#think she’d go to one in maine bc it’s far away from home but still has all the same comforts

[hannibalhadalittlelamb]

Oh wait what about Abigail in college?

[randombush3]

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken? 

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible. 

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier. 

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.” 

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.” 

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.” 

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?” 

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.” 

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.”  You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.” 

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to. 

“I am always on your side.” 

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be. 

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase. 

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

… 

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted. 

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you. 

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad. 

And… you, apparently. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door. 

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.” 

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously. 

“Of course.” 

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence. 

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft. 

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.” 

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?” 

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this. 

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration. 

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection? 

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor? 

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility. 

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.” 

“Maybe she only likes men.” 

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.” 

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.” 

…

You are more than a little confused. 

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend. 

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much. 

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you? 

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world. 

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar. 

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?” 

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.” 

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.” 

“I cried for months.” 

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.” 

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes. 

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself. 

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.” 

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving. 

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said. 

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone. 

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.” 

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.” 

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy. 

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more. 

Do you regret it? 

It’s unclear. 

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here. 

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become. 

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date. 

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official. 

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face. 

There are many reasons why you go out with him. 

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied. 

He’s not Ona. You know that. 

That's the whole point. 

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care. 

But you just… don’t. 

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head. 

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself. 

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago. 

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them. 

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.” 

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday. 

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona. 

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger. 

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?” 

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country. 

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.” 

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen. 

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited. 

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially. 

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming. 

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it. 

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun. 

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced. 

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything. 

It won’t. (It does.) 

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight. 

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden. 

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun. 

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible. 

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk. 

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up. 

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore. 

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit. 

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom. 

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’. 

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right. 

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier. 

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.” 

It’s not true. 

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again. 

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done. 

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit. 

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill. 

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents. 

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again. 

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam. 

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off. 

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams. 

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.” 

“Why?” 

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.” 

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona. 

She picks up. 

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.” 

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.” 

“Are you back at home?” 

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.” 

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles. 

“Need me to show you around the city?” 

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no? 

…

Your visit goes very well. 

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend. 

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life. 

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery. 

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.   

Ona��s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement. 

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?” 

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa. 

“Who do you care about, then?” 

“You.” 

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day. 

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend. 

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter. 

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before. 

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back. 

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly. 

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.” 

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers. 

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her. 

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh. 

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?” 

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly. 

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.” 

Ona blushes. 

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless. 

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on. 

And that’s when she whispers it. 

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering. 

It has taken years but it does not matter. 

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home. 

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Chapter One.

a/n: welcome to the first chapter of wtsgd! i’m so excited for you all to read this story and for what’s to come. please please please support content creators bc we’re doing this for free and it takes up a lot of energy to put out stories. so reblog, leave feedback, and send a message to motivate and support them. happy reading everyone <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | word count: 6.4k

come talk to me about wtsgd! i’d love to know your thoughts!

March 4, 2017

The trunk was filled with heavy boxes that were labeled with thick black sharpie, which didn’t seem to leave Luciana’s senses; and one too many suitcases filled with her many articles of clothing that she couldn’t get rid of—no matter how hard she tried—since she was too much of a hoarder and every piece of clothing seemed to have a lost memory in them that she tried very hard to think of, which only meant that it was worth keeping. 

A droplet of sweat leaked down the side of her face due to  her nonstop packing and heavy-lifting from her childhood room upstairs to her dad’s car in the driveway. It didn’t help that the sun was beaming down at her with every move like she was on center stage, in front of the spotlight, but it made much more sense for the sun to do that because that’s where she belonged: on stage. 

Moving to Brooklyn, New York from Cambridge, Massachusetts during, what felt like, the coldest but the sunniest day of March wasn’t the smartest move—to be fair, Luciana was never one to make a smart move, anyways—but it was one that needed to be done. Plus, all the lifting seemed to have warmed her up. 

Her destination, or now, home, in New York was one that she’d been anticipating for a while now. She had auditioned for the role as Kim in Miss Saigon on Broadway in November, and she’d gotten a callback in January for the role as the second Kim, meaning she would be on rotation to perform every week or two weeks, so the main Kim could rest. But she would still have to go to rehearsals and be on the side of the stage watching the show just in case she needed to jump in at the last minute. 

It wasn’t her ideal way of playing the main lead, but nonetheless, she was grateful for the opportunity, and she would take any chance that was thrown at her to not only take another step towards her dream, but also another learning opportunity to make her a better actress. 

Little Luci would’ve been so proud of the present Luci because it’d been her dream ever since she was younger, to be on stage and eventually, be on the big screen. Although she was far from completing her dream of being a face in Hollywood, this was a step that would take her to where she wanted to be in the future, and for that, she was proud of herself. 

As a child, Luci had been in various commercials; from being the kid that played with slime and had no lines but to just put on a big smile while the sticky substance ran through her small hands, to being the daughter in a car commercial with one line that said “Are we there yet?” with a groan and a face of exhaustion as if she were the one driving the car. She hoped that these commercials would have someone recognize her talent, to cast her as a Disney star, but that would require moving to California, which her parents were wary of. 

The commercials stopped when she reached middle school. Her early adolescent years consisted of an abundance of attitude and mood swings; Luci was a very tough and determined kid. Her love for acting had grown into a big balloon that was let go and on its way into the galaxy where no one could reach it—where no one could mess with her achieving her dream. 

She would always stand in front of her white wooden framed mirror—with delicately painted colorful flowers around the border—reciting lines that she heard from a television series or the films that she watched, and she would write them down in her blue notebook. Sometimes, her parents would let her search the script up if it was available online. But oftentimes, she would test and challenge her memorization, and listen to it by ear; testing her mind, and eventually, her memorization skills were immaculate by the age of eleven. 

It was perfect timing because by the time she was in middle school, she was able to snatch the roles she wanted when her school’s drama department held school plays. Her family thought that she would start to hate being on stage since school plays always ran until late evening, but being part of the productions had only enhanced her love for her talent, and it only prepared her for a quarter of what her future may look like. 

All in all, from a very young age, she always knew that she wanted to become an actress. The spotlight or the center of the camera was where she always craved to be. 

And she was finally making that dream come true. 

A black Toyota Camry pulled into the space behind the car that was filled with her belongings. Ren and Beatrice, Luci’s lovely parents, both get out of the car with a pink box of donuts—a snack for the road and for when she gets to her new apartment. 

“Ready, Lucky?” Beatrice asked, rubbing her daughter’s back. She was quite bummed to see Luci leave her childhood home, but she’s proud to see Lucky Luci chase her dreams. She was, after all, twenty-five and was bound to move out at some point, but to see it actually happen made Beatrice quite emotional. 

“Ma, please, don’t cry…” Luci frowned as Beatrice pressed her fingertips to the corners of her eyes. She wrapped her arm around her mother’s shoulder, comforting her. “You’re all coming to New York in a month, right? To watch me on stage?” Luci asked, reassuring herself that she would see her family in a different state to rescue her from her loneliness. 

Luci was an independent woman. She could do tasks by herself, go places alone, and she wouldn’t have a problem with it; she enjoyed the company of herself. But to know that at some point she might be alone—that everyone had left her behind or forgotten about her—was what scared her. She needed to know that the people who loved her unconditionally wouldn’t forget about her. 

“Of course we’re going!” Ren exclaimed with a smile that Luci was going to miss seeing everyday. “We can’t miss our baby on the Broadway stage. If we could, we’d go to every damn show that you’re in, but that would be a lot of gas, no?” 

She chuckled, nodding her head. She felt tears pricking her eyes at how supportive her parents were—they’ve always been. If she could, she would take them with her to New York, but her one bedroom apartment and their work said otherwise. 

“Now, Lucky, don’t cry.” It was Beatrice’s turn to comfort her daughter. Like any parent, when they see their child cry, it breaks their heart and they cry too. “We’re gonna see you real soon. You can always come back anytime you want. We’re just a phone call away and we’ll pick you up,” Beatrice said between sniffles. The mother and daughter were embracing so tenderly and comfortingly—enjoying every last moment together until they got to see each other again. 

“Jeez, you’re both the same—always crying!” Ren interrupted, making the two women laugh; and he was glad they found what he said amusing because he couldn’t handle the sad moment. “C’mon here, my Lulu.” Luci settled into her father’s arms, hugging him tightly. She’s always been her dad’s girl, despite having a close relationship with her mother, her relationship with her father was something that felt like home; he always knew what to say and when to say it. It helped that she was the female version of him. “You’re gonna be the best star out there, I’m sure of it. Now, I want you to have fun, alright? The fame, the fortune, the big city…it doesn’t amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life” He comfortingly rubbed Luci’s back, holding her in a warm and tight squeeze. 

Luci smiled at her father’s words. She was always a bit hard on herself when she would mess up or forget a line or a movement that correlates to a specific line in her script. When she was younger, she would beat herself up for a sliver of a moment; she would cry into her pillow—sobs loud enough that they were heard from downstairs. Luci would think that she wouldn’t become a well-known actress just because of the minor forgetfulness her mind had presented. But Ren would gently tap on her ocean blue door, letting himself in because he knew his daughter didn’t have the energy to get up and let him in, and he would sit beside her, gently urging her to sit up with him. Once she complied, after many groans of refusals, she would be glad she did because her father looked deeply into her eyes—and it was like looking into the reflection of clear and clean water—and told her she was a star. It was only three words, but those three words reminded her to never give up and get up when she would hit the pavement of what she felt like were her fallen hopes and dreams. 

Ren would then end it with a statement of advice that had always lingered in her mind, resonating to the silent and harshful words that she tells herself. ‘Nothing will amount to anything if you’re not having the time of your life.’

A rush of gratitude settled upon her as her eyes became glossier by the seconds she was in Ren’s arms. Beatrice looked at her greatest treasures fondly, a smile appeared on her face only for it to be replaced by a look of confusion. 

“Where is that damn brother of yours? He said he was going to be here at ten!” Beatrice interrupted the sweet moment she was having with her father, making them disconnect from the hug—just as Ren did with Luci and Beatrice.  

Speaking of the devil, her dear brother was making his way towards home on the side of the street, wearing a grey sweatshirt that was stained with his sweat as his earphones were nestled in his ears, loudly playing music. He loudly sang along to some rap song, breath staggered as he rapped along with his hands. 

Nathan smiled once he stepped foot onto the driveway as he took out his earphones, seeing his family look at him vigilantly. Luci laughed, shaking her head. 

“Hey, there’s our superstar, little Ana!” Nathan opened his arms, ready to hug you but she quickly stopped him, curving her spine backwards to deny his hug. Ana had been one of the many nicknames her family had called her when she was growing up from the second half of her name, but Ana seemed to have stuck with Nathan as no one else really called her that, so it was his own personal nickname for her. 

“Ew, please, do not hug me.” Her face wrinkled in disgust from the spell of her brother’s sweat from his run. Nathan chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes before turning towards his parents. 

“Ooh, donuts-”

Beatrice slapped the back of his hand before he even got a chance to open the pink donut box. “Not until you shower and change. Lulu needs to be in Brooklyn by three!” 

“Ow, mother!” Nathan whipped his hand away from Beatrice’s burning slap, although he was just playing around and being dramatic. “But fine, alright. The star always gets what she wants, am I right?” He dropped his head towards Luci, sighing before he hurried inside the house to take a quick shower and change. 

Luci giggled, telling her parents that she would be right back to go up to her room to check if she’d gotten everything, even though she knew that she had everything, she just needed to reminisce alone for a moment. 

Her feet took her up the wooden stairs, where she, for some unknown reason, always spent her time sitting on as she leaned her back against the wall and read or drew. Nathan always found it weird of her when they were doing homework when they were younger, but it was just one of the many fun anecdotes he could tell reporters if he’s asked about their childhood. 

Pushing open her ocean blue door that she never changed because she loved the color, she was met with the emptiness of what was once her sanctuary. Despite the paint on the wall changing, the replacement of furniture, and rearrangement of her childhood room, Luci could still see the baby pink walls where she hung up various posters of her celebrity crushes when she was eight. She could still see herself walking over to her Cinderella white wooden dresser as she pulled out an inflatable microphone from her drawer before she walked over to her bed to sing her heart out with her cousin. In the corner of her room was her mirror that she painted colorful flowers along the border when she was younger, and she definitely did not want to change or get rid of it; it wasn’t difficult to stir up a memory when she was in front of that mirror because up until now, she was always reciting her lines to her own reflection until the late night. 

All of these memories that Luci held within her heart would help her ground herself—remind her where she came from. No matter where her career took her, she would always be the girl that was firstly known in her room, crying, laughing, and acting within the four baby pink walls until she was sixteen, and then it changed to an ecru white. The feeling of nostalgia clutched her chest, and for the second time today—not even noon, yet—she found herself crying. 

She silently sobbed in her sanctuary. Her chest felt tight, like her heart was grasping onto the memories, begging her to not leave, to not move on. But moving on would mean being stuck, and she didn’t want to feel stuck—she just never wanted to be in one place where the walls would slowly feel like they were closing in on her. She didn’t want to be in one place and eventually hated it, so for that, she had to move on. 

A soft knock was heard from the outside of her bedroom, making Luci turn around hastily. She found Beatrice standing in the doorway, warmly smiling at her daughter, and keeping the tears at bay because she needed the comfort of her mother more than her mother’s tears. 

“My Lucky Star…” Beatrice walked into the room, welcoming Luci into her arms. “You okay?” 

Luci deeply inhaled and exhaled as she calmed herself down from her cries. “I’m alright. It’s just hard saying goodbye to this place—to my room.”’

“Oh, Lulu. You don’t need to say goodbye. I know you’ll be coming back here soon, anyways. I know you love home too much to completely stay away.” Beatrice was subtly trying to remind Luci about her love for her hometown, for her home, but her words also were trying to remind her about that certain love for her home and to never forget that love so she doesn’t stray away because Beatrice was simply afraid Luci would never want to come back once she discovered the luxury of her career. And even though she knew her Lulu wasn’t one to forget about her family, Beatrice would never admit her fear. 

Luci sniffled, wiping her tears away as she pulled away from her mother’s embrace. “Yeah, I know. Just…doesn’t feel real that I’m leaving.” 

“Sure, you’re leaving, but you’re going off to do bigger and better things. You were never one to stay in one place, physically and mentally—you were always moving, always loved learning more. And I’ve always been so intrigued and interested in how your mind works.” 

“Ma…” The waterworks seemed to be the highlight of the move. 

“I’m serious! I’m so genuinely proud of you. You’ve been keeping your talent—and I don’t mean ‘high school plays’ talent. I mean your Broadway, Hollywood, Academy winning talent. Now, you get to showcase your light in front of thousands of people.” Beatrice always had a way of boosting Luci’s self-esteem, making her ego a tad bit more bigger than it already was. She didn’t mind if her self-esteem had skyrocketed into the galaxy of her dreams, but she always reminded Luci that being humble and kind always outweighed being obnoxious and arrogant. “Now, enough with these tears. You’ve got a road trip to New York. C’mon, now.” 

They made their way downstairs and out the door where Ren and Nathan were talking about the latest basketball game of the Celtics. The trunk was closed, and the only thing waiting was Luci herself. 

“There she is! Ready?” 

Luci took a deep breath, turning her head to look back at the pastel yellow house that had kept her safe for the past twenty-five years. From here, she knew everything was going to change. Whether it’d be for the good or if things would go downhill from here? She didn’t know; all she knew was that she was going to be doing what she loved and she was going to have the time of her life doing it. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

The state of Connecticut seemed to pass by quickly from the car as Nathan drove at a decent seventy miles per hour; the state vanished just as quickly as when they entered. 

Luci mindlessly looked out the window, thinking about everything and nothing at once as she drowned out the music playing through the speakers of the car and Nathan’s voice singing along. 

The cars passing by, the bystanders, and the locals filled the streets and highways, making her wonder what all of these people’s stories were—wondering if they lived in this city or if they were just stopping by to visit, or if they’re just going through the state to get to the one next door just as she was. Maybe she’s had an encounter or simply passed by them on the street in a world that seemed too large but small at the same time. She always pondered on whether everyone else thought the way she thought—if they wondered what her story was or the people around them. 

The world is an interesting place and there were so many intriguing people out there, making her more excited by the minute as she takes on this new adventure in her life that would be completely life changing. Luci’s going to be meeting so many new people that, she would hope, have an impact on her personal life or career. 

“Nervous?” Nathan broke the comfortable silence between them. 

Luci raised her brows and curled her lips into her mouth. “A bit.” 

He nodded, thinking for a moment. Nathan was always one to think before he spoke, and it was a quality that some people needed to learn how to do. He quickly learned that lesson when he was in high school; one of his friends, Johnny, and him were going back and forth joking around with one another. And for some odd reason, teenage boys liked to joke around about fucking everything, so Nathan had said “Yeah, I fucked your mom, what about it?” without thinking. Johnny stayed silent, the rest of their friends were waiting for his comeback, but they only received tears that glossed over his eyes before he ran off to a different part of campus, away from the lunch tables. Nathan found him behind the orchestra building with his face pressed on his kneecaps, crying. Later, he found out that Johnny’s mother had passed away before their sophomore year started and he hadn’t told anyone, which left Nathan quite speechless, but it was a lesson that he learned: to think before anything comes out of his mouth. 

“I know you’ll do great. You were born to do this, born to be on stage. Everything you do is to greater your experience and opportunities. All the mistakes you’re gonna make, which we both know you’re gonna make, they’re gonna be learning lessons for you to continue doing what you’re good at doing; the mistakes are there so you can better yourself,” he reassured, occasionally glancing at you briefly before averting his eyes back onto the highway. 

Luci smiled, never taking her eyes off her older brother. She leaned closer to the middle console, where his right arm was resting on the padded console. Hugging his arm tightly and resting her cheek on his shoulder, she accepted and appreciated his advice, his words. They made her heart fill up with so much gratitude and love, insanely grateful and happy that she had such an amazing and supportive family who always knew the right things to say when they could sense her nerves and anxieties powering through the roof. 

“You’re gonna kill it out there. This is just a step towards where you wanna go, where you actually wanna be.” 

She nodded, looking to her right as they quickly passed the ‘Welcome to New York’ sign from the state line of Connecticut and New York, and it was the sign indicating her new home. 

Nathan pulled into the apartment’s parking garage, entering in with the code that the complex gave Luci on the silver keypad as the two watched the automatic gate arm swing up to the side, and Nathan entered the parking structure, parking in one of the many spaces available. 

Luci excitedly got out of the car, rushing to the trunk where Nathan had opened it from inside the car. Unfortunately, she had forgotten to bring the hand dolly to help carry the boxes, which meant that the siblings were going to have to carry the many boxes she packed by her own hand and strength. But luckily, some of them weren’t that heavy; most of the items in the brown boxes were kitchenware and she figured she could just drag those. 

One by one, they took one box each and headed for the elevator, where it took them to her apartment floor—floor four. Luci grabbed the keys from her purse that contained two copper keys hanging on one single silver loop and a small keyless sensor, and she unlocked her navy blue door, revealing her new apartment. 

When she entered, she was met with a door across the entrance that she would use for her coats and shoes, things that she would need when she’s rushing out the door. Going through the small hallway in from the entrance, it led her to another small hallway to her left where her bedroom and guest bathroom was; and to her right, it would take her to the kitchen and living space. With four big windows with black window frames, the natural light really came in, making her place brighter for saving electricity. 

Walking in and putting the boxes against the black cabinets in the kitchen, she immediately fell in love with the space, her space. Despite already taking a tour of the apartment a few months prior to her official move in day, it felt different being there for the second time because she now knew that this place was hers. She saw it in a different light, and she was already anticipating the memories she was going to make in her new home. The place was empty; and with every step and every noise from her mouth, the room would echo, and she loved it. There was something satisfying about the echo in an empty space that was hers, like she wanted to furnish the hell out of it, but at the same time, she didn’t mind the echo. 

“This is your new home.” Nathan put an arm around Luci’s shoulder. He got a bit emotional seeing his baby sister grow up and move away from home, but he was excited for all of the experiences and memories she was going to make. Luci looked up at him, not saying anything but smiling as she was speechless. Nathan could practically feel the excitement run through her and all he did was chuckle at her speechlessness. “C’mon, let’s go get the rest of the boxes.” 

For the next fifteen minutes, Luci and Nathan hauled the boxes from the car, to the elevator, and down the hallway to her apartment. There were about four more boxes left in the trunk, and they would’ve been finished by now if they hadn’t been taking breaks. 

