#but she could poison me and I’ll kiss her

[bellaireland1981]

Babymoon

Summary: You and your husband take a quick beach vacation before becoming a family of three.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female! Reader

Warnings: Illusions to smut, heavy making out, pregnancy, fluff, Jake being adorable. UNDER 18 DNI

Word Count: 2231 (look at me keeping it quick!)

A/N: Written for @thedroneranger 's Pick Your Poison writing challenge. Inspiration for the fic was Sex on the Beach As always, I do not own the Top Gun Maverick characters but all OCs and Reader insert concepts are my own and storylines are mine. I do not give permission for my work to be translated, copied, reposted to other sites, used in AI generators and sold on any platforms.

Masterlist

“Angel, are you sure you’re not overdoing it?” Jake asked as the two of you made your way down to the beach from your hotel room. “We can relax in the room for a bit or sit by the pool if that’s better…”

At 7 months pregnant, you were getting close to the point of no travel and Jake had surprised you with a last minute “babymoon” down to Mexico. He wanted the two of you to have one last opportunity to be spontaneous and fly off for a romantic getaway before you become parents. 

“Jake, I love you, Stud…” You said, looking up at your husband, a coy smile on your face, “I promise I’m not overdoing it. I just really want some time on the beach with my sexy husband and baby daddy…maybe some sexy time on the beach with my husband.”

“You’re a menace, Angel.” He chuckled, pausing your walk to the beach to steal a quick kiss. “But anything for my sexy pregnant wife” kissing you again, “Beautiful mother of our daughter.”

“Our daughter is going to have her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger.” You smirked, as you continued toward the beach. 

“Just like her Momma.” He replied, chuckling. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, Angel.” 

He led you to a cabana area he’d rented for you for the day. There were beach loungers set up in front, where you could lay in the sun and soak up the warm rays, but there were also loungers in the cabana to allow you to lay down out of the sun and rest without having to leave the beach. It came complete with full food and drink service from the resort. Your amazing and perfect husband had thought of everything. 

“Before you get all comfortable out there, darlin’ you need sunscreen.” Jake reminded you. 

“Are you worried about me burning…or do you just want a reason to rub your hands all over me in public without the threat of getting arrested?” You teased him. 

“A little of both.” He admitted with a smirk, “I’ll always take any excuse to get my hands on my wife, Angel, you know that… it’s why you’re currently pregnant.”

“Does this mean I’ll be spending a lot of time pregnant over the next five to ten years of our marriage?” You laughed.

“I will happily give you as many babies as you want Angel.” He said, pulling you close, one hand naturally finding its home on your swollen belly, the other behind your head, tilting your head back before capturing your lips in a tender kiss. 

“Let’s see how things go with our daughter first.” You suggested, “So far, she’s a handful just like her daddy.”

“The morning sickness finally eased up.” He reasoned, “And after several talks recently, she’s no longer using your bladder as a punching bag.”

“True.” You acknowledged, “Now she’s using my kidneys and rib cage for soccer practice and I swear she takes joy in giving me major heartburn.”

“I’ll have another talk with her.” He smiled, “But you’re not fooling me. I see you when you don’t think anyone is watching… or listening. You’re loving every moment, kidney shots and all.”

“I really am.” You sighed happily, rubbing your hand over your belly where your daughter was safely growing and developing. “I can’t even describe the feeling… knowing a part of you and a part of me…growing inside me. Getting to feel her move and being this close to her… knowing that once she’s born, I’ll never be this close to her again… I’ll have to share her, I’ll no longer be able to protect her from the world… It’s an incredible thing.”

“It’s pretty damn amazing from this side of things too, Angel.” He said gently, his hand joining yours on top of your belly, “Watching our little girl grow inside of you, knowing I helped put her there… seeing you literally grow a human, OUR human… protecting her, nourishing her, loving her… it about brings me to my knees. You’re already the most amazing momma in the world, Angel. Our little princess is so lucky she gets to have you as her momma. As for protecting her once she’s on the outside… I have zero doubts you’ll be fierce and badass at that. I’ve seen you in action protecting those you love. She’ll have us, and a squad full of uncles and aunts to keep her safe. Our little girl will be just fine.”

“You’re gonna make me cry.” You sniffled, tears threatening to spill over. “Not like it’s hard to do… it’s kinda low hanging fruit.”

“You said it, Angel.” He laughed, “But you’re adorable when you’re all emotional.” 

“I love you, Stud.” You said,  snuggling into your husband.

“I love you too, Angel.” He replied, holding you close. 

After a moment, once the emotions had calmed down you pulled back a bit, “Can you put sunscreen on me now?”

“Absolutely,” He agreed, grinning, “Let me grab the bottle. Sit down on the lounger and I’ll get you all sorted.”

The two of you spent time laying in the sun, you reading a steamy romance novel, Jake reading an updated manual for new equipment to his jet. 

“You know, My Love,” You teased him, “We’re on vacation, you shouldn’t be working.”

“I enjoy learning about my jet, Angel.” He defended himself, “Besides, wouldn’t you rather I know everything there is to know about it so I can be extra safe?”

“You already know that jet down to the last screw.” You laughed, “And I love that you’re thorough, Babe… it makes it a little easier to send you off on missions and deployments because you tackle those the same as your jet and you learn every detail given to you. I love that about you.”

“I will always do everything in my power and control to come home to you and our little girl.” He promised. 

“I know.” You smiled, “And I know that you have amazing squadmates who have your back.”

“They’re alright.” He laughed playfully. Truth was, you knew he loved all of the Daggers and would do anything for them. He’d already been best friends with Javy coming into the Uranium mission that had formed the Daggers, but afterwards he and Bradley had formed an unbreakable bond and a strong friendship. Bradley had even asked Jake to be his best man in his wedding the month before.  “Feel like getting in the water?”

“I could cool off.” You replied, “Going to need help getting up though.”

He set his manual down under his towel so it wouldn’t blow away and reached for your book so he could set it next to his before reaching out to lift you up. You swayed slightly into him, the change in position causing you to feel slightly lightheaded. 

“Easy does it, Angel.” He said, “Are you ok? Do you need to go inside to rest for a bit?”

“No, I’m ok.” You replied, “I just stood too fast. Let’s go into the water, then we can cuddle in the cabana for a bit.”

“Cuddle?” You asked, smirking.

“Behave.” He chuckled, playfully swatting your butt. 

You laughed, taking his hand and the two of you walked to the water. There were some waves but the surf wasn’t overly active. Jake still made sure to keep you close and his hands on you at all times while you were both in the water. You waded out until you were mostly past the break, the water to your chest, but barely above Jake’s belly. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible with your very pregnant belly between you. 

You leaned up on your tiptoes, your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him. You didn’t hesitate to swipe your tongue over the seam of his lips, seeking entrance into his mouth. His own tongue came out to meet yours, the kiss deepening. He let his hands wander down to your butt, rubbing over your bikini clad cheeks. 

“What are your thoughts on sex on the beach, Angel?” Jake asked, his head dipping down to kiss over your neck and shoulder. 

“Oh my God.. I MISS those amazing little cocktails.” You sighed, “Penny makes the BEST Sex on the Beaches.”

“Angel, I was talking about literal sex on the beach.” He groaned, still trailing kisses over your collarbone, tasting the salt from the ocean water. 

“Pretty sure THAT is how I ended up pregnant, Stud.” You teased him.

“The night after the bonfire?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “Seriously?”

“The timing is perfect.” You shrugged, “Lord knows I DRANK enough of those sneaky little cocktails that night…”

“I remember.” He said, his voice going husky, dropping deeper, “You suggested we do an experiment to see if actual sex on the beach was as good as the drink.” 

“Well, it looks like it exceeded expectations.” You giggled, pulling his head down to kiss him.

“So, how about round two?” He asked, his hands wandering back down to your butt. 

“I’m way too pregnant to end up with sand in unfortunate places, so how about sex in a cabana?” You compromised, smirking. 

“I think it’s time to head back to shore, Angel.” He replied, scooping you up bridal style and carrying you in towards the shore. 

“Jake!” You squealed, “Put me down! I am way too heavy!” 

“Angel, I can handle carrying my girls just fine.” He promised, “I would never let anything happen to either of you.”

“Such a softy.” You said, letting your fingers run over the wet hair at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t let that get out.” He teased, “I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“The gig is up, Babe.” You laughed, “Everyone knows you’re not really an asshole. As soon as they saw you with Ruben’s kids it was all over.”

He carried you out of the water and over the sand back to the cabana before setting you back on your feet. It had shades that could be pulled down for privacy and to block out more sun, which Jake took advantage of as soon as you got inside the cabana. There was a large sun lounger that looked more like a bed, in the middle of the cabana with small tables set up on each side. With the shades pulled on the sides and the light weight material used as a curtain in the front of the cabana let down, it gave you a little privacy from prying eyes of other resort guests. It was at least a private beach, only open to those staying at the resort. 

“This might have been easier before we were all wet.” You said, winding your arms around his neck as he came back to stand in front of you. “Now our suits are all clingy”

“Hmmm,” He hummed, leaning down to nibble at your jawline before working back towards your ear, whispering “I prefer my wife to be wet and clingy.” 

A shiver ran through your whole body, arousal flooding your system, soaking your already wet bikini bottoms.

“Jake” You moaned, trying to push up against him, as much as your very pregnant belly would allow, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Your wish is my command, Angel.” He replied, guiding you back towards the lounger. He untied your bikini top, letting it fall to the floor of the cabana, making sure to block you from view of the outside world. “Fuck, I love your boobs.”

“Thought you were an ass man, Stud.” You smirked, knowing that your husband had been infatuated with your boobs since you’d become pregnant. They had increased two cup sizes by this point in your pregnancy, and you were told they’d get even bigger once you were breastfeeding your daughter. Jake was intrigued by it. 

“When it comes to you, Angel there’s not a part of your body that doesn’t get me going.” He admitted, flashing his dimpled smile. He helped you to lay down on the lounger. He made sure you were propped up on the many decorative pillows and comfortable, leaning in for a quick kiss, before running his hands down over you, pausing to rest his hands on and gently kiss your bump, before continuing down, pulling your bikini bottoms off on his way.

The look of pure lust and adoration on your husband’s face was enough to give you confidence in your own body and not give in to the negative thoughts that tried to permeate your brain when you looked in the mirror. Your OB said it was normal as your body was rapidly changing, to have the negative feelings or insecurities but reminded you to be kind to yourself and if the thoughts became too intrusive to let her know so she could set you up with someone to talk to. Jake had been at that appointment and had made it his mission afterwards to make sure he knew how absolutely beautiful he found you and how incredible it was that you were growing an entire human. 

“I think you’re overdressed.” You smiled, allowing your eyes to hungrily track over his sun kissed body. “And I believe I was promised Sex on the Beach.”

A/N: There it is! My second ever Jake fic! What do you think??

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[poisonlove]

The Ghost of halloween p.2 | A.D

Pairing: Astrid X reader

Astrid pov's

"Is it this way?" my mother asks with a small smile on her lips.

I nod without answering, pressing my lips together and turning my head toward the window.

I didn’t want her to see how uncomfortable I felt. We had argued again, and as always, she had decided that moving was the only solution. Panicking, I had told her I had a date today.

"It's really nice here," Lydia Deetz says, looking at the neighborhood decorated for Halloween: gardens filled with decorations, skeletons hanging from trees, and people in costumes getting ready to celebrate.

When we arrive in front of the house, her eyes land on a lit window.

"Oh... it's a girl," my mother exclaims in surprise.

"Mom..." I whisper, feeling my cheeks flush.

"She's very cute," she adds with a mischievous smile, giving me a sidelong glance. I feel my face heat up even more.

"Okay, bye," I finally say, my voice tense, as I open the door.

"I’ll pick you up at 10. Have fun, sweetheart!" she calls out, her voice happier than ever. I shut the door with a loud thud, the sound of my mother’s car driving away echoing.

I sigh and close my eyes for a moment, clutching the bag full of candy and snacks. Then, with hesitant steps, I head toward the porch of the house.

I raise my hand and knock on the door.

I waited nervously for the door to open, my heart pounding in my chest. When I finally see Y/n, a smile spreads across my face. I’m wearing a long, puffy dress in a pale gray, as if it had been corroded by radiation, perfectly embodying Marie Curie. The high collar and puffy sleeves give me an elegant yet eerie appearance.

Y/n looks me up and down, and her smile widens. "You look beautiful," she says, her eyes shining. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

I feel my face heat up, blushing fiercely. "I'm Marie Curie," I say, trying to mask my embarrassment. I’m not sure if she got my reference.

"The scientist who died from radiation, I know." Y/n’s response surprises me.

I smile, incredulous and happy, as the tension in me melts away.

"Is that bag?" Y/n asks curiously, leaning slightly toward me.

"I thought we could eat some junk food and watch some movies... You know... it’s Halloween," I say timidly, feeling my cheeks flush.

Y/n smiles, and her enthusiasm encourages me. "Sounds like a great idea, come in."

I enter, glancing around curiously, immediately noticing a strange but oddly comforting silence.

"How come there’s no one here?" I ask curiously, following Y/n upstairs.

"Oh, my parents aren’t home," she says simply, guiding me to her room.

Once inside, I look around, noticing the 90s posters and details that make the room feel so cozy. "What movie do you want to watch?" Y/n asks, approaching the shelf of films. My eyes land on a book on the table: The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. I smile amused. "What a strange book," I comment.

"I found it at a stall," Y/n replies distractedly.

As she scans the titles, I feel a mix of anxiety and excitement. "Maybe something horror?" I suggest, a shy smile on my face.

"Perfect," she says, but then slowly moves closer.

Our hands brush, and in an instant, she leans in and kisses me. Her cold lips against mine are unexpected, but I feel a warm explosion of emotions. When I open my eyes, a smile spreads across my face, but right after, I realize we’re floating. The joy vanishes, replaced by a grimace of terror.

I quickly pull away from her, the disappointment clear in her eyes.

"Are you a ghost?" I say in disbelief. Are my mom’s crazy ideas real?

She nods, and my heart races.

"Why didn’t you tell me? How did you die?" I ask, incredulous but curious.

Y/n sighs, her face growing serious.

"I didn’t want to scare you, I haven’t had a decent conversation in years... And it was my father... After he killed his partner with an axe, he finished me off too, his only daughter. Then he died from poisoning." She slowly lifts her shirt, revealing a deep cut on her stomach.

The sight of that mark makes my blood run cold. I can’t believe what she’s saying, yet I can’t look away.

"Why did you lie to me?" I ask, my voice strangely calm despite the turmoil I feel inside.

Y/n scratches her head, her face turning a little red with embarrassment. "I told you, I wanted company... and I also wanted to surprise you," she finally confesses, her shyness evident in her tone.

I raise an eyebrow, confused. "A surprise?" I repeat, trying to understand where she’s going with this.

"I know we only met yesterday, but... you’re a good person, Astrid. And I... wanted to help you see your father," she murmurs, her voice fading as if it was hard to admit.

My eyes widen, taken aback by her words. "Is it possible?" I ask, the emotion clinging to my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Y/n nods, serious, and a part of me, the part that never stopped hoping, starts to believe it’s true.

An unexpected joy bursts inside me. Before I can stop myself, I approach and hug her tightly, but the moment my arms touch her, her body passes through mine as if made of smoke. The sensation leaves me stunned: cold and insubstantial, yet with a certain warmth, a distant echo of humanity.

"Sorry," I mutter embarrassed, while she laughs softly, not making a big deal out of it.

Without saying a word, Y/n steps away and heads toward a corner of the room. She bends down and picks up a small white object, lifting it toward me with a knowing smile. "A piece of chalk?" I ask, squinting in confusion, but without taking my eyes off her ethereal figure.

She nods and, with precise movements, draws a door on the wall of her room. When she finishes, she stands next to me, looking at the drawing with a strange satisfaction. The drawing almost seems to pulse with life, as if an unknown force was stirring behind that simple figure.

"It’s the door to the other world," she says with a small smile, her tone light as if she were talking about something trivial.

I feel my heart race in my chest. "And what am I supposed to do?" I ask, even more confused, staring at the drawing with evident skepticism.

"Knock," she says calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Hesitantly, I approach the drawn door, my hand trembling slightly. I knock, feeling ridiculous. Who knocks on a drawing? But a moment later, a dull sound echoes beyond the wall, and before I can react, the drawing comes to life. The door creaks open with a chilling sound, revealing a passage that emits thick, glowing smoke. A cold breeze wraps around me, along with a spectral light, like that of an old neon sign.

I stand still, my mouth open in amazement. In front of me unfolds the world of the dead. It’s exactly as I imagined: chaotic, grotesque, yet strangely fascinating. The walls seem to be made of a material never seen before, a mix of rotting flesh and crumbling concrete, covered with drawings and graffiti that shift shape before my eyes. Indistinct shadows move at the edge of my vision, as if the world itself was breathing. The sky above us isn’t a real sky: it’s an endless ceiling of greenish mist, studded with metallic pipes and flickering light bulbs.

In the distance, I hear the hum of old fans and the sound of distorted laughter, like an echo from a forgotten cabaret. Creatures of all shapes wander in what seems to be a surreal public office, each with a more bizarre appearance than the last: some have gigantic heads, others are reduced to walking skeletons, and still others seem to melt into goo. The world feels like a collage of forgotten things and distorted memories, a mix of the surreal and the macabre.

"Welcome," Y/n whispers beside me.

I turn to her, still in disbelief, but my heart is pounding, full of a hope I can’t suppress. Maybe, in that chaotic madness, I’ll finally get to see my father.

(...)

As we walk through the world of the dead, my head spins as I try to catch every detail, but everything is so surreal that it feels like being trapped in a nightmare. The gray and decaying offices are populated by grotesque figures moving with indifference. Faceless shadows wander the hallways, and distorted laughter continues in the distance.

"It's... strange," I whisper, my voice tense, "This place... how can it exist?"

Y/n glances at me, but before she can answer, a chilling sound fills the air. A shrill, metallic alarm starts echoing everywhere.

"ALERT! UNAUTHORIZED HUMAN PRESENCE!" A robotic and sinister voice booms through the walls.

Y/n’s eyes widen, her face pale. "Oh no... the human alarm!"

"W-what?" I stammer, but before I can grasp what’s happening, Y/n grabs my wrist, pulling me forcefully.

"We have to go! Now!" she yells, starting to run towards the exit. The creatures around us freeze, some turning with ravenous eyes, others beginning to move towards us with eerie slowness.

We race through the hallways like two shadows, our footsteps echoing as the sound of the alarm grows louder. The lights flicker, and I can hear the frantic pounding of my heart in my ears. Every corner seems to distort, making it hard to tell which way is out.

We turn a corner down a long corridor and stop abruptly. In front of us are two familiar figures. One is my mother, Lydia, with her unmistakable black bob and stern look. But the figure next to her leaves me breathless: a man with messy hair and a black and white striped suit, with a mischievous and cocky expression. Beetlejuice.

"Y/n?" says Beetlejuice, his eyes widening in surprise. "What are you doing here, kid?"

Y/n grits her teeth, her voice a tense whisper. "Dad..."

I feel a lump forming in my throat as my mother and I turn to each other, both of us with mouths agape in shock.

"Dad?" I repeat incredulously, my eyes wide as I look at Y/n.

Lydia doesn’t have time for questions. She grabs both of us by the arms. "We have to go, now!" she shouts, and we start running, with Y/n still pulling me even harder.

Behind us, the alarm continues to blare, and the footsteps of the authorities from the world of the dead begin to echo closer. Beetlejuice lags behind, chuckling as if this were all a game to him.

We run towards a door, but when Lydia flings it open, instead of finding a way out, we fall into the void, tumbling into scorching sand. I hit the ground hard, raising a cloud of dust, coughing from the impact.

"No... no, no, no!" Lydia screams, scrambling to her feet. "We’re in the sandworm desert!"

I struggle to stand, but panic takes over when I see the ground shaking beneath us. In the distance, the giant sandworm emerges from the dune, speeding towards us at a terrifying pace. Its long, scaly body slithers through the sand like a dark shadow.

Y/n grabs my hand and starts running, dragging me along with her. "Come on! We can't stop!"

Lydia follows close behind, her face twisted in fear, but the worm is too fast. I can feel it getting closer, its gaping mouth emitting a piercing scream, ready to devour us.

"It's too close!" I cry, my breath short, but just then, a miracle happens.

From the sky, a door of light suddenly opens above us, and a hand reaches out from nowhere, grabbing each of us. First Y/n, then me, and finally Lydia. With a yank, it pulls us up, taking us away just as the worm opens its jaws beneath us.

The world flips for a moment until we find ourselves on a cold floor, safe. I gasp for air, trying to catch my breath, as Y/n looks at me with concern.

"W-we made it..." Y/n murmurs, still in disbelief.

I look up and see my father watching me with pride. His skin is greenish, with some fish stuck in his hair, but he's smiling all the same.

My eyes fill with tears. "Dad..." I murmur before throwing myself into his arms. "Sweetheart..." he whispers, hugging me tightly. I pull away with a smile I can't hold back.

"I saw Lydia and decided to follow you... But what are you wearing, sweetheart? You look like Marie Curie!" he says with an amused grin, glancing at me. I giggle and nod.

Then, his gaze shifts beyond me, and I notice Lydia approaching. My father smiles at her, reaching out an arm. "Lydia, come here," he says warmly. he embraces her without hesitation. "I miss you ," he whispers, his voice full of affection and gratitude.

Lydia smiles shyly as she returns the hug.

"I miss you too " she replies softly, her voice breaking with emotion.

They separate, and my father turns back to us. "You have to go," he says suddenly, his tone serious.

