#until i found the light on the other side

[copper-16]

Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow

Alexia had lost her childhood love at the last moment. Or did she?

{a/n: Hello everyone! Fair warning: I make a lot of changes about the “world” in the fics I write. Alexia grew up in Madrid in this and started out at Atlético Madrid (don’t worry she’s still the world’s biggest culer, trust), and the timing, clubs, etc are often somewhat fudged because I am lazy. If you come on here and start correcting me I’m just going to block you because this is a STORY, it’s not supposed to be accurate to real life because it isn’t real life. This starts in March of 2021, but there are a series of flashbacks. Reader is a few months younger than Alexia in this.

This story can either be: just the 1 part with an ambiguous ending if everyone is satisfied with that, 3 parts with a more solid ending, or 10 parts with a longer story structure (and I like the ending better personally but to each their own). Curious as to everyone’s thoughts are, and it’ll probably dictate how much I end up writing! I hope y’all enjoy the read! Title is from Drops of Jupiter and Spotify link can be found here!}

Dahlias. 

Resilient. 

Warm-hearted. 

Protective. 

Optimistic. 

Mysterious. 

Grounded. 

Alexia thought of the intricate flowers often. She even went so far as to plant some in a garden box on the balcony of her apartment, just so that in the warmer months she could go out and trace the petals gently under her fingertips. A reminder of everything wonderful she had been fortunate enough to have in her life, held in her grasp for just a little bit longer out in the warm air. 

She admitted it was a long time ago, but even if she tried to move on she simply couldn’t. 

—

Alexia is grateful she opted to wear pants for the event, if for no other reason than the fact that she has somewhere to put her hands. The event was on the smaller side, not quite intimate but still not overwhelming either. It’s March now in Barcelona, with warmer weather and sunshine, even if the event for this evening is held indoors. 

It was for Spotify, bringing together ambassadors of the brand from around Spain to interact and connect with the team. Naturally, Barcelona has sent Alexia and Robert along with a few of the staff members to represent Barcelona. The midfielder has spent the better part of the event making small talk, trying to be polite and sociable. These events are inherently exhausting for her, but she still understands the importance of them, even if there isn’t quite enough football talk for her liking. 

As grateful as the blonde is for the visibility of the team and women’s football, there are still moments when she has to force herself to remain appreciative. She sometimes misses the days of kicking the football around in the dirt, where the heaviness of expectations never plagued her. She misses cozy nights on the couch laughing until her stomach hurts or having someone pull her from her work, insisting that she take a break. 

The footballer struggles to remember the last time she took a break. Her life is full steam ahead, all of the time. It was rewarding and exhausting all at the same time. Even when she has a day off or a moment of peace, it never quite felt like hers. 

Everyone expects something of her. 

Everyone wants a part of her. 

But nobody wants her in her entirety. Nobody has in a long time. 

When the midfielder finally breaks away from the delegate of Barcelona members under the guise of going to the bathroom, she takes the time to just explore. The event space is lovely and spacious, with high ceilings and a gorgeous conference room 

She is aiming to head toward the restroom, but she wanders aimlessly. The brunette ends up in a hallway with a gorgeous light fixture, and she finds herself looking up at it in vague awe. She catches movement in her peripheral vision, and when she glances down, her breath catches in her throat. 

It can’t be? 

Could it be? 

After all of this time? 

Your head is turned up toward the light fixture as well, your face partially obscured by the angle of your neck tilting upward to admire the beauty of it. The dress you’re wearing is a deep emerald green, a crushed velvet material with a high cut neckline. There are draped sleeves that barely hit your mid bicep, and the cut of the gown is long enough that it hides that you’re wearing loafers over more socially appropriate heels. 

You’ve always claimed that a woman who spent her life stuffing her feet into uncomfortable shoes simply wasn’t doing life right. 

The ceilings are tall, and the hallway is nearly empty, but Alexia is pretty sure that there is a lack of oxygen in the air. 

And then you turn your head down from the lights above you, making direct eye contact with you.

Her heart stops for just a moment, unable to comprehend the reality of the moment. 

But the footballer realizes at that exact moment that it’s really you. 

—

When Alexia is six, her immediate family moves from the Mollet del Valles to Salamanca for her fathers job. Besides her Mami, Papi, and Alba, the rest of her family stays behind in Barcelona, a fact that Alexia both hates and struggles to understand. 

Concepts of a job and moving are a little far out of her realm, but she tries her best to calm Alba when she cries quietly out of homesickness. Alexia is strong and refuses to cause trouble, so she takes the move with a silent despair as she is abruptly pulled from everything she has grown to know and placed in a new environment. 

Her Mami explains to the two girls that they will return to Barcelona in the summer for a few weeks to visit family, and that they can still go to Barcelona games here in Madrid. The little brunette girl struggles to contain the disgust her face twitches with at the thought of Real Madrid, and Eli forces herself to hold in a gentle laugh. 

In Alexia’s second week of living in Madrid, she meets you. 

Your family lives in an apartment down the street, with your Mama and Papi alongside your two younger brothers. There’s an area between your house and Alexia’s for children which could technically be classified as a park because of the pathetic patch of grass inside a ring of concrete. It doesn’t matter for Alexia, who brings a basketball outside to play in the space after growing bored one afternoon. 

You were already out there, sitting in the small grass patch and playing with the flowers, gentle in the way only a young child could be. That precarious edge where you could crush the petals at any moment, but for whatever reason don’t. 

The brunette perks up, her steps quickening at the sight of you. She has yet to make a single friend here considering that school has not yet started, and now would be the perfect time. 

“Hola,” she introduces herself apprehensively, soft spoken but not exactly shy. You look up at her, surprise melting into a small smile that seems to spread through the rest of your body. 

“Hola,” you repeat, and Alexia sets the basketball down before sitting beside you. 

“I’m Alexia, I live over there. I just moved here,” she explains as she points toward her own apartment complex. You nod in recognition, turning to the opposite side of the street to point out your own home. 

“Nice to meet you Alexia,” you state resolutely, but your focus is still on the flowers underneath your hands, the  caléndulas. 

“Are you a big fan of la flores?” She questions, and you nod, tucking some hair behind one ear as you look over at Alexia. 

“Flori loves la flores,” the brunette declares, giving you a nickname that will stay with you as she pulls you up to go play basketball with her. 

—

When Alexia is seven she joins the Atlético Madrid academy, playing alongside boys her age. She also learns that you hate football with a burning passion. 

After that day in the street, the two of you have become fast friends. One could not be found without the other, wandering around the streets playing imaginary games or dancing together. You could even be coaxed into a game of basketball or handball sometimes if you were in a good mood, but never football. 

It’s strange to Alexia, because football comes so naturally to her. It is a part of her family, but it is not a part of your family. While you are light on your feet, graceful in dancing, other sports are not your cup of tea. 

You’re smaller than Alexia is, smaller than the average girl your age, and it shows when you’re trying to play games with everyone. You never complain about it, weathering the storm of fouls and near fatal injuries from competitors twice your size without so much as a spot of negativity. 

But Alexia knows that it is not your favorite, and she only asks you to play sometime. 

“Come on Flori, please? I need to practice before tomorrow?” Alexia begs, and though you threw her some sass, you quickly agreed when you saw the look in her eye. 

The desperate look on her face was enough to convince you that she really did need help. 

While you weren’t terribly skilled at football, you weren’t horrible at it either. You agreed to help Alexia because she is your absolute best friend in the whole entire world, and when she looks at you with that face, you know she really means it. 

It is all worth it when she comes home the next day, dropping her bag at home and sprinting over to your apartment. She barges past your Mama at the door to run to your room, jumping on your bed and telling you every detail of the day with excruciating detail. 

You want to listen to every single minute, filled with warmth from the clear excitement on her face. You’re happy that she is happy, and you know that football brings her peace in the same way dancing does for you.  

Which is why when Eli asks Alexia to stop playing football at school as a result of her joining a team outside of school, you are the one who covers for her. You easily vouch that she was pushed on the playground rather than scraping her knees playing football. 

The look her Mami gives you lets you know she doesn’t believe you, but she lets it slide regardless, much to your relief. 

—

When Alexia is eight, she learns of how fiercely protective you are. 

It had only been a small thing, a disagreement on the football pitch behind the school you all attended. She was playing with some of the other girls, the few ones her age who still wanted to play football. The ones who didn’t mind getting their knees muddied and running until their lungs gave out. 

Not that it mattered how much they tried, because Alexia always beat them anyways. 

You had chosen not to participate, electing to teach Alba how to weave daisy chains and making sure that your little brothers weren’t getting into trouble while they played together. You had just moved Alba’s hand gently to show her how to twist the stem of the plant correctly when you heard the ruckus. 

You lift your head, taking in the scene in front of you with a renewed urgency when you notice that Alexia was on the ground. One of the other girls is practically standing on top of her, she was so close to the brunette. The girl, Isabella, is practically pink in the face with her anger, yelling about some foul or dirty move on Alexia’s part. 

You didn’t care though, standing up in a flash and stomping your way across the football pitch to the two girls. 

Alexia is by no means a shy person, but she usually leaned toward being more reserved. She has a deep sense of justice though, and has always pressed for everything to be fair, even when it was not to her advantage. 

When she played games with Alba, the brunette would hold her dominant hand behind her back or close her eyes to even the playing field. And while she never let Alba win without reason, she was never overly cruel in her celebrations either. Especially not as one would expect a bigger sister to be. 

She did not have a chance to get a word in edgewise today, not when you stuff your body between the two girls and press your finger into Isabella’s chest, all but shoving her back. 

You tilted your head up in defiance, a positively ferocious look on your face. 

“Hey! There is no need to yell,” you argue ardently, your face twisted in complete and utter vexation at Isabella’s tone toward your best friend. 

Isabella just stares down at you for a moment, probably more shocked to see you there than bothered by the words you just said to her. You were smaller than her and Alexia, and it is rare to see you get angry or irate like this. 

“Right…sorry Alexia,” Isabella says after a moment, offering a sheepish smile before she turns away, walking off of the field over to a few of her other friends. 

You let out a small sigh as your body language settles into something more relaxed and calm. When you look back at Alexia behind you, you find her looking up at you with a tilted head and a look of confusion on her face. 

“What?” You question carefully, back to the serene best friend that the Catalan had come to know over the last two years. There is concern pooling in your eyes as she stood, brushing the dirt off her knees. 

“Nothing I…” she pauses for a moment before she shakes her head, a tiny smile gracing her lips as she lets out a chuckle. “Thank you Flori.” 

You smile up at her broadly before you turn and make your way back to your younger siblings, sitting down and going right back to teaching Alba how to make a daisy chain as though nothing ever happened. 

—

When Alexia is nine, the two of you dance together. 

You are both signed up for folk dance classes by your respective mothers, who have become powerless in trying to keep the two of you apart. The pair of you might as well be attached to one another, as if you need the other in your orbit to continue on with life. 

It’s not that you both don’t have other friends, because you do. But the connection between the two of you is strong, not understood by anyone else. 

Dancing with Alexia is different. She makes you laugh in ways you cannot quite understand, and despite being only nine years old, there is a gracefulness to her movements that the other girls do not possess. There’s an ease to your steps when you are partnered with her, almost as though you two can anticipate the movements of the other without speaking about it. 

Perhaps football has helped her dance abilities, you wonder silently, but even that might be a stretch. 

You aren’t sure it matters though, not when she looks at you with that wide smile that she only ever seems to give you. 

—

When Alexia is ten, she finds you on her walk home from football practice. Her Mami had just started letting her walk home alone, alongside another boy from her team who lived in the area. It wasn’t a far walk by any means, but it gave the brunette a feeling of huge independence that only a ten year old could possess. 

She has just turned the corner to head down her street when she hears loud, loathsome voices. 

“Flori, really? That’s a stupid nickname, just like you are a stupid friend. She only hangs out with you because it is an easy option, not because she likes you.” 

Alexia doesn’t even have time to consciously think before she sees red and surges forward, finding you cowering just slightly under the intense gaze of two older boys. They are in the year above you and Alexia in school, but they always hated the brunette because she was better at football than they were. 

It seemed that their response to this embarrassment was to take out their anger on you. 

Alexia could tell you were trying to show minimal fear, but you were a good head smaller than the boys who towered over you. Luckily for you Alexia wasn’t about to let them get away with it, and she came around the corner yelling in anger. 

The boys weren’t expecting her, and they certainly weren’t expecting the vehemently angry words that flew out of her mouth. 

You watched the exchange with a strange sense of detachment. 

Were you a stupid friend for Alexia? She was getting better at football now, getting noticed by people and places much bigger than the little neighborhood you guys lived in. She could be popular, have any friend she wanted. No longer was she beholden to you in any way. 

When Alexia grabs your arm gently, you look up to find that the boys are nowhere to be found anymore. It is just your best friend with you, her eyes scanning over every feature on your face with a furrowed brow. 

You let out a tight breath as you realize that you two were alone, sinking down to sit on the curb. Alexia joins you, taking your hand and holding it tightly in her own. 

“Are you alright?” She asks softly, and you don’t answer her for a long moment. 

“Do you think that I am a stupid friend? Do you wish you had more popular friends?” You counter, not really answering her question. You don’t want to burden your friend with your own emotions, sticking to the facts of the case rather than the maelstrom of unease swirling in your stomach. The brunette all but flinches at the question, shaking her head fiercely. You turned to inspect her face gently, to see that there were no signs of lying in the set of her jaw or the twitch of her eyebrow. 

“Why would you think that?” She prods softly, her voice only loud enough for you to just hear it. Alexia can tell that this is about more than just what the boys said. The crinkle in your brow gave away the depth of your worries, especially to the footballer. 

“I am not like you Alexia. I don’t like sports, or getting dirty, or playing with the boys. I am not talented like you, I will never be the star people think you will be. I hear them whispering about you, certain that you will be great,” you insist, reticent to a fate that you have seemingly already aligned for yourself. 

But then Alexia moves, crouching down in front of you instead of remaining beside you. 

“I don’t care about any of that if you aren’t my best friend,” she confesses with a sharp intonation, and she means every word of it wholeheartedly. 

She never thinks of herself as doing anything with football, because there is no path for a woman like her to play professionally like the men do. Even if there was, she has no clue if it is something she would want for her future. 

She loves football dearly. 

But she also loves you, and she tells you as much. 