Nathan’s phone rang as he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the cabinets of the kitchen across from Luci who was sitting in the corner where her dining table would be. 

“Hello?” Answered Nathan. “What? Tonight? I’m in New York. I’m helping my little sister move here. Uh, okay. Sure. Bye.” He groaned, standing up. 

“Who was that?” Luci asked, nosy as she was. 

“That was one of the board members at Mass General Hospital.” Luci’s eyes widened. “They just asked me if I could come in tonight to teach and supervise the new residents.” Nathan was a general doctor working in the Emergency Room as Mass General back in Boston. He’s always wanted to teach with all the knowledge he’s stored in his brain—always wanting someone to learn a thing or two when they spoke to him, and this was his chance. 

“Holy shit, that’s amazing, Nate!” Luci stood up, excited for him.

He started to breathe a bit heavily and Luci immediately took notice; she could practically feel the nerves coming out of him, the same nerves she felt while going in for an audition. “Yeah, I actually have to leave, like, right now.” 

“Hey, hey.” She quickly stopped him from running out of the building and out of his mind. “Come here—breathe with me for a second.” She held onto his wrists gently. 

“Luci, I have to-”

He pulled away, but she tugged him back. “You’re going to drive yourself through the highway, and who knows what will happen, you might get pulled over and you won’t make it to the hospital. So, just take sixty seconds to breathe with me.” 

For the remainder of the time that they had together, they took some deep breaths. She spoke encouraging and uplifting words to him to calm down his nerves and anxieties that he seemed to drive himself over a cliff for, and it seemed to work as Nathan’s shoulder’s weren’t so tense and the grip on her hands had loosened. 

The two of them walked down to the parking garage where Nathan took down the last four boxes and placed them by the entrance of the complex. He was adamant on helping her get the last few boxes up to her apartment, but she shrugged it off, telling him that she was able to carry them and that he needed to leave because he’s most likely going to hit traffic during rush hour. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay? I mean it. I will drive here in a heartbeat.” 

“I will, I will-”

“Just not tonight,” he joked. “This is the highlight of my career.” His smile was so bright that it was like he was a little kid on Christmas again who just received a Hot Speed set from Santa. 

Luci laughed, hugging him goodbye. “And call me if you need anything too. I’ll miss seeing you everyday,” she admitted, a slight frown on her face. She thought she’d have the entire day with Nathan, but it was cut short due to his work but she wasn’t mad about that at all because she knew there'd be plenty of times when he would drive down to walk along the New York streets and see her perform. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Ana. But I love you and I’ll see you next month!” He hurried into his car, and Luci watched him as he pulled out of the driveway, waving at the rear view mirror to say one last ‘see you later’ to his little sister. 

Walking back to the curb where all of the boxes were set, Luci picked one up to test how heavy it was and she barely made it upright without almost hurting her back, so she put the box down to take a proper breather. She decided to drag the box closer to the door of the complex—which saved her a few steps without completely dropping the box that was labeled ‘glass plates’—and pulled the handle of the door, only to find it completely locked. There was a slight panic that flew through her until she realized that she needed her keyless tag that she had to press against the pad on the wall to get inside the complex, so she blew out a sigh of relief before reaching down to her pocket for her key, and with just her luck, her keys weren’t in her pocket or with her at all. Then she started to panic again. 

Luci quickly walked out of the parking garage and to the front of the building where the leasing office was to find them closed, which was odd because it was Saturday, but apparently their servers were down so they just decided to take the entire day off. She rolled her eyes annoyingly, walking back to the garage in a fast manner because she didn’t want anyone to take her boxes, and so she figured that she could just wait until someone left the complex or arrived. She even left her phone at her place, so it wasn’t like she could call anyone to help her, but some sort of entertainment would help the time go by quicker. 

Sitting on the curb in the garage, pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, and humming the melody from the Miss Saigon soundtrack, an hour goes by until she sees someone walk past the automatic gate barrier, heading towards the entrance where he opened the door with his tag. Luci sprinted towards the door, calling out for help. 

“Wait, wait!” The man turned around confusingly, taking his AirPod out of one ear. She caught up, taking deep breaths as she waved at the man. “Sorry, I’ve been out here for an hour and I completely forgot my key.” He didn’t say anything but stared at her, wondering why he’s never seen this woman before. The apartment complex really only had four floors, and he’s sure that he’s seen everyone who’s lived here. She noticed that he looked down at the boxes and back at her. “Oh, I just moved in.” He nodded more understandingly. “Do you mind holding the door for me?” 

“Sure.” Was the first thing he told her before stepping aside to hold the door. She took another deep breath, getting into the correct form so she doesn’t throw her back out, and began to lift the heavy box. He noticed her struggling, and he felt foolish for not offering his help in the first place when he noticed the four boxes on the cement. “Here, sorry, let me help with that. Get the door, yeah?” Luci’s heart flipped once she heard his deep, accented voice before she gratefully thanked him and he grabbed the box from her, replacing her hands with his and the slightest brush of their fingers made her flustered; he held the box tightly to his chest without much struggle. 

“Yeah, let me just get this one.” Luci grabbed a much lighter box that had all of her shoes, and held the door for him with her foot as he made his way inside of the building and to the elevator. He pressed the button with the arrow pointing up, and luckily, they didn’t have to wait for more than five seconds before the bell at the top chimed and the stainless steel doors opened. 

With the heavy box in his hands, he still let Luci walk in first, which made her smile and he followed in as she pressed with the bold ‘4’ printed on it. He held the box in between his chest and the other end of the bar on the wall as they waited in silence as the elevator lifted them up to her apartment floor, and she brushed past him when he lifted his arm, gesturing her to go first. 

Her front door was closed but it was unlocked, which only made sense, so she opened her door, putting the box next to the entrance and politely asking the man to put it next to the one you put down. 

“Thank you so much, really. You have no idea how much I appreciate your help.” 

“It’s no problem. I was the same when I moved here too—forgot my keys and was locked out.” He related to make her feel lighter about the situation since it was an honest mishap. 

“Did you go to the leasing office?” She asked curiously. 

“Yeah, but they were closed.” 

“They’re closed today too! It’s like they do that on purpose whenever someone new moves in.” The man chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. 

She hadn’t gotten a proper look at him since she was too distracted by trying to get into her building, but just by one real look at him, he was very attractive—probably too attractive to where she couldn’t think straight. He was wearing a pastel yellow and white striped button down that was a bit flowy and open, showing his white tank underneath that was tucked into his black skinny jeans. His tank top was low enough, exposing a patch of chest hair and his necklace that rested against his skin, in between his swallow tattoos just below his collarbones. Rings hugged his long fingers on both hands as he held two brown paper bags from Trader Joes. He was handsome, that’s for sure, and she felt like she was going to compare his beauty to all the other men that she was going to encounter in the future. 

“They’re not very good at going into work, but if you give them a call then it’s like they’re a 24/7 help center.” 

Luci nodded, chuckling. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“I’ll help you with the last boxes.” Before she was about to protest and tell him that he didn’t have to help her anymore because she was sure the last ones were light, he made his way towards the elevator and she quickly followed. 

To her surprise, one of the boxes was heavier than the other and she was glad that the man was able to carry it for her. They took the boxes up to her apartment, stacking it on top of the ones that were set down before she thanked him gratefully again. 

“I really appreciate all your help.” She smiled, leaning against the doorframe. 

“Not that I’m doubting your strength or anything, but how were you supposed to get those boxes up to your apartment?” He asked softly, not wanting to offend her by his words. 

“Oh, my brother was supposed to help me, but he had to go back home for an emergency at work.” The man nodded, seeming that was the most acceptable answer, not like he was searching if she was lying. “But thank you for your help. You’re a true lifesaver,” she said with a soft smile on her face. Her tone was a bit flirty than she wanted it to be, but it naturally came out. 

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you around.” Luci hadn’t closed her door yet, but she found out that he was literally her neighbor on the opposite side of the wall. He didn’t even have to take two steps to get to his place—all he had to do was turn around and he was home. She smiled at the thought of that, glad that her neighbor was already so kind to her. 

As he was fumbling with his keys, he eventually got his door unlocked, and Luci was itching to ask what his name was—maybe make her first friend during her first day living in the big city. The man felt his neighbor's eyes on him, burning through the back of his head, so he turned around at the same time she spoke. 

“Uh, hey,” Luci called out. He was looking over his shoulder, pursing his lips as he raised his brows. “I was wondering if…you’d like to have dinner with me tonight? Y’know, to thank you for all your help and practically saving me while I was stranded.” She chuckled, playing with the tips of her fingers as she looked at him with hope. 

He thought the invitation was nice, but…“It’s okay, really. I, uh, have plans already tonight,” he admitted honestly because he doesn’t make a habit of being dishonest. 

Luci had some thick skin—she grew it throughout the years, and she had always been pretty confident. So many people would think that she could handle rejection well because she’s auditioned for many roles in her lifetime, and had been rejected for most of those roles. But the rejection that her neighbor handed to her so respectfully and politely was one that hit her the most, and she didn't know why. 

Curling her lips into her mouth as she felt the pang of her heart sinking into her chest, she nodded and placed a small smile onto her face. 

“Have fun tonight, then. I’ll see you around.” She grinned, hiding the slight bit of pain that she felt. He nodded, walking inside his apartment as she was in her doorway as well. “Oh, I’m Luci, by the way.” She introduced herself, feeling like she should have done that ten minutes ago, but it had slipped her mind. 

The corner of the man’s mouth turned up into a sly smirk, and she nearly felt herself fall as she gripped the door handle tightly. It was enough to make the pain in her chest disappear, and all thoughts of the rejection that she would think about for the rest of the night vanished. 

“Nice to meet you, Luci. I’m Harry.” 

With that, Harry closed his door, putting a barrier between him and Luci, who was still standing in her doorway. She let out the longest sigh of her life, feeling like she’d been constricting herself from breathing properly for the last ten minutes. 

Luci closed her door and leaned against it, looking down at the boxes that were resting by her feet. She softly smiled, her cheeks were starting to get warm, and she was fully aware that Harry was the cause of it.

come talk to me about your thoughts and feelings! hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, thank you for reading <3 

ty to @sunflowers-styles​ for beta reading!

[plinkcat-gif]

ugejwusiyaiegajfhf anon u gave me the most severe brain rot for this owl house au and i want to draw it so bad but i can’t !!!!!!! anyway major spoilers under cut for the owl house season 2B

so kakashi as hunter makes the most insane sense to me like that’s so big brained of u anon i feel so galaxy-brained even thinking about it!!!!! kakashi being not even human or witch, not even Born he was literally Made. his sense of identity, which is is main crisis as a kid in naruto, is here too and that’s so!!!! yes!! and then danzō as emperor belos who made kakashi as a replacement for tobirama, his best friend of years ago (yeah depending on if it changes or not i’m aging tbrm down so this makes sense lol), and saying “what a shame. of all the others, you were the one that looked most like him” OH MY GOD!!!!!! like kakashi as a tobirama reincarnation (in a sense) makes so much sense!! and just. god the angst of danzō killing him over and over again through these reincarnations because he hates what tbrm became so much :’(((((

and ok ok i just. i need several minutes bc i’m shaking just thinking about this but kakashi’s identity rooted entirely in what danzō fed him, finding out danzō’s actually a HORRIBLE person who deserves to die a million times over but still not being able to completely separate himself from him because that’s all he knows??? like he doesn’t know how to make decisions for himself yet????

and and and minato masterminding a whole plan to take danzō down from the inside, faking memory loss to remain unsus, pushing kushina away when all he really wants is to be with her and take down danzō together

AND KUSHINA AS EDA???? don’t even get me STARTED she would be SO FUN!! like i love eda so much and kushina is the perfect replacement for her :33 just a silly gal!! not taking stuff seriously unless it needs to be, helping obito and trying to understand him, giving him all the advice he needs,,,,,,,,

and i’m thinking tenzo as willow bc listen!!! tenzo getting a little side arc of “i’m tired of being viewed as ‘weak’ and etc by my peers, i’m going to get stronger” and not only physically stronger, but socially too???? like going out, making his own club, recruiting people and being a leader? PERFECT!!! and rin as amity, but i don’t think she’d play the same role—she just doesn’t strike me as mean in any world lmao. i think she’d be more avoidant of obito because of her reputation and his reputation, but not outright mean. and then they finally become friends and just. they’re so good for each other!!

and obito’s constant crisis of wanting to go home but also having found a new family and living the life he always daydreamed of,,,,god listen i relate to that so hard i’m going to preheat but just hear me out. obito maladaptive daydreaming so hard all the time, forgetting to take his meds, wishing he could just leave because he keeps disappointing his mom with his grades and he doesn’t know how to fix it because he can’t entirely control it…finally getting what he wants, a wizard world!! then going back to the human world thru the portal, finding out that he’s been replaced (eh whatever they’re cool too and they take care of mom) but that also, his mom wants him to come back? forever??

like he’s of COURSE he wants to go back, he misses his mom so much, but her not being able to understand that he’s made so many friends here?? and that he’s been making important decisions for himself and they’ve all been good so far, and that he can be independent??? GOD. GOD FUCK FUCK. I LOVE HIM OKAY I LOVE HIM!!!!!!!! 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

i’m biting my fingers i’m going to chew my hand off I LVOE THIS!!! and literally don’t even get me started on worldbuilding and the other characters bc i haven’t even THOUGHT of who darius will be or how obito, rin, tenzo, and kakashi’s relationshil will progress or—

[azucanela]

SOME THINGS NEVER CHANGE

PAIRING: SUGAWARA KOUSHI X FEM!READER

REQUEST: if you’re feeling into it a suga fic where they like dated during high school and later get back together after college would be awesome!! maybe fem y/n was manager for karasuno or something and they just broke up bc of distance! and if you don’t want to do this that’s perfectly okay! take care of yourself, you’re an amazing writer!!

WARNINGS: ANGST TO FLUFF. KISSING. MILD TIMESKIP SPOILERS.

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

A/N: i love suga, SUGA SUPREMACY, thank you for the request it was fun to write!

HAIKYUU!! MASTERLIST

HE LOVED HER AND THERE WAS NO DENYING IT, but it wouldn’t be the first time that two people very in love had been forced apart for whatever the circumstances. 

You could see it in the way he forced her onto the inside of the sidewalk— a small thing done in an attempt to keep her safe from possible incoming cars. You could see it in the way Sugawara’s eyes fell on her absently, so encapsulated with her words and the passion in her voice. You could see it in the way he seemed to light up when he saw her in the stands of his volleyball games, even though he likely wouldn’t be playing. 

And oh did Y/N L/N love him as well. Her sad smiles at the mention of his name were evidence enough, and if not, it was the way she frequently asked Daichi and Asahi of his health full well knowing the boy had a tendency to forego taking care of himself when he was so caught up in the well being of others.

Kageyama had observed it early on— or more accurately, Hinata had observed it early on, pointing out to the young setter that his senior was obviously enamored with their second manager. Hinata’s emotional intelligence had always been far ahead of Kageyama’s, although Kageyama had noticed the difference in... treatment between the pair, he had never truly realized they were dating.

But it soon became abundantly clear that they were in fact, together. And Y/N L/N wasn’t just the other manager of the Karasuno Boy’s Volleyball Team, but the girlfriend of Sugawara Koushi.

Which is the main reason why Kageyama had suspected she hated him early on, after all he’d taken her boyfriend’s spot on the starting line up, and he had bluntly pointed this fact out to her by the vending machine one day. Though Y/N had simply laughed it off, bringing a hand to Kageyama’s shoulder and offering him a smile.

Just like Sugawara had. Maybe that’s what made them the perfect pair, Kageyama wasn’t sure. But anyone with a set of eyes could tell they were a disgustingly perfect couple. 

Which is why Kageyama had never imagined they would break up. Nor had anyone in the club really. Even Asahi and Daichi were left in shock as the pair went their separate ways. 

It was supposed to make things easier, leaving. They would both be abandoning everything they ever knew and heading off to college after all, and seeing as they’d both ended up at different colleges... well, how plausible was a long distance relationship? 

It was a mutual break up. That they mutually did not want. 

Not much changed if Y/N is honest, and maybe that’s why she didn’t find herself sobbing in her bed until she actually got to college. It was just a label, but at one point... the change became alarmingly clear to her— the fact that she and Sugawara Koushi were no longer together.

Sugawara felt it in the little things, when he went to message her good morning and remember that... they weren’t together anymore. Did Y/N even want a good morning text? Maybe she was receiving one from someone else now. 

Talking wasn’t awkward, with the silent agreement that if they ever needed someone to talk to, they would always be there. But the change was painful enough to drive them apart in a way that wasn’t just physical. 

It’s not until she’s seeing him again that Y/N is reminded of that very pain once more, though the smile on her face is still very genuine and authentic as she throws her arms around the three boys from her third year. 

Sugawara holds on for a little too long. 

“It’s so good to see you guys! Are we all excited for our boys’ final tournament of their third year?” She exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around Kiyoko.

Daichi ruffles Y/N’s hair as he grins, “of course I’m excited to see them win again.” Comes his reply.

And of course, Asahi finds himself beaming with an albeit nervous smile as he agrees, “definitely! I believe in them.”

“I dunno guys, maybe Hinata will forget to spike again,” Sugawara chimes in, jokingly of course, while Kiyoko nods along with the rest of her friends as she offers them a small smile. Her eyes drifting to the arm that Sugawara throws over Y/N’s shoulder. “It’ll be just like old times!”

Just like old times indeed.

Daichi finds himself giving Asahi a look, that is returned with a look of confusion until he gently shoves him forward, a look of realization washing over his face as he begins to walk faster and Kiyoko says, “why don’t we head on over to our seats guys?” She turns to Y/N and Sugawara, “would you mind getting us some snacks from the vendors?”

The pair exchanges looks momentarily before Y/N offers Kiyoko a smile as she nods, “yeah, of course. Any preferences?”

“The usual!” Daichi replies, waving them off as he drags Asahi away, winking at Sugawara before disappearing around the corner alongside Kiyoko as well. 

Sugawara simply raises a brow, opening his mouth to say something until Y/N’s hand comes to grasp his own— loosely holding the one wrung around her shoulder as she begins to speak of which vendor they should visit.

But the only thing he can focus on is the ring she wears. For a moment, he panics, thinking that someone else has already snatched her away, that he lost the woman he loves.

Until he looks a little closer and recognizes the very promise ring he’d given her in their third year, almost identical to the one he was currently wearing around his neck, attached to a chain he’d purchased shortly into his first year of college. After all, he couldn’t bring himself to take it off either. 

Y/N seems to take note of this, pausing before noticing where his gaze has fallen, her cheeks warming at the realization. “I’ve been meaning to return the ring to you, sorry about that.” She releases his hand with a tight lipped smile, moving to remove the ring, only for Sugawara’s hand to come over hers as he shakes his head.

“Keep it. What would I do with it anyways?” And who else would he give it to?

Y/N pauses, eyes drifting between the ring and Sugawara for a moment before replying, “okay.”  

It’s not that they hadn’t talked at all in the past few years, just that things had changed and now neither of them new where the boundaries were. What could they do? What couldn’t they? Where was the invisible line between friend and former lover? It was a line they danced around in each interaction and today was no different.

Y/N finds herself desperately needing some space as she inhales deeply, perhaps it’s because she’s shocked by how easily he’d wormed his way back into her heart in the five seconds they’d been together now. Or maybe it’s the reminder that nothing had changed, she was still going to college across the country.

It’s not until they’re seated beside each other once more, two years later, that Y/N realizes nothing had changed. 

It’s a party they’d thrown for the New Year, and practically a get together for their teammates, new and old. They pair had managed to get onto professional teams— to no ones surprise. Although the fact that they’d be opposing each other was a surprise. 

Somehow, Y/N and Sugawara had found themselves on the balcony of the home, fresh out of college— which had really been the only thing keeping them apart up until now.

So, something had changed.

“You’re officially a teacher!” Y/N exclaimed, beaming at Sugawara with a smile that he quickly returns, drink in hand. 

He’s leaning against the balcony. eyes drifting towards the lively city as he replies, “kind of. I was lucky to even get hired so soon after graduating.” He takes a sip of his drink, “I just hope next year is better.”

A small laugh escapes Y/N as she downs what is left of her own drink, “me too, Suga.” Their eyes meet, and she can see the way he stiffens at the name, it had been a while since she’d called him by anything other than his first name. Though Y/N disregards this fact as she asks, “so what school are you working at?”