He puts an arm around my waist and takes my mother’s hand with the other. "You have to go. Now," he repeats urgently, pulling us toward a staircase that seems to materialize out of nowhere.

"I love you, Dad," I say, tears filling my eyes.

"I love you too," he replies, his gaze veiled with tears and a bittersweet smile on his lips before he slowly vanishes.

My mother starts climbing the stairs, but I stay behind, waiting for Y/n.

"Go," she suddenly says, with sadness in her voice.

"Come with me," I say, confused, my heart pounding.

"I don’t know, Astrid... I’m tired of wandering. Maybe my place is here," she replies, her voice trembling.

My heart stops for a moment.

"Don’t be silly, we’ll find a solution," I say, a lump in my throat, and my chest aching.

She shakes her head, resolute.

I feel a sharp pain in my chest, but I move closer to her and grab her hands. Her touch is cold, almost as if there’s nothing to hold onto, but I don’t let go. "I need you. I... I want you," I confess, my cheeks flushing red.

"Astrid..." she murmurs.

"We’ll figure it out, okay? But I need you," I repeat, with all the sincerity I can muster. Y/n looks at me for a few seconds, then sighs and slowly nods.

My face lights up in a huge smile.

Y/n Pov's

Days later, the light of the sunset fills my old room with a warm, orange hue. Everything seems so normal, yet the tension in the air is palpable. Astrid and I sit on the floor, surrounded by lit candles, while her mother draws a complicated circle of runes on the wooden floor. It seems absurd to think that it's really possible, that I can come back to life. And yet, here we are.

The book her mother holds is ancient, its pages worn and yellowed with age. The runes and symbols I see seem to pulse with their own energy, as if the text is more than just paper and ink.

Astrid is close to me, sitting by my side, her gaze serious but kind, just as it always is when she wants to show me that everything will be okay. She was the one who insisted on finding a solution, and when her mother discovered this ancient ritual, she didn’t hesitate. The thought of coming back to life fills me with hope, but also fear. It’s like jumping into the unknown.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, searching her eyes.

She looks at me without hesitation. “There’s nothing I want more in the world.” Her hand finds mine, warm and reassuring. “I want you here, with me.”

Her mother finishes drawing the circle with white chalk and stands slowly, her gaze focused and attentive. “This is the Rite of Essence Binding,” she says, her voice firm but carrying a gravity I can't ignore. “An ancient practice that binds the soul to the body. But it’s a delicate process. Y/n, you’re suspended between two worlds. This rite will bring your essence back to the living world.”

Her words make my throat tighten. I know something big, something irreversible is about to happen. I feel Astrid squeeze my hand tighter, and I look at her, finding all the courage I need in her.

“Step into the circle,” her mother orders calmly.

Astrid and I stand and position ourselves in the center of the rune drawing. The floor beneath our feet seems to vibrate slightly, as if the ritual had already begun just with our presence. Her mother begins to mutter ancient words that echo in the room as if carried by an invisible wind. The runes drawn on the floor start to glow with a deep, pulsing blue light, and the air becomes thick, charged with energy.

“During the rite, your soul will try to reconnect with your body, but it might face resistance,” her mother explains, not stopping the incantation. “Astrid, you must be her anchor. The bond between you is what will allow the rite to work.”

Astrid never lets go of my hand, and I can feel her strength flowing into me. Every word spoken by her mother pulls me in a different direction, as if my being is divided between the world of the living and the dead. Then, the pain begins.

It’s a deep pain, starting in my chest and expanding into every cell of my body. I feel like I’m being torn in two, as if something is trying to pull me away from reality. But I don’t let go. I hold onto Astrid’s hand with all the strength I have.

The runes beneath our feet shine brighter, the blue light rising like flames around us. I feel my heart beating in my chest, strong and fast. It’s a real, tangible heartbeat. My essence is returning.

“Don’t let go of me,” Astrid whispers, her voice broken with emotion.

“I won’t,” I manage to reply, as the pain intensifies even more, becoming unbearable.

Her mother’s words grow louder, faster. The energy in the room is almost suffocating, and everything builds to a climax. I feel immense pressure, like the entire world is crushing my body, but then, suddenly, the pain shatters, leaving only peace.

The runes glow for one last moment, then the light fades, and with it, silence envelops the room.

I breathe. My chest rises and falls regularly. I feel my heart beating, I feel the blood coursing through my veins. My body is alive.

I look at my hands, incredulous. They’re warm. Truly warm.

“You’re here… You’re back,” Astrid murmurs, her voice filled with emotion.

Her arms wrap around me in a tight embrace, and I return it, finally feeling the warmth of her body against mine. Her hand strokes my back, and I know that, this time, I’m really here.

Her mother closes the book and sighs deeply. “It’s done,” she says, with a small, tired smile. “Y/n, you’re alive.”

All I can do is smile, in disbelief, as I hold onto Astrid, feeling my heart beating strong against hers. I’m no longer a shadow, a memory. I’m real. I’ve come back. And with her, I feel like I can face anything.

"Astrid..." I whisper, my voice trembling but full of emotion. I can’t say more because she suddenly moves closer, her eyes shining with something I’d never seen before. Before I can even realize it, her lips are on mine.

The kiss is sweet, intense, full of everything we’ve felt during those days of waiting and hoping. I feel her warmth, her life melding with mine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel whole. The world around us seems to disappear: it's just the two of us, in that moment.

When we pull apart, her eyes find mine, full of a joy that manages to warm me from within. She smiles at me, and I can’t help but smile back, even though a small corner of uncertainty still lingers inside me.

“You’re back,” she murmurs, as if afraid I might disappear again.

“Yes,” I reply, still in disbelief. “Thanks to you.”

I take a deep breath and decide to stand up, to take a step forward, to feel the floor beneath my feet again. But as soon as I try to move, my body seems to give way. My legs tremble, weak and unsteady, and the whole world seems to sway around me. Before I can process it, I’m falling forward, my knees giving out beneath me.

Astrid grabs my waist just in time, holding me in her arms. My heart races, not just from the panic of losing my balance. "Hey, take it easy," she says softly, rubbing my back to reassure me. "You have to get used to it again. It’s not easy coming back to normal."

“I didn’t think... walking would be so hard,” I say, trying to laugh but feeling the embarrassment take over. I look at my legs, still trembling slightly, as if they aren’t responding to my commands.

Astrid helps me sit down again, her touch always gentle but firm. “It’s normal, it’ll take time. You have to get used to being alive again,” she says, smiling at me like it's the most natural thing in the world.

Her mother approaches with an understanding expression. “Your body has gone through a shock, Y/n. Even though your soul is back, you have to give your body time to readjust. Move slowly, one step at a time.”

I nod slowly, feeling the weight of those words. Astrid is still beside me, her arm around my waist, ready to support me at any moment.

“I’m here,” she says softly, stroking my face. “I’m not letting go.”

I take a deep breath, and even though my legs are weak, I know that with her by my side, I can do this. I lift my gaze and meet her eyes. "One step at a time," I repeat, squeezing her hand. "Together."

Astrid smiles again, and in that moment, I feel like I can conquer the world.

[agaypanic]

former theater kid as well !! maybe a story about regina with a gf in theater club ?

My Little Star (Regina George X Theater Kid!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Your girlfriend comes to see you in your last high school show.

A/N: depending on which regina you’re envisioning with this, au where everyone has smartphones. post!mean girls regina bc then i wont feel too bad if she seems too ooc. ive been thinking a lot about romeo and juliet lately so the play is romeo and juliet teehee

***

If you had told your younger self that at the end of your senior year, you’d be the leading star in your final show and be dating Regina George, she would’ve thought you were insane.

Yet here you were, getting ready for the opening night of Romeo and Juliet while your girlfriend spam-texted you words of encouragement.

Regina <3

You’re gonna do so good, I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU!!!

I was gonna keep it a surprise until after the show, but I got your favorite 

*Sent 1 Attachment*

Unlocking your phone to respond, you were greeted with a picture of Regina sitting in the auditorium holding a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. She had a great big smile on her face, her eyes squinting from it. 

Your breath hitched. You knew Regina loved you, but the picture radiated her feelings of pride for you. It made you want to run out and smother her in affection.

Instead, you texted her back.

You

OMG you’re literally the sweetest Regina!!

I’ll be looking for you in the audience lol

Regina <3

I’m sitting in the very center, so hopefully I’m easy to spot

Especially with this giant ass bouquet

You laughed at the message and soon got a tap on your shoulder from one of your friends, telling you places were in five minutes.

You

I have to go, we’re gonna start soon

But I’ll be looking for you :)) 

You waited until you saw a response from Regina before putting your phone in your bag.

Regina <3

YOU’RE GONNA DO AMAZING

BREAK A LEG <3333

DON’T ACTUALLY BREAK A LEG THO

THAT’D BE BAD

I LOVE YOU!!!

Laughing at her stream of messages, you put your phone away and rushed out to your place. As much as you revel in the fact that you had a leading role, you were already waiting for the show to be over so you could see Regina.

***

If you had to choose one, the death scene was probably your favorite. It was dramatic, which was always fun, and you got to stab yourself with a retractable blade.

“What’s here? A cup, closed in my true love’s hand?” You took the empty cup out of Romeo’s, whose real name was Jared, stiff hand, inspecting it. “Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end: O churl! Drunk all, and left no friendly drop to help me after?” You dropped the cup in distress, wondering what to do. Then your eyes fell on Jared’s lips, and you had a revelation. “I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to make die with a restorative.”

You held his face gently in your hands and leaned down to kiss him. Every time you went through a kiss scene with Jared, you pretended it was Regina you were kissing. The passion seemed more authentic that way.

You pulled away, staring down at Jared.

“Thy lips are warm.” You said brokenheartedly. You were just barely too late. If only he had waited a while longer to drink the poison so you’d be awake to stop him.

“Lead, boy: which way?” You heard from offstage. 

“Yea, noise?” You looked toward the direction of the noise’s source in a panic. “Then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger!”

You grabbed Romeo’s dagger and raised it to the audience. And that’s when you caught a glimpse of Regina. Despite the room being dark and her being far away, you could feel her excitement as she watched. You had to stop yourself from smiling.

“This is thy sheath,” You say before shoving the dagger into your heart. You gasp a little and look up. To the audience, you could’ve been looking up to the heavens in your last moments. But you were doing your best to stare into Regina’s eyes that were fixated on you. “There rust, and let me die.”

With that, you fell on top of Jared’s body, doing your best not to crush him as you ‘died.’

The scene continued from there, and you did your best not to move. Your back was killing you from the long show, but eventually, it ended. When you came out for bows, you heard a particularly loud cheer, and you didn’t have to guess who it was. It made you smile even more, so much that your cheeks started getting sore.

When the bows were over, and the cast and crew were finding their friends and family in the audience, you ran to Regina. It was a bit difficult weaving through the crowd, especially in your costume, but eventually, you reached the blonde, who had her arms opened wide and ready to catch you.

“You were amazing!” Regina all but shouted in your ear as she hugged you, squeezing you tightly. “Absolutely showstopping. One day, you’ll be a famous actress.”

“You think too highly of me, Regina.” You said with a giggle, and you were sure that your reddening cheeks were showing through your heavy stage makeup.

You grabbed your girlfriend’s face and kissed her. It was a million times better than pretending you were kissing her instead of Jared when you were on stage. Regina’s hands dropped to your hips, pulling you close against her. When you let out a little moan, you knew you should pull away before you felt like you couldn’t turn back.

“These are for you,” Regina said before biting her slightly swollen lip, giving you the giant bouquet she had gotten for you. One thing about Regina was that she was never cheap.

“I love them.” You smiled, giving her a few pecks.

“Anything for you, my little star.” The nickname made you giddy, made you feel like you were the only ones in this gigantic room. “Now how about you go change, we get some food, and then you sleep over at my house?”

“That sounds perfect.” You kissed Regina again; it was like you were addicted to her lips. “I should go now. If I kiss you anymore, I’ll probably never leave.”

“I definitely wouldn’t complain,” Regina smirked, but agreed that you should go change. She turned you around by the shoulders and gave you a quick pat on the butt to send you on your way, laughing at the way you squealed in surprise.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

there’s been lots of requests and comments so here it is PART 3!!! (SHE’S HERE first anon, hope you survived this long second anon and it was not a dream third anon, I’m posting/making it now fourth and fifth anon)

some of you were going feral for part 2 so I hope this lives up the expectation 😭😭 if not I’m severely sorry

title: the dancer and the angel part 3

pairing: grayson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: grayson has just admitted to kissing lyra kane, the girl you’d been worried about, the girl that was stunning, the girl he said didn’t matter… he chose her over you so now what??

parts: part 1 part 2

warnings: swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: okay so I hate switching POVs but I felt it was necessary here and I know the start is the same as the part 2 but in Gray’s POV but trust me there is lot more

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

GRAYSON’S POV

Guilt has chewed me up and spat me out the whole walk back to our shared room. There’s a pulsating lump in my throat that aches relentlessly, reminding me of what I’ve done. I am a terrible person. I never deserved her and now I’ve done the worst thing I could’ve possibly done, that anyone on this whole planet could’ve ever done. And she will never forgive me for it. I wish there was a way to turn back time and alter certain events. As soon as the time machine is invented, no doubt by my very own brother Xander, I’m coming back to moments before now to stop my idiot brain from-

I can’t even think it. Maybe it’s because it makes it more real. It’s like the last few moments of my life have been erased from my brain, it’s a blank canvas and I have no paints. I know what I did but I can’t remember exact details. Still, I can taste her on my lips, an over sweet taste that was almost too sickly has now morphed into something bitter. Her perfume lingers on my clothes and adds to my ever growing headache. I don’t want to smell her, I don’t want the reminder of the awful human I have become. The monster that now inhabits my body, lives in my skin, breathes my air and poisons the people I love. The ones I truly love.

Y/n. At one point she was the only reason I was still existing, still carrying on. She somehow managed to give me the fight to keep carrying on. I got up most days because I knew I would get to see her face. And now I’m going to throw everything away, our whole relationship. Everything we’ve been through or planned to go through together. It will reduced to nothing in a few minutes.

I’m outside the door, my feet have carried me here through muscle memory. I must go in, I must face her I’m aware but I’m afraid. I’ve never felt so pathetic. I wonder if she is still asleep. Though, I can’t work out whether I’d rather she be awake or asleep. I don’t think I could bear to look at her angelic feature either way. Those wide eyes, round lips, heavenly- I can’t bear it, I’m going to lose her, all of her.

I fiddle around with the key, hoping the door will just never unlock so I don’t have to face this. The mechanism clicks, mocking me. I step in silently and face the door to lock back up again. I don’t understand why, I know I’ll be kicked out in a matter of seconds, what good will a locked door be? And yet I’m still facing the door, fumbling with the key, my back towards her. Though I can hear her getting out of bed. She’s awake. My body’s immediate response is to go into a state of paralysis. I can’t move as the guilt ridden cement hardens over my body, creating an outer shell of the cruel creature I’ve become. Her body is behind mine. I can feel her bright presence radiating her usual tentative nature.

“Are you okay?” I hear her whisper as she touches my arm so gently it stings.

It stings so sharply because I know what I’ve done. The shameful crime I’ve committed. I jerk away suddenly.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, deep concern in her tone.

It kills me. It’s a poisoned dagger wedged deep within my heart, hitting every vital artery. Her voice is so soft, so melodic. She cares so much, too much and I’m about to destroy it all. And as much as I could not say a word I couldn’t live a lie, the guilt would eat me alive. How could I look her in the eye and tell her she’d always been the only one when I know she hadn’t? She’d already noticed earlier today my distant mood. She had always been observant, vigilant about those things concerning me and I’d always been grateful. I wouldn’t have that anymore. Lyra had been on my mind earlier and I couldn’t tell her. Now she would realise.

“No,” I reply.

My voice is unfamiliar to myself, it’s sharp and blunt. It sounds horribly harsh. I could feel it hurt her, the air ripples with a touch of dimness when I hurt her. Even with my back to her it’s obvious to me. I know her so well, too well and from this day on we might drift to perfect strangers. That thought hurts me more than anything.

“Where have you been?” she says. Her voice so sweet, so innocent, cruelly naïve.

I don’t want to break her, I don’t want to do it. It would be like smashing a glass ballerina. Something so beautiful, something so delicate should be preserved not purposely broken. I force my eyes to meet hers. I immediately regret it. The soft mellow colour all melts into one, clawing at my heartstrings and ripping the organ to shreds. She’s so beautiful. How had I ever looked at any other? How had I let myself?

Suddenly I’m drowning in guilt. I don’t know how, it just comes over me suddenly. Like a tidal wave I had my back to. I’ve been swept under by an endless ocean of shame. My lungs swollen full of my own black sin. I don’t know how but I manage to choke out two shaky words.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice cracks. My voice never cracks. She knows that. I’m sturdy, I’m strong, I’m the rock that never breaks and here I am. Here I am crumbling into dust. She’s too smart to miss the signs, she’s too clever not to immediately know something so horribly wrong, her mind is too sharp not to have worked half of it out. She’d already been suspicious of Lyra. She’d already seen what might happen between us even before I did, before it did actually happen.

“Gray?” she asks, my name sounding too sweet on her tongue. The next time she says it will taste bitter, I’m sure of it. She barely whispers the word but I hear her, it rings in my mind. It forever will.

I’m full of pure regret and guilt, it wracks my soul, shaking me relentlessly back and forth until I’m dizzy with it. Remorse’s doors suddenly burst wide open, ready for my grand entrance. My hopes and dreams snicker and smirk smugly as I walk down the runway, my head hanging in embarrassment.

I need to tell her. My heart races in my chest and there’s a lump stuck in my throat, so large it’s started to block my airways. I don’t know how to get the words out, I don’t know how to talk. I feel like I’m suffering some sort of aneurysm. She looks at me, her eyebrows pinched in and eyes narrowed and then I see it. Her eyebrows part and slowly sink. She knows already.

“Tell me,” she murmurs, her voice of an angel shaking.

I close my eyes, trying to suppress the tears. I haven’t cried in years I’ve forgotten this feeling, this heavy weighted agony that ripples through me causing water to infiltrate my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek and still my shaking hands.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, an uninvited raw desperation ripping through my voice, “I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” she grits through her teeth sharply, her eyes glitter so beautifully fierce and fiery, like she wants to kill.

But I know she’s trying to steady her rising sadness by covering up with her fury. I can see through her, like she can see through me. I freeze and the pause elongates. The aching silence is deadly, it’s fatal. I wish she didn’t have to make me say it.

“I kissed her,” I murmur, the words making me feel sick as I say them.

“Who?” she asks, he tone low and ferocious, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

I’m twisting a knife into her heart and I know it. But she wants me to cut deeper. She’s a woman of principle, I’ve already hurt her, I might as well do the job properly in her eyes. And I can’t deny her this. Not I’ve stripped her of her dignity, her trust, her love, her everything.

“I kissed Lyra,” I whisper, suddenly aware of the dampness on my cheeks.

A sour taste fills my mouth. The words send lightning sparks across my jaw, sending ribbons of agony down the sides of my face. The truth hurts. Literally. Tears are rolling the side of my face, but I don’t bring my hand to wipe them and nor do I stop them. I’ve never felt more broken.

But she doesn’t care, there is not pity in her eyes. Good. I don’t want he to pity me. She should hate me. She should want me to miserable and hope for me to have a lifetime of the torture I’ve just forced her to endure.

“Get out,” she murmurs, the anger bringing out her natural stunning features. A flicker of boldness in her eyes, the striking angles of her eyebrows, her strong thick lashes and her full lips.

“I’m sorry.” they’re the only words I remember how to say, through my internal fit of torment.

I expect her to hit me around the face, a good strong punch I know she can make or a sharp smack that’ll leave a red hand mark pressed against my cheek. I imagine she might scream at me and ask me all the questions I wish I had answers to. But she does none of that. She only looks at me darkly and utters two last words.

“Leave Grayson.”

I can hear the tears she’s trying to hold back, through the numb façade. I know her better than she’ll ever realise. But it’s not fair for me to stay, not after this. She’s only asking one thing of me when she should be doing so much more. So I do. I turn my back on her again. And I leave.

***

Tears pummel down my cheeks like never before. I can’t remember the last time I cried. I don’t think I’ve ever cried like this. I’m blinded by them as I stumble sideways. I don’t know where I’m going. I stand on the edge of the cliff and sink to my knees, letting out a loud guttural scream. I’m there until my throat is so raw I can’t feel it. I bite my lip so hard it draws blood. And then I’m up again and running, following a path my footsteps are dragging me towards. I can’t think straight, I’m dizzy with pain. Before I know it I’m outside the safe house on the island. My hands tremor on the handle and I swing open the door, falling to the floor for my sobs to take me over. My chest aches and burns and tightens. That’s when I realise I can’t breathe properly. I fumble around for my phone, a tear splashing into the illuminated screen. With uncontrollably shaking hands, I typed no words. Just three numbers.

911

***

The wait feels like years, maybe even decades. Each second taunts me, with a mocking tick. I’d crumbled into the corner of the room at some point and stayed there, curled up and choking on my own sorry sobs. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?

The question circles around my head like the nostalgia of a distorted tune of a merry go round. I’ve never made such a big mistake and my life and deep down there’s a sinking sensation that is telling me I’m not going to be able to make this better. I sob, loud harsh sobs that hurt my lungs and knock the air out of my stomach. My whole being shakes with every strangled noise that escapes my lips. Grieving. I’m grieving over something I chose to throw away. It’s cruelly ironic. But I think part of me is also grieving the good man I once thought myself to be, that she made me believe I could be.