“I will always need you in my life, no matter what. Now that you are here, you are stuck with me and I refuse to give that up. You are my best friend, and I don’t care what I do in life or who I become, you will always be my best friend Flori.” 

And despite everything that told you that you probably shouldn’t, you believe her with everything in you. 

—

When Alexia is eleven, she moves in with her aunt and uncle in Barcelona for the year to train at La Masia. 

You miss her terribly, even though life moves on. Your schedule every week is filled with friends and dance and time spent outside, but it’s never quite the same with Alexia. When you receive a little flip phone, your heart leaps at the thought of being able to talk to her even when she is far away. 

The two of you call every day, and patiently you listen to her describe every bit of frustration and excitement about football. It’s a huge opportunity to play in La Masia but there remain huge obstacles, and the program for the girls is unorganized and frustrating at best. 

You listen patiently, and Alexia is reminded all over again of how her life wouldn’t be the same without you. 

Gratitude and a strange swirling feeling twist in her belly, but it fills her with a warmth all over regardless. 

—

When Alexia is twelve, she returns to Madrid. The La Masia program for the girls has fallen apart, and she comes back to Atlético Madrid. 

She comes back home to you. 

You are unsure of when her smile started to make your stomach flutter, or when the brush of her hand against yours made your heart jump. And honestly, you don’t care. It is the most natural thing in the world to you. 

When she holds your hand for the first time and glances over at you shyly, you simply knew that your heart belonged to her, and somehow hers belonged to you too. 

—

When Alexia is thirteen, you ask her to be your girlfriend. 

Perhaps it's silly and juvenile and you two are the only ones who believe in the seriousness of it. 

She is caught by surprise at you asking, and suddenly the footballer finds herself throwing out her elaborate plan she had come up with to ask you in the following weeks. 

Alexia says yes to you, unequivocally and with a soundness she has never felt before. 

The first brush of your lips against hers lasts for a few seconds, but it’s exhilarating in an entirely new way.  

It’s perfect, as is the way her arms wrap securely around you.

—

When Alexia is fourteen, the two of you begin to experiment a little more for the first time. 

It’s awkward and bumbling sometimes, but there's a layer of comfort and ease above it all. Her lips on yours and the feel of her body next to you keeping you grounded and comfortable, ready to stop at any moment. 

When she pulls away, you find yourself giggling at the tickling sensation of her eyelashes against your skin. You bury your head into her chest, holding tightly to her as you feel a laugh rumble in her chest. . 

Even as she gets better at football and you grow into your own intelligence, it’s still the two of you together, taking life at your own pace. 

—

When Alexia is fifteen, she begins to struggle in school. 

You are the first person she talks to because she knows that you will meet her without judgement. You have always been a good student, and don’t mind spending the time patiently tutoring her. Topics that she should probably understand but do not are broken down into easily digestible ways, and for the first time in weeks her arithmetic work begins to make sense. 

She is able to continue playing without any problems, and her marks improve rapidly with her focus and your dedication. 

“Thank you Flori,” she sings as she walks out of the first session, and you can’t help but laugh at the tone of her voice. 

The footballer beams at you when you declare that your payment is a kiss for every correct answer. 

She pays her pension and then some without an ounce of complaint. 

—

When Alexia is sixteen, she makes her first team debut for Atlético Madrid. It’s a proud day for the whole family, and you sit squished between her father and Alba as you watch her race onto the pitch. 

There’s a sharp determination on her face, and though she only plays ten minutes you can tell she is going to be good. You can’t say you’re surprised, and when she turns toward her family and you and beams as the game ends, you know that you wouldn’t be anywhere else other than here. 

—

When Alexia is seventeen, she reminds you of what you mean to her. 

Atlético games are never terribly well attended with how little importance is placed on women’s football. But there is still a steady crowd, and it is beginning to grow more and more. 

Alongside that growth come some…interesting characters. 

You’re a regular in the stands, alternating between reading your book, watching the game, and doing homework. It’s rare for you to miss a match, though you have missed a goal or two when your nose is shoved in a book. Luckily, Eli, Jaume, or Alba will nudge you if Alexia is doing something important. If they aren’t there, then one of the other players' family members will, a fact that you’re extremely grateful for. 

Your commitment is unwavering, but your interest in any sort of PDA or anything is limited. Alexia is much the same, a characteristic you’ve always been grateful for. 

But then a group of girls from your school start to show up at games. There’s four of them, always sitting in the front row of the stands, no matter what. They cheer Alexia on as though she is their best friend, despite the fact that she told you herself she doesn’t really know them. When the footballer comes toward the stands after games, they rush to greet her. They fawn over her easily, throwing their arms around her for hugs and pressing chaste kisses to her cheek. 

You always find yourself standing awkwardly in the background, wishing to talk to your girlfriend but unable to stop staring at the scene in front of you. 

At first, it’s more funny than anything. You and Alexia’s family joke about her fan club and delight in the way her cheeks turn pink with embarrassment. 

But they never stopped coming to games. And by the time you figure out that they aren’t going to stop, you realize that perhaps you need to take a step back. Those girls are popular, sweet, they love football and seem to understand everything. You are intelligent and well liked, but nowhere near as popular or well versed in the game Alexia lives and breathes by. Trying to follow along to each whistle or hand signal is impossible for you, and your interest in learning comes and goes like an ocean tide. 

“I don’t think I can come on Saturday, I have a calculus project I need to work on,” is what you tell Alexia one weekend. But the brunette didn’t buy it for a single second, raising her eyebrows suspiciously. 

“You always just do it at the games – I’ve seen you in the stands with a glue stick before you were so determined to be there,” she points out, calling your bluff easily.

“Well…this is important Ale. It’s our final year of school, I need the marks to get into university,” you defend weakly, but it’s a lost cause. Your grades are extremely good, and you’ll have your pick of schools. One calculus project will not make or break that opportunity by a long shot. 

“Is this about those girls from school?” Alexia questions softly, her voice careful. You glance over at her and sigh after a moment, knowing that there's really no use in lying. The brunette could read you like the back of her hand. 

You don’t even need to voice your concern for Alexia to know exactly what you’re thinking, and she moves to sit down next to you on the edge of her bed. 

“I promise you with everything in me that I do not care about those girls. I don’t care if you are certain that they are nicer or popular or more pretty than you are. You are perfect to me, and I don’t care about them at all. I only care about you, and I only want you. You are my peace and my life, not them,” the footballer insists, and you look over at her with a quiet resignation. 

“Even if they understand football better than me?” You ask, your voice impossibly small. Alexia smiles sadly, reaching out to gently cradle your face in her hands. 

“When I look at the stands, it’s you I search for. It’s you who makes my heart skip a beat when I realize that you’re there. It’s you who fills my stomach with butterflies and sets the wind into my sail. How could I even notice them when I have you, Flori?” 

At the next game, Alexia politely smiles at the girls but moves straight past them to charge up the stands, still in her kit and boots. She gently lifts your calculus project off your lap so that she can press a resounding kiss to your lips, smiling into it when you gasp into her mouth with surprise. 

—

When Alexia is eighteen, two things happen. 

Everything somehow falls together, and falls apart all at the same time. 

The first is that her father dies. 

It's not unexpected, though the reality is still jarring. It feels like she is free falling, unable to find a moment of stability or rest. 

She finds herself in her old bedroom in her Uncle’s house in Barcelona, avoiding the mass of people downstairs paying their respects. While the sympathy of others is heartfelt and sincere, it’s heavy. 

She already feels heavy. Any more of it and she might break into a million pieces, that she is sure of. So she escapes up stairs for a moment, leaving Alba with a cousin and her Mami with an old friend. 

A knock at the door pulls her from her thoughts, and she looks over to see that you have poked your head into the room. 

“Ale?” You inquire gently, the question unspoken between the two of you. Four years of dating and endless years of friendship have left you with an innate ability to know when the brunette needs space, and that doesn’t feel like where she is right now. 

You’re nothing if not respectful though, aware that as much as you sympathize, you really might not have the answer here. Nothing this big had ever happened in your relationship before, or in either of your lives before. There was no book or manual to prepare on how to deal with a grief so complete and overwhelming as this.  

Alexia loved her father deeply, and no amount of time to anticipate or process her thoughts of his illness actually prepared her from the shock of him being gone. 

You had loved Jaume too, how he passed out love like it was free to give, how he laughed without inhibition, how he welcomed you into the Putellas family with ease. But it wasn’t the same, and you were aware. You knew that you felt only a slice of what your girlfriend did, and even just this amount of grief was unbearable. 

You didn’t know how the footballer was even standing. 

Alexia’s eye’s silently pleaded with you to come in, so you did. You moved across the room before laying down on the bed next to her until the two of you were laying parallel, staring up at the ceiling together. You’re exhausted as well with all the stress and worry, but your first thought is always her. 

It always has been. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you for a long stretch of time. 

What is there to say? 

Your heart aches for her, and for her loss, for her family. Alexia screws her eyes shut, trying to regulate her own breathing. Everything about her feels erratic and out of control.

The footballer turns to her side, tucking herself into your body. She clutches to your arm tightly, forcing herself to copy your steady, dependable breathing. 

As much as she needs her Mami and Alba in this time, she has to work to be strong for them. She was the person they looked to, the decision maker, the leader. They need her, and she would kill herself before she neglected that need. 

But you are her strength, you always have been. You are the one who protects her, whose only thought is her. You have always been constant and steadfast for her through anything, a pillar of strength. She relies on you, and it scares the hell out of her. 

And yet you’re right there, and you seem to take it with a practiced ease that makes Alexia want to sob with gratitude. 

Loss engulfs her and brings her back, your steady hand in hers the entire time. There is rarely a moment when she needs you and you are not there for her, always attuned to her moods and thoughts. 

But then a huge curveball is thrown in Alexia’s way. 

Two weeks after her father passes away, Barcelona calls her. They are creating a women’s team, and though it is not professionalized, it is a team. 

Alexia accepts the request on the spot, not even stopping to consider the consequences. 

It doesn’t matter, the answer would still be yes. Her Mami and Alba are thrilled, quickly deciding that they all should move back to Barcelona together. It was time, and as much as they had built a community here in Madrid, Barcelona would always be home for them. 

Alexia goes to you that night and asks you to move with her. She explains her plan vividly, how you can go to school, she will play football, and you both can get part time jobs. You’ll get a little apartment together, actually start the beginning of your lives together. 

There was never a world in which you were not together, not with how happy you both were together. It was a no-brainer, an easy solution to a problem that had never existed. Life for her didn’t exist without you in it. 

Alexia would move first, and you would follow her in two months once you had received your university acceptance letter. It was a fool proof plan in the Catalans mind. 

At least, it had been a fool proof plan. 

The night before Alexia was scheduled to leave, you arrived at her door. The surprise and excitement on her face quickly gave way to intense concern when she saw the trepidation on your face. 

“Can I come in?” You asked gingerly, stepping inside as the Catalan made way for you to come into her house. 

“Yes, of course you can,” she replied, following you into her kitchen and taking a seat across from you at the table. For several moments there is silence as you seem to work up the courage to finally choke out the words you need to say. 

“I…I can’t come to Madrid with you Alexia,” you finally stated, your hands folded neatly in your lap

“What?” Alexia isn’t sure she heard you correctly, because certainly you couldn’t be saying what she thought you had said. 

“I have to stay here with my Mama, to help her with the boys and the house and everything. I’ll get a job for a year before going to school, I think,” you explained slowly. 

“I…okay. Are you sure Flori?” You nodded with clear reservation, but the brunette continued forward regardless. 

“Well then…we can call. And take the train to one another when possible, and then maybe when the boys are older you can come to – what is it?” Alexia’s voice grinded to a halt when she finally seemed to notice your despondent expression

“I cannot come Alexia, and I don’t know when I will be able to. I will be very busy, and I am sure you will be as well, so perhaps it’s for the best if–” You were cut off, unsurprisingly. 

“If what?” Alexia challenged, her anger flaring. It’s not really anger, it’s fear, and you see right through her. But still you do not yield, your expression entirely unreadable to the midfielder. 

It only makes her more and more mad that she cannot tell what is going on. 

“Are you just going to give all of this up? I don’t even know what life is like without you, and what – now it gets a little hard and you call it quits? Did you ever even care about me? Did you ever even love me, or has this whole time just been a huge li–”  Alexia yelled from across the table, her hands slamming down to splay on the wood in front of her. 

“Enough!” You yelled, standing suddenly. Alexia seemed surprised at your outburst, but there was nothing other than a quiet resignation across your expression. There was no anger or outrage or fury on your face, but rather a strange form of acceptance mixed with defeat. 

When you spoke again, it was with softness and finality as the footballer looked up at you. 

“I love you Alexia. And I am very excited about this new journey you are going on, even if it is not with me.” 

You walked over to her side of the table before bending down to press a kiss to her temple.  You slipped out the door in a flash. Alexia was so completely thrown off that she didn’t have an answer or a response, she didn’t even have time to stop you. 

She had never sobbed so hard in her entire life than she did at the dining room table that night. Grief had become her shadow, but this was an entirely new kind of grief. It poured over her, consuming her, and she for once found herself completely lost in it. 

When she arrives in Barcelona, it is with red rimmed eyes and a renewed resolve to make something of herself. 

If it meant losing you, it had to be important. 

—

Alexia left Madrid when she was eighteen. 

Barcelona Femeni wasn’t even a professional team, and she was a nobody who had come into the system with promise and drive but nothing to her name. 

Throughout the past nine years, so much had happened to her both personally and professionally. Barcelona was not the same team at all, having been professionalized a few years after she arrived. They were taken somewhat seriously now, with titles and dominance in the domestic league. Though the Champions League eluded them, Alexia knew it was coming. 

She was in the prime of her career, playing better football than she had ever expected herself. The brunette was achieving everything that she had wanted, and she remained hungry and focused toward the future. It was never enough for her, and she always thought she could be doing better. 

There were times though…when she stopped and wondered. 

Was it worth it? 

She wanted so badly to say yes instantly. Football was her passion, her purpose, it had always been her goal to be the best she could be. It had driven every decision she had made in her entire life, and she wanted so desperately to believe in it wholeheartedly. 

But there had always been a flicker of doubt. She held it closely to her heart, never sharing it with anyone, not even Alba or Eli. She did not want to seem weak or doubtful of her decision.

Her apartment was empty, devoid of practically any women, and that had been her choice. Even after all of these years, she couldn’t bring herself to commit to anyone long term. 