Y/N can see the passion in his eyes as he begins to speak of the school he’ll be working at, nodding along until she realizes, she recognizes the name, mouth gaping open as she asks, “are you serious? I recently got a job at one of the corporations in that area!” She exclaimed. Sugawara is opening his mouth to say something when they suddenly hear the people inside cry out—

10.

“Oh! I didn’t realize it was that time.” Y/N mumbled, looking inside to see their friends— new and old— congregating together around the TV. She wonders how time could’ve passed so quickly, it feels as though she had only ventured out to the balcony a few minutes prior because last Y/N had checked, it was barely 10PM.

9.

Sugawara allows a laugh to escape him as he nods, “time flies by when you’re having fun right?” And Y/N finds herself in shock momentarily, wondering if maybe he’d read her mind.

8.

Y/N turns to him, offering him a small smile as she nods in agreement, “it does. Doesn’t it?” And Sugawara is left feeling breathless, even after all these years, her smile still seems to have that effect on him. 

7.

“I did, have fun. By the way.” Sugawara says, eyes darting between the door of the balcony and Y/N. His words are true, he did have fun, of course Sugawara would never consider lying to Y/N. And even if he did try, Sugawara had a feeling she’d be able to tell. 

6. 

“We should head back inside.” She continues, eyes drifting back towards where their friends are calling out the countdown. Huddled together, Y/N finds herself smiling at the sight of Tanaka’s arm around Kiyoko’s shoulder.

5.

Y/N meets Kiyoko’s eyes momentarily, and the look Kiyoko gives her is one of urgency, one that tells her, “don’t you dare come back here right now.” But Y/N finds herself rolling her eyes as she begins to head back inside. 

4.

Their relationship had been over for years, and yet Kiyoko was still trying to convince her that the boy’s feelings never changed. Though Y/N wouldn’t deny that she would always love Sugawara— and she had no doubt that he still loved her— those feelings were probably purely platonic now. Right?

3.

Right. Y/N shakes off the feeling as she continues inside, until she feels a hand wrap around her wrist, keeping her from carrying on inside and yanking her backwards. Y/N finds herself colliding with Sugawara’s chest with a gasp.

2.

Sugawara’s eyes meet hers, a clear question within them as he wordlessly places his drink on the rim of the balcony. The hand on her wrist still firmly placed there as Y/N nods slowly.

1. 

And suddenly his lips finds hers, Y/N’s arm winding around his neck with her drink still in hand while Sugawara’s hand comes to her waist in an attempt to pull her closer. Almost desperate to be closer to each other as the crowd inside begins screaming and cheering. Y/N frees her other hand from his grasp and brings it to his shirt to tug him even closer while his other hands comes to her cheek.

When they pull away, Sugawara is grinning as he says, “happy new year, babe.”

[peterparker-pickedapepper]

Always You

(Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Stark!Reader)

Chapter 01

A/N: this is set during Homecoming (and eventually FFH) in a universe where Tony isn’t ☠️ bc we don’t acknowledge that trauma here 🙂 also, there are elements from the comics and the older movies, but it’s still in the MCU

———————————————————————

I never meant to find it.

And I wasn’t being nosy either. It was my dads fault, really. Okay so yes, I wasn’t supposed to be in his workshop. But is it my fault he just leaves important things lying around? Mom’s told him to keep it tidy enough times you think it’d be engrained in his brain.

Anyway, the how isn’t important. Not even the why matters. It’s everything that came after.

It was the day my world began falling apart.

The moment I lost all trust—all respect—for the two men closest to my heart.

Now that I know their secret, I don’t see how I’ll be able to look them in the eye. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to keep my head up, act as normal as possible...

And see how long it takes for them to tell me themselves.

———————————————————————

                      Three Months Earlier

“I’m here on the corner of fifth and main, just a street away from the reported sighting of a flying man causing panic among the locals.”

Y/N adjusted her fingers around the smooth base of the microphone, her skin slipping against the hard plastic. It wasn’t nerves causing the dampness on her palms, but excitement. Her eyes flickered from the camera lens pointed in her direction to her best friend standing behind it before easily finding their mark again.

“The large, mechanically winged man has been wrecking havoc in New York’s beloved neighborhood of Queens for the last—”

The ground suddenly shifted beneath her feet with a loud boom, jolting her forward and stopping her report mid-sentence. She twirled around, eyes instantly landing on the sandwich shop across the street.

Or, rather, on the man looming ominously from its roof.

She could only assume it was a man. She’d never seen his face—or any part of his body for that matter—not that his skintight suit left anything to the imagination. But the media affectionately called him “Spider-Man”, so they pretty much filled in the blanks on that one.

She watched as he seemingly surveyed the area. It was always so hard to tell what was going on behind that mask, but every time she saw him she liked to imagine a picture perfect heroic expression etched into handsome features.

It made her disdain for the local superstar a little easier to swallow down.

His head swiveled back and forth a few times, fists clenching at his sides, before he shot one of his webs and disappeared on the other side of the building. She immediately turned back toward her camerawoman, lips pulled into an excited grin.

“This is perfect. Come on.” She wasted no time in scooping up some of the equipment laying at her feet, but stopped short when she noticed the apprehensive expression staring back at her.

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood to run toward danger today.” Her best friend’s bored voice didn’t match the concern she knew was brewing just below the surface.

“MJ,” Y/N all but whined. “We need this story.”

“We need to get ready for next week’s debate.” She muttered, mild annoyance seeping through. “We need to be home in twenty minutes so your dad doesn’t kill us. We need—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Y/N huffed, tossing the last of the camera supplies into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder.

She turned on her heel, pulling her phone from her back pocket as she moved toward the last crash that sounded a few blocks away. She was getting this story, whether she had to go alone or not. Screw her father’s arbitrary curfew. He was in India for the next few days, anyway.

“You’re serious?” MJ’s incredulous voice echoed from behind her. “What about Liz’s party?”

Y/N’s attention only wavered from the small screen in her hands once she was finished temporarily disabling the tracking feature her dad had not so subtly installed before giving it to her. He didn’t need to know she almost immediately figured out it was there, just like she didn’t need to know that he got a notification every time she hacked into the system.

Her eyes found MJ’s, wide with shock and following something in the sky above. Y/N’s head snapped upward, gaze locking on the flying man who was twisting and turning aggressively in an attempt to kick Spider-Man off his right wing.

“Yes. Very serious.” She huffed, pulse jumping with excitement. “If FRIDAY calls just, please, try to be convincing.”

With that, she spun around one last time before jogging toward the action. She knew MJ’s hesitation was coming from a good place. They’d been inseparable since middle school because they were on opposing ends of the same strong-willed base.

Where MJ was methodical and calculated, Y/N was rash and unpredictable. They were both the type to end up involved in sketchy situations, just at varying speeds and levels of grandeur. Y/N had her father to thank for that.

The iconic Tony Stark was not a pretender. He was who he was, loud and proud. He’d never apologized for it before—not even when he should’ve—and he probably never would. Y/N, on the other hand, had been pretending to be something she wasn’t for more than a decade.

He’d given her a choice when she was old enough for kindergarten. They talked about it, mapped out the pros and cons, and she made a decision. Soon after, she entered the outside world as Y/N Smith. It was the best thing her five year old brain could think of. Plus, she didn’t want her place on the alphabetical rosters to change.

She went to public schools—something Tony never missed an opportunity to mention he hated—and started paving her own way. Right now, that meant she was chasing a super-powered fight through the streets of Queens.

Since landing a highly sought after internship at The Daily Bugle, Y/N’s main priority had been impressing her overbearing bosses. That came with varying levels of complexity, depending on the superhero shenanigans of the month.

She rounded a corner into an alleyway, instantly ducking down when a blindingly bright object whizzed by her head. Her arms shot up in a protective motion as she leaned against the cool brick wall at her side. She remained there, frozen in place with a racing heart, for several seconds.

Something thumped to the concrete only a foot away from her crumpled frame, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She peeked through her arms, still crossed over her head, eyes widening as they landed on a pile of red and black fabric.

The lump groaned and slowly unraveled to reveal Queens’ favorite masked hero. He shook his head, the mechanical eyes of his suit twitching as if malfunctioning. Y/N was stuck in her spot, wide eyes hungrily drinking in every detail they could. Despite following his activity for months now, she’d never gotten this close to the mystery man.

His suit was tighter than she thought possible. It hugged his body in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The rippling muscles lining his torso were clearly visible beneath the thick material. She watched as he sat back on his heels and rubbed the side of his head, shoulders tensing as he seemed to finally realize that she was there.

“Whoa, hey.” Came his breathy, surprisingly high-pitched greeting. He cleared his throat before continuing, a steady hand extending her way. “Are you okay, miss?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed in curiosity, not missing the way his demeanor changed the moment he noticed her. It was like a flip switched. He’d turned on his superhero persona, a process she was unfortunately all too familiar with.

“I’m fine.” The words came out more forcefully than she’d intended, but she was all business now, too.

There was no way she was letting him out of her sight without getting some information. She wasn’t even worried about all the ways her bosses would kill her, she’d beat herself up enough for the missed opportunity. She ignored his hand, dusting her jeans off and hobbling to her feet before reaching for her phone to launch the recording app.

“Can I ask you a few questions, Spider-Man?” She jutted the phone out in front of her, and he took a step back as if the device would somehow hurt him.

The eyes on his mask widened, something she didn’t know was possible. “Oh. I...uh—”

Just then, the ground shook with a massive impact that couldn’t have been more than a block away. It would’ve knocked Y/N right off her feet if it weren’t for the gloved hand that shot out to stabilize her.

“Gotta go!”

By the time his hasty goodbye met her ears, he was gone. It took about ten seconds for Y/N to process what just happened before she took off running in the same direction he’d swung in. She was too far in to give up now. At this point, she’d settle for some shaky footage of the fight. It’d be enough to satisfy her editors for a few days.

She ran out in the street, stopping abruptly as a stampede of people swarmed her. Elbows and shoulders rammed into her sides as she tried fighting her way through the panic. 

“Oh, come on people! Chill the fuck out!” She found herself shouting to deaf ears. 

Maybe it was because she grew up immersed in the superhero way of life, or her bordering on unhealthy need to get some kind of story tonight, but either way she was aggravated by the public reaction more than anything.

She was rarely scared anymore, even when faced with imminent danger. Admittedly, she didn’t have a good gauge for when she might be getting herself into trouble. Another thing she blamed her father for. 

Her eyes remained trained on the sky, watching the fight unfold in mid-air. She cringed as Spider-Man nearly fell off the homemade-looking flying suit. He quickly regained his balance, shooting a web into one of the back engines. It immediately started sputtering as the metal clanked and caught in the sticky substance. 

They were going down, and fast. She knew this was probably her last chance to get any kind of discernable footage of the event, so she reached into her back pocket for her phone. It was at this moment that someone decided to shove into her so hard that she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. 

A rush of air left her lungs as she hit the asphalt, hard. She couldn’t help but wince as pain shot up both of her arms. There would definitely be bruises she’d need to hide later. Thankfully, at least she ended up near the curb so she wasn’t instantly trampled to death by the screaming crowd. 

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and huffed, wiping away the tiny rocks that were now embedded into her palms. She was about to hobble to her feet and call tonight a wash when her eyes landed on a blueish-purple glow coming from a nearby alley.

Maybe she wouldn’t get any useable footage tonight, but a souvenir would lift her spirits and, hopefully, her credibility in the office. Without wasting anymore time, she stumbled to her feet and ducked into the darkness of the cramped space.

She followed the pulsating light, stopping only when her eyes landed on a small, metallic object. It had a thin silver cage protecting what looked like a gem or rock of some kind. Nothing too crazy, aside from the whole glowing thing. Her brows furrowed with curiosity as she crouched down to get a better view. 

She had absolutely no idea what it was, and she’d seen a lot of weird things in her dads workshop. The only thing she could compare it to was some of the alien technology that’d been leftover from the Battle of New York. She’d run a few stories about that herself, plus saw her dad tinkering with some things since Thor took Loki back to Asgard.

Figuring she could show it to him at the very least, she pulled the end of her sleeve over her hand and grabbed it. She let her bag slip off of her shoulder and quickly unzipped it before sliding the object inside. 

Just then, the sound of screeching metal filled her ears at a deafening volume. She managed to close her bag before covering her ears and ducking against the brick alley wall. The crowd still surrounding the area screamed in horror.

She watched with wide eyes as the huge bird-man landed on the rooftop just a few feet away from her crouched form. It was the closest she’d been to the masked—villain? She wasn’t sure—and he was far more intimidating than she’d first assumed.

His glowing beady green eyes didn’t so much as glance in her direction as he slung Spider-Man over the edge of the building, the tip of one of his wings wrapped around his throat.

An involuntary gasp tore through her chest.

It wasn’t that she was worried about the hero. For one, she knew he was more than capable of fending for himself. It wasn’t even that she cared if he got hurt. He was mostly an annoyance to her, his illusive nature making her job way harder than usual.

But if she knew one thing in this moment, it was that the bird-man was the bad guy, and she couldn’t let him win.

So, she did something really stupid.

She found the closest thing that she thought might actually do any kind of damage—which was, unfortunately, an old bike helmet next to the dumpster—and chucked it at the pair.

It hit one of the metal wings with a pathetic clink and all three of them froze.

Y/N held her breath as the man’s head turned in her direction slowly. Way too slowly. Like ‘I’m going to really enjoy killing you’ slowly.

After that, everything happened impossibly fast.

“Hey! Watch out!” 

She barely had time to recognize the panicked voice before she was flying. Her stomach flipped and she couldn’t even scream, overcome with sudden vertigo. She pinched her eyes shut the second she saw the top of a building and clutched onto whatever was carrying her away. 

If it was the weird bird guy, she accepted whatever evil plan he had. But, if it was Spider-Man, she was going to kill him.

It must’ve only been seconds before her feet touched solid ground, but it felt like an eternity to her. The moment she felt the stability beneath her, she began fighting against her captor.

“Let me go! Oh my god. If you don’t put me down right now—”

“What the hell—ow!”

Once she was free, she staggered away from him with a huff. She cleared the hair out of her eyes and bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding wildly and her stomach was still doing summer-salts.

She raised her eyes to send a withering glare toward the masked man. “Never do that shit again.”

He stared at her—at least she assumed—for a long moment before taking a step forward.

“What the hell was that? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt.” He gestured wildly with his hands, clearly agitated.

“That’s one way to thank me for saving your life.” Y/N ground out, sounding way more bitter than she would’ve liked.

“Saving my—” The eyes on his mask narrowed incredulously. “You did not save my life. All you did was distract me and put like ten other people in danger.”

She couldn’t help but scoff. “Please. Spare me the morality speech, Spider-Man. We both know you don’t bother worrying about people like me.”

Y/N was all too familiar with how superheroes think. When they’re in the middle of a fight, all they care about is winning. They usually have a bigger mission to accomplish. One that doesn’t concern itself with the lives left behind.

“People like you are all I worry about, trust me.”

With that harsh declaration, a heavy silence fell between them. Y/N clenched her jaw tightly, biting her tongue to prevent the floodgates from opening. Spider-Man wasn’t the only one who deserved her hostility toward superheroes, he just happened to be the one in front of her now.

Instead of speaking her mind, she turned on her heel and stalked away from him. At this point, it was late. The sun had set and her dad surely knew she wasn’t home when she promised. She had to accept that today just wasn’t her day and head back for some damage control.

Peter, feeling his chest tighten with regret for the way he’d snapped, followed closely behind her quick steps.

“Wait!” She actually stopped, something he wasn’t expecting, so he rammed right into her back. His hands quickly wrapped around her biceps as she spun around. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I, uh...”

He didn’t know what to say. This was the second time in one night he’d run into her, but he was still dumbstruck. The circumstances weren’t ideal. He thought he’d lost her earlier, but then she had to go and put herself in danger.

He took a step away from her, dropping his hands and rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. He had to remind himself that she had no idea who he was. Even if he did embarrass himself—like he usually did around her—she wouldn’t know it was him when they saw each other in the halls come Monday.

“At least let me get you home.” He insisted, feeling bad that he’d indirectly kept her out so late.

Y/N pursed her lips, immediately wanting to accept his offer but trying not to give too much away. Truthfully, she was exhausted. She just wanted to get home and deal with the fallout disobeying her curfew would bring so she could get some sleep.

“Alright.” She sighed, pulling anxiously at the straps of her bag. She knew this meant she’d have to swing through the streets again, something she wasn’t nearly ready to do.

Nevertheless, she allowed Spider-Man to walk toward her. She averted her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her back and tried not to let her breath catch when his gloved fingers skimmed the exposed skin of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up.

Warmth enveloped her as his proximity settled in. Under his mask, Peter’s face was burning. This was by far the closest he’d been to his classmate. Or any girl, actually. Not wanting to think about it for a second longer, he shot a web toward a nearby building and followed the directions Y/N yelled out.

Within minutes, they landed on the helipad outside her front door.

Peter felt his stomach drop with realization once he let his eyes wander around the outside of the huge building.

“Oh my god. Is this seriously where you live?” He cleared his throat after squeaking out the question, not necessarily wanting to give away his shock.

“What?” Y/N scoffed teasingly. “Don’t I look like a spoiled rich girl?”

“That’s not—I wasn’t—” He didn’t know what he was trying to say, honestly. There were endless questions flitting through us mind at warp speed.

If she lived here, at the Avengers Tower, did that mean she was one of them? And he just hadn’t met her yet? Or did she work for Mr. Stark? But she was so young. He guessed she could be an assistant or something. Maybe she worked for Pepper? Or Happy? Or, she could—

Y/N rolled her eyes, deciding to spare him the embarrassment of sputtering any more. “My dad is famous...like helped form the Avengers famous.”

Peter’s mind went blank. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Cap?” It was the first name to spill out of his mouth. “Wait, can he even have kids?”

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at his assumption. “He totally can, but no.”

“Oh.” The gears of his brain started turning again and realization slowly dawned on him. He felt his throat run dry as his eyes widened behind his mask. “Oh.”

Shit. This was way worse. He couldn’t believe he had no idea who she really was. Sure, she used a different last name at school, but he should’ve seen the resemblance sooner.

“Look, I know you two have worked together.” Y/N sighed, thinking back to all those weeks her dad was gone fighting Steve and the rest of his friends for no real reason. “Can you just...not tell him about this?”

Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. Why wouldn’t she want Mr. Stark knowing that she’d been with him?

Either way, he agreed, since he had a favor to ask of his own. “Only if you won’t.”

She gave him this dumbfounded look, and he knew he had to elaborate.

“He made me this suit before the whole thing with Captain America, so I thought he would keep giving me missions, but now it’s been months and he won’t return my calls. I’m lucky if I get through to Happy. He doesn’t want me getting involved in this stuff, so...”

It struck Y/N then how weird it was to hear a superhero talk about her family so casually. It didn’t seem possible that the two of them were in the same circles. Sure, she’d practically grown up with a few of the world’s most famous heroes, but somehow Spider-Man was different.

He was local. And elusive. A pure mystery to her.

“What exactly is this stuff?” She thought back to the weird glowing object in her bag, having almost forgotten it was there.

“I don’t know.” Peter shook his head, seemingly defeated. “I thought it was just neighborhood stuff, but those guns...I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Alien tech.” Y/N said without hesitation, although she wasn’t actually positive that’s what it was. “My dad has some in his workshop. It was leftover from the Battle of New York.”

“How does it work?” Peter found himself asking excitedly, easily pushing all the other revelations from this conversation to the back of his mind.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, looking away from him as her chest tightened with emotion. “I’ve never gotten close enough to any of it to see. He likes to keep me out of things too...”

It was at that moment, as a breath of silence settled between them, that they realized she was still in his arms. Y/N’s face erupted with heat and she quickly pushed herself away from him. Once her feet were back on the ground, they both stepped backward to create some much needed distance.

“I, ah...better get back...”

“Yeah, yeah. I have to go too...”

They looked at each other for a few long moments. It was at if neither of them truly wanted to separate, but knew they had to. It was clear, though, that they’d just formed some kind of connection.

Y/N felt something strange—and wildly inappropriate—brewing in her chest. A certain kind of attraction toward the masked hero she’d never considered before. It appalled her, honestly. It wasn’t like she hated the guy, but she certainly didn’t like him. And she had no idea who he was. He could be eight years old, for all she knew.

With that realization, she turned on her heel and stalked down the narrow entrance to the Avengers Tower, her face still burning. She heard the thwip of Spider-Man’s webbing and knew he’d be gone if she looked back. So she didn’t.