I turned my back on the one and only person in this world who just cared about me, took me for who I am and believed I could do anything. She only wanted the best, she only wanted happiness and she deserved so much more and here I am, stabbing her in the back and dancing in her blood like a madman. She was my everything and I managed to mess it up, just like everything else in my life. I can’t have normal relationships, I can’t do something without messing it up. I’m one big screw up the opposite of how the old man raised me to be. He’s looking down on me now and I can feel his disappointment, like an infection coursing through my bloodstream. I failed him, I failed my brothers, I’ve failed her, I’ve failed myself.

She thought I was better, she believed I could be more than his expectation. And I was stupid enough to believe it, encourage it and let her belive the lie too. We’re all idiots.

I can recite her favourite song, her favourite flower, her favourite food and favourite colour. I can tell you all about her favourite novels and how she orders her books on an endless bookshelf. I know that she tells people her favourite film is ‘it’s a wonderful life’ but it’s actually secretly ‘tangled’. I know she prefers to stay inside and cuddle under blankets rather than have a night out. I know she’d rather reason a thousand books than watch a thousand movies. I know she wanted a library in her dream house and two, maybe three children with her husband and I know she’d sometimes debate about getting a cat as well. I know how she loves brownie batter more than the actual brownies and can’t sleep with any lights on. I know she still uses the bunny rhyme to tie her shoelaces and how she fiddles with her collarbone when she’s nervous. I know exactly what diamond she wanted in her engagement ring and her favourite country. I know what people she despises and I know what people she adores. I know every inch of her face, every hair on her head, every sparkle in her eyes and every cell on her skin.

I know her.

I know her, but that can’t help me now. Pain ripples across the left side of my chest and my hand clamps over it as I grit my teeth to try and bear it. I hear the door creek open and can’t tell whether it comforts me or not.

“Grayson pookie!” Xander calls out, “we’re here.”

His cheerful voice doesn’t provide me with the cushion to this pain I thought it might.

“And we have some in incredibly strong whisky,” Jameson adds, I can here the mischievous grin in his voice, it’s been the same all of his life.

“My nose hairs are officially burnt off,” Xander agrees.

I can’t speak. I try to call out for them but the words die in my swollen throat.

“Where are you Gray?” Nash calls out, he sounds a little more worried than the other two but is concealing it well.

“Here,” my voice is hoarse and laboured, even I can’t recognise it.

The mood immediately shifts, you can feel it. The air becomes tainted with concern as their footsteps approach my cowering figure. The case of whiskey is dropped as there is an audible thunk as it hits the floor. I can feel their bodies enveloping around mine creating something of a circle of safety. I look up to worried face and shiny eyes.

“Help me,” I gasp for air, greedily trying to gulp down the oxygen that I feel so deprived of, “please.”

“We’re here to help you Gray,” Nash murmurs softly. His voice had always been something comforting, especially when I was younger. I wonder if he will be so kind when I tell him what I’ve done. He’s going to hate me, there’s nothing he despises more than a man who can’t respect a woman.

I shake my head and choke out another struggling sob, instead of the words I don’t know how to say. Jameson’s eyes flit between mine and Nash’s, the concern rippling across his features. He’s never looked this concerned for me in his life. I think to all the times as children I’d helped him settle after a nightmare and wiped his tears that he hated falling when the old man had humiliated him. Oh how the tables had turned. Now it was my little brother wiping my tears.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his touch so gentle it shocks me.

“I can’t-“ I barely get out, wrapping my hands around my neck.

“Gray…” he trails off, unmasked emotion hitting his face like a train.

“I can’t breathe,” I wheeze as the invisible blanket that was set out to suffocate me tightens over my nose and mouth.

“Hey, Gray, look at me,” Nash says, his voice smooth and reassuring, “in and out okay, in and out.”

“I can’t,” I pant, my limbs shaking embarrassingly uncontrollably.

Xander takes both of my hands into his and squeezes them until they still, “yes you can, follow Nash’s instructions okay?”

“Slowly, do it with me,” Nash nods, “in through your nose and out through your mouth.”

I do. In and out, a rhythmic pattern. Each time Nash reminds me how to breathe. There’s an aura of calmness about his voice that lulls my panic into a narcoleptic sleep. Once my breathing is halfway regulated I look at him, dead in the eye, with shaking sorrowful lips.

“I fucked up,” I sob, “I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

They all share a look, this is the worst state they’ve seen me and we all know it. I begin to pathetically sob uncontrollably once again, the feelings building up in my chest and tearing me apart from the inside out. It’s like a rabid pack of wolves had been set loose to feed on my internal organs. I don’t know how to stop the ocean of tears, I don’t know how to shut my mind off, I don’t know how to help myself. Reel myself in from this abominable mess I’ve become. I’m hyperventilating, my chest throbbing up and down unevenly. Nash nods towards Jameson, a short, soft, sharp nod of approval.

“Hey! Calm down!” Jameson snaps, giving me a hard slap around the face, “snap out of this!”

The shock shuts me up and the sting stops my tears. I’m back to reality instead of a wallowing mess. Nash must’ve been approving the slap I realise in the sudden cleared head I’d obtained

“Sorry,” Jameson mumbles at me, looking a little guilty.

I massage my jaw, “no I think I needed that.”

He grimaces and then softens his tone, “what happened Gray?”

I tense, growing very still, “I can’t say it out loud, I can’t, I’m awful, I’m horrible-“

“What happened?” Nash drawls.

I choke out yet another unnatural sound. Seems the slap didn’t snap me hard enough into reality. I exhale slowly. I have to say it, now or never.

“I kissed Lyra.”

The words hurt even more this time, that they did when I’d admitted it to y/n. Neither one of my brothers can mask their honest reaction.

“Oh fuck,” Jameson blurts out, “you cheated?”

Anger. He’s fuming with me. I can see the rage trailing through his eyes and blossoming into his expression.

“I didn’t mean to,” I reply, feeling like a small child.

Jameson’s eyes widen and fury flashes across his face, “how can you not mean-“

Nash shoots him a look and his mouth glues shut. Then he turns to me and I can’t quite read him yet. I gulp.

“No one does that kind of thing for no reason,” he says sternly, “I never thought you’d be the one of the four of us to ever do that, seems I was mistaken little brother.”

Disappointment. He’s disappointed. A horrible sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Nash is disappointed in me. It’s one of the worst feelings imaginable. There had only been few times in my life when he had been and I remember the feeling all too well. Shame has me in a chokehold an it’s succeeding in strangling me. I can‘t bring myself to meet his eyes, I don’t want to see that look I can feel is on his face, that look of pure disapproval.

“How did she find out?” Xander asks quietly.

Shock. He hadn’t said anything until now, but his lips had been slightly parted and he’d paled a little. He never thought I’d do this to anyone, he’s yet another person I’ve let down.

“I told her,” I murmur, “the guilt was consuming me.”

“As it should,” Jameson snaps, twitching with a fiery ferocity.

“Jamie,” Nash says, trying to keep some kind of diplomacy.

“No,” he growls, “you don’t do that to a girl, your girl, you can’t do that!”

“Don’t take the moral highground now,” I spit.

“When you’ve cheated on your girlfirend? Yeah I think I will,” he replies, the bitterness rolling off of his tongue like a deadly poison. He doesn’t know I’ve already poisoned myself with my own actions, his words can’t hurt me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I falter.

“Bullshit,” he grits through his teeth, in two definitive and threatening symbols.

“Careful Jamie,” Nash warns.

“All this is your fault anyway,” I continue, ignoring the warning.

“So it’s my fault, you kissed another girl, yeah, okay Gray,” he nods his head with a sarcastic smile.

“It is!” I exclaim, throwing my hands in the air, “if you hadn’t locked me in a room with her-“

“So it’s my fault you couldn’t keep up dick under control,” he quips, interrupting me.

“You could’ve locked me with my one of my sisters but of course you just had choose the only girl who isn’t related to me,” I seethe.

“Odette isnt related to you,” Xander pipes up. I’d forgotten he was there, that anyone besides me and Jameson were there.

“Odette is old enough to be my grandmother,” I scowl at him, immediately feeling bad as the words leave my lips, but don’t dwell on it as I turn back to Jameson, “why did you make me a player in your sick excuse of a game?”

“You can’t use the game as an excuse,” he laughs darkly.

“I will,” I reply sharply, “this is your fault and Avery’s fault too.”

“Avery? Don’t make me laugh,” he rolls his eyes.

“The game never should’ve been created by her,” I yell, “that’s why I’m in this mess!”

“No, you’re in this mess because of you,” he shouts back, “but don’t you dare bring Avery in to this it’s not her fault.”

I feel like I’m one of those circus acts, the ones that lay on a spinning board and get knives hurled at them. Only in my case the knives are the truth and they actually hit me.

“Why did you make me a player?” I ask quieter now, my voice hoarse, “why?”

“I didn’t know making you a player would result in this,” he says.

“It was so irreverent,” I snap becoming angrier by the second, a sudden burst of red overriding any rational sense in my head, “I never needed to play.”

“You can’t pin this on me Gray, if it didn’t happen with Lyra, who knows who else it would’ve happened with,” he hisses.

“So you think I’m just like this? You think this is me?” I ask him, prodding the hollow space where my heart used to be.

“I didn’t before….” he trails off, sighing, “but now I don’t know what the fucking think of you.”

“Jamie,” Nash repeats again, in the same warning tone as before. We both ignore him.

“Just because you and Avery are all peaches and roses-“

“Leave Avery out of your anger issues,” he roars defensively.

“No,” I counter, raising an eyebrow, mirroring his usual argument demeanour, “you think you’re so perfect now you’ve got your dream girl and the two of you are so much better off than the rest of us, because your love is undeniable or whatever bullshit people feed you about it-“

Jameson’s features twitch for a split second. He’s hurt, but won’t show it. He’ll refuse but I know that it hit a nerve that won’t heal for a long time. I stop mid-sentence.

“I am far from perfect, I think we both know that,” he says, in a low voice, “look you’re hurting, I get it, but I’m not going to mollycoddle you and tell you it’s okay when it’s not. I’m not going to stand here and lie to your face because as your brother that would be the worst possible thing for me to do to you.”

“My brother would try and understand what it’s like from my side,” I say, desperation clawing at my voice.

“You’re looking for a fight Grayson and it’s not going to end well, not with me,” he warns, shaking his head.

“Maybe I do want a fight, but you know you do too,” I growl rolling up my sleeves, “so fine, I’ll give you a fight Jamie.”

“I don’t want a fight, I want some justice for y/n,” he states simply, “she did nothing to deserve that Gray, she’s been so good to you, the sweetest soul on this earth and she’s helped you through a lot of shit and this is how you’re repaying her?”

“Jameson,” Nash says.

He ignores him for the third time and I can see his calm facade beginning to drop, “you think because you called a 911 and you’re here crying that I should feel sorry for you?”

“I thought you were going to be here for me,” I reply numbly, my tone dead, “clearly I’m mistaken.”

“I can’t be there for someone with no morals,” he replies, “you cheated and you’re the one who’s upset about it, how do you think she feels?”

“You think I don’t know her?” I fire back, my throat burning, “you think I don’t know exactly what she’s doing right now? I hate myself, I hate myself for doing what I did!”

“Good you should!” he screams back.

Before I know it I feel myself charges towards him, ready to throw a good punch but Nash and Xander launch onto me to quickly and managing to hold me back. Nash’s grip is so tight I don’t dare try and budge.

“Out. Now.” Nash says sharply to Jameson, “go and cool off.”

His tone sends a shiver down my spine that I won’t admit to. Jameson opens his mouth to argue.

“Jameson.”

He skulks away, with a sullen face. We all wait frozen until the door has been slammed shut. Nash lets my arm go, dropping it harshly and Xander follows suit.

“And you’re no better,” he turns to me, placing his cowboy hat on a nearby surface, “I’m only sending him away because you can’t be left alone in this mess and so the two of you don’t rip each other to pieces.”

Silence stills the room. His voice echoes but makes no sound all at the same time.

“Take a second, take a breath and we’re going to talk this through like adults,” he says, “if you want to carry on being a child then leave. Calm down, you’re not a toddler having a tantrum, you’re a grown man, act like it.”

Nash has a way of snapping me back to reality. I nod shakily.

“Talk.”

I begin, “I don’t even know why I kissed her, I didn’t mean to it just-“

“Happened?” he guesses, “no little brother, that doesn’t just happen.”

“The I don’t know Nash,” I say, tipping my head back and resting it on the wall behind me.

I hadn’t meant for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. It just did. She was there, just stood there. Her hands looped naturally around the back of my neck, warm and gentle, “someone sent me that ticket Grayson. I thought it was Avery but if it wasn’t…”

She trails off, her voice small and tentative. Her golden eyes filled with the utmost worry. I wanted her to know she’d be okay, that she’d have someone to keep her safe. Her arms get more comfortable around my neck. She’d felt it too, the electrifying spark between us. It was exhilarating but something about it was off, synthetic.

“Then who the hell was it?” I questioned, my hands magnetised to her cheek all of a sudden.

Lyra didn’t pull away and neither did I. I lower my head and she raised onto her toes and titled hers back a little. She was graceful, like a dancer. My lips brushed over hers. They were sweet like honey. For the first few moments it was bliss and the realisation hit, like a stone to my stomach. I jerked backwards suddenly, shaking my head.

“I can’t do this,” I said, my fingers trying to wipe her taste off of my lips, “I don’t- this isn’t-“

I was tongue-tied, not able to explain to her how wrong it was. The words wouldn’t work the way I wanted them to.

“Gray?” Lyra murmurs, a tender voice. Her amber eyes are widened and slightly confused.

“No,” I yell. She flinches and another wave of horribly strong emotion rushes over me, drowning me. “No I’m in love with someone else. I don’t know what that was. I can’t-“

I stumbled backward a few steps and the turned around and ran. Like the coward that I am.

“It did just happen,” I murmur, lifting my head from the wall to look my older brother in eye, “I swear to god, I didn’t intend for it to happen, I didn’t even know I had feelings for her.”

I can see he disagrees still and isn’t convinced. I don’t know how to prove it to him.

“Let’s establish one thing here, who do you like?” Xander asks me.

“I like Lyra,” I say slowly, “but I love y/n.”

Nash shakes his head, “if you loved her you wouldn’t have done that.”

“I made a mistake,” I press on.

“And you will pay for it and regret it for the rest of your life,” he shrugs, “it’s not what you wanted to hear but it’s the truth. Listen, I love Libby and loving someone means so many things. One of those things is that I don’t even look at other women, to me they don’t even really exist. Libby is my world and no one else even comes into the equation, so the fact is someone else came into the equation for you, meaning the love wasn’t there.”

“But it was, I felt it,” I say, my voice breaking as I press my chest.

“What do you feel for Lyra?” he asks plainly.

“I don’t know, she’s intriguing and smart and beautiful,” I murmur, “and I like her, but I don’t know if I have romantic feelings for her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

“Comfort? Lust? Greed? Selfishness? I don’t know it just happened,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Stop using that phrase as a get out clause,” Nash shakes his head, “you have to admit to yourself more than anyone that this didn’t just happen.”

“I leaned in and I put my lips of hers, and I didn’t stop it, it didn’t feel wrong straight away,” I admit out loud finally.

“It didn’t?” Xander says, looking wounded.

“No, it didn’t feel wrong until I realised what I’d done,” I say, looking down, suddenly finding my shoelaces to be the most interesting thing in the world.

No one replies for a long while. That’s when I realise how exhausted I truly am and how much I crave sleep.

“I vouched for you,” Xander says quietly, “I told her that you’d never do that, that you weren’t that guy.”

“I’m not,” I say, in denial at first. I take a moment to analyse his sentence and then come to a sickening realisation, “oh my god I am…”

“She was already anxious about where your loyalties were Gray,” he winces.

“I proved her right, I proved every worry she had right, I just proved to her that she shouldn’t have trusted me,” I spiral, hating that I hadn’t seen it sooner.

Xander looks to Nash for support for a reply.

“Yeah,” Nash sighs, “you did.”

“I need to fix this, there has to be a way-“

“Grayson,” the acuteness of his voice cuts through my sentence like a machete.

I freeze and clamp my mouth firmly shut.

“This isn’t a broken vase, you can’t glue it back together or buy a new one,” he tells me softly.

He was referring to a time where Jameson and I had been seven and eights years old. We’d been brawling of course, Hawthorne style and accidentally smashed a vase. Usually it wouldn’t matter, there were vases all over Hawthorne House and they were smashed frequently. But this wasn’t just any vase. It was nan’s priceless vase that had belonged to her daughter, our grandmother, Alice. We were never allowed within a five mile radius of it, but like the rebellious children we were, we didn’t listen. Through our fight we’d smashed the whole thing, it was truly destroyed. The two of us stayed up for nights on need gluing together the pieces only to realise it was never going to look like the original again. So we’d hunted to buy another, problem was, this vase was one of a kind. It turned out after four weeks or trying to ship a similar one in that nan had known the whole time. She didn’t speak to either of us for a good few months.

“This is real life, she is a real person and you hurt her,” he explains, “fixing this isn’t an option. There isn’t a way to fix it, there are no pieces to our back together, okay?”

I’m silent but it’s the loudest voice in the room. My face pinches together in agony. For the first time, a little of the disappointment fades and my brother’s face softens. He wraps a strong arm around me and I flop into him like a lifeless bag of nothingness. I bury my head into his shoulder and try to cry but there seems to be no tears left. He understands and holds me for a moment. Suddenly I’m six years old again and crying in Nash’s in my arms over Jameson hiding my favourite teddy bear at the time, then I’m eleven in his arms with pneumonia after being stupid enough to get caught in the rapids un the dead of winter wanting a good photograph of a rare fish, then I’m seventeen, crying over a redheaded girl who I thought I’d managed to murder. And now here I am, at twenty-two years old in his grasp once again, having made the greatest mistake of my life.

Suddenly I feel another set of arms wrap around the both of us.

“Group hug!” a familiar voice sings.

Leave it to Xander to make me crack a half smile in the darkest moments I’ve ever experienced. After a while I pull away and sigh.

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” I ask, pulling away.

“Honestly?” Xander asks.

I nod

“No,” he says. I wish I could see that little glimmer of a lie in his eyes, but I can’t. And it kills me.

“Think about it like this,” he sighs, “would you forgive Eve for what she did?”

“This is not the same thing,” I reply coldly.

“Eve cheated your trust, she betrayed you,” he explains gently, “that’s exactly how she feels.”

Dread fills my every pore as I murmur lifelessly, “I’m as bad as Eve.”

“No wait,” he says, looking guilty and panicked all at the same time, “that’s not what I meant!”

“I know,” I reassure him so some of his guilt subsides, “but it’s true and now I’ve just realised.”

“Look Gray, you aren’t Eve. You’re never going to be Eve, but think of how you felt then. That’s how y/n feels,” Nash soothes, “she’s not going to just forgive you, that’s not how it works.”

“You just broke her heart Gray,” Xander adds, careful to keep his tone as light as a feather, “for a girl you just met.”

“Why am I horrible person? Why do I always find a way to mess to something good?” I groan, smacking my head on the wall behind me. There’s an audible thump as pain spreads through the back of my skull. I wonder if I can concuss myself to forget all of this, but I don’t attempt the idea.

“You don’t-“

“No I do,” I say firmly, cutting him off, “I’m not meant for love, to love or to be loved, I’m not built for it. I’m not a good enough person for it. I’m never going to find my Libby or my Max or my Avery.“

“Grayson-“ Nash begins.

“Emily knew it and now so does y/n,” I snap.

My brothers still at her name, not moving a muscle. I never bring up Emily.

“Listen to me,” Nash says sharply, getting my attention, “you are meant to be loved. You are meant to love. I love you, Xander loves you, Jameson loves you and y/n loved you too…”

The change of tense makes my soul ache.

“…but this time around, you made a mistake, a costly mistake. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love.”

I nod numbly, robotically.

“What can I do to make it up to her?” I ask, my voice beginning to tremble, “to show her I’m sorry? Something there has to be something.”

Nash gives me a grim look and Xander’s face remains blank, they’re the only answers I need. My head sinks into my hands. The door reopens and I look back up. Jameson has returned.

He meets my eyes, “Avery’s with her.”

Blood surges through my heart and I can almost smile. He checked on her. For me.

“Is she okay?” I ask quickly.

Jameson looks at me and for a split second I almost see the ghost concern is his eyes. He shakes his head softly, “no, but she will be,” he replies, it’s an attempt to comfort me and I am grateful.

“Thank you,” I mumble.

“I’m not apologising for what I said, because I still stand by it and you won’t change my mind,” Jameson says, “but I am sorry for being so angry about it.”

“You were right,” I whisper, “you were right about me. I never deserved her, so was nothing but an angel to me and I just turned around and threw it all away. I abused the luxury I had, I stabbed her in the back and then gifted another with the knife, I’m a horrible person.”

“What you did was wrong, but that’s doesn’t make you a horrible person,” he sighs, “you need time Gray, this is going to take a lot of healing. On both sides.”

“I don’t deserve to heal, I deserve to be in pain,” I murmur, the dullness in my tone echos around the empty walls.

“Oh no, we’re not going back to emo Grayson,” Xander says quickly, shaking his head.

“I agree with Xander on this one,” Nash nods, readjusting his cowboy hat.

“I don’t want to hear you blasting my chemical romance at three a.m and then denying it later again, you came out of that phase we’re not going back there,” Jameson tells me.

I bark out a laugh that thaws my icy chest. I then bite the inside of my cheek.

“I can’t fix this, can I?” I say, looking at the ground,

Nash shakes his head softly.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t be fixed,” Xander says.