The brunette wanted to be angry at you for staying behind, but she couldn’t bring herself to really mean it. She loved you far too much, and the ache of missing you only seemed to strengthen as the years bled on. She had other women, she really tried, but never did she feel the same connection that she had with you. 

Alexia had admittedly tried to look for you, when her initial hurt had bled away in an embarrassingly short amount of time. But you were a ghost. 

The footballer wasn’t surprised, considering that you had never been a big social media person. She found some of your relatives online but their accounts were mostly private and rarely were you photographed. When she returned to Madrid for games, your family was gone from the home you had been raised in, and she wasn’t shameless enough to start banging on neighbors doors to find out more. 

Your phone number had seemingly changed by the time she worked up the nerve to call you, and eventually it just seemed wrong. You never reached out to her, at least not that Alexia was aware of. 

She had simply been forced to accept the fact that she had lost you, for reasons she still did not comprehend or understand. All it took was one singular month to lose both her father and her…to lose you, and that thought gnawed away at a piece of her soul relentlessly. 

But suddenly here you were. 

Nine years later, and here you stood right in front of her. 

“Hello Alexia,” you stated, your face a veil of carefully constructed neutrality, even if your heart beat was erratic beneath your dress. The sound of your voice seemed to bring Alexia back from wherever in her mind she had been. 

“Hi…hi there,” the brunette stuttered, resisting the urge to reach out and touch you. She couldn’t quite get herself to believe that you were standing in front of her. . 

“I know it’s been awhile but it’s…it's good to see you. Congratulations on your team's success these last few years,” you commented gently, a true smile on your lips. 

“Oh, yes, thank you very much. You…you follow the team?” Alexia inquired, her eyebrow furrowing in confusion. You had always been so apathetic to football, she never could have imagined you sitting in front of the television watching games. 

“Ever since you moved to Barcelona,” you confirmed with a nod of the head. Alexia felt her perplexity only ballon in size. 

If you still cared, why did you let her leave in the first place? Why did you give up so easily? 

A silence lapped over the two of you, but it was filled with so many unsaid words, so much tension that had never existed before. 

Alexia and you both looked the same, and yet somehow completely different. You could tell how much the footballer had grown into herself given the ease at which she stood, her hands tucked in her pants pockets loosely. There was an air of elegance and power to her, hazel eyes piercing into you with purpose. 

She looked at you as though she never wanted to look away again, and selfishly, you felt hope in your heart that perhaps…

“Are you with anyone?” You asked suddenly, surprising yourself with the forwardness. It could be interpreted as for the event specifically, but the potential broader implication suffocated you despite the fact that you were the one to ask the question. 

“No, I am not with anyone Flor–” Alexia cut herself off, seemingly realizing her mistake. 

It didn’t feel like much of a mistake to you, and you longed to hear the word come out of her mouth, just once more. If this was the end for the two of you, you would have sold anything you owned to hear her say it just once more. 

You nodded slowly, before replying that you were here alone as well. 

“Perhaps…perhaps we could go on a walk?” Alexia suggested, and you allowed her to set the pace of whatever you guys did together. After all, it had been you that had left in the first place, a fact that you would never forget. 

You nodded in affirmation, explaining that you needed to grab your clutch before you could meet her at the door. 

It was divine timing as well, considering that your boss had just let you off for the evening and you were planning to go home soon anyways. This was a more welcome surprise than whatever you had been planning in your mind. 

—

There was a wave of relief that rushed through Alexia when you appeared in the door frame a few minutes later, almost as though she was positive you were not going to arrive. But there you were, a light jacket thrown over your dress and a small purse in your hand. 

You both walked out of the event space together, silence lapping between the two of you as you continued forward. Alexia was struggling to organize her thoughts in any sort of productive way. She was so caught off guard by everything. 

She thought she would never see you again. 

“How long are you in Barcelona? Just for the weekend?” She questioned, her voice soft. You shook your head, your posture straight and somewhat tense. 

“No actually, I live here now. I moved a few years back,” you replied, voice unwavering. 

Alexia couldn’t help the stab of hurt that ran through her heart at that piece of information. She had always wondered deep down what she had done to cause all of this, why you had let her go. At first the distance was the only thing in Alexia’s mind to explain the break up, but now she knew you had been here for years. She didn’t understand it, even after nine years. Every piece of logical information told her that you had loved her, and yet here you were. 

Was any of this even salvageable? 

Did she want it to be? 

“Oh…I see,” her voice was flat, but in a way that oozed grief rather than true apathy. 

“I come to your games sometimes, once I moved out here,” you admitted, thinking of all the times you had sat up in the stands watching her play. The brunette glanced at you in clear shock, and you shrugged, unable to conjure an appropriate answer to explain yourself further. 

Things were…things had been so complicated. By the time all of it had cleared and the world made sense to you again, she was gone. You knew you had lost your opportunity to be with her, to be a part of her life. 

As much as it haunted you, it was the reality of your life. You never could have changed what happened, but that didn’t mean it cut you just as deep as it did Alexia. 

But perhaps there was hope for the two of you, here and now. Maybe it would be messy and complicated and painful, but it would be real. There was so much left unsaid between the two of you, and whether the two of you could face it headfirst or not would make or break the whole situation. 

“Where did we go wrong? How did all of this fall apart?” 

The question was sudden, a shock but not a surprise. 

You took a deep breath, stopping and looking back at Alexia. The Catalan had stopped walking when she had spoken, as though she was unable to move forward even an inch. Her hands were balled into fists, and everything about her body language communicated her discomfort. 

“Did I do something to make you stop loving me? Where did I mess up?” She questioned, nearly begged. 

Was her career worth losing this, losing you? 

Had she lost you? 

“Alexia, you did nothing wrong. You were perfect, you are perfect,” you promised, summoning every last bit of strength to imbue into your words. You walked back to her, reaching out carefully to place the backs of your fingers to her cheek, just barely touching the warm skin there. She closed her eyes at the feeling as tears burned in your eyes. 

“I lost you,” she whispered, both startled and settled that you still smelled the same, your perfume unchanged after all these years.

“I know, I know. But I’m right here now, I’m right here,” you vowed, still unsure and desperate of what to say. 

“I know that this is fucked up, and complicated, and it’s been years. I might as well be a stranger to you, but I need you to trust me when I say that nothing that happened was your fault. I made the decisions I did because it was what I had to do, but don’t for a minute think it didn’t kill me inside. Don’t you dare think I didn’t spend the last decade of my life missing you,” implored, almost as if trying to force her to understand the depth of your love, even after all this time. You turned your hand to cradle her cheek gently, your thumb stroking across the skin there as you spoke again. Your voice was barely audible, crackling with emotion. 

“Maybe this is crazy for me to say, but I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. And if I never see you after this, I want you to know how much I loved you. How much I still love you. ”

She reached her hand up to grasp at your wrist, holding your hand in place against her cheek. 

“Please don’t leave,” she murmured, and you nodded insistently. 

“I’m right here. I’m right here Ale.” 

The look of relief on her face at hearing you call her that was palpable. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stood there, lost in one another. It could have been a minute or a year, and you didn’t care. You would have stood there forever, content to ignore the rest of the world if Alexia remained this close to you. 

But eventually the telltale signs of rain began to stir, drops of water falling onto your jacket and in your hair. You pulled back, taking Alexia’s hand and squeezing it before you reached for your clutch. Opening the bag, you pulled out a business card and a pen, writing your personal number on the back of the card. 

“The number on this is my office, but the back is my cell. If you still want to…if you decide you want to talk more, call me,” you insisted lightly, placing the card in her hand. 

“I promise I’ll pick up,” you soothed after a moment, your words gentle. 

Alexia stared down at the card, at your loopy handwriting, for far too long. It reminded her of being fifteen, watching you write equations on the wall for tutoring. It was jarring, and it stirred up emotions she didn’t realize she had buried. 

When she looked up again you were gone, and yet not a single ounce of her felt alone as she stood on the sidewalk. 

She had a new possibility. The chance to return to who she was in her youth and understand the past. Or the option to continue forward in her career, focusing solely on football and her dedication to the sport while leaving the past behind. 

She had no idea what she would do, but at least for once she had the choice to decide.

[tojisteddy]

Yes, I do think Toji is canonically forgetful.

He’s forgetting the grocery list even though you wrote it for him so he wouldn’t forget but it gets lost anyway because he forgot where he put it. He’s going through the isles and getting what seems right because he can’t remember what’s in the fridge and can’t ask you cause you’re at work.

The list was in the back of his wallet.

There are always sticky notes around the house of random notes, ‘to-do’ lists galore. He always has to do a pat down of himself before he leaves the house, ‘keys, wallet, phone’ always in that order. He’s the type who’ll remember whatever he forgot once he was right outside and he’ll circle back in the house to retrieve whatever he forgot.

He plans out dates, but doesn’t remember the time. And is always two embarrassed to ask you because it’s something he set up for you. So he’s racking his brain as he gets ready, looking through the plethora of notes left around the house until it finally clicks. He’s running to meet you, buying a bouquet of flowers at the train station and dashing like his life depends on it.

Of course he makes it. 15 minutes late, but he makes it nonetheless.

Cursing up a storm at the up tight hostess to, ‘move out my fuckin way! My spouse is in there!’ Flowers slightly crushed in his hands, a little out of breath and he takes you in, who’s got an amused look on your pretty face.

“Shit, you look good mama.”

Toji is always going ‘huuh?’ ‘who?’ ‘mmh?’ and ‘what?’ Touching the top of his temple with his fingers like it’ll help him remember. It doesn’t.

And it’s a complete surprise, when he gets home and a confetti popper goes off in his face. Both of your dogs are barking, one with a Spider-Man suit on and the other with a pink party hat, the dinner table is properly set with his favorite food, he favorite wine to match, Panic by The Smiths playing from the living room, you’re in his favorite black dress that hugs your hips and your tits look perfect. And there’s a banner with a few painted paw prints on it, an angry mark and ‘Happy Birthday Toji’ in large bold letters.

Oh, his birthday.

Was it that time of year again?

He’s forgetting your friends names, nodding like he remembers but he has no fucking clue who you’re talking about until you bring up some memory of the two of them meeting and then he’ll remember.

And of course, he’s forgotten your anniversary and birthday before. It frustrated you, so you’d go on about the night like it was nothing. A birthday dinner with friends and some with their spouses but shit, it would’ve been nice for that ass hat to be there.

But then you’d get home, setting the gifts from your friends down and kicking off your heels. But there are candles burning, those damn sticky notes are scattered on the kitchen counter, all with your name and ‘don’t forget!’ written on them. And his journal, which you’ve only seen a couple times since you’ve been with the older man, was wide open with your birthdate written at the top of the page. And multiple lists of chicken scratch filled the two pages full to the brim and you’re sure they continued to the next page. All of things the man loved about you.

From your curly hair, eating habits he found cute, your pretty tattoos, your chestnut skin glowing in the sun light, from the way you fuckin blinked your brown eyes— all of it was there.

Toji was fucked up in the head, from his past to now— life wasn’t easy on him and it showed. From the way he reacted to things, to how forgetful he was. It came from the trauma. But you made life worth living. He’d be damned if he forgot even a minuscule detail about you.

You walked to the sound of your favorite playlist coming from the backyard. The dogs were there, both adorned with party hats and they came running at the sight of you and there Toji was. Plain black shirt and black jeans, muscles flexing as he fixed some fairy lights with a party hat tilted to the side like a fuckin idiot— just how you liked it.

You looked back at the clock on the oven; 11:43 pm.

A breathless laugh came out of you. Sniffing, fanning your face as tears danced on your water line because you paid a cute penny to get your makeup done for your big day.

Toji heard you, and made his way towards you. Words couldn’t express how sorry he was but he didn’t bother saying it. He knew it wouldn’t comfort you, fixing mistakes did though.

He was trying. You knew from this birthday set up to those notes he’d leave around the house, the multiple calendars— he was really trying. And sooner than later he’d get it right because he loved you and would do anything to prove that he loved you.

He grabbed the last purple party hat that read ‘birthday girl’ and set it atop your well defined curls that was parted to one side, you’d spent an hour trying to get right. Toji took your face in his large hands, gently rubbing at your cheeks, fuckin adorable.

A kiss to your eyelids, your temple, then your pretty dark brown lined, matte lips.

“Happy birthday Doll.”

a/n: couldn’t stop listening to Everything by Kehlani while writing this. On a really bad Toji kick rn.

[viiolyns]

cw / g!p vi. softdom!vi. no protection. praise. lwk inexperienced reader? that’s all me thinks

you straddled her lap, her hard dick covering the front of your cunt. you’d been like this for the past 15 minutes, rambling about random bullshit, trying to distract yourself from the fact that the two of you should be fucking right now.

the nervousness building up in you was evident, clear as day. while you’d never taken her before, it wasn’t for a lack of her asking. whenever she brought it up, you’d shift the conversation or deflect, not feeling ready. sometimes you’d even tell her you were ready, then back out. which she didn’t mind, never did. jerking off after sex never hurt anyone.

but tonight. fuck. you needed her.

she puts a finger over your lips, making you shut up for a second. with her free hand, she takes a hold to your chin, sensing your hesitation. “baby. you can say no, again, really—no need to…you don’t have to.”

you shook your head at her words, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to compose yourself. you wanted it, really you did, but you were just scared. stupid nerves.

her hands found your hips, gripping the soft skin there. "c’mon, honey," she said softly, her voice soothing. "i’ll help you." she raised your hips up, gently aligning your entrance just above her. “if you want me to stop, you tell me, okay?" you nodded, before she gently prompted you, "words."

"i’ll—okay, i'll tell you," you respond, her nodding in understanding before she drags her swollen head in between your lips, gliding her length back and forth to get it wet enough before slowly pushing you down onto her. you wince at the burn, stings of whimpers and curses leaving your lips.

“it’s okay, pretty, i got you. go slow, don’t rush it,” she reassures, rubbing firm circles into your clit with her thumb; relaxing you until you take all of her.

and when she finally sheathes, you just sit there, on her dick; getting yourself used to the feeling, your forehead resting against hers. eventually you begin to grind, earning some words of praise from your girlfriend. "thereeee you go, good girl. just grind like that, mhm."

vi's getting an eyeful, an image she'll be committing to memory. she's grinning; hands still resting on either side of you, ever so often grinding along with you, making you impossibly wetter. you could do this all night, probably cum from this alone, but fuck. "i need to..to move."

without hesitation, her hands moved down to your ass, helping you glide up and forcing you back down; her tip brushing against your g-spot. “oh, that’s feels good. feels s’good,” you slurred. eventually, you picked up the pace; fully bouncing on her now, giving her a show, your breasts bouncing along with you.

mindlessly she pulls your upper half forward, mouth latching onto your left tit, sucking and moaning into it as a hand comes up to massage the other, rolling the sensitive bud in between her fingers.