She pressed her hand against the touchpad outside the front door and quickly slipped inside once it recognized her prints. She sighed heavily and let herself fall back against the door, the comfort of home enveloping her.

The peace was short lived, however, as she caught sight of her mother waiting expectantly behind the bar to her left. With a glass of red wine in hand, her knowing gaze shifted from the helipad outside to Y/N’s stiff frame.

She took a slow sip, eyes narrowing over the rim of the glass.

“You’re so grounded.”

———————————————————————

let me know what you think!! should I continue this series??

[siuilaruinofthegale]

yes hello Sirius for the directors commentary >:DD

from chapter five of melodies of the war-born (always wondered why Shisui of all Uchiha (i was VVVV excited to see him bc i LOVE HIM) and just your overall thoughts while writing these goofs :D)

“Good afternoon, Sakura-san!” Shisui says, his eyes smiling just as much as his mouth. “Isn’t it a lovely day outside? Why, it’s almost as pretty as you are!”

She chokes a little and then laughs, looking away to hide the way her cheeks flush. Over the last few weeks, she’s run into him in the streets more than once, often enough to know he flirts like he breathes: constantly. It reminds her of Genma, but something about Shisui’s flirting feels a little more honest than Genma’s does. “Good afternoon, Shisui-san,” she replies after a minute. “I hope you’re well.”

“Better now that I’m with you,” he says, joining in her aimless wandering down the sidewalk. “I don’t suppose you’d care for some donburi or udon?” She opens her mouth to answer, and her stomach answers for her with a thunderous growl. Shisui laughs, and she flushes with embarrassment. “That sounds like a yes to me!”

Sakura flushes darker. “I… my rent is due tomorrow, Shisui-san, I’m afraid I shouldn’t be going anywhere for lunch.” She swallows, trying to calculate what she can spare, and offers meekly, “If you’d like, I could make —“

“Sakura-san, I’m an idiot, but I’m not a rude idiot,” Shisui chides her, voice surprisingly foreboding for someone so genial. “I asked you. That means it’s my treat.”

“But —“ she starts. Then she spies the bright specks in the corners of her eyes, the ones she knows precede the migraines she gets if she doesn’t eat soon, and she gives in. “…only if I get to treat you to something sometime.”

“It’s a deal!” he says, grinning down at her. “Got any preferences? Given how often you take Naruto-kun into Ichiraku, I didn’t think I should put ramen on the table, but…”

She wrinkles her nose at him. “No. No ramen,” she answers. “Do you like chicken katsudon? Umehara’s stand isn’t far, and her chicken’s the best.”

(this ask is a reference to This Post, and here's a link to chapter five of melodies of the war-born; I'm tagging Shisui/Sakura because it's a tangential ship in melodies that's being discussed here, but the fic itself is Kakashi/Sakura)

Gonna put this behind a cut because it's gonna be long.

Honestly, my initial plans were completely different from how it ended up turning out... which is why I rarely outline things. They never stay the same. Initially, Shisui or Genma was going to play Kenta's role, and Kenta was going to play Shisui's role. The more I read and poked around, though, I became more and more certain that would be a disservice to both Genma and Shisui. Hence Kenta's existence.

I went with Shisui for the romance because I'd already tormented Genma in an earlier chapter, and I also.... well, I liked the path forward that a ShiSaku romance laid out, as well as a lot of the parallels between Shisui and Sakura. They're both emotional, they're talented, they care more than they should, and they (at least to me) have very staunch ideals about What's Right. Shisui's a lot more loyal to Konoha-as-a-concept, and consequently the Hokage, than my melodies!Sakura is, and I thought that'd be some really interesting conflict to explore.

For this scene in particular, it's something that I had planned by the time I finished the last scene in chapter four. It's really important to me that I write main characters (which Sakura definitely is in melodies) being wrong, and mistaken, and having conflicts that aren't just Me Right You Wrong Me Good You Bad. In chapter three and four, Shisui flirts with Sakura, and she gets an impression of him as a womanizing jerk. When Kenta hits on her, and she finds out why, her impression of Shisui changes to a womanizing jerk who doesn't care about anything, because he 'lets' Kenta do this weird rivalry thing and harass women.

Then she confronts the Hokage about Itachi in chapter four, and later, Shisui thanks her for standing up for Itachi and reveals why he's so grateful for it. I'm putting that section here, for reference:

“Believe it or not, they called me a genius once.”

“They still do,” she interjects.

He smiles a little and keeps talking. “As far as those things go, I got pretty lucky. Once I got old enough to figure things out, all I had to do was be an idiot. Then — poof! No more high expectations!” Shisui swallows. She slows her steps as she figures out where he’s going. “Itachi… he doesn’t have that option. He’s from the head family. He’s going to be heir. If he tries to do what I did, they’ll just make Sasuke heir. Itachi cares about his brother too much for that.”

He glances at her, like he’s checking to see if she follows his train of thought, and she nods. “Itachi’s never had the chance to be a kid. I don’t think I ever saw him touch a toy. Fugaku-sama pushes him so hard…” Sakura stops and nods upwards, to her balcony, and he follows her up. He keeps talking, following her into her apartment. “So… that’s why I’m saying thanks. Everyone else just looks at Itachi and sees the Uchiha genius. I don’t even know if Mikoto-sama fought against Itachi being ANBU. They’re just proud.”

That changes her impression of him to 'womanizer, not necessarily a jerk, cares about family'. It puts her perception of him off-center and takes it from "this is the truth" to "this might be true", and primes her for the events of chapter five, which further change that perception.

This scene is an intersection of events and consequences that make Sakura do things she wouldn't normally do. She's short on money because of her demotion, so she's being a lot more frugal than normal. She's shopping alone because she's prideful and doesn't want Kurenai to see her being "poor", which allows Shisui to accost her alone.

She's run into Shisui enough to know he just flirts as a way of life, so she's revised her opinion of him to 'sassy, family-loving idiot'. That being said, she's also noticed he's not much for lying, and he always gives her genuine compliments. When compliments are both genuine and unexpected, it's much harder not to accept them and enjoy them.

She hasn't eaten enough for the day, so she's both hungry and embarrassed enough to accept his invitation for food, which sets her a little farther off balance -- inviting him into her home again would've set her off balance in a different way, because it'd feel more like she had the 'power' there...

Which means it wouldn't have affected her quite the same way if she'd felt like it was her bequeathing knowledge rather than sharing it, once Shisui asks for resources to help Itachi. It makes her feel more like a friend and less like an authority.

Farther on, he accosts her again, and asks questions that are both insightful and challenging -- something most people don't manage. Her perception of him changes again, and again, until she realizes near the end of the chapter that he's just as multi-faceted as her, and he seems to like her, and that they just click in a way she's not used to.

And then THEY HAVE SMOOCHIES.

[utterlyinevitable]

After seeing ur explanation for that anon i really want to see a fic or a hc of ethan as a dad and becca as mom can u please do it??

omg okay ahhh my babys having babies. this is gonna be long and idk if it’ll make sense bc imma jot down everything i know about domestic e&b.  

[just finished and... this is long and broken down into 6 categories........... enjoy!]

Ethan & Becca as Parents

The Pregnancy 

They didn’t plan on having children, it just kind of happened. Becca and Ethan took a day for the news to settle before they jumped into excited, expecting parents mode.

The most exciting part was renovating the condo to make the most perfect nursery and shopping for decorations and mentally planning all the traditions and things they’d love to give to their little family. 

All of the happiness couldn’t mask the struggles of pregnancy. 

Becca hated being pregnant. She was sick and nauseous constantly, and her back and feet always ached. 

Throughout the whole thing Ethan doted on her; holding her hair back and learning how to tie it up in the way she likes, rubbing her back, running out to get whatever she was craving. 

He even made copious amounts of notes about her eating patterns. Enough to keep two of everything in the condo. 

If she was having a restless night, he would too; even if she was restless for non-human-growing reasons. 

They were in this together.

And even when she was huddled over a garbage pail, dribble running down her chin, she never looked more beautiful to him. 

There was just something about all this that made him feel all weird and fuzzy inside. 

When her symptoms barely settled throughout the second trimester she overhauled her entire birthing plan. There was no way she was making it to 42 weeks. She was absolutely miserable. So she made a c-section appointment for 40 weeks. 

She had an entire argument with Ethan one evening (she really was only yelling while he nodded his head). Her main points were:  “It’s my body and the baby will be fine. I was born 6 weeks early and I turned out fantastic!” and  “Once the baby’s out of me I’m still going to have to pee. Omg what if she rips me open!? How am I supposed to use the bathroom without worrying about my stitches?”  

All he kept reiterating was:  “I love you. I trust you and your instincts.” 

Becca felt better as he held her face in his large hands, his calming azure eyes boring into hers and letting her know everything will be alight. 

But deep down she spent the next few weeks since making the appointment wondering if she should have given vaginal birth a try. She didn’t want Ethan to resent her for chickening out of her body’s natural function. 

The Birth 

Becca made it to her c-section appointment. Happily rubbing her large belly and glowing:  “I can’t wait to not be pregnant anymore! Never do this to me again.” 

All Ethan did was chuckle. 

He was happy she was getting color back and that her symptoms finally settled enough for her to spend the last few weeks enjoying their daughters kicks. But oh my god was Ethan Ramsey terrified of being a father. 

He wouldn’t tell Becca though. She was emotional and worried enough as is. Any and all his concerns were saved for the short conversations he had with his father.  “Don’t overthink it, son. The moment you lay eyes on your daughter you’ll know what to do. It’s instinct. Biology. That was your best subject in school, wasn’t it?” Alan would joke.  

The surgery went off without a hitch. 

All of Becca’s hatred for the phenomenon of pregnancy vanished the second the nurse placed their daughter on her chest. 

Rebecca was in awe. She made that! This little person came out of her! This little pink person that looks like a plucked chicken with a tiny tuft of brown hair was here and she was beautiful. The perfect combination of her and Ethan. 

The embodiment of their love.   

Dakota Dolores Ramsey was completely unplanned. Unplanned but not unwanted.  

The first time Ethan Ramsey held his daughter time froze. The universe needed a minute to process the broad grin and full heart thumping rapidly from this stoic and reserved man. 

The earth was about to spin the wrong way but then Dakota opened her eyes.

Everything was the way divinity had planned it.  

At Home

Although Ethan and Becca lived a 10 minutes drive from Edenbrook, nearly a straight run, Becca forced him to drive as slow as possible. 

Dakota was asleep and she needed to keep it that way. 

Due to her stitches, Becca was forced to take things easy. No matter how many times she argued with Ethan that she was capable of menial tasks around the house. 

Ethan would not let her lift a finger. 

If Dakota needed a change he’d happily do it. if Becca was hungry he’d make her favorite. 

“You had her to yourself for nine months. Let me take the next few days.” Becca went to retort, all she wanted was to hold her baby for the rest of eternity. She’d never tire of looking at her scrunched up potato face and watching as her features changed every moment of every day. “I promise to share.” “You better,” she kissed him as he tucked her into bed for a much needed nap.

The only thing he was forced to share with his partner was feeding duty - Becca was adamant on breast feeding. A bottle would not touch their daughters lips for months to come. 

That in itself brought its own challenges. 

Most nights Ethan laid in bed with Becca curled up at his side in one arm and Dakota resting on his bare chest. 

Parenting was weird, but an exhilarating change. 

Ethan couldn’t diagnose what he could have possibly have done right in his life to be this wholly happy. 

The Second

Once Ethan and Becca had one child they were both itching for a second.

“You know what say: ‘if you have one you have to have two’.” “Is that so?”  “You don’t want Dakota to have a sibling?”  “I was an only child and look how I turned out.”  “Emotionally stunted and certified loner?” she teased. 

Truth be told, Ethan wanted another. He’s been thinking of giving his pride and joy a few siblings for weeks now. He just didn’t know how to tell Becca. 

Becca complained frequently about how happy she was to not be pregnant, and often about how her scar healed funnily. 

All of the signs pointed to her not wanting another. And Ethan was okay with that. He never expected to have one child. He’d cherish every moment of what’s been placed right in his fingertips. 

He’ll let his soon-to-be wife choose their path. She’s dictated everything else thus far. Ethan was elated she chose him to be along for the ride. 

After Dakota’s first birthday, when they made the decision to have another, they tried desperately to conceive.

“I really don’t want to have to deal with diapers for five years,” was Becca’s main reason for keeping the kids close in age.  “We can try surrogacy.” Ethan offered, knowing how much she hated pregnancy. He didn’t want to push her into anything.    “No. I have to do it. I’ll do it for our kids. But you owe me big time.”  

And 14 months later Caroline Marie Ramsey made her grand appearance. 

And Becca got her first push present. 

The Last 

It’s fitting that four years later Ethan and Becca were blessed with another surprise. 

Her pregnancy with James Jonah was the smoothest of them all. 

Of course that meant something had to go wrong. 

At 34 weeks Becca went into premature vaginal labor. 

Within six hours their baby boy arrived. 5lbs 2oz and looking like an alien. 

Ethan almost lost them both after the fact. 

Becca lost too much blood with the placenta and JJ was so tiny.  

But the Lao’s were fighters and they pulled through. Ethan cried at her bedside once the harrowing 24 hours were up. 

Becca stayed at the hospital for a week, Ethan and Alan bringing the girls to visit every single day. 

JJ had to stay a few days longer and Becca refused to leave until she could bring her son home. 

She went through her first experience with postpartum depression. Becca didn’t think anything could be worse than the mental toll her abortion had on her years earlier. But she was wrong.

She was so wrong. 

All their friends chipped in to help take care of the kids while Ethan devoted his time to helping his wife. The couple went to therapy, sometimes together, other times Ethan sat in the waiting room as Becca worked through her emotions. 

Months later, the parents were sitting at home. Ethan held their son and their daughters were curled on their laps: He muttered into his wife’s hair, “I’d like to have one more.”  “Not with me you’re not,” she scoffed. “We’re outnumbered as is.” 

JJ began to cry and the girls stirred. Dakota mumbling, “Tell the baby to shut up, I’m sleeping here.” 

They couldn’t help but laugh and pull apart to put their whole world to bed.  

Old and graying and spending more time at home with his kids, Ethan wanted just one more baby. Four was a strong, even number. He could have a whole daycare full of them - each one the best variations of him and Becca. 

Becca had spent a large portion of her 30s childrearing and she’s done. Done with diapers and formula, especially. She loves her children more than anything but they’re exhausting. She can’t wait for them to be in school full time and she can have some more alone time with her husband. It’s been so long since it’s been just them too.  

“Don’t hate me...”  “I could never hate you,” Ethan said as he brushed a few strands of hair from his wife’s face.  She swallowed and confidently said, “I want you to get a vasectomy.” 

He agreed without further consideration. She made a very compelling argument.  

Parenting 

Ethan is the doting helicopter dad and Becca is doctor drill sergeant. The kids get away with nothing under their mother’s watch. 

Ethan is very soft and adores his children. The grumpy attending could have a whole gaggle of them. He spoils his daughters rotten, picking up the newest doll and toy they’re obsessed with, and making them promise not to tell mommy. 

The women in Ethan’s life get away with everything and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When the girls were born, Ethan stepped back at work letting the better Dr. Ramsey have her career defining moments.

He took half days to pick the girls up from preschool and would bring them to the park or museums. He’d even try to teach them to cook their favorite recipes on cold, rainy days. He’d tire them out so that he and mom could tuck them in after dinner.

Ethan’s afraid of his son. He’s afraid the tot is going to turn out exactly like him - he’s the spitting image, except that his hair curls like his mother’s. 

Instead of putting JJ in fulltime daycare, Ethan chose part time preschool. The girls were in primary school now and he’s taken a bigger step back from the hospital after the baby was born. 

He devotes all his free time to teaching his son about all he knows and learning all he doesn’t.  

Becca complains about the state of her vagina and stomach all the time. Never in front of the children but often enough Ethan knows the look on her face right before she says the same two lines.  

Her favorite activity is building forts and taking the kids to the beach. 

The holidays have never felt more alive with the full house. Ethan even became a Christmas and Valentines Day lover. 

Becca loved watching him change over the years. Every new first they celebrated with each child, every one of their kids passions, Ethan would adopt them all and make it his mission to be a connoisseur of every facet.

Dakota sat her parents down one day with a serious topic of conversation: “Mommy, Daddy. I’m going to be a fashion designer.” “Will you?”  “Yes. And I need to dress myself.” “As long as it’s weather appropriate, consider it done.”  “And we need to get supplies.” 

The conversation went on for 15 minutes with Ethan and Becca asking questions and Dakota making demands. Once they’ve settled on an agreement on how to make their daughter’s dream happen, Ethan retired to his office. He taught himself the basics of sewing.     

Even with all the struggles of raising three children in a suburb of Boston while balancing very demanding medical careers, Ethan and Becca wouldn’t have it any other way. The life they carved out of all their complications was worth it.  

All of this was inevitable. 

And they wouldn’t take a moment for granted.    

________________________________________

Um... this became bigger than intended... If you made it this far, thank you ♥

Masterlist

Perma:

@rookiemarsswiftie @lucy-268 @binny1985 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble e @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @adrex04 @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @theeccentricbibliophile @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @kaavyaethanramsey @mvalentine @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @lifeaskim @otherworldlypresents @therookie @aylaramseycarrera @angela8754 @fireycookie @stateofgracious

Ethan:

@udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @hutchereverlark23 @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @claredal424 @caseyvalentineramsey @rookieoh @openheartthot @senseofduties @lilyvalentine @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart t @casey-v @ramseyandrys @peaceinmidstofchaos

[brilliantpride]

@originlist / cont. bcs i wanted to keep the original post

Oof! It’s a good thing she’s more or less recovered from her ordeal, though the exhaustion still sits in her bone marrow. No time to rest—they have gods to kill, after all—but for just a precious moment, captured and fragile, time stands still. Then others join; the girl with the shield leans it against a wall and sprints to join the hug, throwing her arms around Yako’s shoulders (right, that’s her other best friend!); two boys almost bowl her and Ritsu over, cheering and hollering (her juniors? students?); someone pats her head (he feels like a sibling or something, someone reliable); she hears a whispered voice from Ritsu’s chest (and somehow isn’t worried about it at all); and in the corner of her eye, she spots someone with star-blooming hair watching her with crossed arms. Oh, I’ll get to you, she grins, though she can’t tell just what that means yet. Off to the side, a woman in flashy garb carries an unconscious man in her arms, but her expression tells Yako that they know each other, too. She’ll have to ask about it later.

She’s overwhelmed. She can’t stop hiccupping sobs and laughter. Like all of her emotions she’d bottled up for however-long are coming out of the floodgates. Things are going to be okay. She won’t be alone anymore. Her friends—her family is here for her. 

She pulls herself away, finally, feeling a bit smothered. Her comms unit chimes with an alert. “...Oh, I have to eat,” she mumbles. She is feeling a bit lightheaded after her last scouting mission... “You guys should eat, too. I’ll show you where we’ve been hoarding food. It’s all from the restaurants and bakeries around here, they’re super good...”

-

...It’s so nice to have people gathered like this, sharing food and enjoying each other’s company. It’s been so lonely, even with Adele and Macarios here, but now it’s like... being back home. Of course, the tension’s still there, and the knowledge that this won’t last, and in the morning they’ll be right back to the mission at hand, but if she can be selfish, if she can just grip onto this moment with white-knuckled strength and etch it into her memories, make this the thing she remembers even if she forgets everything else... 

“...” ...Oops. How long has she been spacing out? Her heart feels like it might flutter right up her throat and out of her mouth, she’s so nervous. “Sorry, I keep... forgetting to be here. You wanna know what happened to me, right?” She can remember that far back, at least.

“This place is called ‘Underworld’, or ‘Tartarus’, or whatever name you want to use. Those two already told you it’s a maintenance-tunnel system under Olympus, but there was a certain part that was connected to Atlantis, too. Not physically, but... reality... reality-warping-ly. It was basically in two places at one time, is what I got told, so the path kind of exists outside of real time and space. Like a... the box with the dead cat. I washed up on an island that was a door to the Underworld, like Hermes would’ve used to bring back resources to the main body... and those resources were... souls, basically... Humans and monsters.”

Okay, breathe, breathe. Get through this. It’s fine. You don’t have to remember. Just talk about it like you read it in a book. 

“Any– Anyway. I met someone there I think I knew, and... got some stuff to help me out on the way down. It’s only 'cause I’m half-Phantasmal, they said, that I was able to make it in there at all, and then get here without getting scooped up by the soul reclamation system. ...But it... was...”