“You’ll get through this Gray,” Jamie agrees, “I know it.”

The room grows still.

“Can we drink that whiskey now?” I ask, to cut through the silence. I feel like getting drunk, I feel like I need some relief.

“Big brother,” Xander nods at Nash handing him the bottle.

“Little brother,” he tips his cowboy hat in reply before taking the bottle into his hands and cracking it open.

“Let me pour these things properly,” Nash grins, “Jamie, come help.”

“Wait me too!” Xander jumps up,

“Stay with Gray,” he shakes his head.

“I don’t need to be babysat,” I grumble, annoyance written all over my face.

“I want to watch them pour whiskey properly,” Xander explains, “so I can impress Max.”

My eyebrows fly to my forehead, “Max drinks?”

“No I want to impress her though,” he grins.

‘You’re an odd human,” I almost laugh, tilting my head to the side.

“Why ta very much!” he says, almost skipping away.

Once I know they’re all gone, I lean back on the wall, my heart feeling a tiny bit less heavy. The pain isn’t gone. I think I’ve just gone numb. I feel hollow, empty, nothingness. Guilt is still gnawing at my insides but slower. A satifying clink against the fragile rim of the glass takes me out of my own head for a split second. There are hushed voices from the kitchen, I notice. I walk over to the door that lay ajar, I lean in to listen.

“We need to tell him,” it sounds like Jameson.

“Not now,” the accent indicates Nash.

“Then when?” Xander’s voice asks, “how long can we prolong it.”

“I can hear you,” I tell them, raising my voice a little.

They turn to face me, awkwardly remaining silent. The expressions on their faces don’t offer me comfort.

“Whatever it is, spit it out,” I say, “it’s not like tonight could get any worse.”

They share a look. Apparently it can. I feel sick to my stomach.

I can barely breathe, “who died?”

“No one has died,” Xander says quickly, “yet.”

“What?” I say, my tone deadly,

Nash glares at him, then turns back to me. There’s sorrow laced delicately, deep within his hazel irises.

“Gray,” he says gently, “Gray we hate to do this but…”

“What? What is it?” I ask urgently.

“Gigi’s missing.”

The words shock me to my core. I feel my throat begin the close up as panic returns with a smirk and triumphant greeting. My whole world has collapsed in less than 24 hours.

***

YOUR POV

I don’t hate him. Call me naive or call me stupid. But I don’t. I don’t think I ever could. The kind of love I have for him is unconditional, irrevocable. Time can’t heal a wound this deep and although it is still fresh now, I can tell. But if he were to say sorry I think I would forgive him every time. And if he asked me back I’d fall into his arms into an instant. And I hate myself for it, it’s stupid and it’s a little cruel. How easily I would take him back after what he did. I know I shouldn’t but something inside of me is drawn to him. Like an invisible magnet has been planted in our hearts. I wish I didn’t love so hard, fall so deeply, maybe I wouldn’t get hurt so badly. But it’s in my nature, it’s who I am. I wonder if he knows how much pain I’m in, the rippling agony that rolls across my chest relentlessly with no hint as to when it will cease. I’m tired of being the second choice but unfortunately I wouldn’t mind being his. And I know it’s completely stupid of me to think that way, completely wrong but love makes you do stupid things so they say. I sit on the beach, by the sea in a state of numbness. Silent tears roll down my tears as the waves lap my feet. Deja vu washes over me and the memories of Grayson and I the night of the game flash through my mind.

I grip his hand and run with him as he guides me the just beyond the shore. He sits down swiftly on the sand and pulls me down to sit between his legs. I lean my back onto his chest and let him nuzzle his face into my collarbone.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing my neck, “only you.”

Only me, huh? Only me…

The waves crash against the rocks, hurtling a salty spray towards me. I hear footsteps and turn around. Avery stands there, a mournful expression over her delicate face. She knows. I stumble towards her and collapse into her arms in a fit of uncontrollable sobs now and she holds me. Her touch is gentle and warm but it’s nothing compared to his. I realise he might never hold me in his arms again and I cry even harder.

***

I don’t hold Lyra accountable. She is not to blame. Some girls in my position might dream about different ways to brutally murder her but I can only ask what comfort would it bring me? My feelings are already dead, what good is more pain doing?

There was a choice that Grayson Hawthorne was given: his dancer or his angel. He chose his dancer and I hope he’s happy. Because angels have wings and we rise up stronger.

idk guys I think I wrote Grayson’s POV really awfully to be honest… also I feel like the 911 meet up was not like their normal ones where they try and like do something (e.g drink or dare) and then talk about the pain but that’s bc Grayson was in such a mess and then they had to drop the bomb that Gigi was missing. so anywayyyss…

I am sorry this took so long and I hope it lived up to any expectation you wanted it too (sorry if it didn’t) and I hope you enjoyed 🤍🤍 thanks for reading as always

TIG masterlist

[monzabee]

lean on you – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you learn to lean on Charles more than you thought you ever could.

Pairing: charles leclerc x medstudent!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: it’s been a while since i went to an actual hospital, so that, and also worried charles, mentions of sickness and vomiting, also mentions of food poisoning

Request: “Hiiii! I don’t know if you still accept request😅 but I have something in my mind if you are open to it, like the reader is quite sick before Charles’ race, he wanted to stay to take care of her but she insisted that he go on with the race and that she’ll be fine. But during the race, Charles’ got a call that she have been taken to the hospital by Lorenzo since she almost passed out. Charles went straight to the hospital and bit mad and angry at her being so stubborn. I just think Charles can be over protective and can be so upset or angry when he get very worried. Like how Charles will emphasise that she have him instead of being so independent all the time. 🤍🤍🤍 thank you if you will do it, but if not, it’s alright too! I just love and enjoy reading all your works!🤩 ”+ “Can you write a fic where the reader is a med!student with Charles? (definitely not projecting🫣)”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i loved both of these concepts and i though they’d go well together, because most of my friends who are also med students love diagnosing themselves?? i kind of wanted to based the reader off of bow from black-ish if you guys ever watched it, it’s my current watch and i love her so much!! it was very fun for me to write, and thank you to both of the anons for their requests! Feedback is always appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

“Are you sure you’re fine, mignon? You look worse than you did last night.” Charles lets his eyes look over your fatigued figure in your bed, worry etched into his eyebrows.

Giving him a weak smile, you do your best to reassure his worries by reaching for his hand resting on the side of his body. “I’m fine, love, I feel better than I did yesterday.” Charles sighs softly, his worry not entirely dissipating. He moves closer to the bed, his hand tightening around yours, and you squeeze his hand gently, relaying the message that you appreciate his concern. “I really am, you don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

“You say as if that’s an easy thing, love.” He emphasises, giving you a small smile that still allows you to see the dimples on his cheeks. “I just don’t want to leave you alone, you seem worse than you did last night.”

Your expression softens as you recall the way he doted on you the previous evening, no matter how much you told him that you were doing fine. “I promise I’m feeling much better, it’s nothing but a stomach bug – and I promise I’ll rest today, too.”

Charles leans down and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You better keep that promise and rest, it’s doctor’s orders," he says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. "I'll hold you to it.”

You chuckle weakly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “I promise, Charles. I'll stay in bed, take my medicine, and rest. I have some lecture stuff I have to go over, anyway." You pause, looking up at him with sincere eyes. "And you need to focus on your race. I don't want you to worry about me, be careful out there please.”

His lips form a mock pout, making your facial muscles to pull in an involuntary smile, “But my favourite part is the part where my doctor takes care of me,” his thumb draws a comforting circle on your hand, “your kisses help immensely.”

You blush at his playful comment, grateful for his affectionate nature even in times of worry. “I promise I’ll give you kisses when you come back, but only if you promise you’ll be careful.” You sigh deeply at the boyish grin he sends your way, “I’m serious, Charles.”

Charles's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch gentle yet firm. "I promise, my love. I'll be careful. Do you need me to bring you anything before I leave?”

Your nod is sluggish and doesn’t go unnoticed by Charles, but he chooses to remain silent as he gives you a moment to think about your answer. “Can you just give me my computer and anatomy book, please?” You watch as Charles nods in understanding. He leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips before making his way to the desk where your belongings are kept. Retrieving the items you requested, he returns to your bedside, placing them gently on the bed beside you.

"Here you go, mignon," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. He notices the way you keep fiddling with the collar of his your sweatshirt – a habit you usually display when you’re sick because the clothing usually causes overstimulation in your mind. “Do you want me to bring you some water? Or maybe order room service?”

You shake your head to the either side this time, giving him a sleepy smile as you start talking, “I’m good, but thank you, darling.” You let out a small giggle at the unapproving glance he sends your way, “I promise I’ll order some food when I get hungry, Charles.”

Charles chuckles softly, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and concern at the way you emphasise the word. "Alright, love. Just make sure you take care of yourself and eat something nutritious. I don't want you skipping meals, even if you're not feeling well."

You nod, appreciating his reminder. "I promise, Charles. I'll make sure to eat when I need to. But for now, I think I'll focus on studying and getting some rest."

He leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "That sounds like a good plan. I'll leave you to it then, but remember to reach out if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," you reply softly, your eyes growing heavy with fatigue. "Thank you for taking care of me, Charles. I love you."

He smiles warmly, his eyes filled with affection. "I love you too, mignon. Rest well and take all the time you need. I'll see you soon." With that, Charles gives your hand a final squeeze and presses his lips to your forehead in a parting kiss before reluctantly pulling away and leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the task at hand, determined to make the most of your day even if you’re feeling a bit down.

It’s not easy for Charles to focus on his driving that day, not easy at all. He can’t seem to focus on the track when you seem to occupy his mind and linger in his thoughts. The people around him notices the way he seems almost detached at the garage that day, and also noticing your absence, thankfully they accommodate him and his aloofness the best they can. He keeps an eye on his phone the entire time before he gets in the car – something he usually never does before a race just in case you call him in need of assistance. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind as he prepares for the race. He knows he needs to focus, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you. Concern and worry gnaw at him, making it difficult to fully immerse himself in the adrenaline of the race.

Before climbing into his car, he approaches his brother, who is thankfully standing nearby. He looks into Lorenzo's eyes and speaks in a hushed tone, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”

Lorenzo, sensing the urgency in Charles' voice, gives him a nod, his own concern mirrored in his eyes. “Of course, Charles. What do you need? Is everything alright?”

Charles takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. “I need you to keep an eye on my phone, Y/N wasn’t feeling too good this morning, and i have a bad feeling about it.” He hands Lorenzo his phone, making sure to check one for one last time to see whether you’ve texted or called him, you haven’t.

Lorenzo's brows furrow with worry as he listens to Charles, but he understands the gravity of the situation and the significance of Charles' request. "Don't worry, Charles, I'll take care of it – and I'll let you know if anything happens. You focus on the race, and I'll make sure everything is handled."

With that assurance, Charles turns his attention back to the race ahead and quickly puts on his balaclava and helmet. He climbs into his car, adjusting his helmet and securing himself in the cockpit. The anticipation and excitement of the race surround him, but his mind remains consumed with worry for you as he tries to assure himself that you are fine and resting back at the hotel. The race begins, and Charles pushes the limits of his car, manoeuvring through the twists and turns of the track. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't fully immerse himself in the competitive spirit. Thoughts of you and your well-being linger, distracting him from the task at hand. His racing instincts seem dull, his reaction time slightly delayed, and he struggles to find his usual pace.

As the laps pass by, Charles notices that he's slipping further and further behind, unable to keep up with the leading pack. Frustration mounts within him, battling against his worry for you. The race that should have been a chance for him to shine becomes an arduous struggle to maintain his composure, as he struggles to keep up with the cars infront, the ones behind him seemingly passing him with ease and causing him to drop out of points. So despite his best efforts, Charles finishes the race with a disappointing result, far from his usual position on the podium. He steps out of the car, feeling a mix of exhaustion and disappointment washing over him. The familiar cheers from the crowd seem distant, overshadowed by his concern for you. His mind is occupied by imagining the worst as he gets out of his car, takes off his helmet and stumbles towards the team's garage. The once vibrant atmosphere now feels muted, as if the world around him has lost its importance. He can sense the curious glances and sympathetic looks from his fellow team members, but he can't bring himself to socialise with any of them.

His eyes hastily search for his brother, but Lorenzo is the one who finds him before he can spot him. Lorenzo's concerned gaze locks with Charles’, and he quickly makes his way toward him, his steps mirroring Charles’ urgency. Understanding the look in his brother’s eyes instantly, Charles asks, “What’s wrong? Is it Y/N? Is everything alright?”

Charles watches his brother expectantly as he places a comforting hand on his shoulder, making him want to slap his hand away, but the next words that come out of his mouth is enough to takes his breath away, “Carlos is on the phone with the hospital–”

“Hospital?” Charles interrupts Lorenzo, “Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par l'hôpital qui t'a appelé?” What do you mean the hospital called you?

“Calm down, Charles, laisse-moi t'expliquer.” Lorenzo gives him a pointed look, and gently steer him towards his teammate’s cousin, “Y/N called me from the taxi, she said she was going to the hospital because she wasn’t feeling well,” he raises a hand to stop Charles from interrupting again, “she also told me that she’d call me once she got to the hospital but she didn’t, I’m guessing her phone died and the hospital called me instead. But my Spanish is non-existent and Carlos is talking to them, so for the love of God, calme-toi un peu.”

Charles's mind races with a mix of relief and anxiety upon hearing Lorenzo's explanation. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he listens to his brother's words. The realization that Y/N is at the hospital sinks in, bringing a wave of concern to the forefront of his thoughts. Nodding in acknowledgment, Charles tries to calm his racing heartbeat and focus on the information at hand. “My girlfriend is at a hospital in a country she’s not familiar with, how do you expect me to calm down?”

“Just wait for a moment, we’ll have more information when Carlos is done talking to the hospital-people.” Lorenzo reassures him, and it helps Charles to focus on the current issue at hand – learning the name of the hospital and finding his way there as fast as possible.

Taking Lorenzo's advice to heart, Charles tries to steady his racing thoughts and focus on the present. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm and composed. The minutes feel like an eternity as they wait for Carlos to conclude the call. Finally, Carlos hangs up the phone and approaches Charles and Lorenzo, his expression grave but determined. "The hospital confirmed that Y/N arrived safely," Carlos begins, his voice steady. "They're currently conducting some tests to determine the cause of her discomfort. The initial assessment suggests it may be a severe case of food poisoning."

A certain degree of understanding and relief washes over Charles as he lets Carlos’ words sink in. He offers his teammate’s cousin a grateful look, “Thank you for your help, Carlos,” he nods his head in appreciation, “do you have the name of the hospital?”

Carlos returns Charles's grateful look with a reassuring smile and a nod, “It’s the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona, she’s a smart girl, Charles, it’s an international hospital so she shouldn’t have any problems communicating with the doctors.” He pats Charles’ shoulder when the latter gives him a confused look, “You weren’t exactly quiet, mate.”

Charles lets out a small chuckle, realizing that his worries may have been more apparent than he thought. He appreciates Carlos' attempt to lighten the mood and offers a grateful smile. "You're right, I probably wasn't the most composed person just now," he admits, "but I'm glad Y/N is in good hands at hospital and thank you for your help, I appreciate it."

“No need to thank me, I hope she’s doing okay.” The older man smiles and gives him a final nod as he makes his way towards his cousin.

“Charles,” one of the PR people starts as they make their way towards the duo, “you still have media–”

The look Charles gives the poor intern in return can only be described as a mix of exhaustion and frustration. He interrupts the PR person before they can finish their sentence. “Bill me.” He, then, turns to his brother as he shoots him an expectant look, “Can we go?”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” Charles hears his brother’s voice, which causes him to raise his eyebrows and receive in return, “you’re obviously too high on adrenaline right now, let me drive.”

Charles, recognizing his own state of mind, doesn't argue. He nods in agreement and takes a seat in the passenger side, grateful for his brother's support, but because he is Charles, he mumbles, “You better drive fast,” under his breath as he follows his brother out of the garage.

As the car navigates through the busy streets of Barcelona, Charles finds himself lost in his thoughts – he glances out the window, his eyes darting from building to building, as if searching for answers that lie beyond the glass. The tension in the air is palpable, the silence between the brothers punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of horns from other impatient drivers. He tries contacting the hospital once again, but it seems like luck is not on his side as the operator speaks to him solely in Spanish, which makes him reconsider what Carlos told him earlier. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona comes into view. Charles feels a surge of hope mixed with anxiety as Lorenzo skilfully manoeuvres the car into a parking spot. Charles is out of the car before Lorenzo even turns off the engine, which earns him a scolding from his brother, but he’s almost halfway through the walk to the entrance as he waves Lorenzo off.

As Charles approaches the entrance of the hospital, his pace quickens with a mix of urgency and concern. The automatic doors slide open, welcoming him into the bustling lobby. The sterile smell of disinfectant fills his nostrils, and the sound of footsteps echoes through the halls.

He makes his way to the reception desk, where a receptionist greets him with a warm smile, and (thankfully) speaks in English, “Good evening, how can I help you?”

Breathing heavily, Charles tries to gather his thoughts and speak clearly. “My girlfriend was admitted through ER earlier today, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me her room number and how she’s doing?”

The receptionist nods sympathetically. “I understand your concern, let me check the system for you.” She begins typing on her computer, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. After a few moments, she looks up at Charles. “I do see her in our system, but I don't have access to that information. You'll need to speak with someone from the emergency department.”

Frustration wells up within Charles, but he takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay calm. "Can you at least direct me to the emergency department?"

The receptionist offers an understanding smile. "Of course. Head down this corridor and take the first right. You'll find the emergency department entrance on your left."

Thanking the receptionist, Charles follows her directions, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and worry. He walks briskly, determined to reach Y/N's side as quickly as possible. As he enters the emergency department, the sense of urgency intensifies – he watches the hustle and bustle of the hospital; how the medical staff rush by, attending to patients in need and people who are waiting to see their loved ones just like him. His legs aimlessly takes him to the nearest a nurse station and approaches a nurse who seems available. “Excuse me, Miss” he calls out, trying to catch her attention. The nurse turns to him with a professional yet compassionate gaze. “I'm looking for my girlfriend, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me where I can find her?”

“Let me check her records,” the nurse smiles at him, an attempt to calm him and goes through the papers on the chart in her hands. “Here she is, it seems that she was recently moved – she’s supposed be in room 376, it’s on the third level, at the end of the main hallway.”

Relief floods over Charles as he receives the information from the nurse. He manages a grateful smile and nods in appreciation. "Thank you so much. I'll head there right away."

After thanking the nurse, Charles makes his way towards the elevators, following the signs that lead him to the third level. As he steps into the elevator, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. He makes sure he sends Lorenzo a text message to let him know where’s he’s headed, the ride to the third floor feels agonizingly slow, each passing floor adding to his impatience. When the elevator doors finally open, Charles steps out and finds himself in a long, well-lit hallway. He scans the room numbers, his eyes quickly landing on the sign indicating the direction of room 376. With determined strides, he makes his way down the hallway, passing by other patients' rooms and medical staff going about their duties.

Finally, he reaches room 376, and his breath catches in his throat. Taking a moment to steady himself, he gently pushes the door open, revealing a small but comforting space. Inside, he finds you lying in the hospital bed, an IV connected to your arm and one of your textbooks open on the bed beside you. He realises you’re asleep, however, as he watches you from afar. Seeing you lying there, Charles feels a mix of emotions overwhelm him—relief that you’re safe and being cared for, concern for your well-being, and a deep longing to be by your side. He approaches the bed with cautious steps, taking in your pale complexion and the weary lines etched on your face.

Gently, Charles pulls up a chair beside your bed and sits down, not wanting to disturb your much-needed rest. He reaches out and lightly brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a tender smile gracing his lips as he watches you sleep. Gently, he reaches out and takes your hand in his, offering her a tender squeeze. "Hey," he whispers softly, not wanting to startle you. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

You stir slightly, your eyes fluttering open. A weak smile graces your lips as you recognise Charles. "Charles," she murmurs, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth. "You came."

Charles feels a surge relief wash over him, he leans in closer, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Of course, I came, I'll always be here for you, chérie. What happened? How are you feeling?"

“I’m better now,” your voice comes off hoarse, and it makes Charles cringe inwardly, “I just wanted to come to the hospital because i kept throwing up and thought I had all the signs of food poisoning – but, honey, what are you wearing?”

Charles glances down at his attire, realizing he's still in his racing gear. “I didn’t have time to change,” he explains, his head tilted to the side as he gives you a strict look, “I should have just stayed with you.”

“You had a race, Charles,” your eyes widen in recognition as you remember the race. “Oh my god, how was it? Did you–”

“The race doesn’t matter, Y/N.” Charles interrupts, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I wish you wouldn’t try to be so independent all the time.”

He watches as your lips form a pout, your voice coming off more vulnerable than before as you ask, “What?”

"Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this sick? I could have been here for you."

You give him a guilty look, the pout on your lips becoming deeper. "I didn't want to worry you, Charles. I thought I could handle it on my own."

His frustration melts away as he takes in your weakened state. He moves closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "You don't have to handle everything on your own, love. I'm here for you, always. I would have been by your side if you had just let me. I should have been there with you today, not at some race when you were puking your guts out.” He pauses, his thumb caressing the back of your cheek soothingly. “I know you value your independence, and I admire that about you. But sometimes, it's okay to lean on others, especially when you're going through tough times. You don't have to carry everything on your own.”