"so goooooddd—shit." you whimpered at the extra stimulation.

"so fucking beautiful," she muttered into your chest, happy to finally see her girl in this light. she detached from you with pop, her gaze going back and forth from your face to your cunt, reveling in the way you swallowed her. "love this pussy—fuck—she’s taking me so well."

your moans got louder at her words, lurching forward and hiding your face in the crook of her neck, your breath warming the skin there. you're slowing down now, whatever stamina you had left diminishing at a quick pace. vi notices, grabbing your ass and fucking you from beneath; taking full control now.

“faster,” you damn near whine, “go—go faster, please.” she obliges, her movements getting impossibly quicker. the sound of her balls slapping against your ass filling the room. it was damn near pornographic. “vi, i’m close.”

"yeah?" you could tell she was close too, just by the change of tone, all whiney and needy. the undeniable hunger in her voice. you nod frantically, your hand coming down to rub your clit, trying to match the pace she was fucking you at.

“i’m gonna cum.”

“i know, baby,” she moaned, “where you want it?”

“inside. inside, please. want you to fill me up.” you exclaimed as the tension in your stomach clenched, reaching higher and higher until you finally came with a cry of her name. vi wasn’t far behind, just seconds later her dick twitched relentlessly; the warmth of her seed filling your cunt.

she pressed a kiss to your head before repositioning you to be right on top of her, skin to skin, her dick softening inside of you. “was it good?”

you scoffed as if she didn’t already know the answer, already drifting off into sleep, “fucking amazing.”

[cjlouwho]

I wrote my bucktommy stargazing as an astroid is set to hit fic. There's no actual death here, but the topic is discussed.

"So, how's it happen?"

"What?"

Tommy gave Evan a pointed look. "How's it happen?" he repeated.

Buck looked away from him, opting to stare up at the sky. "I don't know," he answered. "I didn't look it up."

"Really, Evan?" Tommy sat up on his elbows, the ridges from the bed of his truck digging into his skin uncomfortably. "Our last night on Earth and you're gonna lie to me?"

Buck rolled his eyes, but opened up his hand and waited. Tommy took it without hesitation, and laid back down. "Okay, obviously I looked it up."

"Obviously."

"It's not pretty."

"Didn't think it would be. Death by asteroid doesn't exactly sound like an easy way to go."

"Well," Buck scooted closer to Tommy, shivering slightly, "I don't think we'll suffer or anything. It's just, wh- when it hits, we- we'll most likely die from the shockwaves. The, uh, the winds will be strong enough to flatten the city. We're," he paused to clear his throat. "We're so close to the approximated impact site that our, um, our internal organs will probably rupture because of the pressure."

"Yikes," Tommy deadpanned. "Really not pretty."

"Yeah, really not pretty."

They kept staring up at the sky. For the moment, it was quiet. It looked just like any other night. Stars shining brightly, crickets chirping, trees swaying slightly in the light wind.

They had found a spot in the middle of nowhere, somewhere along the highway. Everyone had tried to escape. Get as far away from Los Angeles as possible. There was a chance, on the east coast. Instead of dying instantly, they might get a few more months before the food supply ran out and they starved.

Buck and Tommy had stayed behind until the LAFD gave up. 911 disconnected for good and everyone was told they were on their own.

They escaped the chaos of the city, but couldn't get too far. Too many cars, too many blocked roads, not enough gas, and not enough time.

"There's still a chance," Buck whispered in the space between them. "Karen's still working. There's a chance."

Tommy nodded. "Maybe," he replied. But he knew the odds. They both did. He turned onto his side, wrapping an arm around Buck's waist. "I'm okay though," he assured Buck. "If it doesn't work out with Karen, I- I'm okay. I mean, I'd rather my organs not rupture," he added, getting a laugh out of Buck, "but everything else. Being with you. I'm okay."

Buck smiled. He curled onto his side, bringing a hand to Tommy's cheek and pressing a kiss against his lips. For the first time in his life, he felt nothing but peace. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'm okay too."

[mapis-putellas]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌/𝑶.𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒍𝒆

Blurb

Ona sat curled into your side on the couch, her legs tucked under her, eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the TV screen. The dramatic music built in the background, narrating the story of a man who had been missing for ten years before his body was found buried under a shed.

You, on the other hand, looked far too comfortable, munching on a handful of popcorn as if you weren’t watching something horrifying.

“See,” you said, voice thoughtful, “that’s where he messed up. If he’d just worn gloves when moving the body, they wouldn’t have found those fingerprints on the plastic wrap.”

Ona turned to stare at you, blinking. “¿Qué?”

You gestured vaguely toward the screen. “Gloves, baby. No fingerprints, no DNA. That’s like murder 101.”

Ona’s mouth opened slightly before she shut it again, clearly debating whether or not she wanted to continue this conversation. She eventually settled on a sigh, leaning back into you, her fingers absently toying with the sleeve of your hoodie. “I worry about you sometimes.”

You grinned, dropping a kiss onto her temple. “You love me.”

She hummed, but it wasn’t exactly convincing.

The next day, you suggested a date night. A walk, just the two of you. Ona had agreed easily, happy to spend time with you, but she hadn’t expected you to insist on waiting until it was dark outside.

That was when the concerns started creeping in.

Now, she was walking beside you through a small wooded area just outside the city, bundled up in her coat, hands tucked into her pockets, casting you increasingly wary glances.

“You’re being weird,” you finally said, shooting her an amused look.

She shook her head, eyes darting around. “No, tú eres rara.”

“Baby, it’s just a walk.”

She stopped walking. You took another step before realising she wasn’t beside you anymore, turning to find her standing there with a suspicious expression. “You want me alone. In the dark. In the woods.”

You blinked. “Ona. It’s six in the evening. We’re, like, ten minutes from the city.”

She squinted at you. “Still dark.”

You sighed, stepping closer, resting your hands on her hips. “Baby. If I was going to kill you, I wouldn’t do it here. That’s too obvious.”

Ona’s eyes widened. “That does not make me feel better.”

You laughed, tugging her closer. “You’re fine, love. I just wanted to take you somewhere pretty. The view is really nice up ahead. With all the lights and stuff. And you can only see it in the dark.”

She hesitated before sighing, letting you take her hand and guide her along. “If I disappear, everyone will know it was you.”

You squeezed her hand. “They’d never find the body.”

She groaned, bumping her shoulder into yours. “Not funny.”

You just grinned, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “A little funny.”

Despite her grumbling, Ona kept hold of your hand the rest of the way.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Claw Machine Mimic + Homeless Reader

-

"Should I really be doing this?...."

Spending your last dollar on a kid's game. Ever since you parked your car in that vacant lot, it's called to you- Fluorescent lighting beaming down on your dashboard; a beacon of life in the otherwise abandoned and forgotten arcade. How it still powered on in these conditions was beyond you. A greater mystery was the front door's lock or better, the lack thereof.

Broken glass crunches beneath your feet as you shift on your heels, scouting for a prize worthy of your final cent. Squinting through the harsh light, you take notice of another obstacle obscuring clear sight into the box.

A thin film of rusty sludge murks the machine's front facing mirror; impossible to detect from where you resided in your car. Your first guess is rain damage though there aren't any openings in the ceiling from what you can see.

Rolling the sleeve of your hoodie over the ball of your wrist, you spit into the fabric - wiping down the machine to the best of your capabilities. Once finished, you flip your hand over to the other side, drying the window with the untainted portion of your sweater.

"That's better. Now, let's get this over with...."

Soothing out the corners of your crumbled bill, regret itches at your hands; stalling the inevitable.

Winner! Winner! Winner!

"huh?...."

But you didn't even-

Muffled thuds slam against the walls of the prize shoot as your winnings tumbles out. Your outstretched hands shield it from a graceless fall onto a bed of shattered glass, snatching it up in the niche time.

A small white box, no bigger than the apple you had for lunch, stares back at you. Unraveling it red bow and opening the box, it would seem the universe's olive branch to you was more kindling for the neverending mockery of your life.

It's a wallet.

A rather thick one at that, practically bulging at its seams.

"It can't be...."

Peaking into the wallet's sleeve, stacks of paper flutter out - stuffed well beyond the limited storage of the pocket and ready to spill. Stammers of disbelief buzz pass your lips as you card through each bill, eyes growing wider by the second.

"Where'd all this cash come from?! T-there's no way someone would leave this much in a claw machine for this long."

There's no identification, no sign that it belongs to someone else so that means it's yours hopefully. Should you try your luck again? No- This is more than enough. For a stable place to sleep until you got on your feet. New clothes. How long have you been wearing the same clothes?

All that matter in the here and now was filling your belly with something substantial - right after one more thing.

"Thank you..." Scrapping tears from your eyes, you sniffle. You don't even know who you're thanking. "Thank you for this. It's been so hard since my parents... I thought I was doing well enough in college and helping out around the house, but-"

With no-one else to turn to, you swiftly pocket the wallet - throwing your arms around the bulky machine, thanking whoever left it behind. Thank goodness you found it when you needed it most.

Unbeknownst to you, it felt the exact same way.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Hiiii I recently found your account and love your writing.

Would you be able to write something angsty for Levi where the reader gets seriously injured while out on a mission? I’d like it to be really angsty but whatever you want to do I’m good with!

Hi lovely anon, thank you so much for your kind words and this request!! I've dabbled in angst here and there, but this is definitely the darkest I've gone. I was surprised to find I really enjoyed writing it! Maybe there's more angst in my future hm...

Anyways THANK YOU again for sending this, I love hearing from readers and love requests! I'm sorry that it took me so long to get back to you, I hope you still see this and that you enjoy it if you do!

don't fall away from me: Levi x Scout!Reader angst

[tw: hurt/no comfort, heavy angst as requested!, injury/gore, spoilers for No Regrets, mentioned (not actual) vomiting // wc: 2k // ao3 // set before the fall of Shiganshina]

It wasn't often that you and Levi were separated for missions these days. A combination of luck and called-in favors from the Captain meant that most days and nights you were by each other's side, sometimes worse for wear, but together, at least.

But luck didn't last forever, and Levi wasn't all-powerful. You had been sent on a long-term mission beyond the walls, leading a troop of Scouts to establish an outpost farther than the Regiment had ever been able to put down roots. It was risky, but if successful, would pay off immediately, filling in new corners of the Eldian map. Levi stayed behind, part of Erwin's private detail as the Commander lobbied for more funding.

Levi hated it. Hated the pompous bastards he had to deal with, the tasteless displays of wealth in the inner walls, and worst of all, that it kept him from you. But you had reassured him as you always did, strong arms around his neck and soft lips against his. "I'll be home soon, Levi. Wait for me." He saw your squad off, raised his hand in a stern wave, watching until you and your horse disappeared over the horizon.

It wouldn't last forever, he reminded himself. You were tough. So was he- a few weeks away was nothing in the grand scheme of things. And he'd seen you take down enough titans to know that they should be afraid of you. The memory made his chest swell with a quiet pride. You were a damn good soldier, and you were his. He'd make sure to remind you of both when you came home.

That was the hope that kept Levi patient as he waited out the weeks. Once the political posturing was over, he took his stress out on the spiders that had taken up residence in the rafters of the scouts' barracks. Hange was heard laughing quietly to Moblit that HQ was always cleanest when you were away. Luckily for them, Levi didn't overhear, too busy chasing his worry away with a dustrag.

The morning of your squad's return dawned clear, the sun cresting the Walls like it anticipated your arrival as much as Levi did. The Captain had been up before then- fussing over his hair and straightening his cravat needlessly, wanting to appear cool and calm when he rode out to meet you. You were sure to tease him otherwise. It had become something of a game to see who could spot the other first at your homecomings, waiting just inside the gate or, if impatience got the best of you, riding out to meet the other on some pretense.

He sipped from the teacup between his fingers, hiding a smile as he thought about the look on your face. Your eyes always lit up, your grim on-duty expression melting into relief, excitement- love, when you saw him again. He was almost sure it was love. Little as he knew about the subject, anyway. Hoped it was, would've prayed it was if he had any faith. Because Levi loved you. He hadn't admitted it yet, but the weeks of separation had shown him just how much he had grown to rely on you, to cherish your shared moments, the light you shone in the dark corners of his life.

Maybe he didn't need to seem cool and calm, this time. He allowed himself to believe that you'd missed him as much as he missed you. That certainty carried the Captain to his horse, through the gates, out on a hard ride through the outskirts of the walled city, until he saw the blurry forms of your squad through the morning mist. His carefully fixed hair fell back into messy bangs across his forehead as he urged his horse faster, his body taut with both exertion and excitement. You were almost home.

He searched for your face in the crowd of green-cloaked soldiers to no avail. Maybe you were scouting ahead, or keeping watch from the rear. He shook off the icy tendrils of fear that crept down his neck. Surely that was all. Levi looked to the rest of your squad, but they didn't meet his eyes. Some of them limped, some held bandaged limbs, others leaned on their comrades. The tendrils turned into choking vines.

Levi reared his horse in front of the ragged procession and leveled them with a glare. "Where is she?" Silence. He gritted his teeth, his voice a sword. "I won't repeat myself."

A single Scout stepped out from the ranks. Levi recognized her as a young recruit; this would have been one of her first missions. She gestured at a covered wagon hitched to the horse behind her. "She saved us, Captain." The girl's voice wavered, then broke. "We wouldn't be here if she hadn't-"

Levi didn't know if she finished her sentence. He was already off his horse and shoving past her, his mind a wall of white noise. Somehow he was standing beside the wagon, ripping the cover back with shaking hands-

In the days and weeks that followed, every Scout from that ill-fated mission would swear on their lives that the Captain maintained his composure in that moment. Whether in solidarity or out of the fear that came from watching the collapse of something unbreakable. Every last person there that day would deny that they ever heard Levi sob.

The sound tore from him helplessly, choked horror in the back of his throat. Your bloodless lips were parted, your hair strewn across the packs of gear they’d propped you on. Your arms lay limply atop a rough blanket that hid everything below your chest. When Levi reached for your hand, pressing it to his cheek, you were cold. He whispered your name, but you didn’t stir.