...really hard.

She bites back tears and a racing heart. Please, just let her get through this sentence. Please, just let her talk to Ritsu. Why can’t she say anything? It shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t be this hard. Just talk. Just say it. Say something. Just... 

“.........” Her chest hurts. She can’t breathe. Is anything coming? No, she’s safe, she should be, so why— does she feel like she’s about to be attacked— something’s coming. Nothing in the doors, nothing on the ceiling, she can’t hear anything in the grates, but what if something comes in? She needs to do something. She needs Calesvol. Where’s Calesvol? Mash is here, her shield is there, if something comes in, Calesvol is right here in her belt, Ritsu has Servants, she has Servants, she’s safe, she’s okay, so stop it, stop it... 

“S...orry...” she wheezes. “Talk... you can talk now, I’ll... be okay...” 

[juliandev0rak]

Grieving Ghosts

this was an anon request, and my requests are open!

Main 6 taking care of a grieving mc but then-they realise that they're a ghost and mc is grieving over them.

warnings: death mentions, grieving, angst

here’s your daily dose of angst and sadness, these started as headcanons and then became drabbles bc i got carried away with the idea so oops lol, enjoy these mini fics 👻

-Asra-

-he arrives home from a trip late one afternoon, but now standing in front of the door to the shop he can’t even remember where he went on the trip

-he shakes it off as just him being tired and opens the door, eager to see you again after being away for so long

-he doesn’t see you in the shop even though it should still be opening hours but shrugs it off, maybe you were tired too

-as he makes his way up the stairs to the apartment area you share with him he stops, hearing the sound of loud crying through the door

-this makes him rush up the stairs even faster, throwing the door open to check on you

-he sees you sitting on the bed with your head in your hands sobbing your heart out

-“MC! What’s wrong, are you ok?” he rushes over to your side, immediately putting an arm around you

-he watches as you shiver and look up to glance around the room in confusion

-“I’m right here, please tell me what’s wrong! I’m back now.” Asra’s tone is growing frantic as you continue to cry, not acknowledging his presence

-after a few minutes his brows furrow in confusion and he gets up, “I- I’ll go make some tea for us, then maybe you’ll feel like talking.”

-he turns to the kitchen area, wincing at the view of you now face down on the bed, the pillows only slightly muffling your crying

-a few moments later he turns around to watch you as he waits for the tea to brew and he spots Faust slither her way over to you

-you pick your head up and look at Faust with a look of intense pain on your face as she slithers comfortingly around your arm “Oh Faust, I can’t believe he’s really gone.” she gives you a squeeze and says “Miss him!”

-“Yeah Faust, I miss Asra too.”

-Asra picks up the tea cups to make his way over to you, “I’m right here MC, I’m back from my trip!” he’s still confused, and slightly hurt, that you haven’t said a word to him

-Faust looks up, making direct eye contact with Asra and wiggling in happiness as she slithers over towards him

-“Faust, where are you going?” you call after her

-“Asra!” she says

-“Asra’s not here Faust, he’s dead remember?” you watch in confusion as she twists in circles around a spot on the floor

-Asra nearly drops the tea cups in shock

-“I’m not dead, I’m right here!” he protests, but then he notices that Faust is going right through him, and now that he thinks about it- he feels like he does in the Arcana Realms, a spirit without a body

-“Asra!” Faust says again, this time you really look at where she’s pointed, noticing a slight ripple in the air, a slight change in your aura

-“Faust, is he here?” you ask, not daring to hope, you’d seen his body, been there when he was taken away and buried, attended the lavish funeral Nadia had planned

-“Friend!” Faust makes another circle around Asra’s feet

-“I’m here!” he shouts, taking a step towards you to try to grab your hand but he goes right through you

-you feel the slight push of energy against you and then you can sense him, his spirit is there in the room even if you can’t see him

-“Asra! If you can hear me, know that I’m trying everything I can to bring you back, I’m not letting you go.” you cry, staring at the spot you think might be his face

-he looks around the room and sees books everywhere, many of them the same ones he had used to bring you back

-“I’ll do anything to bring you back.” you say, picking Faust up from her spot on the floor “Anything.”

-He feels a flush of fear mixed with longing, though he wants nothing more than to be reunited with you he’s worried about you pushing the boundaries of magic so far and scared of you dealing with dangerous forces

-But it’s no use, he can’t communicate with you so all he can do is watch and wait and hope that you don’t make a mistake you can’t come back from

-he just wishes he could be there to help you, or even just to comfort you as you cry

-Julian-

-he’s walking down the empty streets of the South End, not another person in sight even though the warm weather usually brings the whole city outside

-although, he doesn’t really know what time it is, the lamps are lit but it could just as easily be 3 in the morning as it could be early evening

-he spots the sign of his favorite tavern up ahead and his face breaks into his signature smirk, he could go for a salty bitters right about now

-when he walks in he notices that the Rowdy Raven is as busy as usual, he greets people as he walks by but nobody responds, he assumes it’s too loud in there, or they’re too drunk already

-“Barkeep! Another drink!” he hears a familiar voice slur loudly from the corner booth, it’s you

-“Oh! MC, fancy seeing you here!” he makes his way over to your table, confident smile firmly in place, “May I join you?”

-the bartender walks over, placing another drink in front of you and gathering the stack of empty cups in front of you

-“Hang in there, MC. You’ll feel better in time.” The bartender says with uncharacteristic gentleness

-when you still haven’t said anything to Julian he decides to just sit down, his smile faltering as you remain silent

-it’s then that he notices you sniffling into your cup, eyes wet with tears

-“Oh no, my dear what’s wrong?” he leans towards you, eyes going wide as he takes in your sorrow filled eyes

-you continue to sip your drink, fighting back tears as you literally drown your sorrows in bitter tasting drinks

-“Darling, what's wrong? Just talk to me, was it something I did?” he tries to disguise the fear in his voice as you continue to stare into your drink or straight through him as if he isn’t there

-Julian grows more and more anxious as you continue to ignore him and he reaches out tentatively to take your hand, freezing as his hand goes straight through yours

-before he has time to think about what just happened the door bangs open and he watches as a fiery redhead and a short older woman barge through the crowd towards the corner booth

-“MC! We’ve been looking for you all night!” Portia sounds angry but her eyes take on a sheen of pity as she regards you sadly slumped over your drink

-“Portia how could he do this to us?” You mutter, not reacting as she slides into the seat next to and Mazelinka sits across from you, next to a very confused Julian

-“I know,” her eyes are flooding with tears now too as she reaches to grab your hand. “That idiot brother, we should’ve known his harebrained scheme wouldn’t work, if only-“

-“He was an idiot, Ilyushka always jumps before he looks.” Mazelinka cuts Portia’s what-ifs off with a stern frown. “But he made his choice, we all have to live with it.”

-Julian has figured out by now that nobody can see him, or touch him, but he still doesn’t know what it means

-“If only I’d done a better job in the trial...” you sigh, reaching for your cup

-the trial... suddenly Julian remembers it all, turning himself in, his plan to meet the hanged man- but clearly it hadn’t worked

-“I’m so sorry.” he moans into his hands, knowing that nobody can hear him, that his loved ones will never know how sorry he is for causing them this pain, his magic mark wasn't powerful enough to raise the dead it seemed

-“No more for you,” Mazelinka says as she grabs the cup out of your hands, “you're coming with us.”

-Portia blinks back tears and nods firmly, “Come on MC, we’re taking you home.”

-“Don’t you want some family time alone?” you hiccup, allowing yourself to be pulled out of the booth by Mazelinka on one side and Portia on the other

-“You’re part of our family, we’re in this together..” Portia gives you a shaky smile, her eyes regaining some of their fire, Mazelinka nods in agreement

-Julian follows slowly behind as they take you back to Mazelinka’s house and tuck you into the bed you’d shared with him not so long ago

-“I’m so sorry!” he says again, his voice breaking as he watches Mazelinka pull Portia into a comforting hug

-“I think he’s here.” you say blearily, you’re really not sure and it might be the alcohol in your system but you feel his presence around you, just a hint of his spirit is there with you

-“Those we love have a habit of sticking around.” Mazelinka says in a tone that makes you feel certain she has experience with this

-“Well if Ilya is here, I hope he knows how STUPID HE IS!” Portia breaks into a shout, causing all of you to laugh. This manages to make Julian smile, a flutter of hope rising despite his best efforts to squash it

-at least you're not alone, you have Portia and Mazelinka and your other friends, and maybe someday you’ll figure out some magic trick to talk to him again so he can have a chance to apologize, but until then he’s resigned to his fate and resolved to stay around to watch over his family

-Nadia-

-this was certainly the strangest dinner Nadia had ever attended, and she’d once been invited to a dinner party at Praetor Vlastomil’s...

-nobody is paying any attention to her, and although as a child she would’ve loved for her family to simply leave her alone for a night, as an adult (and a Countess) she was annoyed

-even Portia seemed to be ignoring her, going so far as to forget her glass when she went around the table to refill everyone’s wine

-and you aeren’t anywhere to be seen, which is highly unusual as you always join Nadia for dinner

-after only a few courses she can’t take it anymore, nobody had even spared a glance in her direction and she’d been passed over every time Portia served the new course

-nobody listened when she protested so she doesn’t bother to say anything as she leaves the dining room, if everyone was going to ignore her then she would simply ignore them back, she’d deal with Portia’s uncharacteristic disrespect later

-she arrives in her room and finds the door to her contemplation tower ajar, which is highly unusual

-she walks in to discover you there, eyes shut in meditation, Chandra perched nearby

-“There you are darling, why weren’t you at dinner?” she asks

-you’re deep into your meditation, it’s the only thing that’s keeping you sane these days as you process your grief

-“I don’t like being ignored,” Nadia takes a step closer to you, normally she wouldn’t want to disrupt your meditation but she’d had quite enough of being ignored today

-a few minutes go by and she sighs, taking a seat next to you and deciding to wait until you’re done meditating

-your eyes open after a while and you take in Chandra perched nearby, walking over to give her a pat on the head

-“Thanks for being here, I know you miss her too.” you say and Chandra hoots sadly

-“Darling?” Nadia’s still trying to get your attention, hurt coloring her voice as she watches you turn away from her

-“Well, come along then Chandra. I already missed dinner but I’d better go greet everyone, we have a funeral to plan.”

-“What on earth are you talking about? Whose funeral?” Nadia questions, reaching a hand out to stop you from leaving the tower

-of course, it goes through you and she watches in confusion as you leave, shutting the door behind you

-she follows, taking in your peculiar clothing which is all black, a color you don’t usually wear

-it isn’t until she sees her entire family, and all of your friends, gathered in the parlor that she understands

-they’re planning her funeral

-she handles this revelation with her usual poise, she doesn’t remember how she got into this... situation... but she’s glad to be able to see everyone she loved again, even if they can’t see her

-she wants to be around for the planning, it’ll be her last event after all- so it has to be perfect

-Muriel-

-he’s out chopping firewood when he sees you step out of the hut, wearing one of his heavy furs to keep out the winter’s chill

-he stays focused on his task, deciding to stay quiet as usual unless you talk to him

-“Come on Inanna, let’s go see him.” you reach down to pat her gently and she follows closely at your heels as you walk into the forest

-Muriel doesn’t find it odd that you haven’t said anything to him, but he’s confused by your words, wondering who the “him” you’re referring to is

-you walk deeper into the forest and he puts down his axe, peering after you

-“Don’t go alone!” He calls after you, “it’s not safe.” but you don’t listen, continuing on your path

-he sets out to follow you, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your odd behavior, you’ve never ignored him like this before

-the sun is just barely rising as you continue to walk through the forest following your now well-worn path

-you walk this path a couple times a year but this is the earliest you’ve set out, hoping to watch the sunrise with him like you used to do

-the walk lasts about half an hour and by the time you arrive in the clearing the sky is turning pink, the chill in the air lessening slightly

-Muriel is still following behind you, silently wondering what could be so important in this random clearing

-you have your back turned to him as you sit down in the center of the field, Inanna laying down beside you

-Muriel keeps his distance, watching as you begin to pick wildflowers from the field

-you weave them into a flower crown and place it gently on your head, hands reaching for more flowers to make another

-while you’re working you keep up a constant stream of chatter, “I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long, I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been busy at the palace, I know you hated it there but it’s good for me to be around people sometimes...”

-Muriel walks a few steps into the clearing, wondering if you’re talking to him, but you keep your voice so low that he assumes you must be talking to yourself like you sometimes do when you’re focused

-“Here you go, Muri, one for you and one for me. I thought we could watch the sunrise together, it is your birthday after all.” you say, placing the second larger flower crown on the stone in front of you

-it’s been a while since you cried, your grief having settled a bit over the years. most days you could look back on your memories with happiness but it was on days like this that the grief seemed to weep out of you like before

-Muriel can see your sadness and walks uncertainly over to you, you still haven’t said anything to him and he isn’t very good at comforting people but for you he feels the need to try, he can’t watch you cry alone

-he gently kneels down next to you and puts an arm around you tentatively, his eyes searching yours as you stare up at the sunrise

-you shiver as you feel a familiar energy and a hint of myrrh enter your space and Inanna makes a whining noise under her breath, making you smile

-“I know Inanna, I feel him too.”

-it’s then that Muriel looks down and sees the memorial stone in front of you, the carefully constructed flower crown sitting on it

-the stone is covered in various carvings, drawings and writing he recognizes as yours, and even Asra’s, it tells the story of his life

-he remembers then and a small smile settles on his face as he thinks about you coming to visit his grave so often, coming to talk to him even though you know he can’t talk back (and it isn’t like he did that much talking when he was alive either)

-he keeps his arm around you, reaching his other to rest on Inanna, he knows you can’t really feel it but he wants you to feel his presence there in whatever way you can

-just as you watch over him, he’ll watch over you, even in death

-Portia-

-she’s been following you around the palace all morning trying to get your attention

-you were always surrounded by other people, including various royals and public figures, so she hadn’t wanted to yell your name or just drag you out of a room

-but at this point she’s getting frustrated and when you leave the dining room at lunch to walk back to your guest room she follows after, shouting your name

-when you continue to ignore her, not even turning around once, her annoyance turns to anger

-she marches into your room after you, grabbing your shoulder “What is your problem, MC? I’ve been trying to talk to you all day and you’re just going to keep ignoring me?” she’s so angry she doesn’t even notice that her hand isn’t actually touching you

-you sit down on the bed, tired after a morning of meetings and a lunch with the Prakran royal family, all you wanted to do was cry and then maybe take a nap

-Nadia thought distraction would be a good thing for you at the moment, and you had agreed, jumping in to help with her plans to renovate the city

-Your other friends were all helping too and Julian especially had jumped at the chance for a distraction, you were both grieving after all

-now alone in your room the tears come and you give in to them, not noticing Portia angrily stomping around the room still trying to talk to you

-she stops when she notices you crying, her anger fizzling out as quickly as it had come

-“Oh, oh no I’m sorry! I was just upset that you were ignoring me, I didn’t mean to make you cry!” she flies to your side, sitting next to you on the bed

-when you still don’t react she just assumes you want space and gets up to leave, “I’ll just leave you be then, if you don’t want to talk. I’ll be in my cottage if you want to find me later.”

-before she can leave the door opens and Asra pops his head in, taking in your crying form with a frown

-he enters the room without saying anything to Portia and she’s about to be angry again when she notices him look back towards her with a puzzled look on his face

-“MC, I’m here.” He pulls you into a hug, letting you cry as he holds you, but his eyes stay trained on the spot by the door where Portia is standing with mouth open in confusion

-“Can you see me?” She says and Asra cocks his head to the side as if listening for something

-“I don’t mean to alarm you MC, but I think Portia’s here.” he says, releasing you to walk towards the door.

-“I’m right here! What’s going on?” Portia frowns, still confused

-“She can’t be Asra, she’s gone. You saw her.” You watch him in question as he reaches a hand out to the air

-Portia grabs the hand, the past few weeks coming back to her in a flash as she realizes suddenly why nobody can seem to see or hear her

-her hand goes through Asra’s but he smiles, “There you are, we’ll find a way to help you communicate”

-“Portia?” You stand up to join Asra, not believing that Portia could really be there

-“I’m right here!” you don’t hear her, but as you reach your hand out you feel a wave of emotions that are not your own wash over you, confusion, fear, and hope

-“Portia!” you can tell its her

-“Let’s go to the fountain” Asra suggests “maybe we can contact her in a way she can respond to.”

-for the first time in weeks you feel hope too, you’d missed Portia so much and couldn’t help but blame yourself for what happened, now you might have a chance to make things right

-Lucio-

-Lucio is normally a pretty light sleeper, years of battle reflexes mean that he can be up at a moment’s notice, and when you start talking in your sleep he wakes up instantly- not even sure when the two of you had gone to sleep

-“Lucio” you say, turning over in your sleep, clearly having some sort of dream

-he looks over when you call his name but realizes quickly that you’re still asleep, he grins and decides to listen more, wondering if you’ll say anything else about him in your sleep

-“Lucio, NO!” your voice raising in fear, it’s clearly a nightmare you’re having and Lucio wipes the smile off his face and reaches out to wake you

-you shoot up, hand flying to the shoulder Lucio’s holding but seeing nothing there

-you catch your breath, still reeling from the nightmare, and hear the telltale sounds of Mercedes and Melchior walking over to your side of the bed

-you reach over the side of the bed to pet each of them, glad for their comfort and presence

-“Were you having a nightmare?” Lucio asks, only slightly annoyed that you’d reached for the dogs before him

-“It’s ok,” you say soothingly as the dogs both whine in unison, you know Lucio would have hated it if he were here but you allow the dogs to jump up on the bed next to you

-“Hey! Don’t let them up here, they’ll rip the silk! We’ve talked about this!” Lucio says in a huff, his concern for your nightmare gone in a flash

-“I know,” you continue to pet the dogs who have settled in against your side, “I miss him too.”

-“Wait” Lucio groans, testing his hand against your arm and watching as it passes through your skin with no resistance, “NOT AGAIN!” if anyone could hear him, the whole palace would’ve awoken at his yell

-he knows why he feels so weird now, he’s a ghost again

-he gets up from the bed and immediately goes to the full length mirror next to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees his human form before him

-“At least I’m handsome this time” he sighs, his eyes going back to where you sit on the bed still talking to the dogs “but I was really enjoying being alive..”

-“We’ll bring him back.” you’re saying, and Lucio’s ears perk up as he takes a step closer to hear you better

-“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Lucio, it’s that death can’t hold him. We’ll get him back” you say, determined “Maybe death will get tired of his complaining and they’ll send him back.” you joke

-“Hey! This is no joking matter, focus on the bringing me back part.” Lucio says indignantly “And hurry!”

-even though he knows you can’t hear him, he whispers the next words “I miss you.”

[andromedarune]

Hello! A nsfw for Leon please! His female s/o has a new job that has her wearing stockings and heels. He didn't see her leave that morning, so when she meets him, Raihan, and friends for dinner, he is shook. S/o: what a day, I can't wait to take these (stockings and heels) off! Leon, not thinking: I can do that for you S/o and everyone: ... (Raihan is crackling) Leon, still going: or I take everything else off and leave those Cue terrible blushing and the pair leaving early. Thank you

A/N: Okay, THIS is a cute fucking prompt! I mean, even though it took me like 4 days of agony to write (don’t ask me why, bc I can’t give you an answer lolol), I really think this was a super fun prompt. But I’m not too sure if what I’ve written was decent or the idea you had in mind, but I tried! I hope it’s readable!

“Uniform” - Leon x Reader

“When’s your lady supposed to get here?”

Leon swatted Raihan’s shoulder, trying to ignore the rising urge to look around the area one more time.

“She’s just getting out of work, probably. But it’s not too far from here so she shouldn’t be long.”

Ah, fuck it. Leon glanced around, scanning the plaza one more time. You said you’d be joining the two of them later that day. Leon let himself smile just a little bit at the idea of the three of you finally getting to wind down after a busy day, watching the sunset from the fountain in the middle of Wyndon. Most people were returning home by now, so the three of you likely wouldn’t be disturbed. It was a perfect way for him to finally spend some time with his two best friends.

When you and Leon first started dating, he was actually a bit worried to see how you would interact with some of his friends. Sure, you were nice and sweet to most everyone, but he had dealt with plenty of partners that turned face wickedly fast if they felt that Leon might care for someone else more. So far, that definitely wasn’t the case with you. You were nice to literally everyone - one of the main reasons he couldn’t help but fall in love with you. It was nice not having to choose between a romantic partner and your friends.