You listen to Charles's words, and a mixture of emotions swirl within you. His concern and care touch your heart, but you also understand the frustration he expresses. With a soft sigh, you squeeze his hand gently. You shift slightly in the bed, wincing at the discomfort. "Being independent has been a part of me for so long, and it's hard to let go of that mindset completely. But I'm learning, slowly, to find a balance, and I'm learning to lean on you when I need to and to share my burdens with you." You give him the softest smile you can muster, “I promise I’ll try to be better, darling.”

His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. "You don't have to apologize, mignon. I understand why you wanted me to race, but your health and well-being will always be my priority. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to face things alone. We're a team, remember?"

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we are, and I’m sorry for worrying you, darling." You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, and with a soft sigh, you begin speaking again. "I promise that I’ll lean on you more and remember that we’re a team.”

Charles leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "That's all I ask, love. Just remember that you have me, and I'll always be here for you, okay? I love you."

As you feel his lips on your forehead, a sense of comfort and love washes over you. You gaze into his eyes, filled with gratitude and affection. "I love you too, Charles," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "Thank you for always being there for me, even when I push you away. I'm so grateful to have you by my side."

[magics-neptunes-things]

Sweet Sickness

Hi guys!

This is a short one from a sweet request that you can find here :)

I hope you will enjoy it, it was great to write for Mariona ♥

TW : Sickness, throwing up

______________________________________________________________

You're not feeling well. It had started yesterday night while you were falling asleep, a strange feeling in your stomach had wake you up and before you knew it, you were throwing up everything you had eaten some hours before.

You thought that it was a gastroenteritis at first, but it seems like it finally is a food poisoning. You went out with several teammates to eat something sweet after the diner last night and it wasn’t really a good idea.

You managed to call the duty nurse during the night, who came to help you. She wasn’t able to do a lot to be honest, she just gave you something to stay hydrated, took your fever and look after you several times during the night.

You finally fall asleep when the sun starts to wake up and you missed the breakfast. When you wake up several hours later, your girlfriend is sitting on the side of your bed in her kit, probably ready to go to training. When she saw that you are up, she strokes softly your face.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she whispers, her eyes full of empathy.

“You needed to rest” you mumble softly.

You put under silent the fact that you didn’t want your girlfriend to see you puke all the night. With you playing outside of Spain, you aren’t able to see Mariona as much as you wanted. You were looking at that camp with impatience, you couldn’t wait to pass time with your girl again.

“I still could have look for you”

“I didn’t want to make you sick. And I feel gross”

She rolls her eyes and keep looking at you. You are under the cover of your bed; you have sweat a lot during the night and now you are cold. As you wonder silently if someone could give you clean sheets to change them, Mariona boop your nose.

“Let me help you to take a shower and I’ll ask someone to come to change your sheets yeah?”

“Don’t you have training?” you frown.

“Madre Mia Y/N. Stop your questions and let me take care of you.”

You put but let her grab your hand to help you sitting on the bed. After checking that you are alright, Mariona grabs your other hand to help you to get up and take you very slowly to the bathroom.

You look at her starting the shower and after checking the temperature, she turns to face you.

“Will you be okay alone several minutes? I’ll just ask for the clean sheets.”

You nod and smile softly at her. You are not used to have someone to take care of you like that, Mariona is the sweetest when you are together but it’s usually on holidays or during your free time. Mariona smiles back and after having close quietly the door, she's out.

The hot shower makes you shiver, but it’s really appreciated. You don’t hear any noise outside of the bathroom, but you are in a semi-coma under the hot water when Mariona comes back almost fifteen minutes after having left you.

“You alright here?”

“Yeah” you smile, feeling a lot better now that you are clean too.

You turn off the shower and grab gratefully the towel Mariona hold you. You let her wrap you in the towel and smile at her in the mirror. Her smile is affectionate and you feel a rush of love for her.

“Come on, let dress you up before you catch a cold.”

She helps you to put a shirt and an underwear on and you take advantage of being in the bathroom to wash your teeth too. You are relieved to find your bed back just after. You now feel comfortable and clean, way more relaxed than earlier.

“Thank you for coming for me” you say while Mariona lies next to you.

“Of course. I was worried not to see you in breakfast and when no one could tell me where you are. Until I ask one of the staff.”

“I’m sorry Mario” you mumble, cuddling against her.

“It’s ok” she kiss your head softly and stay silent some minutes. “I have to go to training now, but I’ll come to see you when we are finish yeah?”

You knew it was coming and you wasn't really in love with the idea of having your girlfriend with you in this state before, but now you can't help but feel a little sad.

“Ok. I hope they won’t make me go home”

You are really scared; you were so happy to be here. And to be here with your girlfriend, of course.

“I don’t think they will. You will be ok soon and can start the training again. But message me if you need anything, yeah?”

You sleep almost all day, waking up in the late afternoon. You look at your phone and answer Mariona’s texts when you wake up. She asks you to tell her when you are awake, which you did just before getting up to open the windows to change the air in the room.

You don’t know if you are really hungry to be honest, but you still drink the beverages the nurse gave you. You realize that someone went to change them and are happy to find fresh bottles.

When someone knock on the door, you go to open the door to face a smiling Mariona. This time, you are able to give her a real smile back.

“You look better than this morning” she smiles, looking at you.

“I feel better” you confirm.

She gives you a hug and kiss your head several times before coming in the bedroom and closing the door behind her.

“Isn’t it the movie night tonight?” you ask Mariona.

“It is.”

You have tradition during the camp and at least once a week your little group come to watch a movie together. Laia, Alexia, Misa, Leila, Irene, Jenni, Mariona and you are in this group, and you love having time with them.

“You will have a better time with them rather than me. I’m okay if you want to go” you assure her.

But your girlfriend shakes her head and smile at you again. You love her smile, it’s sweet and makes you warm inside.

“If you feel better enough, I thought that we could come here to watch it. Misa can plug her computer on the TV, and we can look it that way. We can put the single beds together to have a big one and take some of the bean bag to put them in the ground to have enough space. What do you think?”

You could literally devour her with kisses right now, but you are sick and not sure that she would love kisses from you right now. So, you just gave her a big smile and nod happily.

“It would be awesome!”

“Perfect!”

She takes her phone to send a message and when you hear your phone vibrate on your nightstand, you understand quickly that she sent it on your WhatsApp’ group.

“Don’t you dare” she warns you when you want to help her to move the bed.

You don’t have time to argue though, because there is another knock on the door, way more energetic than Mariona’s. You aren’t surprise to find Jenni right in front of you when you go to the door. Laia and the others are following when she enters, Alexia closing the procession with a meal tray in her hands.

“From the medical staff” she tells you. “They want you to eat what you can without forcing yourself.”

“Thank you Ale” you smile gratefully, looking at the tray.

There is bread, dry meat, banana and some granola.

“How are you feeling Nena?”

“Way better”

She smiles and tap your cheek with affection, before going in the room too. There still have a free spot on the bed so you settle on it with your tray, just next to Leila. She smiles at you too and hug you briefly, while Misa and Mariona are preparing the computer.

You start to munch your granola, but when Mariona turns in your direction, you see her frowning deeply. Before you are able to swallow and ask what’s happening, she comes on the bed and makes Leila get out of it.

“My girlfriend, my spot” she growls, taking you possessively against her.

You ignore Jenni’s teasing and the others’ laugh to look lovingly at Mariona. You are together for two years now and you are still surprised sometimes by the amount of love and affection she can gives you. Which is totally stupid, because Mariona is the most simple and loving person you know.

You feed her with some granola while the movie is beginning and finish with a tentative kiss.

“What’s that kiss?” she whispers, not to drag the others’ attention. "Are we in our teenager era again?"

“I’m sick” you point.

“I don’t care” she rolls her eyes.

Without letting you the time to answer anything, she takes softly your face in one hand and drag your face close to hers. She then kisses you again, far from the butterfly kiss you gave her several seconds before.

The kiss didn’t last long though and you know that it’s because she won't have to deal with more teasing right now. But you cuddle against her again, half lying on her.

“I love you so much” she whispers in your ear.

You smile and raise your eyes on her, kissing her jaw.

“I love you more” you whisper back.

The grimace she makes makes her nose wrinkle and you can’t help but laugh softly when you see her. You then kiss the tip of her nose and when you cross Laia’s amused eyes you lye again on your girlfriend, sticking out your tongue at her.

You pass out in the middle of the movie, but when you will wake up tomorrow morning, Mariona will still be here, cuddling you from behind. You will feel better enough to get out of your bed and go to the training ground, even if you didn’t follow all the training. But at least you are able to watch your girlfriend playing and that’s more than enough for you.

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.���

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n��s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

[bloop-bl00p]

“Fîls de joie” What Poison could have been.

TW: Mention of Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Rape, Drugs, Addiction, Manipulation, Mention of Fetish and sex in general, mention of Sex works, Raphielle II don’t go harras him and respect his pronouns

I’m trying to be a writer and I understand writing about taboos and controversial things is difficult. I only write about what I know which is the effect of emotional and physical abuse and religious traumas. Notheless if I’m trying to do something out of my domain of expertise I’ll research it to respect the concerned part of the audience.

Vivienne Medrano said that people who’ve been sexually abused helped write episode 4. Part of me wants to believe it, it’s most likely true, it’s the best thing a writer can do, let knowledgeable people help and not just rely on sites about psychology. But, with how rape and assault are presented sometimes it really feels like she’s lying.

Angel Dust is the only character whose abuse is presented as serious.

Stolas kept belittling Bliztø and kept talking dirty even when the Man was in danger

You cannot tell me that he couldn't hear the gunshot through the phone, in this scene, he keeps making his disgusting speech. Blitzø was practically forced to make the deal as he wasn't in a situation where he could process his thoughts clearly since he was trying to survive

And it was a joke.

Angels Dusk kept harassing Husk throughout the series but he never once apologized. Yes, it stopped after Looser Baby but he should have a mindful conversation with Husk and genuinely say sorry about his behavior.

“It starts with sowwy🥺” What’s the point of having this song if the characters don’t follow through with the lesson?

Those scenes were mostly jokes.

And I haven’t mentioned Sir Pentious getting dragged while being drunk in a sex room, or Moxie being kissed by Succubus despite mentioning he didn't want any of that.

AAaaAaaaAh look at these men, being uncomfortable because they are touched and talked down despite verbally addressing their discomfort! That hilarious!

I want to believe she cares, I’m a fan of these shows, I know it doesn't look like it but I’ve been hooked since the Pilots. Not only was I disappointed at the final result but I was also shocked to learn Medrano is simply just an asshole with too much money in her bag.

Poison failed where Fîls de Joie succeeded:

Before reading any of what I wrote you should listen to it, there are English subtitles. And honestly, it's a good song on its own.

What’s the context of Fîls de Joie?

A sex worker died and her son is holding funerals for her. You can guess it with the wordplay in the title, Fille de Joie (Girl of Joy) is one of the many ways to say prostitute in French. Fîls (son) de Joie is a way to say that he’s the son of a sex worker.

While sung by the same man, you can notice that Stromae gives us four POVs in the song, the son in the chorus, a client, the pimp, and a policeman.

Everyone besides the son is a hypocrite and relatively an asshole. But even if those verses are self-centered and a pathetic attempt from these men to bring sympathy to themselves, despite never hearing the story directly from the Woman, you can guess exactly how her life was and you sympathize with her. It tells us a story, her story.

This woman was a good mother, and it shows how much the son insisted on leaving her alone, speaking proudly of her despite acknowledging her flaws, and even repeatedly calling her a hero.

But HEY! (But HEY!) Leave my mom alone Yes I know, she’s not perfect, it’s true She’s a hero (She’s a hero) And I will always speak of her with pride

The client is trying to be excused from his actions by stating he’s lonely and addicted to it.

Being alone is not easy And it’s been years since my last time

The hardest part, well, it’s the first time And now what’s hard is to decide when the last time will be

But he’s also verbally violent even stating that as long as he got the money he could pretty much do everything to her.

Maybe this time around we can do it with me insulting her. Yeah everything is negotiablе in life, if you got the money And after all, I’m probably her best customer

With that alone, you can probably guess that it’s not the only violent client she had but she has to endure it because she needs money. Considering that she has a son it’s probably to support his education or something related to her well-being and his.

Then comes the pimp, he brushed off all of his misdeeds by saying he gives them shelter and food and should be grateful for it.

Why does everyone hate me? I’m the one feeding them Their lives would be way more mediocre. Without me, their lives would be shitty

Not only that but his good actions are not for the sake of it, he should have his part of the deals. He doesn't want them to feel like princesses eventually calling them hookers in a very dehumanizing way.

That has a price, Missy. Well duh, in this life, everything comes at a price. Nobody ever told you? They say I’m guilty of human trafficking But 50, 40, 30 or 20% is not nothing

They better not delude themselves and think they’re models Ladies—or should I say: hookers!

Not only does this woman have to endure constant violent behavior from her clients she barely gets enough money despite being the one at work, receiving either 50% or even 20% of what she actually gained. The rest goes to an egocentric pimp that only sees her as merchandise.

While we can technically understand where the policeman is coming from, he’s just doing his job, he’s making a mistake apparent in the other’s verse but much more evident in his.

He doesn't see her as a human.

I know that it’s your job But I gotta do mine, don’t I?

Take back your ID and what’s left of your dignity You’re pathetic, pfft Find yourself a real job!

This song doesn't tell us the story of a prostitute but the story of a financially struggling Mother who juggles between abusing clients and a society that only focuses on the top of the iceberg, the fact that she’s selling her body.

Stromae tries to appeal to our compassion and teach us that it’s important to understand why someone will go their way to sell sex for a few pennies. And rather than rejecting them, we should help them.

Another thing I like about the clip as a whole is the Military. They don’t have a Belgian or French uniform but they wear multiple of them to show that this dehumanization isn’t linked to one country but it’s global, every countries and cultures take part in it, and it needs to be fixed.

What does Poison tell us?

Angel got stuck in an abusive situation and was forced to do sex work for his pimps, it focuses more on the sexual assault rather than his life.

He obliviously regrets his choice resulting in him blaming himself for getting into such a messy situation. A situation he’s seemingly addicted to despite himself, he knows it’s bad but he can’t help it.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself

You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow. Up your poison

The poison can also be a metaphor for the drugs he seems to take directly from Valentino’s brand. A drug he either takes himself or is forced to inhale.

He uses the same substance to forget his situation and numbs the pain while also putting on a false Sex-addicted mask to convey that he’s fine and stay on Valentino’s good side. A direct consequence of his abuse is his addiction and his hypersexuality.

I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear

At the end of the song he’s waisted, traumatized, and finally breaks down as he finally has a short time to process everything that happened. Because here’s the thing, Poison is a fantasy, it’s a mask he puts in to forget the emotional and physical weight that was put on him, hence why it’s so flashy and pretty. The few glimpses of Angel being visibly distraught show that all the parts where he isn't are him disassociating.

See I can analyze stuff and I totally understand what they were trying to do with it but the difference with Fîls de Joie is, that we didn't know the life or personality of The Mother and we learn it through the song.

Angel Dust and Valentino’s relationship is highlighted throughout the shows and Poison doesn't add anything new to the table. The song is POINTLESS. Husk already looked at us and told us that Angel Dust being sexual was a whole persona he puts in.

You can say that the song humanized him since he was basically the “AaahaAH SEX” character but the locker scene already did and… I don’t like the story behind the making of it, why you ask?

Because Vivienne let Raphielle’s work affect her writing.

Visually speaking I believe you can present a disturbing concept with equally disturbing imagery, I understand that the point was to make you uncomfortable and the Dance sequence was Angel Dust disassociating while what was happening was displayed on the screen.

But… can someone explain why they let the work of someone blatantly fetishizing Angel and Valentino's relationship leak into the final product? I don’t even care that Raphielle or Vivienne have a nonconsensual fetish but we can all agree that his content depicting the two men will be inrentently for gooning purposes right? Or am I crazy for saying that?!

Okay, I wanna be clear, Raphielle can do everything he wants what I care about is that his fetishistic content was referenced in the shows.

→ Here’s one of his works. Go at 2:45 if you wanna skip the sexual stuff

→ Click here for more proof

The idea of Angels Dust being “sexy” while his image is projected on screens is from Raphielle II, his work is for sexual gratification but Medrano still referenced it despite Raph being pretty vocal about it.

And that’s not all.

Yes, Vivienne, it’s great marketing to make a cum joke about visuals displaying rape. Because in case y’all forgot all of the sex scenes in the clip are non-consensual from Angel Dust's perspective.

Am I supposed to believe that this woman cares when not only she has a double standard only showing rape and sexual assault as a whole in a bad way when it comes to her favorite character?

Am I supposed to believe that she cares when she associates herself with a fetishizer and references his work in her show?

Why did Stromae managed to make me care about an unnamed fictional dead woman in the spam of 3:57 when she just irked me in 20 minutes with her so-called “well done” representation of sex workers?

Is that really what people call a realistic presentation? How does someone manage to fumble so hard on every aspect of the series, I’m starting to believe that Hazbin Hotel is just rage-bait with the lack of respect she puts into it.

That’s all for me if anyone wants to add anything, the comments are there.

[bichachonacho]

Retribution

pt.2 of ‘The Other Woman’

pt.3 here

warnings: angst and fluff (technically) & mentions of sex.

The fan art divider below is not my work. I found it on pinterest but Idk who the artist is. If someone knows can you please lmk so I can give them credit <3

a/n: also thank you so much for all the love for part one of this story <3! and I’m sorry to those who asked me to tag them with this post I was trying to but it wouldn’t let me for some reason :/

It had been weeks since that night, the same night Aemond confessed his feelings for his true love Alys in his drunken state. The same night you had cried yourself to sleep, wanting to be as far away from your husband whilst being trapped in his embrace. You woke the next morning with a new realisation— why should you bother trying to be an outstanding wife when you would never compare to her.

His beloved Alys.

Her name tastes like poison in your mouth, so distasteful you fear you’ll grow sick if it lingers at the forefront of your mind any longer. You feel guilty, it’s not her fault you’re trapped in a marriage with a man who’s madly in love with her.

You stop trying with Aemond. All the effort you put in to try and gain his approval, affection and love would inevitably go to waste— so why should you spend any more time worrying about Aemond and his needs. He didn’t need nor want you to be his wife, so you shouldn’t act the part.

You carry on with your day after your brief breakfast with Aemond in the dining room. You kept the conversation short, as you usually do now. You have little to say to him besides conversation about your shared duties to the throne and your family. You stopped trying to make small talk with him, your attempts before often irritated him. He wouldn’t hide the fact your consistent need for communication with him bothered him. Now you’re content with the shared silence between the two of you, grateful that you didn’t have to scramble to think of things to talk about.

You allow the handmaidens to ready your bath as you contemplate what outfit to wear for your day out of Kings landing. You ignore the way Aemond’s eye is trained on you intently, silently observing the way you think over what dress to wear between the two options.

“If those do not please you, I’ll buy you finer dresses, dear wife” Aemond breaks the silence, causing you to scoff at his attempt of being a considerate husband. This was one of the only times he had referred to you as his wife, weeks ago you would’ve been praising your gods in thanks— now the title barely phases you.

“Now why would you do that” You huff, deciding on the dress that was a deep shade of blue. You brush past him, hinting for him to leave the room when you bathe. He hums before pushing off of his seat and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him as you begin to undress.

“Are you planning on telling Prince Aemond where you are headed?” Your handmaiden Meredith questions you as she brushes your long silver hair. You pretend to lull the thought over before you say no.

“He doesn’t need to know. My absence won’t phase him” You hum, causing Meredith to tut as she braids some of your fine hair. You shut your eyes momentarily, preparing to receive an earful from the older woman who was like your mother figure in Rhaenyra’s absence.

“I would question that, Princess. Prince Aemond had spent half the day searching for you when you had left to roam the streets two days ago” She informs you, causing you to hum in thought as you processed what she had just told you. It seemed absurd that Aemond would notice you leaving for a few hours, you could disappear for weeks and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid.

“I trust you won’t tell him if he searches for me” You hum, confiding in her trust. You already knew the answer, Meredith would defend you with her last breath if it came down to it. She presses a soft kiss into your hair before standing up and stretching her limbs.

“Be mindful there is a family dinner tonight. You cannot be late” Meredith informs you and you wave her off, promising you wouldn’t be tardy before you push off of the hard floor and prepare to leave your bedchamber.

You had forgotten your promise the moment you stepped foot on Dragonstone. It had slipped your mind completely as you spent the day with your younger siblings— your mother distracting you in the evening by telling you stories by the fireplace. Your hand was steadily caressing her heavily swollen stomach as you listen to her tale, hoping your sibling inside of her womb was also listening. It was so entertaining you had forgotten of your curfew.

You leave Dragonstone hastily on Dragonback, cursing as you chastise yourself for forgetting such a thing. Meredith would definitely give you an earful later for this, but that was the least of your concerns as you take quick strides down the halls of the Red Keep. Out of breath and hair messy from the ride back, you quickly try to make yourself more presentable before you enter the dining room— the guard posted outside the door giving you a look before you enter.

“I apologise for my tardiness, your grace” You announce as you greet Alicent who gives you a tight lipped smile from her side of the table. She silently disapproved of your lack of consideration for time but said nothing— allowing you to take a seat beside Aemond.

You ignore his stare, keeping your gaze focused on the plate infront of you as you cut into your steak, hoping he would lose interest of your face and stop staring so intensely.

“Where have you been?” Aemond confronts you, finally breaking the deafening silence that could be cut with a knife.

“I went for a ride. Needed some fresh air” You glance at him as you answer, catching the dissatisfied look on his face at your alibi.

“Be honest with me” He presses you again, his voice slightly louder and catching the attention of the others sitting around the table. They pretend to carry on with their idle chatter, obviously eavesdropping on your conversation. You stay silent, ignoring his statement and hoping he would lose interest and stop talking to you.