With effort, Levi tore his gaze from your body and whirled on the soldier that had revealed you. “Tell me what happened.”

In fits and starts, she managed the story. It had happened so fast, she said, the night watch asleep in the newly constructed outpost, the early sunrise revealing a trio of titans surrounding the camp, all teeth and eager eyes. 15m class and hungry, scrabbling at their tents, waking up to a nightmare.

You had slept in your gear- Levi clenched his fists against a sudden surge of nausea. You always teased him about his habit, sleeping sitting up or fully clothed, ready for anything. But out there, on your own, you had done the same. Did you think of him as you fell asleep? The girl was still speaking, her gaze far away. You had sprung into action, using the titans themselves as anchors to fly at their nape out there in the vast flatness of the wild.

You dispatched two quickly- of course, Levi thought, of course she did- but the third- the girl stopped to drag the back of her hand across her mouth, swallowing a dry heave. Levi had to resist the urge to shake her, to make her keep talking- but she soon continued in a whisper.

"The last titan caught her in it's teeth. It was a blur, we didn't see, only heard a- heard a snap, and a scream... we cut it's Achilles tendons, brought it to it's knees, and she fell..." The scout trailed off, her jaw working soundlessly as she remembered. "The wound, wounds- they weren't clean, sir." Her voice was a strained apology. She wobbled, clearly spent, and Levi turned away.

He stepped back toward the wagon where you lay. Levi took a slow breath, reaching into the depths of himself to find the strength to look at what hid beneath the blanket. He peeled it back, hissing through his teeth when the fabric caught on patches of drying, tacky blood.

It took a moment for Levi to process what he was seeing. Your lower body was a torn mess of crimson, contrasting hideously against the stark white of exposed bone protruding from your mangled calf. He could see the titan's attack written on your flesh- the purpling crush of teeth along your thighs and the shredded aftermath of those jaws tearing down to your ankles. The smears of dirt and gore told him how you were dragged along, out of the titan's clenching jaw, off the battlefield.

This is a dream. A nightmare. Levi told himself, clinging to it with a childish desperation that he thought had been beaten out of him long ago. He tried to swallow but his throat had gone cotton-dry. His tongue cleaved mute to the roof of his mouth. This isn't real.

He blinked, and suddenly it was Furlan in your shredded uniform, or you in his. A dizzy panic clawed up Levi's chest. He shook his head, looked away and back- and the scene changed. The hollowed pallor of your cheeks was that of his mother's corpse, a dim memory of hell. He thought he might be sick, thought wildly that he couldn't vomit in front of the other Scouts, couldn't let them see such filthy weakness- but that was forgotten when you opened your eyes.

You stared blindly at the wide, wide sky, and Levi saw Isabel in your place. Not again. Please, not again. He watched your chest rise and fall like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth, like he was the one willing it to continue. Please.

"Le-vi...?" Your voice shocked him into sanity. He cupped your cheeks in trembling hands.

"I'm here, I'm here," he rasped. "I've got you. Stay with me."

You slowly dragged your fingers through the blood on your uniform, then held them in front of your face. You didn't seem to understand where it came from, what had happened. Levi moved into your sightline. You reached for him, but your head lolled and your arm fell back in the next instant. Levi caught your hand and lifted it the rest of the way, pressing your bloody fingers to his lips.

"I'm here," he repeated, fixated again on the defiant movement of your chest as you slipped back into unconsciousness. "I'll protect you."

The other soldiers were shuffling about, some trying to quiet their nervous horses. Levi forced himself to inject authority into his voice, to project some stability on the surface as he crumbled within, never taking his eyes from your face. "I'm riding back with you. Let's go."

Eager to go home, the camp moved quickly at his order. Someone hitched Levi's horse to the wagon were you lay, seeing that the Captain wasn't about to leave your side.

Your body seemed to shift before Levi's eyes, a mist poured into the shape of the ones he had already failed, already lost. Their corpses laid atop yours, or beside you, or sprawled at your feet until he forced them away, the sight of your breathing like a talisman. Your blood dried and flaked on his cheek, but he hardly felt the itch. His cravat lay abandoned on the filthy floor.

Every jolt of the wheels made him grit his teeth, fighting down a surge of rage at the horses, the stones that made them stumble, the ground itself for not softening for you. He wanted to carry you home himself, wanted to tear off his own legs and offer them up for you. He wanted to wake up.

He spoke to you, the words pouring out, unstoppable. Vows to protect you, spiraling into impossibility- he'd kill every last titan to make sure they never touched you again, he'd give you his blood to replace what you'd lost, he'd burn down the world to keep you warm.

Confessions that had never passed his lips before, spilling into the space between you, overflowing helplessly in a whisper you couldn't hear. "I love you. Did you know that? Could you tell?" He choked on it. "I fucking love you. I didn't want to, but I do, and I need you to come back, so I can tell you to your goddamn face."

He couldn't stop touching you, kneeling at your side, his legs long gone numb. He brushed the stringy hair from your forehead, warmed your hands in his, smoothed the blanket back over your wounds. When there was nothing left to do, he did it all over again, repeating the words until they hung in the air and piled over your body, still breathing, only just.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." Please.

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Just Say You Had a Bad Dream (p2)

Player 001 x Reader

Masterlist <- Comment here to be added to the tag list

Part 1

You awoke the next morning, Young Il already gone from your side. You looked around for the friend’s you had made the previous day. You found them all huddled in a small circle, talking lowly. Young il looked back at you as you rose up from bed. He turned the circle outward, slightly extending the circle to you.

“So, (y/n), according to the last time I played, the next game was Dalgona.” Gi-Hun spoke lowly.

“The game where you cut out the shape.” You repeat. He nodded,

“but these are new games, i have no idea what they’re gonna do.” He added. “Best just to prepare for the worst”

“Sounds like a fair plan” Young il agreed. When the group dispersed, Young il subtly grabbed your jacket sleeve, pulling you into him.

“What are you-“ he trapped you in a kiss cutting you off.

“The next game is a 6 legged pentathlon” he whispered in your ear as he kissed your neck. “Ddajki” another kiss. “Flying stone” another kiss. “Spinning top” a 3rd kiss. “Gong Gi” another kiss. “Jequi” a final kiss.

“Okay, enough” you giggle obnoxiously. Playing off the fact that he just told you the game. You walked into the room where the games were held, your group of 5 already staying together as others rushed to find theirs. You and Young il stood close together. He held you by your pocket, to keep someone from snatching you last minute. Finally, the teams were together and the time went off. The games were announced.

“(Y/n), can you play Gong-Gi?” Jung Bae asked you. You nodded.

“I was champion at my school” you said.

“Good, im good at flying stone.” Jung Bae said.

“I’m really good at Ddajki�� Dae Ho chimed in.

“What about you, Young il?” Gi-Hun asked.

“Well, I’ve never played either of the last two.” LIAR! You thought, he was the best at spinning top, every throw was flawless. “You pick what you’re best at and I’ll just pick up the slack”

“I’ll take Jequi” Gi-Hun said thoughtfully. Safe to say you were going to be the last players going, easier to secretly dispose of the all the others so you and In Ho could walk unharmed.

Your long awaited turn was finally up. With a brandished arm and a well wish to the other team, your time began. The first 3 games were successful… until young il’s turn was up. He failed time and time. Slapping himself in the face and screaming at himself. He was throwing right-handed. You knew why, but you felt an insecure upset in your stomach as he did. Two tugs on his jacket told him he was making you nervous. He finally threw the top correctly, the joy coming back as you walked to Jequi, which contained a final clutch play by Young il.

“Oh fuck” you sighed throwing yourself into bed. “I’m beat”

“Too beat for me?” Young il said with a cocky grin, jumping into your bed with you. “Huh, pretty girl?” He said kissing your neck.

“Yes, geoboki” you push his face playfully. He feigned hurt, a fake expression written on his face. “Oh my gosh, stop pouting” you say laughingly.

“No. You said you’re too tired for me” he pouted even more.

“How about after lights out, hm?” You rubbed his hair as you closed your eyes.

“Dinner?”

“Lights out.” You repeat firmly, hearing his smirk.

“Fine” he huffed into your shoulder.

Timeskip: Lights out

Your eyes were wide open, a heat between your thighs as Young il toyed with your pussy.

“Oh my god, that feels good.” You say, quietly.

“Get on top of me” he tells you lust dripping from every word. You move to be on top of him, his cock standing at solid attention. He guided you as you sank down, his hips jutting up slightly at the warm cover your pussy was providing him. A sinful moan left his lips. He gently swayed your hips back and forth on his cock.

“Oh fuck” you moaned softly. Thoroughly enjoying the feeling of him inside of you. His cock stretching you gently with undeniable satisfaction. His thrusts became more feral. His arms no longer guiding, but pulling you flush against him.

“Holy fuck, (y/n)” he groaned. His obvious arousal now pounding into you. He let out moans, struggling to keep the contained. He bite down hard on your neck.

You sat up, placing your hands on his chest. Moving your hips on his cock as you rode him, matching his speed. Moans left your lips as his hands made their way to your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your mounds before pinching them gently. You threw your head back, bouncing faster as you chased your orgasm.

“Oh fuck” you moan. His hand reached and wrapped around your throat.

“Dont you dare fucking stop” he ordered. “Ride my fucking cock until you cum all over it”

“Yes sir” you moan feeling his hand tighten. Your eyes rolling back at the feeling.

“Good girl” he breathed quietly. “Good fucking girl” you moved your hips faster, the sound of your ass hitting his thighs playing out.

“Im gonna cum” you whimper. “Oh my god, Young il, I’m gonna fucking cum”

“Cum on my cock. Cum on my fucking cock so I can mix our fucking juices together” he growls lowly. “Be a good girl for daddy, (y/n)” with that you felt your orgasm turn the corner,

“Fuck” you drawled as you rode your orgasm, spilling your juices on his cock”

“My turn now”he pulled you flush against him. Pounding his cock into you and forcing his orgasm to peak. He buried himself in the crook of your neck, biting down hard on your collarbone, certainly leaving a matching bruise to the one you had on your neck. His hot seed shooting inside of you. His body tensing with each thrust.

You moved your hips against him, making sure every drop of his was inside you.

“Oh my god, (y/n)” his own whimpering voice a symphony to your ears as you rode him. “You’re going to ruin me” he says as you slowed to a stop and laid your head against him, a light sheen of sweat covering the both of you.

You moan lightly as he pulls his cock from you. Your spent body being helped by your best friend from high school. He pulled your panties and sweatpants on, pulling the blanket off of you as your breathing returned to normal. He removed your jackets, placing them on the floor by the bed.

“You’re so fucking good at riding” he tells you. “Just like when we were younger” you give a half chuckle,

“No much changed… I’m still good at everything” you say dazily. Cuddling into his chest as he held you. “So geoboki, what’s our excuse this time, he?”

“We were horny” he whispered in your ear. You giggle lightly before letting yourself drift off in his embrace as he played with your hair. His own eyes getting heavy before finally snoring softly, head on top of yours.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @player279achlys @watasinekoru @galaxygurlll @angelofthorr

[eclipseberrycake]

Satisfied (Onesided! Ginger x Reader x Cosmo)

AN: If y'all know Hamilton, y'all know. Now I know, I have requests and the next part of MBC promised (which is almost done and I'm so excited to show you guys), but I was struck with a thought in my headache riddled brain which was scattered all sorts. And it's my Blog so. >:D sucks to be y'all. /lh Also sorry for being gone for son long, I re-dislocated by knee and that was no bueno </3

This is the MBC! Reader, but I don't really emphasis on Sprout and Astro in this, so I just put it as Cosmo.

Lil bit of a songfic, but it's mostly just inspired by it.

Warnings: One-sided/unreciprocated affections, Ginger gets sad. Maybe her mains shouldn't pmo next time.

☁ Being a holiday toon had both it's pros and cons.

☁ On one hand, she loves seeing all the children and their excited little faces as they scamper about, smiles brightened by the cheer of the season. There's always a semi-permanent smell of cinnamon and pine in the air, lingering and almost tangible on the tongue.

☁ She gets to spend her days baking and enjoying life with the other toons, talking to them about their holiday wishes and going on runs with them. Those were her favorite moments, by far, were seeing all the other toons in action, playing a part that was so well rehearsed to them it was practically muscle memory.

☁ And, she got to see you. You were a distractor, a damn good one at that, and she found herself drawing towards you more and more.

☁The first time she met you was pre-outbreak. Her and the other holiday toons were just created for Gardenview's first holiday season, and some of the other commons were tasked with getting them acquainted. While originally she suspected she would be paired with Cosmo, as she was his cousin, she was pleasantly surprised when you popped up.

☁ You gave her a cheerful little wave as your entire body seemed to bounce with joy, never staying still as you introduced yourself. You offered a hand for her to shake, she remembers, your hold firm and confident. She remembers thinking in that very moment how your iris' reflected the light like stained glass. You were still talking, she remembers, but not about what. Just the sound of your voice.

☁ You spoke with vigor. Bold and bright, intelligent about whatever you were going on about. She liked that. She wasn't very bold herself, admittedly, it was a family trait, so to see you so exuberant made her chest burn.

☁ You were almost like a phoenix. One of those fire birds the children would tell her about. They were in stories and were known for their bright flames. There were more to them, but she couldn't quite recall, all she knew was that, like a phoenix, you burned like a star, calling her attention as if she were a moth.

☁ You led her around the kitchen areas, where she was able to spot Cosmo, waving at him. While he did acknowledge her with a bright grin and tight hug, she knew his eyes were focused somewhere else.

☁ She tried not to think about it, but ultimately it was all she could focus on. You welcomed your own warm greeting with Cosmo, making his cheeks dust a rosy orange as he wrapped his arms around you, his tail wagging in a blur behind him as he nuzzled into your neck.

☁ He looked at you like you were not only a star, but the moon, sun and planets all in one. Like you were a sight far beyond his own comprehension that he was merely lucky enough to see.

☁ Like he was simply a man in love, seeing the very object of his adoration.

☁ The thought stung in her chest. Cosmo, oh sweet Cosmo, was such a lover at heart. She knew this. He would give and give until he couldn't any longer, then would try to give more. She knew, if she had made her adorations of you known, he would've backed off. He would've encouraged her to get to know you. He would've done everything in his power to help her shine bright enough to match you.