That being said, it was always a spectacle when you, him, and Raihan got to hang out together. Most of the time, it’s just you holding the boys back from doing something insanely stupid (like the time they considered jumping in an elevator, or the time they wanted to jump into a pitch-black Dynamax hole to see how deep it was). Sometimes, Raihan would decide to mess with Leon and joke with you; it eventually became a running joke that you would leave Leon for Raihan and run away to Cinnabar Island in Kanto together. While Leon was more than confident that Raihan wouldn’t do that and that you wouldn’t leave him, the man couldn’t help but get that little twinge of worry in his chest. You always said that you loved his shyness when it came to displaying affection in public, and you always said that he was the best partner you’d ever had. So why was he worried? Little bits of jealousy would spike up in his chest everytime Raihan jokingly wrapped an arm over your shoulder, or picked you up off the ground in a tight hug. You always reassured him that you and Raihan were just messing with him, and he knew for a fact that you weren’t cheating, so why was he worried?

“What’s with the face?”

Leon turned back to his best friend, trying to erase all evidence of his troubled thinking.

“What face?”

Raihan snickered, leaning back on his hands as he gave the champion a toothy grin.

“That face. You’re all scrunched up like you’re pissed or something.”

Leon slapped a hand over his face, giving it a quick rub before dropping his hand back down to his thigh. The dragon tamer belted a laugh, nudging his friend in the shoulder.

“Come on, mate - what’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re worried that your girl is five minutes late.”

“It’s not that,” Leon said a bit too quickly, shaking his head as Raihan turned his body to fully face the champion. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’m just… worried, I guess.”

“About what?”

“About… Like… I don’t know. I can’t help but think that I’m not doing enough for her. I mean, she moved all the way from Wedgehurst just to move in with me, and she had to get a new job here. She’s changed her entire life just to be with me, and I - I don’t know - I feel like I’ve hardly lifted a finger.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Raihan slapped Leon’s shoulder, gripping his friend as if that would assuage his fears. “Mate, come on. She’s doing all this stuff because she loves you. And give yourself some more credit: you were the one who helped her get that job in the first place, and you’re always trying to find the perfect gifts for her. Besides, if she really had a problem with the relationship, she would’ve said something by now.”

Leon managed a nod. Raihan wasn’t wrong; after all, he’s usually the first person Leon goes to whenever he needs help finding a gift for you. And while Leon mentioned that you didn’t necessarily need to work, that he’d take care of you financially, he was also incredibly supportive when you affirmed that you still wanted to work. He called in a couple favors, and eventually landed you an interview at an esteemed business firm. Today was your first day, and Leon wanted to hear all about it, hoping that you liked it well enough. Where were you, anyway?

“Besides,” Raihan pulled back, opting to gaze up at the orange sun that was working its way behind the tops of skyscrapers, “she’s totally stuck on you. I know we probably mess with you a bit too much, but believe me when I say that she’d sooner shoot herself than break her commitment to you. And I wouldn’t do you dirty like that.”

That was just enough to pull Leon’s spirits up a tad. He offered a kind look to his best friend.

“Thanks, Raihan. I needed that.”

“But you could stand to be a bit more brave.” Leon pursed his lips; just like Raihan to build up Leon’s ego before knocking the wind out of his sails. “I mean, you two hardly ever hold hands in public. Much less kiss. How’s anyone supposed to know that she’s off-limits?”

Ah, well, Leon couldn’t refute that. He nodded, resting his hand on his chin to debate more on that idea. However, the sound of heels in the distance caught his attention.

“Hey guys - sorry I’m late!” Leon spun around, eager to meet your vibrant eyes, only to nearly choke on his spit at the sight of you. “I didn’t realize how slow I was in heels.”

Leon never really considered himself an outfit kind of guy. He always appreciated your extra effort in how you dressed sometimes, but internally he felt that there was nothing better than seeing you down to the skin. However, with those black stockings that no doubt had a garter belt attached, and that brand new pair of black pumps, he was beginning to reconsider.

“You, in heels?” Raihan snickered, ignoring the blank expression on Leon’s face. “That’s a change.”

“I know, I know. Trust me, I would’ve rather worn my flats, but policy says that girls have to wear these dumb heels and skirts. But at least it’s cute.”

“Totally,” Raihan elbowed the champion. Leon blinked a couple times, struggling to focus his eyes on your well-made face and not, well, everything else. Definitely not the blouse that draped like fine silk around your chest, nor the tight pencil skirt that hung perfectly around your curves. But oh Arceus, those stockings and heels…

When it became obvious that Leon.exe was still troubleshooting, you let out a small sigh, trying to distract yourself from the way he seemed outright hypnotized by every movement your legs made.

“Yeah, but I’m exhausted from wearing this all day. I can’t wait to get home and take these damn stockings and heels off.”

Leon blinked.

“I can do that for you.”

Raihan snapped his head towards Leon, a surprised smile on his face at the boldness of Leon’s words. You practically flushed red from head to toe. A part of you wanted to race over there to smack Raihan, who was desperately covering his mouth to hide his snickers, but the other part of you was a bit nervous to get within arm’s distance of your normally shy boyfriend. But Leon didn’t seem to be thinking, as he continued.

“Or we can just get rid of everything else and the tights and heels can stay. Take your pick.”

You could only stare back with a bewildered smile, unable to force the corners of your lips down. Normally you’re the one embarrassing him in public, and now??? Raihan continued to laugh, having to shove his head into his hands while Leon kept a serious expression.

“Y-you’re… you’re kidding, right?” you tried to laugh it off.

“No. Pick one.”

You squeaked in surprise, shooting your eyes down to the pavement below to try and steady your beating heart.

“Th-then… I guess… option 2?”

You could hear Leon chuckle from where he resided, and eventually felt him swing an arm around you once he got close enough.

“Change of plans - Raihan, you’re on your own, mate.”

You attempted to cover your face in your hands.

“L-Leon!”

Raihan gave a thumbs up. You could only cling to your overexcited boyfriend as he dragged you down the street, ready to take action for his bold words. Leon was really starting to like the idea of you coming home to him in that outfit everyday. And judging by the flustered grin on your face, he figured that you were, as well.

[cherryrogers]

when dusk falls {2}

DYING LIGHT

pairing: bucky barnes x reader | royal au

warnings: mentions of death, angst — reader is in her sad hours :/

summary: As you arrive in Hydra, you reluctantly begin to adjust to your new life.

a/n: i can’t express how excited i am to get into this story. i’m so impatient i was mad that this is only chapter 2 bc i want to get deep into the plot so bad :( for now, i offer you a part that should be titled ‘rambling about random story aspects that add nothing to the plot’..... enjoy !!

series masterlist

The journey from Taria was everything but pleasant.

As the carriage was pulled further and further away from your beloved palace, you made sure to consume every ounce of green expanse before you reached the land borders, refusing to let the gorgeous greenery of your home fade from your mind in years to come.

Brock nattered endlessly in his seat beside you, almost pressed against you in the small space. You didn’t hear a word of it, tuning out the unnerving rasp of his voice, only focusing on the vibrancy through the window.

Passing cosy villages, and brilliant gardens, and glimmering lakes, you concluded that Taria would be a hard place for anyone to forget, nevermind it’s own princess. You noticed the smiling faces and giggling children as you passed through the Roseleaf village, one of the larger residential areas on the east of the land. The carefully tended front gardens filled with an array of rainbow hues, the young couples walking hand in hand along the paved road, the little red robins flitting from tree to tree — you took it all in.

You were sitting in that carriage for Taria; its people, its nature, its values. Being sent away to a bitter nightmare of a land for the sake of your kingdom’s safety and happiness. Because that’s what a princess would do for her land. Protect it with her life.

The promise of its safety was the sole thing stopping you from breaking down into sobs next to Brock. There was no choice, there never would be between your freedom and your people.

The last bearable moment of your journey ended when the carriage reached the end of Taria, and the beginning of the Heartlen Ocean — the body of water that connected Taria and Hydra.

You’d been transferred onto a large sailing boat, one significantly bigger than the rowing boats scattered along the docks. In a tiny cabin below the main deck of the ship, you were escorted to and told to rest, as the voyage across the sea would be long and the waters would only be calm for another few hours. Of course, the seas around Hydra were vicious and rough, but you refused to sleep under their watch. You couldn’t if you wanted to. Every emotion under the sun was coursing through your veins; fear, anger, despair. Putting your mind at rest was impossible. It was as if they’d disregarded the fact they’d practically kidnapped you, and were complicit in the agreement that was forcing you into sudden marriage with the son of a cruel dictator.

You feared you’d never sleep peacefully again.

It took seven hours to arrive at Hydra. During that time, you’d remained under the deck, quiet as a mouse. Staring at the divots in the dark wood of the ship, knees tucked tightly to your chest, bare feet almost numb from the drop in temperature as you entered Hydra’s vicinity.

Thinking about Sharon, how adamant she was on getting you out of Taria before you could be taken. About Steve, who’d been burdened with the knowledge of the agreement and sworn to secrecy. About your parents, who entirely blamed themselves for the ordeal, even while having no other choice.

Perhaps if they’d sailed back a little earlier, noticed the signs of early labour quicker, or just not been so foolish as to seek help from the most selfish man on the planet, their daughter would be safe at home. Their princess. And she’d be free, happy.

But it was too late. It’d been too late from the moment their little rowing boat left the docks twenty years prior.

Seven hours, and you’d ended up in the bitter Kingdom of Hydra. Two soldiers escorted you off the boat, rushing you towards another black carriage identical to the one you’d been taken in at the palace. The sky had fallen significantly darker, a thick grey mist shielding the ground below from the sun’s warmth. Icy air bit at your skin, had your teeth chattering and lips numb the second you rose from below the ship’s deck.

Those around you remained unfazed, used to the freezing climate. To the dull skies and unsaturated expanse. Taria was to them what Hydra was to you — an entirely different reality.

Brock noticed you shivering in the carriage beside him, chuckling mockingly at your discomfort. Ignoring him, your eyes burned holes in the fabric of your dress in your lap. You didn’t want to let your gaze wander outside, seeing a cold, monotonous space rather than the colourful liveliness you adored back home.

Again, you passed through villages. Villages that were anything but reflections of those in Taria. The houses were much smaller, more compact than cozy. No quaint plants and shrubs complimenting the open front of the house, no bouncing children or chirping birds. Each house appeared identical, and not a soul was in sight. Likely huddling up in their homes, out of the cutting wind that’d soon transform into a bustling blizzard.

You caught sight of a figure in the window of the last home along the lane, only for a moment. A child, a boy. His high cheekbones and pin-straight nose stuck out to you. A frown played on his lips as he observed the carriage travel by, the same one he’d seen the day before, led by the same dark horses that sent shivers down his spine.

Cheering up the children back home seemed to be a gift you possessed. Not that they often weren’t baring toothy smiles, but when they wandered the palace garden and the markets with a solemn expression for whatever reason that day, it was instinct for you to lift their spirits. A box of red velvet cupcakes or some children’s books that’d been sitting in your library for years seemed to do the trick, and each and every time, it was heartwarming to watch the light reappear in their doe eyes.

Yet that boy, along with the thousands of other children living day-to-day under King Alexander’s rule — their happiness wasn’t something you could provide them with. Not when the man was stripping you of your own joy. When you were losing the light you were always eager to share with those who needed it.

If Taria was the planet’s garden, then Hydra was it’s graveyard. A place where dreams died before they could even begin to flourish. Where nobody desired to live, where too many people were forced into a meagre existence. And you were simply another soul Hydra had stolen for itself.

Another couple of hours passed again until the castle finally came into sight, only barely among the cloudiness of the night. The castle you’d only heard horror stories about, where too much blood had been shed and lives lost. And it was where you were going to live for the rest of your days. The thought alone put a deep frown on your lips.

You were exhausted. It’d been an early rise for you that morning; up and ready by eight o’clock, you took a trip to the markets before it was busy and stock was selling fast. You were to be back by nine for breakfast with your parents, but one of the merchants had been insisting you tried one of her cinnamon sugar pretzels, doused with golden syrup, which were usually sold out within hours of the stall opening. The sweet treat was delicious, you’d found, and you’d bought three more to bring back to Sharon and your parents.

A simple, lovely morning. And how quickly the day turned sour.

The urge to sleep was tugging at your eyelids, but you suppressed the need, nipping at your wrist to keep yourself awake. You’d have to succumb to sleep eventually, but you’d do it in the comfort of a bed far away from any soldiers, far away from Brock. Still, the thought of falling into such a vulnerable state, in the castle appearing more and more enormous as the carriage approached it, was indeed unnerving.

It looked like something out of a story book. Dark grey brick, looming towers with tall turrets atop them, an unnecessarily large gate guarding the inside — the image of a villain’s abode.

All underneath a shadow black sky, without a star in sight. No light, no hope. Only darkness.

The carriage continued along a winding, rubble path, it’s destination being the towering gate where six soldiers stood guard. With every yard you grew closer, your heart only pounded harder against your ribs. You’d truly fallen into a never ending nightmare; reaching the castle was only the beginning of it.

It was so cold. The thin dress and lack of any footing was certainly not helping your cause. As the carriage came to a final stop, your legs only barely allowed you to climb out of the transport without slipping to your knees. A soldier remained by your side, silent and still, while Brock ordered the remaining men to take the horses back to the stables.

Upon spying their commander, the soldiers stood guard ordered for the portcullis to be lifted, and soon an echoing clanging noise filled your ears.

While you weren’t eager to enter, the cold had already numbed your fingers and toes. You feared you’d fall ill if you were outside any longer, not that you imagined the inside of such a menacing castle would be any more comfortable.

“Inform the king of our arrival as soon as he wakes.” Brock called out to the lone soldier, who nodded curtly before marching away, into the darkness of the castle corridors.

Like a baby deer, you were left shivering in the cold, eyes wide and legs stiff. Brock took his sweet time striding over to you, before his lips curled into a condescending smile.

“Welcome home, Princess,” He teased, making a gesture towards the enigma of a building behind him. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers.”

With reluctance, you followed him into the castle, wincing at the clang of the gate beginning to shut again behind you.

The stone pavement of the castle was hard against the soles of your feet, as you paced quickly to keep up with Brock’s stalk. Lanterns scattered along the thick brick walls illuminated what would be the pitch black hall he walked you down, a faint smoky scent in the air.

For what felt like hours, you winded around corners and through halls, wondering if you’d ever make it to your chambers. Brock talked, asking silly, mocking questions that you didn’t waste your breath answering, arms crossed firmly over your chest.

Until he said something that made your blood boil a little hotter in your freezing body.

“I’m in shock of your compliance, Princess,” He smirked over his shoulder as he guided you up a dark staircase. “Already accepting the King’s plans for you?”

A scowl pulled at your lips. “I haven’t accepted anything. This isn’t compliance, this is me being here to protect my own.”

“Ah, she speaks!” Brock chuckled grimly, the sound bouncing off the walls of the narrow stairway. “Can she put a smile on, too?”

You ignored him. He laughed again, expecting it.

At the top of the stairs, a long corridor presented itself, identical to the hundred you’d already walked through. It was only at the very end of it that you finally stood still, eyes landing on an old wooden door, deep brown with no pattern etched into it. So plain, so dull — you’d never seen a castle so ancient with so little life.

“This room has been assigned to you until you and the prince are wed,” Brock spoke, pressing a rough hand to the door handle and pushing it open. “A maid will arrive when you wake to prepare you for the morning.”

“The morning?” You raised a brow.

“When you are to meet the king,” A grin tugged at his lips. “He is indeed eager to meet his future daughter-in-law.”

The feeling isn’t mutual, you thought, but kept it to yourself as you shuffled through the open door.

A singular lantern to your left enlightened the space before you.

Dreary like the rest of the castle, the room almost blended into the deep sky through the large window straight ahead of you. Translucent navy drapes hung from the chestnut bed frame, the singular bed topped with a sheet of similar colouring tucked into the corner of the room. A tall closet opposed it, likely filled with dresses that the maids had tailored to your size (however they learned that information). The hardwood flooring pressed into your feet; you already missed the soft crimson carpet that covered the expanse of your bedroom back home. There was a door off to the left, presumably leading into a small bathing room, and a long silver mirror on the other wall reflected its dark presence against the smoky grey brick.

And that was all. No books, no chestnut desk to sit at and swipe red on your lips or rose on your cheeks. Nothing to simply pass the time of waiting for a wedding you were utterly dreading.

Brock grinned a goodnight from the corridor, and you couldn’t even turn around before the echo of his boots filled the narrow, empty space.

A frown immediately pulled at your lips, as you gently closed the door behind you, the click of the lock prompting tears to form in the corners of your eyes.

As you tenderly removed your dress, hanging it up in the back of the wardrobe, you bit your lip to keep your emotions at bay. The braclets you’d slipped on at home remained on your wrist, a reminder of where you truly belonged. You played with them as you blew out the candle light, stealing the only spec of warmth from the room.

The nightdress you’d been given was thin, the creamy linen not doing much to shield you from the icy air that managed to nip at you in every corner of the castle. Sighing, you padded over to the bed, climbing under the fresh sheets, and that’s when the first tear fell. Burning hot as it trickled down your cool cheek.

That bitter night, you weren’t blessed with the pleasure of a long slumber. One salty tear turned into two, and two into many, many more.

And so, your most disconcerting nightmare began.

* * *

Dreams were deadly; you soon learned that after waking from your first night of sleep in the grand castle situated at the very bottom of Hydra’s land.

Perhaps a nightmare would’ve been easier on your mind. It certainly would’ve prepared you for the daunting reality you’d wake up to in a few mere hours. Because you dreamt that you were back in Taria. That Hydra’s soldiers didn’t step foot on your home land, that you’d finished that chapter of your enthralling novel, that Sharon returned to the library with a steaming cup of chamomile tea, and the two of you rested there for the remainder of the day. Uninterrupted, safe.

A soft but urgent knock on your bedroom door woke you from the sweet dream that morning, and upon recognising the drab setting you were in — still dark, the sun rays being rejected rudely by the thick heavy clouds encompassing the land — the harsh reality of your new life came flooding back.

Creaking quietly, the bedroom door opened ajar, an unfamiliar figure peeking through into the room. A woman, a girl even. She couldn’t have been older than eighteen. Her eyes widened as they drifted to the corner of the room, spying you still clutching the navy bed sheets to your chin.

“Forgive me, I didn't mean to wake you; I was told to come here at ten on the dot. My name is Wanda, I was happy to learn I’ve been assigned as your maid, Princess.”

Blinking, your vision became a little clearer. Clear enough to assess the girl frozen in her place in the doorway. Strawberry blonde hair cascaded down her back, pulled back loosely at her neck with a burgundy ribbon. As you propped yourself against the headboard of the bed, her doe eyes got impossibly wider. Brushing out the creases of her moss green skirt, she stood taller, pressing her lips into a thin line.

So nervous in your presence, she seemed. You wondered if the treatment she received from the royals of Hydra had something to do with it.

“It’s— It’s quite alright.” You swallowed, possibly more anxious than she was. If you weren’t so exhausted from the journey to the castle, you likely wouldn’t have slipped into a slumber so easily. That was after you’d sobbed until air could no longer be snatched from your lungs, and you drifted off with a sore throat and tear tracks staining your cheeks.

You’d fallen asleep between the same walls as one of the most ruthless kings to date, as well as an army of remorseless soldiers ready to comply with his every order. The thought made you shudder; that, and the sheets falling from your shoulders, exposing your skin to the cool room.

Wanda crinkled her brows, picking up on your discomfort. Slowly, as if not to cause you any more distress, she slipped between the open door and closed it behind her.

“I’ll run a hot bath for you, Your Highness. I’m afraid it’ll have to be quick; King Alexander would like you escorted to the throne room within the hour.”

You remained quiet. Still barely awake, still barely able to comprehend the situation you’d so quickly fallen into.

The maid clasped her hands in front of her, considering her next words carefully before offering the tip of her lips. “I understand that you only arrived here a mere several hours ago, Your Highness — I think a warm bath will only do you good, if I may say.”

It would have certainly been nice, considering the climate you’d been forced into abruptly. You’d picked up on some of Brock’s ramblings in the carriage the night before; he’d said something about a blizzard being on its way. Judging by the thick fog and the chill already bringing goosebumps to your skin, he was right. You weren’t looking forward to the process of adapting to the weather.