“Your husband demands you to answer him” He growls, his tone revealing his frustration at your silence.

“Or what? You’ll sever my tongue?” You argue as you drop your cutlery, accentuating your anger as you repeat the words he spoke to you at this same table weeks ago. Everyone around the table goes silent at your sudden outburst, Aegon barely biting back a laugh whilst Helaena gazes at you with sympathy in her eyes. Alicent as you expected still wore a scowl on her face, unimpressed by both you and Aemond’s antics.

“I apologise for my outburst” You announce to everyone at the table before you continue to quietly eat, shifting further away from Aemond in your seat as you internally wish you were riding back to Dragonstone.

“I visited my family. That’s where I was today” You sigh heavily as you both enter your shared bedchamber after the dinner had concluded. Aemond gives you a look of understanding before you brush past him and begin to undress.

He lingers around the small bookshelf you insisted to be made months ago, finger trailing along the covers until he pulls out the novel containing children’s tales.

“You no longer read to me. I wish for you to read again” Aemond’s voice is just above a whisper, barely audible with the only sounds being your fabric loosening and the crackles from the fire.

Every second night after you wed, you made it a nightly ritual to read out loud your favourite stories from your childhood. Hoping it would help you bond with Aemond, it in fact did the opposite and made him leave the room most times— claiming he’d rather listen to Aegon fucking some whore than you reading to him.

“Today has exhausted me. Feel free to read on your own accord” You hum, dismissing his request as you stifle a yawn— pulling back your sheets to lay on your side of the bed. Aemond sighs heavily before he retires to the seat infront of the fireplace, reading quietly to himself. You had already shut your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, so you missed the way he kept glancing over at your sleeping form.

Aemond feels a slight tightness in his chest as he reflects on how distant you’ve been with him for the last few weeks. He noticed it the first morning you stopped asking him a million questions at the breakfast table. Your odd behaviour that morning only being the start to you growing further apart from him. You stopped trying to drag him to the garden to simply walk with you, you no longer played with his hair or tried to jest with him. You didn’t ask him how his day was at the end of the night as you both lay down for bed, you would just silently turn over and sleep.

He’s hurt you, more times than he could count on all ten of his fingers. He treated you so bitterly because he blamed you for losing his sweet Alys to this betrothal. Now that he’s losing you too, he doesn’t know how to stop this marriage from falling apart.

The next morning, you ready your proposal to Aemond— one that you’ve been dwelling on for the last few weeks. You weren’t sure of how he’d react, probably ecstatic over your suggestion if you were to be honest. You know Alicent won’t be satisfied if she were to find out, so you intend to keep it a secret.

“We will reside in separate bedchambers. I’ve already asked Meredith to arrange Jace’s old bedroom down the hall for me. I’ll be moving my belongings there tonight” You announce to Aemond once you are both sat together during breakfast. He pauses at the news, confusion gracing his features as he stares at you.

“We’re married, why should you feel the need to sleep away from me?” His chest tightens again as he speaks.

“We’re practically worlds away when we share one bed, what difference would it make being in separate rooms” You say nonchalantly, sipping on your lukewarm tea as your eyes leave his. He doesn’t voice his disagreement with your suggestion, just silently nodding before he continues to eat.

When night comes, both you and Aemond make your way to your bedchambers after spending an evening with the whole family in Aegon and Helaena’s quarters. You were practically glued to her youngest child the whole night, unaware of your husband’s stare as he watched you babble away in gibberish to the young baby.

“Do you need instructions on where to stick your cock, brother?” Aegon had clapped him on the shoulder as he joins him by the fireplace he was leaning against. Aemond hums in confusion, pulling his gaze away from you momentarily to glance at his brother.

“It’s out of brotherly love that I question why you haven’t put your seed in her yet. Have you not been married half a year now?” Aegon scoffs, downing his goblet full of wine before he tosses it aside.

“We don’t share the insatiable urge to fuck like rabbits the way you and your whores do, dear brother” Aemond bites back, causing Aegon to raise his hands up in defense.

“At least I feel the urge to touch them, not once since your wedding have I seen you embrace her— not even with a simple kiss” Aegon was right, after their wedding night, Aemond didn’t bother trying to share any affection with you. In his heart he knew his kind touch and warm embrace were reserved for the one woman who held his heart in her hands.

“Y/N…” Aemond hums, stopping you in your tracks as you stop walking down the hall. You feel his hand embrace yours as he turns your body to face him, his touch warm as he cups your hand in his.

“H—how was your day?” He questions you, his stutter causing him to curse at himself internally as he notes how foolish he sounds. You let out a little laugh at how confusing he was being, you spent the walk back here in utter silence and he chooses only now to ask you.

“It was like every other day I have here. Meredith made me chocolate muffins— they were divine” You hum, unsure of what else to talk about you ask him the same question.

“My day was mediocre at best, one can only bare Aegon for so long”

You hum in understanding, Aegon was more than a handful. He was torture when he wanted to be, which was majority of the time he was in anyone’s presence. You’re blessed to be married to the tamer brother, the same one who still had your hand in his grasp.

“If that is all, I wish you goodnight Prince Aemond” You hum, pulling your hand from his grasp completely before you turn on your heel and continue on your way to your new bedchamber.

Discomfort sits in his stomach at your use of his formal name, it was as though he wasn’t your husband— a stranger to you almost. He feels guilt reside in him as he reflects on how he would chastise you for calling him terms of endearment that Alys often used. It’s only now as he watches her walk away from him and disappear into her bedchamber that he realises he would give an arm and a leg to hear you call him those names once again.

Much to your dismay, you can barely sleep a wink. You toss and turn against your cold sheets , frustrated and confused as to why you couldn’t sleep soundly in your own space. No longer did you have to sleep stiffly because Aemond was on the other half of your bed. You had all the freedom in the world to sleep, yet you couldn’t even as you tried your hardest to.

You decide to take a walk in the garden to clear your head and hopefully tire yourself out enough to finally rest. Sighing heavily, you admire the warm air that fans against your skin as you quietly make your way down the halls. Your eyes widen slightly as you see his long silver hair, his eye focused on the moonlight that beams through the trees leaves above him. For once in your marriage you seem to finally sync as you realise he couldn’t sleep either, needing the comfort of nature to clear his head.

“You couldn’t rest either?” You hum as you approach him, the leaves crunching beneath your bare feet as you move closer to him. He seems startled at first, exhaling in relief when he recognises his wife’s voice.

“It seems as though I have grown used to the warmth of your body beside mine— your absence has turned me into an insomniac” Aemond admits truthfully, causing something inside of your gut to spark when you hear his words.

“It appears your absence has caused me to have the same troubles” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest as you look up at the leaves above your head, fascinated by it’s pretty colour.

“We shall grow used to it as time passes” You exhale, hoping that you don’t suffer the same fate tomorrow night. He’s taken aback by your statement, his eye resting on your face.

“Time passes? How long do you intend on being separated?” If you weren’t aware of Aemond’s true feelings toward you, you would almost hear the hint of sadness in his voice as he speaks.

“I was meaning to discuss this matter with you in a week’s time, but seeing as we’re alone and at our most vulnerable— I shall inform you now” Your words cause his pulse to quicken, he involuntarily feels his heart pound as you turn to face him. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I know this marriage wasn’t one formed from a love match. I’m the last person you wished to marry and somehow we still found ourselves betrothed” You sigh heavily, reflecting on the moments you’ve shared as a married couple so far— most, if not all being ones where neither of you were happy.

“Someone else has ahold of your heart, it was never mine to claim and I was foolish for trying to in the first place. This marriage was always destined to fall” You grasp ahold of his hands in yours, the gesture causing your gazes to meet as he finally looks at your face.

“I give you my permission to pursue your beloved Alys, so long as we both continue this marriage for the sake of our family name and duties— nothing more, you are free to love her. I too will do the same, in hopes that I do one day find someone who loves me as much as you love her” You say in finalisation, watching his face for any sign of a reaction.

Aemond’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest at your words, he didn’t know how to feel. You were giving him a golden opportunity on a silver platter, he would get to love his Alys freely— without the guilt of already being a husband and that in itself sounded like heaven to him. Still, he was heavily conflicted. He wanted to confess to you that even with his love to Alys, he still longed for you— his wife that he had watch gradually lose herself because of him. It’s selfish of him to need you both, to want you almost as much as he wants her.

After a moment, Aemond finally nods his head in agreement— the words of truth being trapped in his throat as he fails to utter even a word to you. You give his hands a squeeze before you release your hold on him.

“This matter is settled then” You hum before you pull away from him. You bid him goodnight, your words barely processing in Aemond’s mind as he fails to speak. Instead he watches you walk away in silence, leaving him alone in the garden with his thoughts and his latest regret.

—

a/n: Idk about this ending tbh sorry if it’s meh but the final chapter will be worth it :p

tags <3

[killakalx]

17+ content, happy pride month to me :)

vines and beautiful patterns of greenery bloom around you at the expense of your pride, kneeling before poison ivy and melting into the gentle hand caressing your face. there’s no thought behind your eyes other than the intoxicating smell she secretes, red strands of hair flowing and falling over her face, precious petals and threatening thorns framing a gorgeous being. no thought behind your yearning eyes other than who you’ve concluded to be aphrodite herself.

“ivy,” you whine between kisses along her thigh, “let me. please.” her scent takes a hold of you, almost like your words aren’t your own, though you’re sure they aren’t too far off from your usual talk. clearly, it was a mistake to think you’d be exempt from her tactics.

“aw, but your mission,” she teases, legs opening and letting your mouth trail further up. her feigned concern for your original plans makes you whine out of impatience, as the thought had left your mind long ago. but thinking of any responsibility outside of this ache hurts right now. “you don’t wanna disappoint your friends, right?”

“I don’t wanna disappoint you,” the words quickly follow hers, correcting the foolish implication that anything else could occupy you right now.

“far from it,” ivy assures you. the affirmation has you salivating, effortlessly guiding you up her body. a hand pulls at your hair to bring your gaze to hers. “come closer, hm? closer to my face.” you follow through without hesitation, a needy hand palming her chest as the other finds refuge behind her neck. your eyes linger on her lips and begin to admire the smile of control that falls onto ivy’s face, leaving yours to attempt words of desperation. “aht,” ivy’s finger shushes you.

“pamela,” you manage a pathetic plea over the barrier she’s created, “i feel like i’ll die without- just… please, pamela.”

“i’ll satiate you, sweet thing,” she comforts you and allows all distance to close between your bodies, feeling enveloped in vines and roses before she feeds your craving. a hushed and feeble thank you is lost between your lips as they meet hers, leading a wave of ecstasy through your body. you cling to her like a lifeline and she huffs an apathetic laugh at the pliancy, forcing a slow pace as her tongue tangles with yours.

the kiss is deeper than anything you’ve had with anyone else, drawing you impossibly further into a sanctuary resembling the garden of eden. what started as one bite quickly descends to indulging yourself in the entirety of the orchard, as if her means of relieving this ache hide the intention of pulling you further inside until the gate’s out of sight. ‘satiate you’, pamela insinuates, yet the attempt of such an idea leaves you insatiable.

[kermitkrqb]

Perfect Pair || Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: Something about evil blondes is gonna do it for me every single time. Until next time, lovelies! 💗

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow x dark!reader, enemies to lovers, Coryo’s violent thoughts, attempted murder, spit play?? (does it count? idk. but i’ll leave this here anyway), dub-con kisses.

‘No loose ends’, Something Coriolanus often reminded himself. The same words had echoed in his head when he had sent his only friend to be hung. Poor, trusting, and foolish Sejanus. Coriolanus wished it could have stopped there, but it seems everywhere the Snow boy stepped, a trail of withering destruction followed. Once that destruction had eventually caught up with him, he’d found that his beloved Lucy Gray Baird wanted nothing to do with him. Why couldn’t she have understood? Everything he did was for her, for them. She had fled from his love as if it were poison, and maybe it was. But, he’d argue that she was just as poisonous, latching onto him as he did everything in his power to ensure her safety- milking him for everything he had. Only to leave once she had found out that he in fact did everything in his power to ensure her safety. So what if he had killed Sejanus? Sejanus’ recklessness would have gotten them all killed eventually. Although, it was all over now. In the form of Lucy Gray Baird, he had cut off his final loose end, leaving her in the forest and vowing to never love again- which was originally the plan.

There you were, standing across the room in a perfectly poised manner. He loathed it, loathed you. Coriolanus knew that you had always been smart, a close contender to the Plinth prize, a top student like him but not quite as good. Although, he had underestimated you. A few nights ago, much like the rest of your Academy classmates, you were celebrating the end of the semester at university. He had found himself exchanging petty insults with you on some balcony when you had revealed something rather bone-chilling. Coriolanus would have pushed you off the second floor if it weren’t for the abundance of people in the next room. Tipsy on posca, you had let it slip that you knew the circumstances of Sejanus’ death. How? He did not find out. You had taunted him, backed him into a corner, threatening to tell the Plinth’s that the golden boy they had adopted was not so golden after all. You had made a fool of Coriolanus Snow of all people. He hated you for it… but you had done something even more unexpected. You let him go. Although, he wasn’t going to take the risk. He couldn’t afford it, not after everything he had done to get where he is now- in the care of the two grieving parents of Sejanus, living the life of luxury he had always deserved.

Coriolanus had convinced Strabo Plinth to host another gala, hiding behind the excuse of ‘making connections’ for when he would eventually rise to power as the President. It was partially true, although, his main motive was to lure you in. Coriolanus had planned to poison you tonight, alongside a few other people he saw as threats. He would disguise it as another rebel attack, blame the staff- anything to ensure his protection. He watched from across the room as you eagerly conversed with a few gamemakers and former classmates. It was almost sickening to him, the sweet smiles you would flash, the way you would carry yourself so confidently. He could see right through you, because you were just like him. Driven by ambition, power hungry. He hated you. You caught his eye from where you stood, holding his gaze as you sent him a smile. What others might have interpreted as an innocent interaction, Coriolanus knew it was a silent threat. He was the first to look away, making his way through the crowd as he headed towards a secluded hallway, silently beckoning you to follow.

You of course took the bait, like he had planned, “Well if it isn’t Coriolanus Snow.” The click of your heels echoed across the hallway as you made your way over to him, like a snake slithering to its prey. You were adorned in a blood red gown, quite fitting for your personality, he thought. You had a glass of posca in your hand, the very drink that had gotten him into this mess. Coriolanus studied you for a moment, his blue eyes piercing through you before he broke the silence, forgoing any pleasantries, “Y/n. What is it that you want from me?” Unfazed by his cold tone, a small smile spreads across your lips, “What are you willing to give me?” The nerve of you. He wanted to scream, choke you until the life faded from your eyes, instead, he took a deep breath, “$50,000, and a formal introduction to Dr Gaul. Perhaps she’ll mentor you as well.” Coriolanus knew fully well that he was offering money he didn’t have, Strabo would never give him such amounts of money on short notice, but you didn’t have to know. After all, you’d be dead by the end of the night.

You tilt your head at him, swirling the glass of posca in your hand as you thought about his proposition, “$50,000? I’m sure you can be a little more generous Snow…considering you’re practically a Plinth now.”Coriolanus feigned annoyance, stepping closer and eventually cornering you, “You have plenty of money, what use would you have with even more?” He watched as your breath catches in your throat due to his proximity, he relished in your reaction and watched as you caught yourself, putting on a confident facade, a hint of flirtation in your voice. “You’re right… but I do like playing with you… you’re my favourite toy.” Coriolanus finds himself wondering who else had fallen victim to your vicious games. He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear, “Is that so? I don’t quite like this game of yours…” He notices how your breathing falters with every inch forward that he takes. He uses this to his advantage, pressing up against you and leaning in so his nose brushes against yours, as if he were to kiss you. Your vision is shielded as he invades your personal space, dulling your senses as you focus on his touch. With light fingers, he reaches into his pocket and drops a small dose of poison in your glass of posca. He whispers, “50 grand, take it or leave it.”

Coriolanus takes a step back, watching as you try compose yourself. He can only smirk at your flustered state, and inevitably, you take a sip from your glass on instinct. You’re about to take another sip when you see the way he’s eyeing your drink. A glint of malice in his eyes. You swallow nervously, stepping forward in panic, “What did you do to me?” He bites back a laugh, grinning to himself, “Soon enough, you’ll be dead- poisoned. But don’t worry dear, you won’t be the only one. The world will know your names, the poor victims to another ‘rebel attack.’ Don’t you know? Snow lands on top.” But then you do the unthinkable. You take another swig from your glass, filling your mouth with the poisoned posca before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into a forceful kiss. It was intoxicating, the way the sweet but deadly wine traveled down his throat, alongside the soft pillowy touch of your lips against his own. Mutually assured destruction. He wanted to hate you for it, he really did, but you were just so brilliant. Is this what he had been missing all along? He had liked the supposed innocent love he shared with Lucy Gray, but this, you, were truly deadly. Just like him.

Coriolanus stumbles back, shocked. You watch with a somewhat amused expression, considering the circumstances. “Time is ticking Snow. I assume you’re not stupid enough to go without the antidote?” He feels his eyes roll into the back of his skull, he reluctantly pulls out another vial, and before you can snatch it from his hands, he holds it above your head. You scowl as he taunts you, and he simply laughs, “My god, you’re insufferable.” You watch with outrage as he takes a generous swig from the vial, and before you can say anything, he presses his lips to yours, just as forcefully. You let out a soft groan as he transfers some of the liquid into your mouth, you swallow hungrily, keeping your lips locked with his. You wanted to hate him, but the way he kissed you had your heart fluttering with desire. Perhaps he isn’t so bad, you think. Coriolanus pulls away, his breathing heavy as he takes in your flushed state and slightly swollen lips. It was that day forward that your two fates would be sealed. “Stand by me Y/n. Stand by me, and we’ll be untouchable.” And so you do, eventually becoming the First Lady of Panem as he rises to power as President, a perfect pair indeed.

A/N: Also, saw someone shit talking the Coryo fan fics out there the other day?? I think most, if not all of the writers in this fandom are absolutely amazing, which is why I’m confused. So, if you don’t like the content, don’t read it, and you think it’s so bad, then write your own. Go on then. There are these amazing writers taking the time out there to fulfil your asks, your requests in their own time. They don’t have to, but they do anyway. Show your writers the love and appreciation they deserve. Sorry for the rant, I just hate it when people are so rude.

Support your writers! 💗💗💗

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Dear John || Pt.1

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: ☑️ My sweet Bri begged for a love-letter-centric Egan fic and with her wonderfully infectious ideas this was produced, the first part of many.

Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters, he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

It was specified in the request to use or create some of those old WWII dirty acronyms, so in here you have Bucky making up his own for his starlet crush (acorn). I’m ripping off a few ladies here, Lana Turner, Betty Grable, Hedy Lamarr to name a few -the moodbaord is for general aesthetics, I try to keep my fem!readers and oc’s as ambiguous physically as possible. (Besides the fact Johnny Egan finds you mouthwatering, which -be honest with yourself here sweet thing!!- he would.

Rating: 18+ this is the letter writing, vintage form of sexting. i kid you not, this man swings wildly from sweet as pie to downright filthy and vintage slang for anatomical parts is used freely. This would make a better shameful diary entry than a letter but he’s a rogue and he’s in a war, cut him some slack.

Fun game: how many times can Major Egan manage to mention Buck in a horny fan letter to his crush?

Dear A.C.O.R.N.

It is highly unlikely that you remember me, but, all the same, we have met. Now, hear me out, I’m sure fellas say that to you all the time but my point still stands and to match them I’ll do you one better, seeing as how I am not buttering you up for something in return -I have met you, yes, but I have also sung to you.

There. Said it.

Not that you’d recall that either, but then again maybe you would, but either way it doesn’t matter as the entire reason I am writing to you is because it is entirely unlikely you will ever open this god-awful endeavor made of pen and ink.

I am quite drunk, you see.

A necessary medicine. And they do make good whiskey here, one of the few joys they haven’t rationed yet. It’s got me wondering what’s your poison of choice. Something fruity? Or are you an olive sucker? Like that salt on the rim? Or maybe you go for somethin’ silky and warm goin’ down your throat? Which-ever it is, I bet you’d be a surprise, sweet ACORN, I just know it. You were a surprise at the canteen. Back in Jersey? Before shipping out? I know you were on a whole tour and kisses were goin’ for dollars but still, you were a surprise.

A lovely one, really. And that’s the point of this letter. To tell you that you're lovely and while I’m not the pen-pal sort, I’ve written home 80 letters tonight to families whose boys I was supposed to bring home. It got me thinking: Bucky, why the hell don’t you write nice letters? Whyd you only write ‘em now that you gotta? And it occurred to me then that the one silver lining in this whole Air Exec job is the desk, the lamp and the office.

I could write anybody from here. I could write you.

And you wouldn't read it so I could write anything. And it could be a nice letter. ‘Cause I don’t know anybody of yours to tell you anythin’ sad about them and you don’t know me except that I’m alive and drunk. Which is better than those poor eighty two bastards. Which reminds me, I’ve still got two more but maybe Buck will take those, he took seventeen off to his bunk to write from there. Buck doesn't have a desk because he’s not as important as me and he has all the luck.

You’ve met Buck, too, Acorn. He was the appalled pretty one with the straw colored hair pulling me off you after we had our duet. He objects to your nickname, see, even though you didn’t seem to mind. You were lovely, A.C.O.R.N. And I’d not wanna ruin this letter by telling you what it means, not now that I’m actually writing to you and determined to be nice but Buck knows and while he agrees with me as much as any man in the nation that you’ve got the most robust rack on the silver screen -he has objections, you see. So it wasn’t the song or the canoodling he didn’t like, and I still say, he broke up a little love affair that night. Bastard. So I’m writing to you now because as the acronym suggests, I’ve got a goal in my mind in regards to you. I tell myself -Bucky, there’s reasons to make it back.