☁ But she couldn't do that to him. Not when he looked so smitten, so...in love.

☁ That would be cruel.

☁ Though she supposed it was as equally cruel to force herself to admire you from a distance, watch as your flame burned with you, yearning just to feel the heat. She just wanted to know what it was like to hold your hand and twirl away to Christmas songs like Tisha did. Or to feel your hands wrap around her waist to boost her to the higher branches like you did with Scraps. Or even just for you to sit beside her with a cup of hot chocolate and cookies like you did with Goob.

☁ She wanted all those things and more. She wanted to know what your early morning voice sounded like, still heavy with sleep as you fought off the pull of your exhaustion once more. She wanted to know what it was like to feel you crawl into bed and collapse under the covers, whining for cuddles because you've had such a long day. She wanted to wake up and see the rays of sun cross your face as you continue to snooze, unaware and unrushed by the events of the day.

☁ She wanted. It burned in her chest so tightly it hurt, brushing against her ribs and pulling every time she caught a glimpse of your smile. The sound of your laughter made her stomach churn, knowing it wasn't because of her. Even the way you walked had her captivated, from the way your feet hit the ground, turning as you adjusted to upkeep conversation, seamlessly moving like a dancer.

☁ Just once she wanted you to dance around her, smiling like she was the same sun in your sky that you were in hers. Laughing at her jokes and spilling compliments unto her, holding her hand and kissing her cheek.

☁ Just the thought of it makes her cheeks burn before she's shaking the thought away.

☁ The shake of her head knocks whatever flashback she was reminiscing about loose, and she's back in med-bay, shoulders hunched as she fiddles with her blanket.

☁ It was a hard night, she remembers, a constant switch between throwing up whatever she could and clutching at her aching head. Cosmo was there, supporting her wherever she could, but to her surprise, you were there too. You were constantly moving from the med-bay, to wherever, returning to pass Cosmo something before dashing off again.

☁ It's a soft comfort, knowing you're there, and you're okay. She feared what had happened to you during the outbreak, but was caught where she was and left with the consequences.

☁ Cosmo had told her that you were the one to rescue her, briefly explaining the entire situation. You had risked your own life to save her own, and her chest ached at the thought.

☁ To see you once more was a dream come true, but to know you had done that all for her was....exhilarating.

☁ Cosmo was mid-explanation of her injuries when you made a return for longer than a second, looking exhausted, but still upright. You perked up when you noticed her gaze on you, giving a happy little wave. "Ginger! Good to see you awake! I hope the nurse hasn't been giving you a hard time." You joke, circling around behind Cosmo even as he shoots you a look.

☁ "Bite me." The cake rolls huffs, making you snicker as you angle your head to flutter your lashes at him. "I already diiiid." You laugh even as he swats at you.

☁ Ginger giggles at your antics, loving the mischievous smirk on your features even if Cosmo looks less then impressed by your antics. You settle quickly, diverting your attention to her with a far softer smile on your features. "How are you feeling?"

☁ "Okay." She responds, already feeling that familiar flutter return to her chest. You nod at this, perching yourself at the end of her bed as one of your hands gently sets itself on her leg. The very action makes her nervous system shudder, cheeks turning a softs pink as she pulls her hair over her shoulder to play with it.

☁ "I'm glad." You breathe out and the very noise you makes as you lean back, running a hand over your forehead and down the back of your head. The relief makes your shoulders sag, the evident (In hindsight) ease in tension relaxing the muscles in your face. You look older like this, more experienced, even if your youth peaks through in hints she knows to look for.

☁ It's in the same shine of your eyes, even as they haze a bit, unfocused but sharp nonetheless. Trained to pinpoint the slightest bits of movement, yet eased enough now they only look at Cosmo. She can watch in real time as the color of your eyes fills itself with something new. It's hearty and bright, nearly making your eyes gleam like an angel's. She knows what it is, and what hurts more is that there's something else there. There's a comfort there that's unique to you and him. Something that's always been there, and she's either remained ignorant or blissfully unaware of how to notice it.

☁ She can see it all now though. Much more clearly than she ever has before.

☁ It's comfort in the love you've found with Cosmo. It's the nervous butterflies of crushes and fresh romance that have settled and instead evolved into a home of reliability and adoration. It's the swell of your heart at the very sound of his name and the sight of him in any capacity, easing off the immediate jittery reaction into a softer, welcoming one that she's sure eases you more than anything else. It's the evolution of shy touches and evading eyes once they've been caught looking into lingering glances with cheeky quips and hands finding purchase in places they've traced a thousand times.

☁ There's other places she can see how young you look, especially in this light. It's in the way your fur falls, untamed and wild, windblown from the running, jumping and dodging you've done as a distractor. It's in your hands that carry a mass of scars. but no wrinkles. That are rough and calloused, but not worn and rigid. It's in your posture that slumps with fatigue and the weight of your responsibilities, not years of experience.

☁ Swallowing, she allows herself the one bit of comfort as she reaches and grabs your hand. It's not warm like she imagined, rather cool and clammy. You must clench your fists when you run and it must've cooled your palm since then.

☁ She gently drags the pads of her fingers along the lines of your palm before gently clasping your hand in her two. "Thank you. For what you've done."

☁ You blink at this and the tension returns, making her inwardly frown. But all you do is smile, that same, gentle and understanding twitch of your lips even as you avoiding look at her. No, you're looking at Cosmo.

☁ "No one really thanks me." You start, looking down at your lap for a second before returning to look at Cosmo. His own eyes are filled with the same look yours are and one of his hands find itself on your thigh. His knuckles flex as he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if urging you to continue. "So, thank you. But I truly don't think I'm worthy of it." Your lips upturn into a mischievous little thing. "Not if Sprout has anything to say about it."

☁ Cosmo scoffs. "With the amount of stress you bring to his life, I don't blame him." Her cousin shakes his head. "But. Ginger's right. You do deserve to be thanked."

☁ You don't look like you believe them, but let the subject drop with a optimistic little huff. "Well, if distracting is what it takes to meet some of the best people in my life," You pause and Ginger's heart practically shatters as your eyes immediately turn to Cosmo. He's already watching you and look that feels too intimate for her to witness laces his features. "It would have been worth it."

☁ The remnants of her chest collect into a dusted fragment that holds some sort of semblance to what it was before only to absolutely shutter and collapse once more as you shake off and stand, clapping your hands. She misses the feel of your touch and the warmth you provided simply by being there. It's momentarily made worse by the fact that you turn so Cosmo is in your immediate vicinity first, rather than turn to her first, even if you end up facing them both.

☁ "I have to get going. Sprout caught me on my last little run to get supplies and made me promise to get something to eat or else he would, and I quote, 'drag my sorry ass to the kitchen'." You shrug at this, even if Ginger has to hide a giggle behind a hand. Cosmo waves you off with a roll of his eyes. "Sure, sure, blame it on the warden. Maybe your just sick of my company."

☁ You fake an affronted gasp, holding a hand to your chest even as your lips tilt into a smirk far too charming to mean you took any real offense. "Me? Tire of you? Puh-lease." You lean down, gently cupping Cosmo's cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

☁ The simple action softens her cousin by a rather drastic degree, making his shoulders fall and his tail wag. She has to look away from the act for just a second, looking back before either of you can notice.

☁ You separate with a wave and promises of seeing Cosmo during bedtime, giving a final well wishes to Ginger before leaving. You were out of sight before long and Ginger swallowed the suddenly thick lump in her throat.

☁ Looking over, she watched Cosmo, who was looking at where you left with the same lovesick grin he used to wear pre-outbreak. It was just as dazed and awestruck as it was then, even if it's tampered by the familiarity of knowing you and your isms' and your little habits. She's sure Cosmo has become more than well-acquainted with you and who you are, your character and your person. She's sure he's even been witness to your very spirit and soul in the early cracks of down, bearing witness to your freshly awoken mind as you lace nothing but sweet nothings about and to him within the early air between you two.

☁ "You look happy." She says, despite herself. It seems to stun her cousin as he blinks before turning to her, all rosy cheeks and wagging tail as he holds the palm of his hand to his cheek, probably feeling the heat there.

☁ "I am." He breathes out. "They- All of them just..." He seemingly can't find the words, kicking his feet just a bit. "They make me want to be a better person. I just- I can't explain it."

☁ She could. She could explain all too well how she wants nothing more than to be the person you think of her as. To improve herself so that she may one day hold even a candle to the image you have of her and hopefully repay all the kindness you have ever shown. To be the person she wishes to be if only to ease your own burdens and the responsibilities you've placed on your own shoulders, just to see the beam of your smile once more.

☁ She wonders how things may have changed if she had been selfish, just once. How it could've been her, holding your hand and sharing a bed with you. How it could've been her that you look at like no one else is in the room. It could've been her that shares inside jokes and small little bouts of laughter with you. It should've been her.

☁ A flicker of a thought passes that it still could be her, but as she looks at Cosmo, it immediately wilts. She could never take that away from him, not even in a fantastical thought that blisters and pops the seconds its prodded.

☁ "You don't need too, it's written all over your face." She gently teases, and he rolls his eyes. He swats at her prodding hand, scoffing just a bit.

☁ "Oh stuff it." He scoffs, sliding off the bed. "I'm gonna go get you something to eat. You want a book or anything while I'm gone?" He looks back and she shakes her head.

☁ He takes this for what it is before leaving, shutting the door behind him and leaving her to her thoughts. Before she can stop them, they wander straight back to you, despite every effort she tries to make to remind herself that your not hers to think about. She buries her head in her knees and clenches her fist, if only to numb herself from the reminder of feeling your touch against her hand.

☁ On the other side of the door, Cosmo stares at the plain white of it before retracting his hand with a sigh. He'd recognized the look on Ginger's face, having seen it a few too many times on Goob's, and his chest aches at the thought of putting his own cousin through the heartbreak of rejection. Yet, he can't bring himself to mend this injury. Not at the expense of himself. He'd spent too much of himself on others too constantly. You were his one reprieve from a lifetime of consistent giving. He wasn't sure what else he could give.

☁ If there was one thing he would never dream of even thinking of giving up was his chance with you. He had worked too hard and given up too much of himself, his well-being, even his own sanity in the face of those twisteds. You and him and Sprout and Astro had worked too hard for far too long for anything to break that up.

☁ So while he wishes for his cousin to continue healing and her utmost happiness, he doesn't wish for it enough to give up you.

[thatiranianphantom]

it used to be mine (but now it's yours)

“You ruined me.” 

He is supposed to be at the Ozdust with Glinda. That’s what he’d said, taciturn and without looking at her, during their sole interaction that day. 

He’s been like that with her, recently. Not that she’s ever thought of them as particularly close. Not friends, per se, just…two people united by their shared loved one. Two people, if she were being a bit more honest, with what seemed to be a constant, crackling energy between them she’d never been able to explain. 

Not since the lion cub…and that day at the swimming hole near the poppy farm. Sitting on the edge, watching the muscles ripple in his shoulders, filled her with this strange heat she’d never felt before. And then that night, around the fire, where his eyes kept catching hers, the light reflecting this strange gaze in them, something that looked like…longing. 

But it couldn’t have been, could it? Not for her. Entirely wishful thinking, something she had tried very hard to push down. Made easier by the fact that he seemed to be resolutely ignoring her lately. 

Not now, though. After he’d pounded on her door, he’s standing in the doorframe, eyes ablaze, chest heaving as if he’d run here straight from the docks. 

“You ruined me,” he tells her, and Elphaba is smart, one of the smartest in her class, thank you very much, but she cannot for the life of her figure out what he means. 

He blazes into the room, stepping immediately into her side of the huge suite. 

“Fiyero, shouldn’t you be at the Ozdust? With Glinda?” It hurts, it physically hurts to say, but it shouldn’t. He’s not hers. He will never be hers, and the moment with the lion cub…it was just that. A moment. 

Handsome princes don’t take up with antisocial green girls. He’ll marry, if not Glinda, someone equally beautiful and perfect, and she is not that girl. 

He gives a hard nod of his head. “That’s the point. I was supposed to be there. With Glinda. I was supposed to be there, Elphaba, not here!” 

Elphaba cocks her head, eyes narrowing. “Then…why are you here? An hour after you left, looking like you just ran all the way?”

He looks at her incredulously, as if she’s ridiculous for not knowing. “I told you, Elpaba! Because of you!” 

“Because of…me?”

He nods again, as if she’s finally getting it. “You! I was…” he breaks off, running a shaking hand through his hair. “I was fine! I found pretty girls, pretty guys, anyone I wanted! And it was always fine!”

“I don’t want to hear this.” She doesn’t, she really doesn’t. She has no urge to hear about all the people before, all the people there will be after, how easily it all comes to him.

“No!” he seizes her by her shoulders, and suddenly she’s gazing into blue eyes and her heart is pounding. 

“It was fine, Elphaba. I danced through life, and I never thought about it. I never thought…until I met you.”

If possible, her heart picks up more. Until I met you. 

“I met you, and I…now everything is different!” He drops her arms and she feels the lack of warmth suddenly, feels just the tiniest bit emptier. 

“I met you twice, two goddamn times, Elphaba, and you ruined me!” 

Fiyero paces, makes his way between Glinda’s section of the room and hers, and if it were any other time, perhaps she’d see the irony in it. As it is, his words turn over and over in her head. 

Until I met you. 

You ruined me. 

She doesn’t know why she does it, but she reaches out and grabs his hand. Like that day. Like the day things changed. 

It calms him a bit, and that releases something in her. He stares at their joined hands and is silent for long moments, so long that she thinks perhaps he’s done, perhaps he’d just leave and they’d never speak about this again. But then he gives her hand a little tug, and she tumbles the short distance towards him. His other hand lifts, tracing over her hairline, down her cheek, and she’s sure he can hear her heart by this point, how loud it’s pounding. 

“I don’t think about it anymore, Fae,” he whispers. “Any of it. Glinda, the Ozdust, that dance through life…I don’t see it anymore. I don’t see it, because all I see is you.”

[cozmowrites]

Wonderwall: One

one

11:38 AM

you: hi ☺️

bkg: Who the fuck are you?

you: oh im (y/n)! mei is a bit busy with other students so ill help her and fix up what you need on your costume

bkg: I don't need your help.

you: oh okay

2:20 PM

you: you're looking directly at me but you're not talking

you: what is it you need? use your words

bkg: I'm looking for the crazy one.

you: mei is busy with the green haired kid and the robot looking guy. it's me or whoever else with their hands free so pick

bkg: I need my gauntlets fixed.

you: what about them needs fixed?

bkg: Can't you just figure it out? I don't have all evening.

you: feisty

you: im trying to help but i can't because you're not helping

bkg: The crazy one knows.

you: news flash, i am not mei

you: so are you going to tell me or not?

you: i can just hand over the project to someone else that mei trusts less or i can do it and you can tell me.

