking and you couldn't call Chiron. Perfect.

You checked your pockets once again, hoping to find something other than the lighter and fruit roll up that was there but alas, nothing magically appeared. You held the two objects in your hand and an idea formed in your mind. 

You could always set the fruit roll up on fire as an offering. You could pray to your father and hope he hears you and sends you something to help. 

No. That's incredibly stupid. Could you even light a fruit roll up on fire? It didn't matter. Not only was that the stupidest offering ever but you refused to pray to him. You'd rather sleep out in the rain then sneak inside when your family was gone to get your shit. 

You put the two objects in your pocket and let your head rest on your knees, exhaustion hitting. It wasn't even physical exhaustion. It was all mental and emotional. Like a leech was sucking on you constantly. Or a vampire. You'd prefer that. At least you'd die quicker. 

The hum of a motorcycle filled your ears, getting closer and closer. Best case scenario, it was a neighbor. Worst case scenario, it was a murderer. Honestly, you'd welcome both. 

The hum stopped and a familiar voice made you look up, “rough night”. 

It was him. Ares. God of war. Father to who knew how many. It was someone you definitely did not want to see… or so you thought. Part of you absolutely despised him now and everything to do with him and wanted to rip him apart. The other part of you though still felt an immense amount of joy when you saw him and you wanted to cling to him like a child clings to its favorite toy. If you were alone, you would've screamed. 

Then a thought crossed your mind. You didn't burn anything. You didn't make an offering. 

“You were going to” he said, seeming to read your mind. 

“Why are you here?” you managed to get out after some time of just staring at him. 

“Why do you think I'm here?” he asked and you could tell by his tone he meant it sarcastically. Like “the reason is so obvious. Stop being stupid”. 

Something about that sarcastic and irritated tone made you think back to what Grover told you. 

“Why don't you like me?” You asked and you hadn't meant to. It was supposed to stay in your head. 

He squinted his eyes at you and looked you up and down, “what?”. 

You could've let it go. You could've said nevermind, thanked him and let him help. You couldn't though. You didn't know when you'd have this chance again (the camp visited them but damn, there was a lot of you) and if you did something to make him not like you, you wanted to fix it. But that wasn't your job, right? Parents are supposed to care for their kids. 

You did that a lot. Your mind juggled opposite thoughts and it drove you insane. This was just the latest bit of juggling you'd been doing. 

“Grover said he spoke to you-”

“Who is Grover?”

“Percy's friend. The satyr”. A look of anger flashed in his eyes. You knew he remembered Percy. You didn't give him time to start yelling about the 12 year old that beat him in a fight. “Grover said that he spoke to you. I asked what it was like and he said that you said that you hate kids. Even your own. And when we visit, it's the worst day of the year. So, I was just wondering why you don't like me. Is it something I've done?”. 

Ares just rolled his eyes and sighed, “you're taking that personal?”. 

“It's kinda hard not to”. 

“I came to take you back to camp, not talk about whatever crisis you're having right now”. 

You didn't know if you were angry because of what he said, or because of his effect on others. Either way, blood started rushing to your head. “I'm not asking for a lot. I'm asking for an answer. A simple answer. Why don't you like me?”

“I don't like any of my kids”

“And that makes it better?” You asked in disbelief. Ares just stared at you, emotion void on his face. 

“Why do you do this? You keep having kids even though you hate them. Why?”. 

“It's not that simple and I don't have to explain anything to you”. You wished he'd show emotion. Any sliver of it. He was too calm, too numb. You'd prefer him yelling at you but nothing seemed to phase him. He was talking to you the same way you'd talk to a toddler. 

“It is incredibly simple. Just stop having sex with mortals. You already have Aphrodite -who is a married woman but whatever-” you rushed the last part. You didn't particularly care for the affairs between the gods. “How could your eyes possibly wander?”. 

Seeing him show a sliver of anger when you mentioned Aphrodite only filled you with more rage. That’s what angered him? That’s what got emotion out of him? “Really? That's what gets you? What about me being drenched?”

“You chose to come out here” he said through gritted teeth. If you knew Aphrodite was the key to him showing any piece of human emotion, you would've brought her up earlier. 

“I didn't choose this!” Your voice rose, “I didn't choose to be abandoned by my father and be stuck with a dysfunctional family for the rest of my life. You should be angry at that, not me mentioning Aphrodite. You should be enraged at the thought of anyone putting their hands on me and your hands should be covered in their blood! That is how it should be”. 