As soon you gave Wanda the faintest hint of a nod, the girl rushed towards the adjoining bathing room you had yet to familiarise yourself with, and soon enough the harsh streaming of water began to fully wake you for the morning.

Lavender swarmed your senses as you stepped into the small room, observing Wanda as she swirled oil into the warm water with a delicate hand. Throwing a smile over her shoulder, the maid shook off her hand before wiping it quickly on her skirt.

“I hand-picked the lavender and made the oil myself this morning. I’ll be honest, I’m not meant to leave the castle unless I’m ordered to do so, but with a storm brewing, I was eager to collect as many herbs and flowers as possible before my duties for the day started,” A soft chuckle left her lips, before she shook her head, a rosy tint pooling in her cheeks. “Forgive me, I— I haven’t served a lady in several years. I can’t imagine my rambling would amuse the men of the castle.”

If your mood hadn’t been so sour, perhaps you would have smiled at her excitement. The happiness others radiated you tended to absorb; no wonder every moment on Taria was an enjoyable one.

It astounded you how bubbly the strawberry blonde appeared. A delicate daisy in a daunting forest — she bloomed without sunlight. Of course, it could’ve been an act in front of the prince's bride-to-be, but there was a certain spark to her that felt genuine. Maybe it really was because of the presence of another woman.

King Alexander’s wife — the former queen of Hydra — had died almost a decade earlier. Being so young and out of the loop with politics and the states of other kingdoms, you hadn’t heard much about her at all. Even if you were older, you’d likely not hear anything more. If she ever engaged in politics, attended balls or kept in touch with other queens across the seas, she was very quiet in doing so. Queen Mara of Hydra — the only time you heard her name spoken was when she passed. As a child, when the severity of death and its impact on kingdoms was so foreign to you.

You assumed Wanda used to serve the late queen; perhaps she was more pleasant than her husband. For Wanda’s sake, you could only have hoped so.

“Thank you, Wanda.” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper. The maid wouldn’t have heard you if she was standing any further away.

But she did, and she curtsied in return. “Of course, Your Highness.”

The bath was nice, you’d admit. Like a warm hug after a long day. Except your day had barely started, and as soon as you were to step out of the heavenly hot water, you’d be pulling on a dress that wasn’t sewed by the dressmakers you’d known since childhood, making your way down to a throne room you were completely unfamiliar with, and meeting a king that you had no interest in ever crossing paths with.

And soon enough, that was where you were.

Stood in the centre of a cold room, face to face with a man you’d only heard terrible stories of.

Wanda had picked out a garnet red dress for the morning. You hadn’t owned many red dresses back on Taria, preferring cooler tones like emerald green and the royal blue attire you’d arrived in Hydra with. And that dress seemed to be the only one that actually fit, your new one pinching tight at the waist. Though when Wanda was only offering you compliments as she combed out your hair and polished your shoes, you weren’t about to complain.

It wasn’t the dress that was stealing the breath from your lungs, however. It was the monarch who sat proudly in his dark throne before you.

Four soldiers either side of the throne stared straight past you, as the king himself stared at you. Sandy blond hair laced with grey fell over his forehead, and he wore a solemn expression as he eyed the new arrival to his kingdom.

“Princess _____ of Taria,” Alexander spoke, the rasp in his voice bringing goosebumps to your skin. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance.”

You remained stoic, refusing to meet the eyes of a king who was more monster than man. As you looked to the right of the throne, you spied Brock among the soldiers too, observing you with interest.

The king soon realised that you were immensely uncomfortable; it wasn’t like he’d expected you to act any different.

He glanced over his shoulder, silently calling Brock over. The commander was at his side almost immediately. So cocky in front of you, and so obedient to the king — typical.

“Take the soldiers outside,” He ordered calmly, before leaning forward to murmur something inaudible to Brock, who nodded firmly, then making a swift exit with the ever-submissive soldiers behind him.

Soon enough, you and the king were left alone. The silence was deafening as you awaited his next words, both reluctantly and with anticipation.

The throne room was so large, so intimidating. Walls scattered with grand portraits of previous monarchs, small square windows barely letting any sunlight pour through; not to mention how your hands were almost numb. It was difficult not to miss the beaming sun in Taria, how it would seep through the curtains on a bright morning, how the warmth would dance across your skin and the light would reflect in your eyes.

It was almost as if Hydra completely blocked it out.

The king exhaled, clasping his hands in his lap as he leaned back in his seat. “If you have anything you would like to say, by all means, don’t keep quiet on my account.”

Considering him for a moment, you tightened your jaw. It was like he could sense the hundreds of questions swarming your mind. While you worried that he wouldn’t be so impressed with what you wanted to say to him, he couldn’t reprimand you for anything. Not when you were to marry his son. Anything you said wouldn’t matter once you left the room; he’d had your fate in his hands since the moment you were born.

Your eyes flit to his, tears burning at the back of them. “My parents were desperate for your help—”

“And I helped them.” He commented nonchalantly; his disinterest feeling like a slap to the face.

“You took advantage of them,” You corrected him, not appreciating the interruption. “They wouldn’t have accepted your deal if my mother’s life wasn’t at stake.”

Idly fiddling with the rings encircling his fingers, Alexander sighed. “Things have a certain way of falling into place, I believe. I’m not sure it’s a coincidence that your mother happened to go into labour on the same day that her and your father decided to sail across the Heartlen Ocean, stray further from Taria than they ever had before, leaving Hydra’s help as their own hope.”

“This was never meant to happen, I refuse to believe that.” You shook your head. Taria was the only place you’d ever belong. Only selfish men like the king had a true place in Hydra.

“You were born here, Princess. You took your first breath of air in this castle. It was inevitable that you would find your way back.”

“I am not here by choice,” You insisted, resisting the urge to yell, to scream about how much you hated the man in front of you for snatching your life away right before your eyes. “Hydra has allies, with kings and queens that would be more than glad to arrange a marriage between their daughters and your son, yet you chose Taria’s princess before I was even born — why?”

Hydra’s group of allies were certainly limited, but they weren’t the only kingdom that idealised a dictatorship and control over every aspect of their land. The king could have made strong connections with them, people who shared his mentality, his brutal methods. But he didn’t. He did the complete opposite, and that was extremely odd.

The king contemplated answering the question, he truly did. Words hanging from the tip of his tongue. But instead, he waved you off with a steady hand. “The answer to that will be clear in due time.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to protest, but you were soon interrupted by his booming voice unexpectedly.

“Bring in the Asset.”

His stare diverted, until it was focused on something behind you. Heavy footsteps clambered outside the room, along the echoey hall until they reached the doors of the throne room. They opened with an eerie creak, and upon throwing a look over your shoulder, your breath immediately hitched.

Three soldiers stood either side of, well, another soldier. But he wasn’t like them, not at all. His presence managed to freeze you in your stance, unable to fully turn around.

He was tall, a great deal taller than the other soldiers. Dark, untamed locks fell around his angular face, framing his sharp jaw and chiselled cheekbones. And he was so broad. The soldier attire almost looked more fitting on him, with his wide shoulders and muscular thighs. Protecting his shoulders were the same metal plates, with that same red star imprinted on the left side. A gasp almost escaped your lips when you noticed his arm, shimmering silver even in the dull light. The man, he couldn’t be another mere soldier. And he wasn’t — they called him the Asset.

For some reason, they wanted you to meet him.

With a proud expression, Brock met your eyes as he led the soldier in your direction, stopping only a foot away before he stepped to the side.

You swallowed, forcing your body to turn around, and you were met with perhaps the only splash of bright colour in the castle.

Azure blue eyes pierced into yours, making your palms clam and your knees weak. Unlike the other soldiers, he didn’t just stare past you; he stared through you, with eyes that were so blue yet so dim. His features remained blank, but even then his eyes burning into you made you feel small, almost too seen.

“I understand that you never took on a personal guard in Taria,” The king spoke from behind you. “I won’t be as foolish as your parents to leave you without one here.”

He gave a nod to Brock, who stepped towards you and the soldier, waving the other soldiers away with a hand. A grin tugged at his lips as he turned back to you. “The Asset is the best soldier we have. His only mission is to protect your life at all costs.”

Your brows pinched, and you just about managed to pull your eyes from the soldier’s to Brock’s. “Am I in such a state where I need a guard with that sole mission? Your best soldier, at that?”

“There are some cruel people living in Hydra, Princess. We wouldn’t want any of them getting their hands on you.” The man answered, practically smirked, knowing you’d already fallen into such hands.

But he was right, in a sense. Hydra’s royals weren’t exactly immune to danger. Rebellions were rare, but another one at any given time wasn’t an impossibility. Especially if the rebels believed your parents had chosen for you to marry into Hydra’s kingdom — you were fresh blood, and that made you an easy target for them.

If it wasn’t the rebels trying to hurt you, it’d be those that could simply for the fun of it. Because crime was so normalised there; everyone was constantly on edge, scared for their safety when night fell and silent shadows began to rome the unprotected villages. It was no way to live.

“He’ll be at your side at all times,” He continued. “Day and night; he’ll only rest when he must. Refer to him as ‘soldier’ and nothing else; he’s a guard, not your friend.”

You wouldn’t have expected anything else.

The king perked up from behind you, almost making you flinch. “Soldier, take the princess back to her chambers. A maid will arrive shortly with a meal for her.”

Huffing quietly, you glared over your shoulder. Apparently they weren’t stripping you of your freedom gradually, but completely all at once. Wonderful.

His expression remained nonchalant as he tipped his head at you. “I’m afraid my son is dealing with political affairs out of the kingdom today; he won’t be in attendance tonight. You’re to meet Isaac at breakfast tomorrow. I can assure you, he is looking forward to the pleasure of your company.”

If only you could say the same.

Your eyes turned back to the soldier, who had already spun around and was ready to comply with the king’s order. Soon enough, he was leading you out of the grand room, back to your sombre chambers.

The walk was silent; he wouldn’t talk to you, of course — it wasn’t in his job nature to do so. Even him, a tall, cold-eyed, man who was more muscle than anything else, was so obedient. Too obedient. So compliant that his expression never changed, he wouldn’t speak to you because he’d been strictly ordered not to, and his sole purpose was deemed to be the protection of your life. And he didn’t bat an eye. You wondered why. Why they were all soldiers first and humans not even second, but never at all.

You thought about the truth behind the soldier’s cold exterior for the rest of the dreary day.

Back in the throne room, seconds after he saw you wind around the corner into the dark corridor with your guard, Brock approached his king with a questioning crinkle in his brow.

“Your Highness, while I would never doubt your methods, I’m concerned that without a routine mind-wipe, we may begin to lose control over the Asset.”

Alexander considered his words. “Truthfully, I believe his brain has been tampered with enough to permanently erase his past from his mind. Alas, if he begins to show signs that his memory is recovering, you’ll know what to do.

As long as the princess doesn’t get any foolish ideas, the Asset shouldn’t pose a problem to us at all.”

[mulletcal]

flowers, maybe daisies, might relieve the gloom. - an a.i blurb

a/n: i lowkey blame @sexgodashton​ for starting this whole mini series of boomer!ash things, but i also adore this because boomer!ash is soft as hell.  and also a lil d*ddy but we don’t need to talk about that.  title is from wait by sweeney todd bc i love it.  alternative title was gonna be from L.G. FUAD by motion city soundtrack

word count: 

warnings: ashton irwin being a thirst trapping, lemon stealing whore. i’m kidding it’s just a solo ash fic w no smut but some mild ash thirst trapping.

-----

‘ashtonirwin started a live video.’

Ashton didn’t often go live on Instagram, but this shelter in place order had left him ultimately bored - writing a song every day before noon, sure, but anything after that was a blur.  Occasionally he would have interviews or live-streams with the band, but on days without that he was left alone with his thoughts, and his thoughts weren’t always the safest place to be; so talking to fans it was. 

It was going well so far, simply asking fans how their quarantine was going - bringing some of them into the livestream so he could talk to some face to face.  One girl in particular had caught his attention when they began to discuss hobbies she had picked up during the time she’d spent at home.

“Yeah, I’m learning to garden.  I have a tomato plant that is just starting to sprout actual tomatoes, so that’s kind of exciting,” She had said, a nervous laugh escaping.

“Well, I would hope that your tomato plant is sprouting tomatoes, it would be a little concerning if it was growing something else,” Ashton replied with a chuckle, the girl giving a small shrug but still laughing along with him.

“You should look into it if you’ve got the room at your house, I bet it would feel rather rewarding to be able to cook something with your own fresh vegetables.”

“Would save me quite a bit of money too.  Can I grow yeast? I’d like to learn how to make my own bread but here in L.A. you can’t find yeast anywhere.”

The conversation continued like that for a few minutes more, Ashton taking only a couple more fans into the livestream after that to talk to before he decided he should probably do something else productive with his day.  Something like learning to garden. 

It surprised Ashton the things you were able to order online during this time - soil being the main thing.  He also read that saving coffee grounds would help, and he was excited at the idea of his insane coffee habit wouldn’t be completely useless.  He ended up buying seeds for tomatoes, mint, sunflowers, lemongrass, and zucchini.  The lemongrass and mint was specifically for Calum, realizing he would be able to dry the plants out once he had harvested them so he could make the man his very own tea.

When his package finally arrived, Ashton spread the packages out, sliding them across the table as though he was some card dealer in Las Vegas.  Thinking the fans would find it amusing, he took a picture of the spread and added it to his story with the caption of ‘pick a card, any card…’.  Maybe it would only be funny to him, but it did prompt a fire reaction from Michael.

It seemed as though the reaction from fans were positive though, them taking to Twitter to let him know their excitement about his new endeavour.  That’s where his weekly livestreams began.  He would show everyone the progress he was making with his plants, and just in general him chatting with fans.  Ashton never really thought of how refreshing it could be to just talk to the fans, without the worry of time restrictions or anyone’s personal safety in the way; in fact, it left him rather inspired, loving their fans even more if it were at all possible.

A particularly warm day in L.A. left Ashton wondering if he should go out to the garden that day - but it was the day he would normally livestream, and he was excited to show what he was up to that day.  Ashton wanted to plant another tomato plant, and also the lemons on his infamous tree had enough for him to make some lemonade so he was going to go through that as well.

Clad in some cut off jeans, or as Calum so affectionately called them his jorts, and a white tank top, he pulled up the live option on Instagram and waited for the people to begin to filter in before he started to speak.

“Hey guys! Just gonna wait for more of you to filter in before I actually head outside, but I thought that since you guys love my lemon tree so much, I’d make some lemonade.  Fuck, I sound like a YouTuber.  Is that gonna be my next career, is just YouTube tutorials on how to make shitty lemonade?” Ashton laughed to himself, slicing the lemon so he could juice it, ignoring the comments he saw about murdering his lemon children.

It didn’t take him long to make the lemonade, making mild conversation with the fans while he stirred in a little bit of sugar and some cheat mint he had ordered while waiting for his own to grow.

“Alright, now that I’m waiting for that to cool, probably best we go outside and check on those tomatoes, hm?” 

It had been weird at first, talking to himself; but he quickly realized that he talked to himself anyways, even without the phone in front of him, so it couldn’t have been too weird for anyone who could overhear him.

“So I wanted to plant another tomato plant today, because everyone can use a friend right now, you know?” He looked into the camera, a smile spreading across his face when he saw the flood of cute little emojis that followed.  “M’gonna be like the Bob Ross of gardening. No mistakes, only happy accidents or whatever it was he said.”

Ashton began to work away at his garden, building up a sweat in the process.  It wasn’t until he leaned back, glancing at his phone did he see a text from Michael flash across the top.

‘Mate, Crystal said stop thirst trapping the fans.’

Ashton’s brow furrowed, unsure of what the text was saying, “Okay so I just got a text from Michael - what’s thirst trapping? And am I currently doing it?”

Of all the comments that followed, he noticed one that said ‘I mean… I’m not gonna say either way but take a look at yourself and get back to us’.  Another one told him that it was when someone wears something in order to provoke risque texts, or gain attention from someone.

Ashton pouted, looking down at his appearance.  He was kind of sweaty, but he didn’t think that the fans would mind him being covered in dirt and sweat, it’s not as though they had to smell him.  Though, he would admit that he needed a shower. 

“Well, since my tomato plant has been… planted next to its’ friend, and I’m apparently thirst trapping you all, I should probably go shower and clean up.  Is me mentioning a shower thirst trapping as well?” Ashton rubbed his face over his hands, a small huff leaving his lips, “I don’t know… Fellow youths, tweet me and lemme know.  Also, may hold a poll later on what to name these guys.” He flipped the camera around, struggling for a moment, to show the sunflowers that were starting to sprout, “M’thinking of naming one Denise.  Just seems like a Denise.”

After his small speech was over, he ended the stream, grinning to himself.  He hadn’t meant to show off his body in such a way, but it was funny to know that even with him hardly doing anything but be himself they still lost their shit.

Glancing around at his garden, he felt himself swell with a mild sense of pride.  He was still a ways off from seeing any fruits of his labour (literally), but it made him feel good knowing he did something with his time at home, instead of slipping further into his mind which wasn’t always the kindest to him.

Ashton realized that when he was gardening, it was similar to songwriting in a way where all of his self doubts and fears went away and he could just pour himself into it - the reward being well worth the risk in the end.

Once his shower was done, he sat outside in his backyard, sipping his lemonade and enjoying the sunshine - realizing that having to stay home wasn’t all too bad, if it meant he could reset his mind, and do some small part to help how he could during that time.

tag list:  @haikucal​ @talkfastromance4​ @softbabiestan​ @boyfriend-cal​ @calum-uncrowned​ @wildflowerirwin​ @irwindoll​ @gosh-im-short​  @thesubtweeter​ @heavenisapeach​ @ridingcthood​ @loveroflrh​ @mantlereid​ @inlovehoodx​ @irwinkitten​ @n-ctarinenga​​ @g-l-pierce​ @thecurlsofgod​

[ragnarachael]

Joyride

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k  

Summary: You're heading back to your apartment after a game night at a friend's place when you encounter Loki for the first time since his invasion in 2012.

Author’s Ramblings: hi!! this is my entry for @gingerwritess​ writing challenge! congrats on 4k!!! 💖 (i hope it’s okay i’m only like 100 and some odd words past 2k,, apparently i couldn’t make it less than that for the life of me)

Warnings: talks of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus! (it’s nothing too graphic, if i’m being honest. and yes, blame National Theatre Live for this), reader is kinda hesitant in the beginning about Loki bc of the whole “take over NYC” thing. that’s really all i can think of for warnings!

LOKI TAGLIST: @sadwaywardkid​

MASTERLIST !    FEEDBACK !   AO3 LINK !

You saw him on the A Train. You noticed his lithe form when you took a minute to glance up from your book.

Him as in the one who took New York in his clutches momentarily back in 2012 while you were in the middle of a shift at the coffee shop you used to work at that was just near the main spot of action. Loki. 

It was only the two of you on this train at this time of night. You were heading back home to your apartment where your dog would most likely be sleeping on her assigned side of the bed, passed out after trying to wait up for you. Your friends hosted a game night and insisted you had come. 

And you kicked ass in Scrabble, Life—Spongebob Edition, you remembered picking Squidward as your token to play the game—and even Cluedo.

And you never won Cluedo. 

You were proud of yourself. Three wins on one game night is better than nothing. Usually, you’re a sore loser every time you’re invited over. 

It seemed like everything was going your way tonight. 

Until you caught Loki studying the cover of your book as you read. 

After you finished your last book on the train on the way to work, you decided to shove your worn copy of Coriolanus in place and never bothered to take it out. So naturally, that was your reading material of choice tonight as you waited for the final stop. 

“May I help you?” You questioned, glancing up at the God that sat across from you. When he didn’t reply, you tried to direct your attention back to the book pages, rereading the huge section you had just skipped over 

You heard him shift, which made you look up at him again. However this time, you maintained eye contact. 

What do you say when a murderer is looking at your book late at night on your train back home? You didn’t want to end up dead by the end of this interaction. You had a life to carry on with. Manuscripts to finish, your dog to take care of, your parents to mildly ignore when they tell you how you should be living. 

Not dead on the A Train after being slain by Loki, the God of Mischief. 

He seemed like he was in a trance when he apologized quietly.

That was... odd. 

“I.. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice the author’s name on the cover of your book,” he spoke up, finally leaning back on the seat as the train started to go in the direction of the third to last stop for the night. “Shakespeare, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Yes,” you said hesitantly, fighting the urge to look at the cover yourself to make sure that it was Shakespeare, even though you knew exactly what it was. “Another tragedy.”