You looked away from your phone briefly as you watched his eyes avert from your form, annoyed at him for acting so childish. Especially for a third year. You looked back down to your phone to send him a quick text.

you: oh, so you're just not gonna look at me now, ok. have fun with someone else

bkg: Something inside keeps malfunctioning.

like what? mei told me you use that to store your quirk's sweat.

bkg: I don't know. Something isn't pushing the sweat out like it used to.

you: ill look at the problem overnight, but you won't see them until at least tomorrow after school

you: just set them on my desk and ill text you updates if i got them

You looked away from your phone briefly as he set his gauntlets down on your desk with a grumble. You rolled you eyes and added to your text.

you: don't grumble at me

(bakugou disliked your text)

Later that night, you worked in the workshop on his gauntlets, finding the problem after several hours. Before you could dive into it, you heard a text come from your phone. The bright light blinding you momentarily.

7:53 PM

bkg: Update?

you: some of your things in there are rusting, did you know that?

you: i can't fix it from the inside, i have to take it all apart and fix it like that

bkg: No way in hell.

you: bakugou, right?

you: the rust is all inside. you have to replace that every few months because of the moisture from your sweat.

bkg: The crazy one would be able to fix it.

you: im. not. mei.

you: get that through your thick skull.

you: mei gave me your information so that i could help you, and i could help her take off some of the slack.

you: she trusts me the most. do you fucking understand that?

you: i would be GLAD to hand you off to another student in the class.

you: mei didn't tell me you'd be a complete asshole but i should've known when i had seen you in the sports festival win for both first year's and second year's.

you: you're still so full of yourself, even after that big war

you: call me insensitive, but you can let someone else work on your gear and your costume just fine.

you: it's NOT that big of a deal.

bkg: Fine.

bkg: Do whatever you can to fix them.

bkg: Don't fucking break them.

you: why would i do that?

You took a moment to breath from the frustrated typing you just spent. Your breathing raged.

you: put more trust in me third year

(bakugou disliked your message)

You worked tirelessly all night. That's what you did, on all your projects, even student ones. You got no sleep what-so-ever and eventually, you watched the sun rise. It made your eyes and head hurt, but you were quite used to it.

6:04 AM

you: good morning 🌅

you: i completely tore everything apart last night and found more issues so it'll be longer until you get your gauntlets back.

you: on the bright side, i fixed a bunch of stuff mei did in a rush and made it more stable.

7:11 AM

you: your gauntlets are really heavy, do you really carry them around?

you: i thought you had bad wrists or something

you: there's a way to double the sweat storage without making it any heavier for your wrist you know

you: they just won't look so classic to your grenades or whatever

You decided to step away from your desk and head to the student's dorms to change and freshen up. Just since it'll be another day of school and you spent all night in at your desk in the classroom.

A little over an hour passed, and you were back at the classroom, the rest of the students working hard on their projects and gear for other students. You, however, stopped when you saw breakfast on your desk. You furrowed your brows, it was not from the cafeteria, rather bought from some fast food place. There wasn't a note or anything, but Mei saw you quickly and peered around the corner.

"Bakugou dropped that off for you by the way." She smiled and returned to her work area, busying herself once again. You couldn't ask her further what was up. Or if he had said anything when he dropped it off. You didn't want to bother her further.

8:26 AM

you: yo mei said you stopped by and left this shit on my desk

you: [image of food attached]

you: is this your way of paying for tearing apart your gauntlets?

you: either way, ill eat it ig

You didn't give him the satisfaction of a 'thank you'. He didn't deserve it, he treated you like shit.

12:03 PM

you: i got it mostly done. you can pick them up tomorrow morning.

(bakugou liked your message)

By the time evening rolled around, you fixed the gauntlets earlier than intended. It's evening and you haven't eaten since lunch (which was 6 hours ago). You can't decide whether to eat and just return the gauntlets after eating or to pay Bakugou back for the breakfast and return his gauntlets to him.

You ultimately decided.

5:07 PM

you: by the way, your gauntlets are heavy as fuck.

You switched to your dashdoor app and looked at options for food. No need to try and order food for anyone else, no one else was in here with you except for Yuka. Mei was out doing who knows what.

"Hey Yuka, Do you want anything? I'm ordering takeout." You decided to ultimately speak up. Yuka was a good classmate to you, and often covered for you, so you could pay her back with some food or something. 

"If you're offering, sure." She smiled at you, her voice soft and gentle, compared to Mei's or Power Loader's.

"What would you like?" You asked, genuinely curious in her taste in foods. You'd assume soft and sweet, but when she opened to answer, you were a bit surprised.

"Spicy. The spiciest they have." She smiled and turned back to her workspace. You ordered food for the both of you and when it arrived, you ate quietly. She would occasionally ask a question about what you were working on currently, only for her to nod or hum in response.

When you finished eating, you bid goodbye to Yuka and she did the same. You headed down the hall and past the hero course hall, kind of curious as to if Bakugou was still hanging around. You could give him his gauntlets, but that would result on taking a detour and all you wanted to do was get home. You ultimately decided to just go home, shaking off every curiosity you had about Bakugou. He was not worth a thought. You headed home instead.

The next morning was pretty uneventful. You settled in to your workspace and started messing with a project of yours's that you started, some old junk that maybe could be some laser detection or something. You weren't sure. You tore apart other old projects of Mei's because she gave you permission to do so, and want to try your hand at something different. It was just regular free time morning stuff. The door opened and the ash blond walked in, in his school uniform. Hands in pockets and all. You rolled your eyes and pointed to the gauntlets on the other half of your workspace.

"My costume tore." He gruffly spoke up, pulling his bag around from his back and pulling out a folded hero costume.

"Okay?" You replied, not interested in fixing it, or at least fixing it right away. "Not my problem."You don't take bullshit from anyone, especially not Bakugou. He was notorious for that, or so you've heard.

He shook his head and replied with a 'tsk', inviting himself into a chair. "I don't care. Fix it."

"Is saying 'please' so difficult? Maybe saying it will have me care a little more." You replied, going back to messing with this item if yours's. He tapped his foot impatiently.

"I need it by this afternoon."

"Great." You snapped back quickly.

He let out an aggravated sigh. A moment later, a message notification.

8:20 AM

bkg: Why can't you just fucking do it? It'll only take a few minutes.

you: where's the "please"? hm?

you: i only do nice things for people if they're nice back

bkg: You piss me off.

bkg: Fix it.

you: you piss me off too!

you: im glad the feeling is mutual

you: and i won't do shit

you: you said you need it by the afternoon?

you: you'll come get it at lunch

you: you are not my priority today

you: i gave you priority yesterday

"You texted me just to get the same answer." You spoke up making him snap his head up from his phone. You were right, all he did was get the same answer, but in text form. You shook your head and set down the laser sensor. "I'll give it to you at lunch."

He stood from his chair and moved out of the room without another word. You'll work on this other student's thing and then his in time for lunch.

+++

By the time lunch rolled around, you finished the fix. It was a bit more difficult than you had hoped. You're not one to see costumes, that's usually Yuka's thing, but she was not in the classroom usually until afternoon so you had to take what she taught you and remember it the best you could. You were better with hardware over anything else. You got your lunch tray through the line and walked over to where you saw the ash blond poking out from the crowd. He was sitting with 4 others that looked like they invited themselves there.

"Here." You set down the bag in front of him and he looked up at you briefly before a loud voice gasped.

"Oh my gosh, you're so pretty! You know Bakugou? You should totally sit down and eat with us!!" You looked over and it was the pink alien one.

====

read it all here:

wattpad

ao3

[n0n3xsisting]

Slow Burn | Sam Winchester

WARNINGS: SMUT

The world outside the bunker was dark and cold, but in Sam's room, everything was warm. His broad hands held you gently, his thumbs tracing slow circles on your bare hips as he pulled you into his lap. The glow of a single lamp bathed his soft, golden skin, and the way his hazel eyes looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered in the universe—left you breathless.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Sam asked, his voice low and careful, always the protector. His hands slid up to cup your face, his fingers threading through your hair.

"I'm sure," you whispered, leaning into him, your lips brushing against his in the faintest tease. "I need you, Sam. Please."

He groaned quietly at your words, his large hands moving back down to your waist, pulling you closer so you could feel the hardness pressing between your legs. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his lips finally capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second.

Sam kissed you like it was the last thing he'd ever do—soft, tender, but with a depth that made your toes curl. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing small whimpers from you as his hands slid up beneath your shirt, his touch feather-light as he explored the bare skin of your back.

He broke the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his breath catching as he took you in. "You're perfect," he said, his voice thick with awe. He leaned down to press kisses along your collarbone, his lips soft and reverent as he trailed lower, his hands cradling your sides like you were something fragile.

When his mouth closed around your nipple, you gasped, your fingers tangling in his long, silky hair. He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. His other hand slid down, tracing the edge of your panties before slipping them off entirely, his fingers brushing against your heated skin.

"Sam," you moaned, your hips shifting against him as his fingers teased your folds, spreading your slickness as he found your clit with maddening precision. "Please... I need more."

"Shh," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your sternum as he eased a long finger inside you. "I've got you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you."

His pace was unhurried, his finger curling inside you as his thumb rubbed slow circles on your clit. You clung to his shoulders, your breaths coming faster as he worked you, his lips brushing against your neck, your jaw, your temple.

"Sam, I—" Your words dissolved into a cry as a second finger joined the first, stretching you in a way that made your whole body tremble. He watched you intently, his eyes dark with desire, his other hand stroking your thigh to ground you.

"That's it," he murmured, his voice soothing as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. "Let go for me, baby. I want to see you come."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers and the gentle kisses he pressed to your lips, sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, then shattered, your cries muffled against his shoulder as waves of pleasure washed over you. He didn't stop, working you through your high until you were shaking in his arms.

When you finally caught your breath, he kissed you again, slow and sweet, before pulling back just enough to look at you. "You okay?" he asked, his voice soft, his thumb brushing your cheek.

"I'm perfect," you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw. "But I want you, Sam. All of you."

He swallowed hard, his restraint barely holding as he nodded. Gently, he shifted you onto your back, pulling his shirt over his head before removing his jeans and boxers. You couldn't help but stare—he was all lean muscle and raw strength, but the way he looked at you was nothing but tender.

He climbed over you, his body caging yours without trapping you, his weight a comforting presence. "Tell me if it's too much," he said, lining himself up at your entrance. "I'll stop if you need me to."

"I trust you," you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Please, Sam."

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he sank into you, filling you inch by inch until you were stretched around him completely. The stretch was intense, but the way he moved—so careful, so slow—made it feel like you were made for him.

"God," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he stilled, giving you time to adjust. "You feel... amazing."

You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you urged him to move. He did, his hips rolling in a slow, steady rhythm that left you gasping. Every thrust was deliberate, his body pressing into yours in a way that made you feel utterly cherished.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as his pace increased just slightly, his thrusts hitting deeper. "I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do," you said, your voice trembling with emotion as you held him closer. "You're everything, Sam."

He kissed you then, deep and passionate, his hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit again. The added stimulation sent you spiraling, your body clenching around him as another orgasm tore through you. Sam groaned, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased his own release.

With a final thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he came, his face buried in your neck as he moaned your name. For a moment, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled together, your breaths mingling as you both came down from the high.

Sam finally pulled back to look at you, his eyes soft and full of love as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "You're incredible," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, cupping his cheek. "So are you."

He kissed you again, slow and tender, before pulling you into his arms. And as you lay there, wrapped in his warmth, you knew you'd never felt safer—or more loved—in your entire life.

[navybrat817]

A Cornucopia for You!

Steve Rogers; secret dating; corporate; fluff

Your feet felt the sweet relief of solid ground as you slipped your heels off in the elevator ride up to your penthouse. The artificial light in the small box was bright, so much in comparison to the darkness outside. You swore you wouldn’t have seen the sun today if it weren’t for the floor to ceiling windows in your CEO suite.

Channing, the newest board member who had just taken over for his late father, had been relentless for the past few months. He forced you to work late hours, constantly tried to embarrass you every single chance he had, and never took your word for anything, claiming the only reason the company held onto a female CEO and put up with you was “because you’re single.”

He wasn’t quite right about that, though. Sure, you weren’t married, but for the better part of a year, you’d been dating someone so sweet, so kind, and so perfect, except for the fact that he was the CEO of a startup company. One that the board considered a rival.

So you and Steve kept a few simple rules: keep the relationship private, and do your best to keep work talk out of your homes. The second rule was a little more flexible, though. The two of you often found yourselves helping each other with problems, pulling on your collective experience, and of course Steve knew about how terrible Channing was being. Especially since he believed you to be a single workaholic that wouldn’t hop off your back.

Work had gotten you twisted so much so that you’d even forgot what today was until the elevator doors opened and you stepped out. Fluorescent light was replaced by candle and moonlight, vases of your favorite flowers lined your tabletops, and lounging in the middle of your living room sat an all too familiar large figure.

“Steve.” It came out as more of a gasp than anything as you watched him stand and gracefully walk over to you.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He greeted you with a hug and the sweetest kiss on the lips. You could feel yourself melting into his arms, almost all the tension releasing from your shoulders, but when you pulled away, concern furrowed your brows. Steve clocked it immediately, of course he did. His warm hands gently brushed up and down your arms.

“Hey, I know this week has been a lot, but you’re home now. You and I can just relax.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you nodded, placing your forehead against his shoulder with a sigh.

“You’re right. I’ve got some leftovers in the fridge. I know it’s not the most romantic, but we can heat them up and eat them in the tub?”

Steve laughed, his eyes lighting up with genuine affection before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You heat up the bath and I’ll heat up the food?”

As the two of you sat opposite each other in the oversized tub, bubbles up to your shoulders, you were so grateful for him and the peace he provided you. The sanctuary.

Steve finished off his glass of wine and set it to the side. “I know we agreed no work talk, but I just wanna say one thing. If you think it’s a bad idea, feel free to forget it and move on, but this offer will always stand.”