“Believe it or not the gods aren't too keen on the idea of killing mortals”

“But turning them into various objects and ruining their lives when it's a boring Tuesday is ok?”. His face went back to being blank and emotionless and your plan to stop talking was scrapped. You weren't even sure what you wanted. You wanted him to show something besides anger. Sadness? Regret maybe? Just something to show that maybe, just maybe, he cared deep down and regretted leaving you. 

“None of us asked for this. You all just decide to create and leave us. And you hating the people you created is… I don't know. And it's so stupid that I've spent years of my life trying to get you to be proud of me, only for it to be impossible!”. 

“I claimed you didn't I?” he defended himself, but you scoffed. 

“That's the bare minimum dad! That's like saying your kids should be grateful because you feed them!” You were full on screaming by now and you wouldn't have been surprised if a neighbor came out to see what the fuss was about. “I don't even know why I'm having this conversation with you. You probably hate being called 'dad’ and you don't care. You're never gonna get it”

“I try everyday to make you see me and you do everything in your power to not see me. To not see any of us. I would work myself to death for you. I would betray anyone close to me for you. If you asked me to burn down the world for you, I would. If you asked me to extinguish the sun, I'd find a way to because to me… to me you were everything. You are everything”. 

You couldn't tell if your face was wet from the rain, or from tears of sorrow and anger. It could've been both. Your eyes certainly stung and you hated it. You knew you had every right to be frustrated, but you hated how weak it made you feel. The children of Ares weren't supposed to cry. They were supposed to be headstrong and fight their enemies. They were supposed to be fierce warriors capable of bringing armies down to their knees. They were meant to shed blood, not tears. 

You thought for a second you saw an emotion cross his face. You couldn't pinpoint it though. It happened too fast and there was a good chance you were imagining things. 

“You can go. I'd rather sleep in the rain. I wouldn't wanna be even more of a burden” you spat with such venom you didn't know it was possible. Sure, you could have a bit of a temper but this felt different. It wasn't just anger or annoyance. There was a mix of grieving. 

It went silent for awhile, and the adrenaline you felt slowly went down. Reality started to sink in. You just yelled at a god. People who were known to cause destruction for something as small as “I think my shoes are better than yours”. 

“Are you gonna curse me? Or, I don't know, strangle me with my own shoe laces?”. Ares reached into his pocket and you looked away and closed your eyes. You expected to feel a burning sensation. That's what you assumed being cursed was like. A burning sensation and then you'd lose a limb or something. 

All you felt was something land on your lap. You looked down and saw a red pouch with gold string keeping it closed. You looked up at him, but he didn't say anything. You untied the string and opened the pouch and inside laid a pile of drachmas. 

Now he spoke, “call Chiron or whoever else works at that camp. Don't die out here”. 

“You're leaving?” You asked. You didn't know why you were disappointed. You should've been happy. After all, you just went off on him about how shit he was. 

“I have a busy schedule”. You wanted to ask if he'd be seeing the married woman he slept with or another unfortunate mortal, but you figured you pushed your luck enough today. 

“Thanks uhh…” you debated on calling him dad but instead you called him by his name. “Ares”. Then you remembered some gods could be particularly upset when you used their name. “God of war and all those other honorifics”. 

“Yeah” was all he said before he sped off, leaving you alone once again. You didn't know what he was saying “yeah” to but you didn't have enough time to ask and he probably wouldn't even answer. 

You called Chiron and asked to be brought back to camp but you didn't tell him about the conversation you had with Ares. 

You couldn't get the conversation out of your head, even after you showered and laid down to finally get some rest. 

Of course you kept thinking about the conversation and how lucky you were Ares didn't throw you into the street and run you over. 

Another thing stayed on your mind though. 

You didn't give an offering. You were told the gods would listen if you burned something that mattered, like the thickest piece of meat on your plate. You weren't sure they were actually listening and honestly you thought it was a real asshole condition. 

All you had was some stupid candy and you didn't even burn that and the minute you thought about it, he appeared like he was already watching. 

But you doubted he was watching. You doubted he listened to your prayers at all. 

You were one of his children which was something he hated. He'd claim you, possibly send a gift then be done with you. He didn't listen to you anymore. He didn't watch over you anymore. 

It was a coincidence. That's all it was. 

You were sure of it. 

At least, you tried to be. 

This is definitely ooc Ares but YA’LL KNOW I’M A LITTLE FUCKING SLOW! BE PATIENT WITH ME GOTDAMMIT😭 If you saw any errors, no you did not. I already proofread it once and I don’t feel like doing it again like I typically do. It’s 1am. I should be asleep.