Reasons, Bucky, reasons. Like Acorn and her halo of gorgeous hair that smelled like coconuts and the way she thought my new lyrics were pretty clever. That’s what you said, acorn, you said they were pretty clever. Now I may have been a little drunk then, too, but I think you might’ve been tipsy, that coke smelled too strong to be straight. I still have the straw you gave me, it’s bent to hell but I’ve taken it up each mission. I’m not counting on it for luck so much as a reminder of the aforementioned reasons. To come back. Your lipstick has mostly worn off but I figure it’s still the same.

You had your precious lips around it. That’s what matters.

And that’s the sorta sentence that makes Buck think I shouldn’t write letters.

But what he can’t accuse me of is being dishonest or vague. I’m being straight with you. You deserve that much, you were lovely and very straight shootin’ yourself, dear little girl. I could pinch your cheeks right now, you’re so sweet. And don’t think me a coward for sayin’ all this under assumption that you won’t read it. I hope you don’t since it’s not worth your time and if you do I wish I’d written less about me and more about you but I need you to know if we were face to face I’d say the same:

You were lovely, you ARE lovely!!!! and I think all your work for us boys is swell and you’ve got the bestest set of knockers any of us have ever seen and I’m stayin’ alive in hopes to see ‘em again some day and while the girls here are swell and sweet they aren’t zippy like you. At least not the ones who’ve put out so far. And if I had you face to face, I’d find a way to make you laugh again and I’d tell you to your face you’re lovely and if I’d been David Nivin in Love Trap with you, I’d have stayed in that little kitchen with you and ate all your burnt flapjacks and watched you in your apron and made babies with you till we were old.

Anyway. It needed saying. And maybe I’ll say it to your face given the chance again. I was working my way up to a proposition for burgers and milkshakes when Buck ruined it. But maybe you’ll tour? Here!! Over here. In England or maybe in Europe once we kick the Nazis bastards out.

Now that’s motivation. That’s a reason! -clear out a nice little swath of land through fortress europe so Miss Lana Tierney can sing in the city of lights surrounded by nothin’ but wine and good food and a buncha boys who love and appreciate her.

Because we do, ma’am. We do.

And make no mistake, I do this to keep the country safe and try to bring as many boys home as I can but every second I also think - it’s where you are too, and so I must continue keeping it safe.

If you, by some godawful chance, do read this letter, please don’t feel pressed to respond or pull out a restraining order. Think of it this way, it’d just be one more “Dear John” letter and the system is clogged as it is. You just deserve a nice letter and my wrist is past sore, one more doesn't matter. And being unable to deliver nice, I’ve written this.

~ I am ever your respectful (and hammered) admirer, Maj. John Egan

P.S. if you do happen to read this I’m sorry. Buck told me not to do this but I just had to Acorn. You’re just too swell and I really have got to get myself to a theater before long, I miss your Angel face.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! This was entirely out of my usual comfort zone but I’ve had fun writing it and I’m trying to tune my ear to pick up his voice, that’s been stretching. This series will have many letters in it but there will also be fic, so fear not. I’ve got some plans already figured out for this series but I do love a suggestion or ten so have at the inbox with what you’d like to see play out.

Hope you enjoyed, if you’d like to be tagged in future MOTA fics, drop a note below.

[poisonlove]

so I have a request! Jenna x fem.reader, these two are long time best friends, reader knows that she is in love with jenna and for a distraction she start to date e boy. jenna are really jealous and then I need angst, drama but a happy ending mit fluff!

FRIENDS

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!reader

Status: request

Warning: fluff

Jenna and I had been friends forever.

A friendship that seemed destined to last forever, full of laughter, adventures, and confidences. We knew everything about each other and complemented each other in ways that no one else could understand.

But lately, the way I looked at Jenna had changed.

I noticed that my heart raced faster when she laughed at my jokes, and my stomach filled with butterflies every time our eyes met. My feelings for her had become deeper, more complex, more romantic.

However, I had never found the courage to tell her.

The fear of ruining our friendship, of losing her, held me back every time I tried to speak.

My distraction began when I started dating Luca.

He was kind, caring, and made me feel special.

But he wasn't Jenna.

He could never be.

Despite Luca being a great guy, I often found myself thinking about how it would be if Jenna were holding my hand, smiling at me from across the table.

His laughter didn’t have the same effect, and his hugs didn’t bring the same comfort. Every date with Luca made me wish Jenna were in his place.

Jenna, on the other hand, seemed more and more distant, and it hurt.

And I especially didn't understand why.

At first, I thought it was just a period of stress or fatigue from work on the set, but over time, I noticed she avoided our meetings, found excuses not to go out with me, and, when she did, she was always distracted, lost in her thoughts.

I tried to talk to her, to understand what was happening, but she would smile and change the subject, reassuring me that everything was fine.

But I knew it wasn’t true.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, trying to ease the fatigue. It was midnight and I had to finish a report I had neglected all week.

The papers scattered on the desk and the computer full of data reminded me that I had to get it done. As I tried to focus, my phone suddenly rang, interrupting the silence.I looked up from the screen, surprised by the late-night call.

With a distracted movement, I picked up the phone and saw that it was Emma calling me.

“Hey, Emma?” I answered, trying to hide my exhaustion. “Do you need something?”

The background music was so loud that I had difficulty hearing Emma’s voice.

“You need to come here,” she murmured, worried. “Jenna is beside herself. She’s drunk too much and I’m afraid she might go into alcohol poisoning.”

My heart began to race.

“Where are you?” I asked, searching for my car keys on the desk.

“At George’s house,” Emma replied, distressed.

“I’ll see you there in five minutes,” I said, ending the call.

I arrived at George's house and the party was in full swing.

The deafening music, pumped out by a DJ in the corner of the living room, made the walls and floor vibrate. The crowd was dense and animated, boys and girls dancing closely together, lost in the powerful bass and captivating melodies. The air was thick with the pungent smell of smoke and the sweet aroma of alcohol, with clouds of vapor mixing above the heads of the attendees.

In the middle of the room, a beer pong table was surrounded by excited spectators who cheered and encouraged the players, laughter and shouts filling the air. On a sofa, a group of friends was engaged in animated conversations, while some exchanged passionate kisses in various corners of the room.

My attention was focused on finding Emma.

I caught sight of her near the kitchen, with a look of frustration and worry on her face. I made my way through the crowd, gently pushing to clear a path, until I reached her.

"You're finally here!" Emma exclaimed over the noise, pulling me towards her.

"Jenna won't listen to anyone."

"Where is she?" I asked, scanning the direction Emma indicated.

"In the kitchen," Emma said, grabbing my wrist and leading me through the chaos.

The kitchen was somewhat quieter than the rest of the house, though the music was still audible in the background. I saw Jenna sitting on a table, with a half-empty bottle of vodka next to her. Her head was resting on her arm, and her face clearly showed the signs of a night of excess.

"Jenna," I said, kneeling beside her.

"What are you doing?"

Jenna slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes hazy and confused.

She looked at me with a silly smile before recognizing me. "Is it you?" she slurred, reaching out a hand towards me.I felt myself blush under her touch but tried to remain calm.

"Yes, I came to get you," I said in a steady voice, even though my heart was pounding.

Jenna's smile quickly faded, and she tried to get up from the table, swaying.

"Why aren't you with Luca? He's perfect, right?" she said with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

I bit my lower lip, trying to stay calm.

"Jenna, don't do this."

She grabbed the vodka bottle angrily. "I don't care," she muttered. "Leave me alone."

I grabbed the bottle, taking it from her hands.

"Enough, Jenna. You can't keep going like this."

She stared at me, her anger turning into pain. "Why do you care so much?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I looked into her eyes, trying to convey all my sincerity.

"Because I can't stand to see you like this."

Jenna stared at me for a long moment, then she let herself lean against me. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her arms wrapped around my waist.

I turned to Emma, seeking a solution. "Can we go upstairs?" I asked, hoping for a bit more privacy and calm.

Emma nodded quickly. "Sure, let's use the guest room. Follow me."

With difficulty, I supported Jenna as Emma led us up the stairs.

Each step was hard, Jenna swaying and struggling to maintain her balance. The noise of the party seemed to fade as we moved away from the chaos of the ground floor.

Finally, we reached the guest room.

It was a small, quiet room with soft lighting and a neatly made bed.

I gently laid Jenna down on the bed, trying to be as gentle as possible while she complained about her discomfort.

"Sss, it's going to be okay," I whispered, gently stroking her hair.

Jenna looked at me with glassy eyes, her iris almost completely obscured by her dilated pupils. Even though her gaze was clouded by alcohol, there was a depth of emotion that I couldn't ignore. I realized I was studying her features, captivated by a beauty that, even in that state, shone brightly. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her disheveled hair falling in disarray over her delicate features, and her full, plump lips seemed almost inviting.

Without meaning to, my gaze fell on her lips. I felt a sudden wave of warmth that made my cheeks flush and my heartbeat quicken. I tried to look away, the embarrassment growing inside me, but every time I attempted to shift my focus, I inevitably found myself drawn back to her.

"I'll get you an aspirin," I said awkwardly, trying to move away to regain control of my emotions.

But before I could get up from the bed, Jenna grabbed my hand, holding it tightly.

"No, don't go," she murmured, her eyes filled with an intensity I had never seen before."Jenna, you need to rest," I said softly, but she shook her head, gripping my hand even more tightly.

"I have to tell you something," she insisted, her voice slurred by alcohol but full of determination. "I... I love you, Y/N. I've always loved you. It hurts to see you with someone else."

My heart ached at her words, but the fact that she was so drunk made me doubt her sincerity.

"Jenna, you're drunk. You don’t know what you're saying."

Anger flashed in her eyes, and in an instant, Jenna grabbed the collar of my shirt, pulling me towards her.

"Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what I’m saying," she hissed, her gaze burning with emotion. "I love you, Y/N/N. And I hate seeing you with Luca."

I was taken aback by the sudden clarity in her voice and the sharpness of her gaze, which starkly contrasted with her drunken state. There was no slurring or confusion; her words were firm and incisive, and the way she looked at me seemed laden with a truth I couldn't ignore.

My heart raced, and the intensity of her words caught me off guard.

I tried to respond, but the words seemed stuck in my throat, unable to find an appropriate answer to her confession. The atmosphere between us grew charged, while Jenna continued to look at me with unwavering, determined eyes.

She looked at me with fury and then, without warning, kissed me forcefully.

The kiss tasted of alcohol, a mix of vodka and desperation, and for a moment, I let myself be overwhelmed by the intensity of her emotions.

Her lips were warm and insistently pressed against mine.

Jenna started to increase the intensity, her hands trying to remove my shirt. I looked at her with wide eyes, my heart racing.

"Jenna, wait..." I tried to say, but her hands, feverish and impatient, didn’t stop.

Her determination and the heat of her touch made me uneasy.

I could feel my heart pounding, and my body wasn’t sure whether to reject her advance.

"I don’t know if I should..." I said, my voice trembling. "This isn’t the right time."

Jenna looked at me with intensity, the pain and passion in her eyes palpable.

"Don’t you understand how much I’ve thought about you?" she whispered, her voice laden with desperation. "I can’t bear to see you with someone else. You’re everything to me, Y/N."

Her glassy and penetrating gaze fixed on me with an unexpected clarity, as if every word was a fragment of raw truth that I couldn’t ignore. Her words intertwined with the depth of her look, creating a palpable tension that filled the air around us.

Despite the intensity of the moment, I still felt unsure.

"Jenna, I don’t know if I can do this..." I said, my voice trembling.

Confusion and uncertainty overwhelmed me, and the fear of making a mistake held me back.Sensing my conflict, Jenna moved closer slowly, her expression growing softer and more pleading.

"Please," she whispered, her hands still trembling as they caressed my face. "I don’t want to lose you. I only want you, Y/N."

The warmth of her hand on my skin and the sincerity in her voice began to melt my reservations. Her eyes, though clouded by alcohol, were filled with a truth I couldn’t ignore. I felt my heart quicken, my mind wrestling between reason and desire.

After a moment of hesitation, I moved closer to Jenna, my breath shortening as I tried to navigate between the confusion and the attraction I felt. The decision to give in to the moment became inevitable, and with my heart pounding, I moved towards her, preparing to confront the truth of my feelings.

Our lips touched initially with tenderness, as if it were a timid and uncertain exploration. But soon, the contact grew more intense, her lips pressing against mine with a gentle yet determined pressure, as if trying to convey everything she couldn’t express in words.

My hands move quickly, grabbing the edges of her dress and pulling it off with a decisive gesture. Jenna giggles, surprised and amused by my sudden gesture.

“So desperate,” she says, with a mischievous tone and a playful look, as I reach for her neck, kissing it fervently.

"But listen, five minutes ago you were begging me and now you're acting innocent?" I murmur shyly against her skin, Jenna's laughter soon replaced by moans of pleasure.

Jenna's hand moves closer to my neck, pulling me further towards her, increasing the intensity of the contact.

I stop kissing her neck and pull away slightly, looking at Jenna with sudden apprehension.

“You're sure, right?” I ask, my embarrassment evident.

Jenna smiles at me with an expression full of confidence and desire. “I've never been more confident,” she replies, her smile bright.

[pixiesfz]

could you write about sam being sick and still playing through a game and the reader just takes care of her afterwards etc? i loved your jessie fic so much 😭😭🫶🏼

Stubborn girls s.k x r

plot: After a family night out Sam gets food poisoning, y/n tells her not to play but she doesn’t listen.

warning: reader and Sam have a child, sickness and vomiting , I’m writing this on my phone, I also don’t know how to cure food poisoning so just go with it

“I liked that place” You said as Sam opened the door for you and your sleeping daughter who you know held “I’m not sure my stomach isn’t feeling right”

“Well that is because you got the seafood which I said don’t get because-“

You were cut off as your wife ran to the toilet it wasn’t till later you heard Sam hurling up the last of her dinner.

you walked to the bathroom with your little toddler still in your arms who now stirred awake.

“Sam?” You asked at the door “I’m alright” she said “you sure? The colour in your face says different” you pointed at her face as Sam once again had her face in the toilet.

“Mama sick” your toddler said from your shoulder and you nodded “yeah cause she ate the seafood” you mumbled and your wife groaned.

“Time to go to bed bubba” You told your daughter who merely nodded “Sam are you okay?” You asked her again and she nodded “It’s a one time thing I reckon” her Australian accent shining through, you nodded and walked your daughter to her room.

“Mama got game tomorrow” your daughter said and you nodded “correct but mama is sick and shouldn’t play” you smiled at your daughter even though your words were serious “but mama said she’s fine”

“Mama lies a lot”.

You made sure your daughter was in bed and asleep before you made your way to the kitchen and grabbed medicine and a washcloth which you put u der the cold water from the sink.

“Sammy” you sung out, expecting her to be in the bed but she was still in the bathroom. You sighed as you now knew that she shouldn’t play tomorrow.

Sam seemed to read your mind as she looked up to you “I’m fine I promise” she said but you shook your head “Your skin is pale, you have bags under your eyes and your head has been stuck in the toilet for about” you checked your watch “twenty minutes now”

“Twenty minutes?” Sam asked and you nodded “little darling was a bit woke when she heard you chuck up” you said before you sat down next to Sam and took off your shoes “I’m fine-“ “No you’re not” you cut off Sam.

You rose your brows at her which she looked away from “you have food poisoning” you told her before bringing the medication and the washcloth out.

Sam excepted it as you put it on her forehead “You know you can’t play tomorrow” you told her and she groaned “we are versing Arsenal tomorrow I am playing” she said “what and vomit all over the pitch, no way am I watching that” you said before filling up a glass of water.

“Here take these” you said before pushing the tablets out to her, she did and you stroked her hair “just know that your team would rather you play healthy rather than play sick” you said and she leaned into your touch “I love you” she said with a smile.

“Are you trying to trick me into telling you that you can play”

“No”

You looked at her again.

“Maybe” she admitted and you gave her a sweet kiss on her temple “you missed” she whispered, a joke between the two of you on how you had your first kiss.

“I am not kissing you on the lips until you drink that water and have those tablets” you said before sitting up “I’ll grab you pyjamas and I’ll put a bucket next to our bed, if you need to wake me then do” you told Sam with a stern voice as she usually would try to hide any sickness or injury from you.

You grabbed her a pair of trackie shorts and a used oversized top and a bucket before placing the bucket to Sam’s side of the bed and passing the clothing to her.

“I love you” Sam said “and I truly mean it this time” she smiled “I love you too, in sickness and in health” you joked before giving her a soft kiss on the lips.

You crashed into your bed fairly quickly after and fell asleep, when you woke up you went to cuddle into Sam only to find an empty space.

Opening your eyes, you groaned to see your wife not present in the bed, then you checked the clock to see the time.

10 am.

You shot up, you were supposed to be up at 8, your alarm should’ve woken you up it always does.

Then you saw the paper on top of Sam’s pillow.

‘I feel better now and went to the game, sorry’

“That evil little Australian mother fucker” you swore to yourself before you heard a gasp behind you.

“Mummy swore!” Your daughter said from behind you “no she didn’t” you said very quickly to the giggly girl

“You said fuck!” she yelled before running away.

You sighed to yourself as you ran your fi hers through your hair. Grabbing your phone you saw to see that Sam turned off your alarm.

You then called her in anger which she didn’t pick up. Rolling your eyes you got up and put your jeans and your Chelsea jersey on “Well if she says she’s fine then let’s go watch”.

You got ready quickly and then got your daughter ready who had thankfully have seemed to forget about her new word she had learned.

You out on her Chelsea beanie and top and you both drove to the game. It would be around the second half once you got there.

“Hey y/n where you been, did you sleep in?” One of Your girlfriends team mates sister teased as you sat in the family and friends section. “You can say something like that.

“Mama Sick!” Your daughter smiled to her and she nodded her head “I could tell something was off because right now we’re getting smashed” she said and you furrowed your brows “what?” She pointed at the score.

3-1

You let your daughter look over the gate as you shook your head and looked for Sam “can you see Mama?” You asked your daughter and she laughed “Mama off” she said and you looked to the corner to see Sam subbed off.

You hated to say it because you loved her so much but she looked terrible.

Her tan skinned turned green and her bags under eyes were so dark she must not have slept last night.

When the siren went You saw Millie who went to go to your daughter “get Sam” you told her as she picked your daughter up “Is Mama in trouble?” Millie sang out to your daughter who laughed at the older girl

“how bout, lie to your wife, turn her alarm off so she doesn’t know that your playing sick type of mad?” You said

“Mummy is very mad” your daughter told Millie who opened her eyes wide “I’ll go get her” she said and went off, you didn’t want to get mad at her in public so you shook your head “tell her to meet me at home”

When you next saw Sam she walked into the kitchen where you sat with your daughter, watching her favourite show and she walked up to you with her head down “What you upset that I didn’t wake up later?” You asked and she shook her head.

When she looked up your heart almost broke, her eyes were shiny and her face was red, she had been crying.

“I’m sorry” she said and sniffed and you quickly got yo and held her “it’s okay” you said before you shook your head “actually it’s not okay but we can get to that later” you told her as you rubbed her back up and down.

When she sat down next to you she put her head on your shoulder “I shouldn’t of played, I just put them one man down, I couldn’t do anything special” she said and you grabbed her hand “You don’t need to do something special every time you play Sam”

“I know since the World Cup eyes have been on you but I want you to know that you are allowed to make mistakes and take time for yourself without being a bad player or being selfish”

She looked up to you with glossy eyes “I love you so much, you always know what to say” you smiled “I know and that’s why you married me” you smirked, knowing this time you were right.

“Mummy said fuck!”

Both of your heads whipped to your daughter who was smiling with her doll.

“Mummy said what?” Sam asked your daughter with a smirk.

You were somehow both in the doghouse that night.

[wintersera]

roommate au g!p chaewinter x fem!reader

notes: i fear i may have half assed the ending DONT COME FOR ME IM SORRY </3 but anyways my two favourite bob girls deserve a good dick sucking. also gaht damn reader 100% has an oral fixation

cw: g!p idol, oral (reader giving), blowjob, handjob, threesome (both idols receiving), definitely not proofread. i think thats it? lmk if i missed anything

word count: 1.8k

sunday afternoon and everything is slow as hell today, nothing is really going on and it’s just so…. boring. your roommates were nowhere to be seen, so you can’t even whore yourself out of boredom. ning was hanging out with some of her friends, aeri is out partying WITHOUT YOU? and jimin is out at a cafe. as for minjeong, she hasn’t even come out of her bedroom yet and it’s 2pm.

so what do you do? well, you knew a few friends that could help with that boredom of yours.

scrambling for your phone, you leap outta the couch and scurry towards your room. the door was already open so you didn't have to worry much about accidentally slamming it and possibly waking minjeong up. as soon as you get your hands on your phone, you immediately open up your contacts to call the one and only kim chaewon, waiting eagerly for her to pick up.

“is there anyone at your dorm right now?”

“not even a hello? a ‘good afternoon how are you’? you’re calling because you want my dick right?”

“um… yes… also good afternoon. anyways answer the question quick quick quick” on the other side you could hear laughter erupting from the girl.