You shifted, putting a leg in Steve’s lap for a foot rub and you stifled a groan as he began.

“Come work with me.”

Your eyes quickly shot open at that. “What?”

“Be my co-CEO. Heck, be the sole CEO if you want, but I really don’t wanna see you torn up by shareholders anymore. I don’t have those. You’d be your own boss. We’d be unstoppable.”

You set your wine glass aside and sat up, making your way to straddle Steve’s lap, your hands gripping his steady shoulders. You leaned in and watched as his eager eyes shifted between yours, your lips brushing his, sharing shallow breaths.

“Okay.”

Oh, Steve is so perfect! ❤️ Essie, you are amazing, and I love everything about this. I wouldn't hesitate to give Channing the finger on my last day. And the image of the flowers and Steve sitting there both sweetly and full of power. We all need someone like him in our lives. ❤️

Love and thanks! ❤️

[luna-the-cretar]

Rest now, my dear (Rest your weary head on my chest)—A short Shepnax fic

[Cos finale spoilers]

You should not be doing this. The cruel voice that sounded eerily like is Elders chastised. You are destined to die. You should not let yourself have this.

Why not? Why couldn’t he let himself have this, if he was going to lose it in a matter of days anyway? Why not let himself enjoy this while it lasts?

Sarnax usually was a light sleeper. He usually slept late in the night and rose with the sun—if not sooner. Shepherd did too, most nights. On the nights he slept, anyway. Today in particular took a lot out of the poor tiefling, to the point where he was out like a light the moment his head had hit the pillow. Sarnax, like usual, had stayed up an additional hour or so, praying to Gherix.

It was such a simple question. “I-I can’t sleep. N-not alone, anyway. Is it alright if we share a bed tonight?” Sarnax almost wanted to deny him. To send him right back to bed with a simple Calm Emotions spell, all alone.

Almost.

That led him to now, in Shepherd’s bed, struggling to sleep as he listened to the rhythmic snoring of his companion, their tails entwined with their arms around each other. They were clothed, though Shepherd wore very little—just a sweat-stained tank top that Sarnax was certain was his usual undershirt, and what Sarnax assumed to be his undershorts. Not that Sarnax could say anything, since he himself was wearing his underclothes (mostly to keep Shepherd comfortable).

Shepherd was so warm. And he smelled so nice.

Gherix truly must be cruel, to send Shepherd into his life, and force himself to let him go.

You must not think like that. Thoughts like that are blasphemous.

Right. His apologies.

Sarnax inhaled deeply, before sighing through his nose. No, he really should not let himself have this. Must not embrace his warmth. Must not surround himself in the natural musk mixed with bourbon and dust from the crypt.

Sarnax started to move, to wiggle his way out of Shepherd’s grasp, but all that did was stop the snoring.

Shit.

“Mm—Sarnax…?” Shepherd mumbled sleepily, one onyx eye peering open. “‘s it mornin’ already?”

“No, Shepherd, go back to sleep.” Sarnax whispered, petting Shepherd’s hair in an attempt to soothe him. It was long and greasy, and he couldn’t help but stare as it curled around his claw.

“Then where’re ya goin’?” Shepherd mumbled, closing his eyes and humming. “That feels nice…”

Sarnax smiled softly. “I am returning to my own bed.”

Shepherd’s eyes opened as he sat up, suddenly looking awake. “What? Why? Is my bed too uncomfortable for you? Is it…is it me?”

Oh, Gherix, the way Sarnax’s heart broke in twain in the way Shepherd sounded so small—so broken—with that last question.

You will do that to him. Such a cruel monster, indeed.

“It is nothing of the sort.” Sarnax eased. “I just…cannot let myself have something that I will lose in a mere matter of days.”

Shepherd’s brow furrowed. “The fuck’re ya talkin’ ‘bout, Sarnax? I ain’t gonna leave ya behind once we get outta here. Hells, you can…ya can come with me to Yona, if ya want.”

And my, wasn’t that a beautiful dream? To stay by his side in Yona, until their fires snuff out on their own? To wake beside him, to learn where he came from, to live in a home that is undeniably Shepherd.

“…Tell me about Yona.” Sarnax said softly, laying back down, with Shepherd following suit.

“Will it get ya to stay in bed with me?” Shepherd asked, a small smile on his lips.

“If you can calm my racing mind, and allow me to rest.” Sarnax replied.

Shepherd rolled his eyes, through the smile remained. “Fuckin’ poet.”

And so, Shepherd did. He described his childhood home in great detail, and their journey to Stryga in even greater detail. Soon enough, he started recounting stories of his childhood, fondness lacing his tone. All the while, Sarnax found his eyes closing, and soon enough, he drifted off to sleep, Shepherd not too far behind.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "Wrapped Up In You" – Part 2

The studio was quieter now. The hum of the equipment had softened, the beats fading into the background as Marshall sat back in his chair, taking a break from the music. His mind felt a bit drained, but not from the work—more from the absence of you by his side. The hoodie you’d claimed earlier was now tossed over the back of the chair, and Marshall found himself absentmindedly running his fingers over the fabric, the familiar smell of you still clinging to it.

The room felt… off, without your warmth beside him.

You had stepped out a little while ago, taking a quick break to grab some coffee, but now, as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, he found himself missing the little things. The way you’d rest your head on his chest, the quiet hum of your voice when you’d whisper something random in his ear, the way you’d just exist in the space with him, making everything feel just a little less… chaotic.

Marshall stood up, pacing a few steps toward the window, staring out at the city skyline, but his mind kept returning to you. He had no reason to feel this way, right? You were just in the other room, probably grabbing that coffee you loved so much. But the silence in the studio felt heavy without you here.

A soft sigh left his lips. This was ridiculous. He was Marshall Mathers, the guy who had made a career out of breaking barriers, writing raw lyrics, facing the world head-on. And yet, here he was, missing the hell out of you over something so simple.

As if on cue, the sound of the door opening interrupted his thoughts. You walked back into the studio, holding a coffee cup in your hands, your smile lighting up the room as you caught sight of him standing by the window.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice soft and playful as you took a sip from your cup.

He turned toward you, an unreadable expression on his face. Without saying a word, he walked over to you, his arms reaching out, pulling you into a tight embrace.

Your coffee cup nearly slipped from your hands as he enveloped you in his arms, holding you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. His breath was warm against the side of your head, and you could feel the tension in his body, like he had been holding his breath until you returned.

“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice softer than usual. It wasn’t like him to be this vulnerable, to admit how much he needed you, but right now, in this moment, he couldn’t help it.

You smiled, setting the coffee cup down on the nearby table before wrapping your arms around him, feeling his muscles tense under the weight of the embrace. “You just saw me a little while ago,” you teased, but your heart warmed at the way he clung to you.

“I know,” he muttered, burying his face deeper into your hair. “But I can’t help it. I just… I need you around, y’know? More than I thought I did.”

It was rare to hear Marshall admit this kind of thing, but as you felt him hold you even tighter, you realized it wasn’t just the work getting to him. He was used to being the strong, independent one—the one who had always prided himself on doing things on his own. But when it came to you, he’d always been a little softer, a little more vulnerable. And right now, he was showing you just how much he truly needed you in his life.

“You’re here, Marshall,” you said, your voice soothing as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I’m right here. You don’t have to miss me when I’m not gone.”

He pulled back just slightly, his face inches from yours, his eyes dark with that familiar intensity. “Yeah, but when you're not with me, it feels like something’s missing. Like I’m not whole without you.” His words were raw, unfiltered, and they made your heart swell in your chest.

You didn’t have to say anything. Instead, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss, the warmth of his body grounding you, making everything outside of this moment seem unimportant.

As you pulled away, you noticed the way Marshall’s gaze softened, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You’re the one I need, (Y/N),” he said quietly, his voice low and steady, like a promise. “You’re the one that keeps me sane through all this crazy shit.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer again. “You’ve got me, Marshall. Always.”

He kissed you again, this time with more urgency, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, as if he was desperate to feel you close in the way that only you could make him feel. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips—it was all you needed to know that in that moment, nothing else mattered. He was yours, and you were his.

And as he held you there, tightly, the world outside faded into the background. You weren’t going anywhere, and neither was he. And for once, Marshall didn’t mind letting someone else take the lead. Because when it came to you, being clingy was the least he could do to show just how much you meant to him.

[xoxomirrorball]

dress

jason grace x fem!reader, characters are all legal

mdni pls!

warnings: hair pulling, swearing, sexual content, unprotected p in v (don't do that!), oral (fem receiving), established relationship ish

The storm outside crackled, lightning flashing against the darkened windows, but inside his cabin, the world felt still. One of his big arms caged your head in against the wall, both of your chests rising and falling with each heavy breath. His other hand radiated heat against your hip, large fingers splayed across the thin, tiny dress you had on. 

The Aphrodite cabin had been hosting a party on the beach, a small bonfire aglow on the sand and music far too loud to be safe for anyone’s ears. Of course, it was broken up by a sudden thunderstorm that had been an effective method to break up parties when it got too late or rowdy in the past, courtesy of Chiron and Mr. D. 

 So, that was how you and Jason found yourselves under the shelter of his cabin, a soft yellow glow emanating from the lamp on his nightstand acting as the only source of light. And damn if the sight of him didn’t turn you on normally, the way he was looking at you know sure did. His lips were turned into a devious smirk, eyes tracing your body as if he was imagining you naked. Granted, he probably was if the pressure against your stomach was any indication.

"You wore this dress for me, didn't you?" His voice was low, roughened by desire and something softer you couldn’t quite decipher. 

A slow smile curved your lips as you met his eyes, deep blue resembling the strikes of lightning dancing across the gray sky. "What if I did?"

His breath hitched. For all the battles he had faced, nothing had ever made him feel as undone as you. He tilted your chin up gently, his thumb tracing your lower lip before he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was slow and deep, deliberately made to leave you longing for more. 

Your fingers tangled in his golden hair, pulling him impossibly closer, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid against yours, big hands grasping your hips and rolling your front against him. You gasped as he nipped your bottom lip, him using that to pull you impossibly closer. His lips detached from yours and trailed down the column of your throat, lingering where your pulse fluttered, his breath warm against your skin.

As he kissed his way further down, he slipped the top of your dress down over your tits, watching them come free before covering one with his mouth, the other being covered by his hand as he licked and sucked one nipple, pinching the other gently. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, eyelids fluttering shut in pleasure. 

Jason continued his path downward, kissing from your sternum all the way down to your navel through the flimsy fabric of your dress. He didn’t stop at your thighs, continuing down your left leg until he could pry your heels off and toss them somewhere into the darkness on the other side of the cabin. 

“Better,” he mumbled, almost to himself, raking his hands up and down your legs.

The pressure between your legs was getting unbearable and you shifted, whining out, “Jason…please do something.”

The blonde boy just chuckled, savoring the moment as looked up at you from his spot kneeling on the ground. His eyes were hooded and dark, a sultry smirk on his mouth. You squirmed, trying to do anything to relieve the ache but his grasp on your thighs held them apart. Finally, his hands worked themselves under your dress and yanked your panties down, tossing them in the same direction as your heels. 

He pulled the hem of your dress up and pulled your legs apart, making you bare yourself to him. Jason licked his lips and said, “Gonna fuck you with this dress on, but first m’gonna make you cum. Sound good?” 

You hummed in agreement and nodded fervently, fruitlessly attempting to move your hips towards him. His hand lightly slapped the back of your thigh, just under the curve of your ass as he tutted. “Words, sweet girl. Need to hear ‘em.”

“Yes. Yes Jason, yes please. So good. Please,” you begged, hoping and praying he would finally do something. And your prayers were answered as he hiked your legs over his shoulders and attached his mouth to your soaking cunt like a man starving. You moaned loudly at the contact, tossing your head back against the wall. Jason lapped at your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth, which made you let out a low whine and tug at his hair. He groaned, the vibrations only fueling the fire between your legs. 

One of Jason’s hands came down between your thighs and before you knew it, he had two fingers curling inside of you to hit that perfect spot. His tongue teased your clit as his fingers brushed your g-spot, your hips rocking against his face only spurring him on. 

“Please, Jace, m’ so close, don’t stop,” you mumbled out, nearly incoherent. In response, Jason used his hand on your hip to press your cunt against his face and continue his ministrations. 

Finally, you flew over the edge. Stars danced behind your eyes as you came down from your orgasm, Jason licking up every last drop. When it became too much, you whined and gently pushed his head back. With a smirk, Jason lowered your shaking legs to the ground and stood up, gently nudging his nose against yours. 

“You okay, baby?” he asked, holding you upright against him. 

“Mhm, just need a sec,” you nodded, feverishly pulling his head down to slot his lips over yours. Jason, taken by surprise for a second, quickly met your eagerness and pulled you further against him, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. The heat in your core began to grow again and you let Jason guide you to his bed. 

You laid on your back, Jason nestling between your legs and kissing you feverishly. 

“Think you can take one more, honey?” Jason asked, breaking the kiss. 

“Yes, definitely. I think you should fuck me right now,” you said, breathlessly. Jason chuckled, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips before turning you over onto your stomach. You lifted your hips for him, resting the weight of your lower body on your knees. You could hear Jason groan as he pulled the hem of your dress up over your ass and rubbed his hands over your backside. You waited in anticipation as you heard the rustling of clothes, then the drop of his pants against the wooden floors. 

Jason kissed behind your ear and interlocked his fingers with yours with one hand, the other guiding his cock into your walls. He slowly sank into you, both of you releasing a sigh once he bottomed out. He fucked you slowly, one hand holding yours while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises. 

The tip of his cock brushed that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust, making you cry out each time. Your face was buried into the pillows, your hands clutching whatever was in reach. 

“Faster, Jason, please!” you managed to get out, shoving your hips back against him forcefully. He sped up his thrusts, hips snapping into yours with a fervor you had been longing for. You reached down between your legs to rub circles around your clit, your walls fluttering as you grew close. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. S’good, make yourself cum on me, baby,” Jason instructed, reaching a hand up to grip your hair and pull back. The sharp sting combined with Jason’s harsh thrusts and the pressure you applied to your clit sent you over the edge, moaning his name. Jason followed closely behind, spilling himself inside of you.

As he dropped to the side, you rolled over onto your back and sighed happily. He wrapped his arms around you and tugged you to his chest, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Lemme lay with you for a sec, then I’ll get you cleaned up,” he said, burying his nose into your hair.