“May I ask which? The title seems to be scratched off.”

You could feel your face heating up at his words. He noticed that? Now that you thought about it, it made sense that he was staring so long for the title.

“It’s uh, Coriolanus. Roman soldiers and stuff. Right up your alley if you think about it,” you said, your eyes darting back to the pages you were permanently stuck on. You didn’t want to see his reaction when he figured out you knew him. 

Loki seemed stunned at your reply for assuming such. It’s not like you had been wrong. You did some research on Asgard a while after 2012 and learned a thing or two about their politics. 

Quite Roman-esque in your unprofessional opinion. 

He seemed to mull it over for a moment before letting a chuckle out. “It appears you may be right, darling.”

Darling. 

That made chills run up your spine. Not... not in a bad way, though. You wouldn’t mind him calling you that again, as a matter of fact.

The conversation was cut by the screeching breaks of the train. You both braced yourselves in your seats so you didn’t slide with gravity as the train finally got to a stop, reaching the third to last station. 

The doors opened for no one, and waited. 

There was some sort of silence you couldn’t decipher as the doors waited for no one to arrive. You turned the page to your book, pretending to be reading. Your mind was still replaying the words Loki said. 

Mainly darling, but that's besides the point. 

Eventually, the doors closed and the train was back to moving. Loki was back to looking at your book cover, and you actually got pulled back into the script.

Until you were interrupted again. 

“Why is your copy in such poor quality?”

Loki’s voice was like velvet as he started to take interest in you again. 

“I’ve had it for a long, long time.”

That answer seemed enough for him. You started to reread a line of Volumnia’s when he continued speaking. 

“Could you tell me more about it?”

You wanted to hold yourself back, you really did. Maybe he had some kind of motive to do something bad? You don’t know if he’s turned good. He could still be the same man he was in 2012.  Regardless of your thoughts running wild, you awkwardly scooted a bit subconsciously to make more room for Loki to sit next to you. That’s when you knew it was game over. 

You told him about the plot in deep, deep detail. You spoke about each character as if you had written this play yourself. It was, after all, one of your favorites that you’ve been reading since your senior year of high school. 

Loki sat and listened intently, drinking in your unabashed excitement as you recounted everything that happens in this play; it was as if you had actually been in Rome when the play was set. 

He found it endearing. Most mortals were not passionate like you were about literature—or anything period. But, on the other hand, Loki hadn’t talked to many mortals since his deal with the Avengers granted him his freedom. 

Another thing he found interesting, he could listen to you talk about Shakespeare for hours. 

Loki had only read some of the cliché plays that were written. Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Twelfth Night. They all grasped his attention and he read them thoroughly when he had the time. But there seemed that in this moment, there was nothing quite like Shakespeare’s Coriolanus.

The train ride was less excruciating once you were talking. You found that Loki was actually well educated and not as much of an asshole as he seemed. Loki found you even more attractive than he had when he stepped into the train car. 

You were in the middle of passionately explaining Volumnia’s relationship with her son when the train came to a stop again, announcing the last stop. 

Neither you or Loki wanted this to end. 

“I—I’d love to keep going,” you started, suddenly realizing you spent so much time speaking, “but this is my stop.”

The usual dialogue came from the speakers as the doors wheezed open. Loki stood up from his seat with you as you gathered your things, your book in hand. 

“I fear this may be too forward,” he started, suddenly feeling nervous. “But may I walk you home?”

Never in your years of living did you expect to be asked by the man who took New York in his clutches to be walked home in the dead of night.

And never did you think you’d say yes. 

The two of you fell in step as you walked out of the subway car, silent as you took in the emptiness of the subway station. 

It was peaceful. A small part of the city that somewhat slept. You realized that you were less tense than when you started this journey, and smiled small as both you and Loki took the steps two at a time to reach the surface. 

Both of you made it onto the sidewalk before you realized something.

“You know,” you started carefully once your bag was secured on your back, “you don’t need to walk me back. I’m sure you have a curfew or... or something—“

“Darling, I assure you, I’m not needed back at the tower.” Loki gripped your hand gently to pull you to a full stop on the sidewalk now. “I’d much rather hear your passion for this work than hear my brother drone on about his lover.”

For some reason, that confession combined with his touch made your breath hitch. His hand felt as if it wasn’t warm, but not cold either. It was like the perfect temperature. 

Suddenly your mind wondered what it would feel like to be held in his arms. You were quick to wipe away that thought by blinking up at Loki, furrowing your brows together. 

“Are you sure? Sounds much more invigorating, hearing about someone’s dating life rather than being told about a Roman soldier in depth.”

“I am positive,” Loki chuckled in reply. “Your knowledge on this play is far better than any mortal’s. Almost as if you had studied with the Bard himself.”

You felt your face heat up from the compliment, and decided to keep your hand locked in his as you started to walk down the sidewalk again. 

“Flattering gets you nowhere, Loki.”

“I’m merely speaking the truth!” His voice sounded like he was accused of something like a child. This made you laugh. You just shook your head to dismiss the subject 

“So, back to Volumnia and how she’d rather her son die in battle than live a life of shame?”

“Please. I’m all ears.”

The walk back to your apartment was quicker than you expected as you broke down the rest of the play. And for once, you didn’t want to sleep. You wanted to stay up and keep talking to Loki. You didn’t care about the time or the place, you wanted to keep talking. 

Even if you’ve exhausted your extensive knowledge on this play. 

You and Loki stood in front of your apartment building, laughing at a small joke you had made about Caius Marcius yearning to fight Aufidius during an important meeting. 

The blanket of silence between you two was comfortable. You noticed Loki’s gaze seemed soft. Almost... loving. You tried to ignore it, but he seemed so smitten in this moment. The moonlight hit his face just right which made you swoon internally when you saw just how handsome he could be in the different lighting of the night.

“I really should get going,” you sighed, letting the heel of your hand gently rub at your eye. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”

Loki shifted his weight on his feet, seeming just as dejected as you. It was nice knowing you both didn’t want this night to end. 

“I’d like to see you again, if that—“

“Yes,” you cut him off instantly, looking up into his eyes. It was like a trance. You admittedly loved every second of it. 

He chuckled at your sudden response. Minutes, maybe even hours ago, you two had wanted nothing to do with each other.

And yet here you both stood, smitten in conversation, dancing around the harsh reality that you’d have to carry on with your lives after you stopped talking. 

You licked your dry lips slowly, a smile settling across your features before repeating yourself again. “Yes please.”

Loki smiled back at you before nodding. Neither of you knew what to do from here. It seemed as though goodbyes weren’t your forte. 

You fumbled for a moment, almost as if you were getting your keys from your bag.

Which you were doing, Loki realized. Getting your keys. And a pen, it seemed. You were quick to bite the plastic cap off before opening to the first page in your copy of Coriolanus and writing. 

Loki tried to see what you had written, but you were far too fast. By the time he tried to get a closer look, you were done writing and capped the pen before closing the book and passing it over to him.

“A reason to see me again.” 

You sounded breathless, as if you had just ran into him on the street and dropped everything onto the ground. Loki felt his heart speed up momentarily before taking the book carefully. 

“I already had a reason, darling.” Loki’s smile knocked the breath right out of you before he stepped a little closer to get in your personal space, reaching for one of your hands. You weren’t sure as to what he was doing until his long, gentle fingers were grabbing your own and lifted it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

You were blushing. You were certain of it. 

You said your final goodnights for the night, Loki patiently waiting until you were in the lobby of the building to actually take his leave with your book.

[travesty-majesty]

Postwickshipping fic bc I’m in the mood

(I’ve never written a pkmn fic before so hopefully I get the characters ok! This is basically a comfort ship for me)

(Set five years after main game! Assuming the characters were around 16 in main game, around 20-21 now)

This was it, the fifth year Gloria was taking on someone to defend her title as Champion. Hop couldn’t make it to the stadium as he was holed up in the lab to keep an eye on some Pokemon, but he was watching it from his phone, cheering for his girlfriend.

They had started dating maybe a year or two after Gloria became champion. Despite Gloria often being busy with her Champion work, she always made sure to stay over in Hop’s house once a week. Any day one of them had off they spent with the other in their workplace, and if they both had the day off, date night!

It was going great so far. Gloria often complained of all the work being the Champion took, and how she’d love to be able to settle down with someone (preferably Hop). Hop just laughed and told her it’d calm down at some point. He’d never admit he wanted the same thing. He’d love to be able to have normal meals with her, go out exploring together... He just wants to be with her as much as he can be.

One day Gloria joked that if she ever lost her title she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d do. Hop threw out there that Sonia could always use another assistant, to which they both laughed. Hop didn’t think much of it.

He turned his focus to the match. Both Gloria and her opponent were on their last Pokemon, down to very low health. Hop liked to predict what her next move would be, and this one was obvious.

“Well, if she uses Quick Attack now, she’ll definitely win! She outspeeds Cinderace, so even if they both use it, she’ll go first! She’s got this in the bag.” He described to himself, punching the air before she had even won. The Rockruff that had been bounding around stopped and looked up at him, barking once.

“See? It’s easy! Oh, wait! It’s her turn.” He turned up the volume. “C’mon, mate...”

‘Mate’ always slipped out, even though they’re dating.

Gloria didn’t act for a moment, all cameras turned to her. She looked like she was planning something. Then she looked right into one of the cameras, looking directly at Hop. He almost felt like he was there. Then, she sighed and smiled.

“Inteleon, use Double Team!” She commanded with the confidence of someone who’d thought they’d won.

But everyone knew, even Gloria.

She’d doomed herself.

Hop gasped, dropping the phone.

“WHAT?! No, they’re gonna attack! You’d gonna lose! Gloriaaaaa..!”

Rockruff barked again.

“Oh, shush and let me be emotional!”

Inteleon used the move as told, and as Hop had imagined, the opposing trainer had gone for an attack, knocking Inteleon out.

That was it.

Gloria was no longer Champion.

Hop was speechless as the award ceremony was carried out. She lost? How? She was amazing at these battles, how did she just lose? While he wondered, the host asked “Anything you wanna say to the people at home?”

“One specific person, actually.” She said, taking the microphone.

“Hop.”

He looked at the screen again.

“Keep the door unlocked, ok?”

- - -

It had only been two hours since the championship ended. As soon as it did, Hop had unlocked the door like she said, then promptly collapsed into the couch. He knew he wouldn’t be getting any work done, so he absent-mindedly stroked a Pyukumuku as he thought. Gloria didn’t seem upset at all, which was odd; many losses at Monopoly on her part had showed him she always gets at least a little bit frustrated.

So why did she just take it?  

It’s not like he was angry, or disappointed or something. He was just... confused.

As he wondered, he heard a bit of a commotion outside. Sighing, he stood up and popped his head out the door. People were crowded around the train station.

‘May as well go check that out. Get my mind off that.’ He thought. He stood up, bringing the pokemon back into their pokeballs before he left.

He made his way down to the station, hearing people chatter about the match. It’s not like he was the only one watching; everyone in Galar was watching.

When he got there, he had to push his way through a crowd, but when he got to the front, he saw...

“Gloria!”

Gloria, who had been talking to an excited fan, spun around when she heard his voice.

“Hop! You’re here!”

She made her way over, immediately hugging him. Yes, she was on her tippy toes. No, nobody mentioned it.

“I was gonna surprise you at the lab, you know.” She said. Hop laughed, hugging back tightly.

“Well, I’m here now, mate. We could still go, though, if you’d wanna?” He asked. She nodded, glancing around.

“Sure. Gotta tell you something in private, anyway.” She said.

Ominous much?

Either way, Gloria gave one or two more statements before taking Hop’s hand, leading them both back to the lab. Her hand was pretty warm, he noticed. Why, he couldn’t tell you. I suppose you just notice those small things when you’ve been with someone for so long.

- - -

Gloria collapsed onto the couch, sighing. “I sure missed this. You’re lucky, getting to sit here each day!”

“What are you, a couch expert?” Hop asked, both of them laughing. Eventually though, when both had calmed down, Hop spoke up again.

“So mate, about your match...”

“Oh, that? Nothing much.” She said nonchalantly.

“Wha- you lost! You lost your Champion status! Doesn’t that bother you?!” He asked. Gloria laughed, putting her hand over his.

“I thought you woulda realised. I lost on purpose.”

Hop didn’t react for a moment. When the words sunk in though, his eyes widened.

“What?! On purpose?! Why?!” He exclaimed.

“Well, a few things.” She started. “You know how I’ve been talking about how hectic becoming champion gets. I just... wanted to get away from it, I suppose. Besides, having ‘past Champion’ on my record is gonna be great for the ol’ resume.” She explained.

“I mean... Wow. So you’re just, ok with this? You’re not mad or anything?” He asked, still kinda surprised.

“Yep. I figured five years was good enough. Besides...”

She squeezed his hand, sighing.

“I wanted to be with you. Only seeing you on my days off just wasn’t enough for me.”

“Pfft- Well, same here! In a weird way, I’m sorta glad. Now I get to see your face whenever I want! And not just in your battles.”

“Do you watch all of them?”

“Every single one.”

Gloria laughed again. Hop smiled, just happy to be seeing her in front of him. It felt... almost surreal. He was happy, though. 

“But, uhh... there’s a second reason I decided to give it up. I wanted to settle down. Like, get a house, job... you know.”

“Oh, really..?”

“Mhm! But... obviously, I’m not just gonna move in somewhere on my own. So, I have two questions for you. One... would you be interested in... well, living with me- ah!”

Gloria was cut off by Hop suddenly throwing his arms around her. “Yeah! Yes, definitely! I- this is awesome!”

“Hahahaha! Glad you’re so enthusiastic.”

“Of course I am, mate! Do you think I’d say no?”

“Not really.”

They laughed again, pulling away. 

“And... ok, ready for question number two?” She asked.

“Not sure how it’s gonna get any more intense than the first question, but sure!”

“Ok, well... here, stand up.” 

Gloria stood up, pulling Hop to his feet. She was surprisingly strong, considering her height and build. When they were both standing, still giggling slightly, Gloria took a deep breath.

“Ok, ok, I- stop looking at me like that!”

“Can’t. You’re just too cute.”

“Dork.” Hop laughed at Gloria’s pout. She took a deep breath, then began speaking again.

“Ok, Hop. We’ve been together for years, and despite the long distance, we’ve been really happy together, right?”

“Right.”

“Ok, good. So, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I’ve finally decided to ask. Hop- gah, screw this gammy knee-”

Gloria stretched her leg, then dropped down onto one knee, pulling a box out of her back pocket. Hop covered his mouth, eyes wide. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going.

She flicked open the box.

“Hop, will you marry me?”

Hop instantly pulled her to her feet, kissing her. After a moment, Gloria smiled into the kiss, returning it. They stayed like that for a moment, just being happy. Eventually though, when their need for air tore them away from each other, Hop smiled.

“Yes. Definitely yes.”

~ ~ ~

Ik it’s probably bad but I really wanted to try my hand at postwickshipping so it probably isn’t perfect but it’s fluffy marriage proposal so :>>

(Sorry to all my non-pokemon followers lol) (which is probably a lot of you bc I’ve never posted pokemon content before)

[reachfolk]

1-5 for the character development questions for Alexandria!

💛 from @korvanjund

this took forever to write cause of course i had waY too much to say omfl, but it was super fun!! tysm for the ask darlin <3

what (or who) would your character die for? live for?

family, family, family!! literally everything for alexi goes back to family. she may be on bad terms with her father's side (understatement of the century, but that's for question 3 lmao), but she would do literally anything for her siblings. protecting them is the main reason she's willing to overcome every fear in her fight against alduin. of course, she's also just as close with her aunt ursula. and she may have... a complicated relationship with her mother and father, she loves them and would do anything to keep them safe.

as for what she'd die for, she's just as dedicated to the cause of freeing the reach from nord control as most reachfolk. it's largely because she sees the reachfolk as an extension of her family. the reach is her home and she's so unabashedly proud of that. granted, she isn't as extreme in her views as the forsworn, but we're not gonna get into the highkey racism in the way bethesda wrote that whole faction lmao.

who (or what) does your character love most in the world? why?

this is such a hard question to answer cause like *slaps roof of alexi* this sweet girl can fit so much love in her. if she like, absolutely HAD to pick a handful of people, it would be her siblings (no, she couldn't pick between them even with a gun to her head, and tbh neither could they). i could literally go on for HOURS about her siblings and why they're all so close, but the tldr is that they're really the only people in the world that Get her. their social standing has always been in a really precarious place given how drastically different their mother and father's backgrounds are, and so they never particularly fit in with most kids from their social class. but they also didn't get very much of a chance to connect with their reachfolk heritage. i won't go so far as to call them outcasts, but they were definitely seen as... different, and there weren't many opportunities for them to feel like normal kids except for when they were with each other. but the other people alexandria is closest to are her aunt ursula, bothela (vanilla npc, the lady who runs the hag's cure), and ophelia from her coven.

that covers it for people, but the thing she loves most in the world is easily alchemy! it literally shows in every part of her mannerisms and shapes the whole way she looks at the world. a huge part of why she's so connected to namira is because she's so drawn to even the most grotesque things in the world, because there's opportunity in all of them to create something new and helpful. it's why she got so close to bothela, bc she's the one that trained alexi in alchemy since she was a kid.

who (or what) does your character hate most in the world? why?

this is ironic considering the first question but literally it's her uncles, thonar and thongvor silver-blood lol. i'm sure anyone who's been in markarth knows that they aren't exactly stand up dudes, but after the whole issue with the forsworn conspiracy came out, she probably had to be physically restrained by her companions to keep her from killing them then and there. she spent a huge part of her childhood knowing there was a target on her back and the backs of her parents and siblings, because there's nothing thonar and thongvor want more than to get rid of them entirely. despite the fact that she had such a fancy upbringing, her uncles were the reason none of them were ever given a real chance to rest. and then there's sooo much to say about how that exacerbated isobel's anxiety issues, which all of her kids including alexi later inherited. alexi literally carries that pain in her genes and she's never been able to get away from it no matter how hard she's tried.

again, this is one of those things i could talk about for ages, so if u wanna hear about one of the many times her uncles actively made an attempt on the lives of her parents and siblings, feel free to send me an ask abt it i'll happily tell u everything. there's like a 30k fic idea there but i have the gist of it all written in my drafts lol.

on top of all of that, she definitely has a LOT of issues with everything they do in the reach. like, ulfric stormcloak gets an honorary mention for this question, and the fact that they support him sure as fuck doesn't help. and considering the fact that she's been sent to cidhna mine and often helped out in the warrens, she's seen the worst of what the silver-bloods did to her people.

what is your character's main goal? does this goal change, or does it remain consistent throughout the story?

tbh this one is also hard to answer bc the game devs of bethesda are COWARDS and they didn't give us this option in the game even though all the pieces were there, but i feel like alexi would almost inevitably join the rebellion to liberate the reach. when she left home, she was still trying to make sense of things, and she just needed to put some distance between herself and all the things tearing her in different directions. she'd spent so much of her life trying to placate everyone that she couldn't figure out what her goal is until she was in a place where she didn't have to think about everyone else.

but no matter what, i think all roads lead to home for her. she may have had a strained relationship with the forsworn (esp when madanach was in prison and working for her uncles in secret), but she'd join when madanach is given free reign to control the rebellion as he sees fit rather than have to bend backwards to satisfy thonar. i personally hc that after that, the forsworn's actions are more controlled and they start to operate less like a disjointed faction of bandits and more like, yknow, people fighting for an actual cause. once she rebuilds her faith in the rebellion, she'd definitely join up.

does your character achieve their main goal? if so, does achieving this goal satisfy them?

again, hard to say since there's no in-game way for this to happen bc the devs were weak, BUT in my heart of hearts i like to pretend that there was a proper questline where u join up with madanach and retake the reach. after everything they've been through, i really hope it'll be canon that they finally are able to liberate themselves. i do think alexandria and her siblings would all do their part to help the rebellion, and their auntie was probably a proponent of the forsworn's rule during the great war, so they're in the clear. i'd imagine the situation is more complicated with their parents.

regardless of whether or not the forsworn are ever able to retake the reach, alexi definitely spends most of her life running around skyrim with the hope of fighting against people's prejudices against the reachfolk. (in the verse where she's the ldb) she kind of understands her role as an essential figurehead to the movement and how she's key to earning the nord's respect. i mean, it'd be hard to argue that they're evil savages when one of their own literally saved every single mortal soul on nirn. so, yeah, i think she feels pretty satisfied with that lol