“nah sorry everyones here today, even eunchae so... give me 5 minutes and i’ll be there, see you!”

with that, your very rushed conversation ended. you were glad to know someone was gonna come and fu- i mean take care of you. excited, you decide to wear your best set of lingerie for her. it’s been a while since you last saw chaewon and you wanted to make things fun for the both of you. however, unexpectedly minjeong had caught you changing through your opened door. looking cute in her oversized pyjamas and a blanket draped around her shoulders, there she stood with her mouth agape.

“oh you’re finally awake. i was so bored, minjeongie come and help me will you?” sorta forgetting that chaewon was about to come over.

“huh? i-i just woke up.. also why are you wearing just lingerie”

“oh, about that-”

didn’t seem like 5 minutes had passed, but she was already here, right outside the door. a big ass knock echoed three times as you stare at minjeong. “um… i may have asked someone else to come here, oops sorry minjeongie” she couldn’t help but pout at you, she’s just woken up and seeing you with pretty lingerie on has her thinking many thoughts. but now you’re gonna let someone else see it? she’s a little jealous, but really she wants to let you have your time alone with her if that’s what you really want.

“i’m gonna freshen up. i’ll be out in a minute” waddling towards the bathroom door.

anyway, you open the door to meet a shorter girl. of course you knew it was chaewon, so you dragged her in with urgency “i won’t lie, i need to make out with you right now” pulling her in by the collar

“fuck, is this what you’re like when you haven’t seen me in so long? are you this needy for me?” checking you out with a wide grin on her face. you hadn’t put any clothes on; just you and your lingerie. wrapping her arms around your neck, her lips almost meeting your own. you could feel her getting harder against your leg, seeing you so needy for her got her going and it made sense for her to react like that. it had been so long since she’s last seen your face, and it had been so so long since she’s had you at all. her actions alone shined through her innocent demeanour, pressing her hot body against yours to purposely rile you up.

“go on, kiss me”

her words were intoxicating, like poison it took over your body and pulled you into her embrace. no minute was wasted, her top priority was fucking you even if it was in the hallway. all clothes on her disappeared within seconds, forcefully dragging you to the couch and tearing off what remains on you so now you’re both naked.

desperate would be an understatement. there was a certain connection between the two of you and it was like electricity. every kiss she gave you felt like something new and refreshing, and it grew passionately. her lust, hunger, desire- everything; it was consuming her mind and body. she wanted nothing more than you in the moment and you let her have you. now you were on the couch with her above you. swooping down, she kisses your lips again, finding that your lips were already parted for her entry.

if your eyes were sharp enough you would’ve been able to see what was going on in the corner of your eye, but alas, you thought it was something falling or maybe something strange moving. but you didn’t care for it in this moment, your only thoughts were of the shorter girl about to dick you down. a couple of unknown groans were heard from the bathroom, and it both caught you off guard, yet you laughed, unlike chaewon who was startled “who..? come out the bathroom, creep” door opening slowly, minjeong panicking as her hands were fumbling on the door knob “..wait what the fuck minjeong?”

“my bad- i thought you guys were gonna go into the bedroom and not the couch… and i was kinda stuck in here so you know” quickly shoving her cock back inside her briefs.

“pause.. your cocks massive what the hell? join in. it’ll be fun, right y/n?”

“y-yeah that sounds fun” huffing as you catch your breath “minjeong~ come here”

yeah you’ve seen this exact scenario acted out before, but seeing minjeong bashfully drift towards you will always be your favourite thing ever. covering her face with a hand she whispers something into chaewons ears. chae nods with a grin on her face. what exactly are they planning?

hoisting herself off of you, giggling with the other bob haired girlie. no wonder why the both of them are very good friends “y/n baby, kneel down here” you nodded at her as she signalled for you to kneel in between them.

zero words were exchanged after that, but you knew what was going to happen. two women towering over you, chae who was fully stripped and minjeong who was in the process of taking off her briefs again. fuck, it was quite a view. both of their cocks were out, fully erect and ready to be sucked, but unfortunately you weren’t blessed with two mouths. however, you do have two hands that could be used.

but it’s you, you wanted something in your mouth and there’s nothing better than having minjeongs massive cock filling up the empty space. having one hand on minjeongs thigh and your other wrapped around chaewons shaft, pumping it slowly which also mirrored the speed of your blowjob. a low groan reverberated deep in minjeongs chest followed by your own muffled moans overlapping her own.

she looked down at you, seeing the way your eyes shined while you were giving her head. something in her just snapped and her hands flew to your head, pushing you down, choking around her shaft. the action causing you to moan louder. the vibrations from your throat sending shivers down her spine. your pride grew and so did your pace, bobbing your head up and down, coating her cock with your saliva.

and of course you didn’t forget about chaewon, like your mouth, your hands began to move faster. her slick coated your hands making it much easier for her to buck her hips into your fist. chaewon bit her lip in a flimsy attempt at trying not to let her whimpers out in front of minjeong and you, but she obviously failed to do so. covering her face in embarrassment only because she’s never been so riled up in front of minjeong before.

your hand felt great around her cock, rolling it all the way down her length made her feel like her body was on fire. as if it wasn’t enough you suddenly played around with her tip, swiping your thumb over it. god she was simply melting in your hands “more, more. move your hand f-faster i can’t take it anymore, fuck” a series of begs and squeels tumbling out of her mouth.

you could tell by the way she was begging that she was close to cumming, feeling her hand reach out for your arms as she squeezed them. indicating that she was about to release “good, too good. fuck y/n cum- i’m gonna cum”

toppling over as she was still standing up, she releases her load literally everywhere, her cum splattering all over the side of your face, your hand and some even dripping onto the floor.

she felt somewhat guilty for cumming way before minjeong did, so what could she do for her best friend? well of course she’d help you out by grabbing your head and pushing you faster than how minjeong had “come on. that’s a good girl, take minjeongs entire length. make her cum in your mouth”

your face began to grow hotter and hotter, eyes rolling back as you can feel minjeongs grip on your head become tighter. hollowing out your cheeks and pressing your tongue flat against the bottom of of her cock, you could feel her legs tensing as you drew her even closer to the edge “pleasepleaseplease don’t- don’t stop, i’m close pleaseee” all said while tears began to roll out from her glossy eyes.

her unending pleas and screams for you could definitely be heard by the next door neighbours, but her shame didn’t stop her from calling out for you in a manner that could only be deemed as whorish “cumming- oh god it feels too good”

rolling her head back in ecstasy, she lets out a guttural moan, gripping onto your hair for dear life. she gives one final thrust into your mouth, filling it to the brim with her cum. and she came a lot- swallowing it all and smiling innocently at her.

you watched her come down from her high, chest rising up and down rapidly. panting heavily while she’s staring at the ceiling “…are you okay there minjeong?”

“yeah, nah i almost lost my mind for a second. that was too good, i almost blacked out”

your knees starting to feel the pains of kneeling for too damn long, you spring up wobbling as you try to walk to the kitchen to grab a handful of kitchen towels.

“you guys came so much…” catching a glimpse of the wall. how the fuck did it get on the wall.. “okay now chae that’s just crazy because i know you cum A LOT ,but seriously how is it on the wall?”

yeah ik the ending is kinda abrupt but my mind ran short so… LMAO

[disaster-writer]

Poison (Epilogue)

Pairing: Alpha!Bokuto x Beta!Reader

Summary: You loved love, but it wasn’t made for you… but maybe a certain Alpha could change your mind

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This is it! Poison has come to an end (but I do have a fun request about these two that you’ll be seeing soon) Thank you for all the kind comments about this series

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Beach day.

After four and a half months of long, grueling practices, many victories and losses, and plenty of media fuck ups, the team was finally getting a beach day to celebrate the end of this years season. Though they didn’t walk off with the highest victory of winning the championship, they still got pretty damn close which was enough reason to all come out today.

By the time Bokuto had arrived the rest of the team was already there, some lounging in the sun while others were already in the water… and a couple others already setting up a net to play beach volleyball.

”Oi,” Atsumu barked from his chair, lowering his sunglasses as Bokuto walked up to the group, “Where’s the manager? Thought ya convinced her to come out for once.”

”She’s here!” Bokuto chirped, dropping the bag he carried into the sand, “A sponsor just called so she’s on the phone right now.”

Meian tsked, laying on the beach towel beside Atsumu’s chair. “She’s still working even on a day off?”

”Yeah,” Bokuto seemed to deflate, “They bother her all the time,” he whined, starting to dig out the beach towels from the bags.

”I take it she’s still doing damage control then?” Meian added.

He nodded, unfurling a beach towel, laying it a little ways from Atsumu’s set up, “It looks like she’s gonna be working during the off season to get the sponsors that dropped us to pick us back up.”

”Maybe if ya kept yer big mouth shut during the press conference yer girlfriend wouldn’t have to keep bustin’ her ass.”

”I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to talk about her,” he whined again, pulling out a second beach towel before laying it beside his own.

”You’re allowed to talk about her, she’s still our manager—“

”Yer just not allowed to talk about yer relationship the way ya did.”

”And not for nothing but she did tell you multiple times to keep it quiet.” Meian added.

”I didn’t think it—“

”Bokuto! You’re here!” A very smiley Hinata suddenly cheered, clapping him on the back with a wet hand, the rest of him dripping with ocean water as well, with Sakusa standing behind him. “Did Miss Manager decide not to come?” He asked looking around, “I was looking forward to seeing her looking casual for the first time.”

Atsumu snorted, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she shows up in one of those tracksuits she’s always wearin’. Ya’ve been together for like three months and she’s still the exact same uptight Beta.”

”She’ll be here soon!” Bokuto told Hinata, before turning to Atsumu, “And she’s not uptight! I already told you Beta-chan is super sweet and cute— we have a lot of fun together.”

”Yeah, yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. I mean she still calls you Bokuto-san for crying out loud!”

”Only at work—!”

”Kota-kun!” A girlish shout came from behind him.

Bokuto had turned just in time to catch you as you jumped on him, legs wrapping around his waist as you started laying kisses all over his face.

”Puppy!” Bokuto laughed, letting you cling to him like a Koala.

”Puppy?” Atsumu gagged, as all the players either watched in horror or complete shock, the one’s setting up the net even stopping to watch as well.

”Yeah!” You leaned back, until you could see an upside down Atsumu, being braced by Bokuto’s hands, “Isn’t he so cute!”

“Cute’s not exactly the word I was thinkin’” he said with an eye twitch.

”Why puppy?” Meian asked with a grimace.

”Because she always greets me like this!” Bokuto laughed.

”Really? I thought that’s how you usually greet her?” Hinata asked confused.

You sat back up in his arms, “I got the sponsor back!”

Bokuto’s eyes lit up, “I knew you could! Good job puppy!” He exclaimed, now kissing your cheeks.

”This is weird,” Sakusa deadpanned, watching the couple coo shamelessly at each other.

”I take it back, I think I liked how things were before,” Atsumu added.

“I think they’re cute!” Hinata said.

You jumped down from Bokuto’s arms, “You all should loosen up, I don’t know what you’re getting all uptight about. It’s our day off!” you said, starting to dig through the beach bag.

”HAH!” Atsumu yelled, scandalized, jumping up from his seat, “Yer callin’ us uptight!? Little miss professional thinks I’m uptight!?”

“Yup!” You chirped. You looked up at him, “Oh and Ami said if you ever spam call her again she’s blocking you.”

Atsumu flushed, “Well why didn’t she call back!?”

”You shouldn’t have yelled at her sister at that match~” you lilted teasingly.

”I said I was sorry! I even apologized to her for yelling at you—“

”I told you to leave the Omega alone,” Sakusa said, “She’s not into idiots.”

”And you’re still not off the hook for giving him my sisters number Kota,” you said, pulling out the sunblock finally.

”I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed!”

”Yeah and now my sister has hundreds of messages from this dumbass,” you said, undoing the tie of your frilly white cover up.

”Whoa— what are you doing!” Hinata suddenly yelped turning red as you slipped your cover up off and took your hair clip out.

You raised an eyebrow at the orange haired male, ignoring the gapes on your coworkers faces, “What?” You asked confused, seeing as the rest of the team meandered over. “You don’t like my bathing suit? I thought it was cute— Kota helped me pick it out.”

”It is cute!” Bokuto exclaimed, taking the sunblock you handed him to help spray you down.

Sakusa huffed, apparently yours and Bokuto’s idea of cute was a sexy white string bikini.

”There’s been a goddess among us this entire time,” Inunaki murmured under his breath.

”Um,” Barnes suddenly cleared his throat, wearing a blush, “The nets set up if anyone wants to play.”

* * * *

You sighed, stretching out in the sun as the guys all played their beach volleyball.

You had watched Bokuto for most of the day with a silly little grin on your face but now you were debating taking a nap in the sun while they were invested in their game.

That was until your phone started ringing.

Ami was FaceTiming you.

You sighed, picking up the phone. Both your sisters appearing on your screen.

”(Y/N)!”

”Hi, Onee-chan.” 

The two said at the same time.

“How’s your beach day?” Ami asked.

”Good! The guys are all playing volleyball,” you said, flipping the camera to show them.

”Don’t they play volleyball everyday already?” Your little sister, Hana, deadpanned.

”Leave them alone, they like it!” You flipped the camera again.

”Mom and Dad are asking when you and Bokuto are leaving,” Ami said.

”Oh right. Our plan is to pack Saturday night and meet at the station Sunday at 7am for a 7:35 train. So we’ll probably arrive around 9. Who’s picking us up?”

”The twins, said they want to grill Bokuto during the car ride home,” your little sister snorted.

You rolled your eyes, “Dumb Alphas. They’ll probably be best friends with him by the time we get home.”

“I’m so excited for you to see what we did with the room,” Ami squealed, “We turned your section into a gaming area!”

Your jaw dropped, sitting up as you squeezed your phone “You bitches got rid of my bed!?”

”Well you weren’t using it,” your little sister said.

”Yeah but Kota-kun and I are visiting! Where are we gonna sleep!?”

”As if the two of you would’ve been able to fit in that bed anyway.”

”You’re staying in the guest room,” Ami said.

You fell back onto the beach towel, “A guest in my own home,” you cried dramatically.

”Sooo…” Ami started.

”Oh no,” you muttered, “I don’t like that tone.”

”Off season’s coming up.”

Your stomach dropped, suddenly knowing where this is going, “Yeah, and?” You played stupid.

”Bokuto’s rut is gonna start,” Hana said plainly.

”You told her!” You hissed.

”Well yeah! He’s an Alpha and you’re a Beta, of course it came up! We were gossiping and were curious to know what you were gonna do.”

You rolled your eyes, “So that’s why you called.”

”Nuh uh— we just really wanted to talk to our sister!”

”I’m not buying it.”

”Then spill,” your little sister said, “What’s the rut plan.”

You chewed on your lip, glancing at all the guys still invested in their game, before quickly turning your back to them and hunching over your phone and lowering your voice, “We haven’t made one yet, we’re—“

”What do you mean you haven’t!” Ami exclaimed.

”If you let me finish I’ll tell you. We’re seeing a heat and rut specialist. The team goes off their suppressants at the end of the month, our appointment is tomorrow.”

”Oooo interesting,” Ami chirped, “So you’re planning on spending his rut with him then?”

”I don’t really know yet, that’s why we wanted to talk to a specialist,” you said, dragging your hand in the sand, “I did some research and there’s something called a pseudo-heat, where they pump you full of Omega hormones, it’s obviously not the same but it said it could help so I might ask about that, but we’re keeping our options open so he might be on his own anyway.”

”Have you two had sex yet?”

”Hana!”

”Well have you?”

You glanced back at the guys before lowering your voice again, “No, I mean we’ve done stuff but not like sex sex.”

”Then you should probably get that out of the way then.”

A blush heated up your face along with the probable sunburn, “It’s not that easy.”

”Why?” Hana asked, “The penis goes in—“

”I know how sex works,” you hissed, “It’s just that he’s… well, he’s—“

”Alpha dick,” Ami said knowingly with a nod. “Well good luck! Hope he doesn’t tear ya into two! Hi Kiyoomi!”

You jumped nearly five feet in the air, turning around to find Sakusa standing over you with an unamused expression, “Hi Ami. You left your hair brush at my apartment again.”

”Oh damn, I knew I left something,” she groaned.

”I can bring it with me,” you said.

Sakusa nodded, “I’ll drop it off sometime this week then.”

”Oh shit, that’s the time!?” She suddenly exclaimed, “Sorry sis, sorry Omi, we gotta go, we’re seeing a movie.”

”Okay, bye assholes,” you waved, hanging up.

You looked up at Sakusa, “You two seem to be getting comfortable.”

”We are, but I’ll admit she’s a handful,” he answered making you laugh.

”Sounds about right. When are you gonna break the news to Atsumu?”

He looked over his shoulder at a screaming Atsumu who just had his setter dump saved.

”Next time she’s here, we’re gonna tell him together.”

”Probably should have told him after you asked her out.”

”Probably.” Sakusa looked back down at you, “Never took you one for pda by the way.”

”I’m not at work,” you shrugged, “And I have a cute boyfriend, let me live.”

”I’m starting to think neither you or Bokuto know the definition of ‘cute’—“

“Speaking of cute boyfriend,” you giggled, watching as Bokuto took off in a dash towards you. You had already braced for impact as he tackled you back down onto the beach towel.

Sakusa rolled his eyes, taking that as his cue to leave.

”Hi puppy,” Bokuto grinned down at you, planting his lips against your own.

”Blegh,” you spluttered, “You taste like sunblock.”

”Well you do too,” he said, dipping his head back down for another kiss.

”Get a room!” You heard Atsumu yell at you two.

”Ami and Hana called,” you told him, combing your fingers through his hair.

”About us visiting?” He asked, laying his head on your chest.

You quickly learned early on into this relationship that Bokuto was like one of those big dogs that thought they were small, so you were often being crushed under his weight.

”Yeah, my brothers are gonna pick us up from the train station.”

”I can’t wait to meet them. And the rest of your family too.”

”Don’t get too excited. They’re pretty traditional and my parents never really took the time to learn how different Betas are so there’s probably gonna be some stuff come up that we’ll need to explain.” 

He was lifting his head again, looking at you with the cutest confused face, “Like what?”

”Like… why you haven’t marked me yet.”

”But that’s not my fault!”

You raised a brow, “Oh so it’s mine?”

His eyes widened as he quickly became panicked, “That’s not what I meant—!”

“Relax, Kota, I’m just teasing.”

He buried his face in your neck, “You’re so mean to me.”

You giggled at the feeling of him prodding your scent gland. “She thinks all those stories of Betas bleeding out after being marked by Alphas are all myths because my great grandfather was able to mark my great grandmother.”

”Then I hope she can understand why that’s a myth I’m not willing to take my chances on.”

”Yeah we’ll see. She can be a bit kooky. But I was thinking of asking the specialist tomorrow if there’s any alternatives or if there’s a way to do it safely since I know you’ve really been wanting to mark me.”

”You’d do that for me?”

”Of course. I’d do anything for you Kota-kun—“

He cut you off with a kiss. You giggled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You broke the kiss only after hearing Atsumu yelling for Bokuto to come back, making him whine.

”I get to steal you away all night and all day tomorrow so you should go play,” you said, giving his lips another peck.

”You should join us,” he grinned. “No one but me Atsumu and Hinata even know you can play.”

”I dunno,” you mumbled, “I’ve been playing on a community team of Omegas. You’re all Alphas and pro athletes.”

”Please,” he whined, “You’re really good.”

You hummed, “Will you buy me ice cream if I do?”

Bokuto lit up, “Yeah! I’ll buy you all the ice cream you want.”

You pretended to think about it for a while longer, “Hmm, I guess I can’t say no to ice cream.”

Bokuto cheered, standing up and pulling you with him before tossing you over his shoulder and bringing you to the others.

”She’s gonna play!” Bokuto exclaimed, placing you on your feet.

The others lit up, mostly from confusion.

”You wanna play?” Meian asked surprised.

”Yeah why not?” You shrugged, “‘S for fun right?”

”Yeah but these knuckleheaded Alphas never take it easy when it comes to volleyball.”

”That’s alright. It’s my day off so it’s fine if I make a fool of myself.”

Tomas laughed, “That’s one way of looking at it I guess.”

”Do you have a position you wanna play?” Meian asked.

“I’ll play libero,” you nodded, walking to the other side of the net, opposite from Inunaki.

One side was now you, Bokuto, Atsumu, Tomas, and Joffe while the other side was Meian, Hinata, Inunaki, and Barnes with Sakusa coming back in to join now making five on each side.

The game started with Sakusa’s serve, with one of the longest rallies you had ever been apart of. Already showing how different their games were to your little community games.

You managed to save the ball a couple times, each time making the other’s cheer until one specific ball was hit over by Hinata, aiming to your right where no one else stood.

It was too far to lunge for it so you swept your leg, managing to get your ankle under it before it touched the sand, having it bounce off and sending it directly to Atsumu with practiced precision.

He set it directly to Bokuto who hit the ball, scoring the point before everyone turned to you in surprise.

“What?” You asked, looking at all their faces.

”You play,” Meian said, matter of factly, a grin growing on his face.

You shrugged, “Not seriously, but I used to be one of the top ten libero’s in Japan back in high school.”

Atsumu’s jaw dropped, “So ya can be cool! Why aren’t ya like this at work!?”

You shrugged, “It’s easier to keep my professional and personal life separate.”

Most of them glanced at Bokuto at that statement.

”Yeah, you did a bang up job of that,” Meian laughed, before turning back to the game, “Okay, our serve!”

You glanced around at everyone with a fond smile before grinning, getting back into position.

Maybe you’d start making it a priority to hang out with your team more.

————————————————————————

Completed

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Taglist (open): @staygoldsquatchling02 @tillyt04 @niiiya @silverhairsimp @leonphi @lunamochii