#but there was a part of me that had dared to have any amount of hope for the past 9 days in the game

[cntloup]

medieval au you finally find out what your husband does

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

"does it bother you?" you ask as you lay in your husband's arms, "what?" he asks, peering down at you, confusion written on his face.

"that i was... a prostitute." you respond, lifting your head from his chest and gazing into his gorgeous brown eyes as realization settles in them.

"no." he replies with a slight shake of his head, "no?!" you question in a surprised tone.

"no." he repeats, "what bothers me is the fact that you had to do it, the circumstances that forced you into it."

"and i assure you..." he continues, "that you never have to do that again. in fact, you will never have to even lift a finger as long as i'm here."

"simon..." you call out breathily, a dreamy smile painting your face and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

as soon as your lips meet, the sound of footsteps and metal clanging in the distance reach your ears.

he's on high alert and instinctively shields you from any possible danger, his large body covering yours as he faces the door, ready to jump at whoever dares to attack him and his wife.

"stay here." he whispers to you and reaches to take his sword beside the bed, "simon? what's happening?" you ask, frightened and confused.

he turns to you as he reaches the bedroom door, "don't make any sound. whatever happens, whatever you hear, you stay here and keep quiet."

"wha-" you start and he shushes you, "under the pillow." he says, gesturing for you to look.

your hand reaches under his pillow and you take the dagger hidden there, "use it if necessary." he says and leaves the room.

you squeeze your eyes shut as your hands tightly hold onto the dagger, crying silently in utter fear.

the sound of shouting and swords clanging against one another and bodies falling and hitting the floor fill the house.

and you pray, although not religious, you pray to whomever there is above listening, that no harm comes to him.

after what feels like an eternity of terror, he enters the room, "we have to go." he informs you while clutching his abdomen as he bleeds into his shirt and hand.

"oh my god, simon!" you rush to his side and remove his hand to take a look at the wound.

he winces as you remove the part of his shirt that was stuck to the wound, "sorry." you apologize.

your eyebrows furrow and you wince in pain, as if you can feel it as you glare at the deep wound.

"you know how to sew?" he asks, "i've got it." you utter and leave to bring your sewing kit, trying so hard to keep your composure and not scream in his face asking what the fuck just happened. he's hurt and he's your priority right now.

you guide him to sit on the bed and sew him up with your delicate hands, shedding silent tears as you think about how you nearly lost him, and the amount of blood frightens you, "don't worry, love. it's nothing. i've had worse." he says, wiping away the tears running down your cheeks and you scoff at his attempt to lighten the mood.

you finish patching him up and place a clean cloth over the wound.

"we have to go now. there has to be more coming." he says and you help him to get up as you witness him struggling.

"go where? who even were they?" you ask in frustration, you still have no idea what it is all about, "i'll tell you on the way. now pack up your stuff." he replies monotonously, only adding to your frustration, but you stay cool and obey.

he informs the lads of the attack and you all gather in a large ship... which is your husband's apparently. there's a whole lot you don't know about him.

"you're a bloody pirate?!" you shout with widened eyes, surprised and angry and all the emotions in between.

"...yes." he mutters, "and there's a prize on my head."

"what?! simon, what the hell?! when were you gonna tell me??!" you start shouting in his face and slapping his chest, unleashing all the anger and frustration you felt.

"i wasn't planning on it." he responds, his nonchalance only fueling the fire of your rage towards him as you huff and puff, glaring daggers at him and pacing the length of the ship.

"i know it's a lot to take in-" he starts, only for you to cut him off, "damn right it is." you snarl, but immediately take a deep breath to cool yourself down, "but it's not your fault."

"i'm sorry, simon. i know i overreacted." you apologize as you walk up to him and embrace him while keeping wary of his injury.

"not at all, love. you have every right to." he says, wrapping his big burly arms around you and taking you in his loving embrace.

"you need to rest." you murmur, looking up at him, "only if you stay with me." he whispers, slowly leaning in, "always." you say and capture his lips with yours, both smiling widely into the kiss.

[playbucky]

Navy Boy, Army Girl // 2

Three army medics have been stationed on the ship that Hangman and Rooster have been stationed on for the past month. Y/N and her team have been placed in the middle of the ocean as a half-way marker for any seriously injured soldiers.  Characters – Reader (Ghost), OC Abi, OC Jenkins, Hangman, Rooster, Phoenix.  Word Count – 2.9k. Part 1.

Fourteen Months Later.  ‘Sergeant Major.’ He called, your head lifted, and you looked at him.  ‘Yes Sir?’ You asked. ‘The trainees are here.’ He announced, you arched an eyebrow and straightened.  ‘Trainees?’ You quizzed.  ‘The navy, you’re in charge of them and the training they need to complete.’ He said, you rubbed your lips together before you nodded. He gave you a stiff nod before turned and walked away. You sighed and tilted your head back, the gruelling sun shone down on you.  ‘Lieutenant.’ You called when you spotted the younger man, he stopped and turned to you.  ‘I have check to complete, could you take them to the camp please?’ You asked him, he nodded.  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He replied, you gave him a polite smile.  ‘Thank you.’ 

‘Sergeant Major, huh?’ The familiar voice said, you raised an eyebrow as you turned to him.  ‘General Lieutenant, huh?’ You replied back, he smiled wide before he brought you in for a hug that you greedily welcomed.   ‘I thought you had been discharged?’ Jake said, you shrugged a shoulder.  ‘I didn’t go through with it, Sandra had a stern talking to me.’ You told him, he arched an eyebrow and nodded, ‘I got better and worked part time at that hospital, before I was put to work again.’ You explained, he hummed.  ‘Should I dare ask the question how long your back for?’ Jake asked, you pursed your lips together as you looked around your home for the undefined amount of time.  ‘No idea, I’ll be here until the war doesn’t need me.’ You told him, he smiled.  ‘That could be a long time, war doesn’t seem to stop.’ He commented.  ‘Yeah, but it’s both what we signed up for, right?’ You asked, he hesitated in nodding.  ‘You look good.’ He changed the subject, you smiled.  ‘Thanks, the scars healed up good.’ You tilted your head to the side so he could see the scars that had died down drastically after fourteen months.  ‘What’s up that you’re on my turf now?’ You asked, already knowing the answer but you wanted to delay moving on.  ‘Our next mission, it -,’ he trailed off, ‘we need to refresh our ground skills.’  ‘Well damn.’ You commented.  ‘Yeah.’  ‘Is the whole group here?’ You asked, he nodded and jutted his chin.   You turned and looked at the group making their way over, they were talking to each other before Rooster said something and Phoenix’s head snapped up, her smile wide.  ‘Y/N.’ She greeted you, carefully wrapping an arm around you, as to not trap the weapon between you.  ‘Phoenix.’ You said, glad that you were seeing her again.  ‘Guys.’ You greeted the others, resting your hands on the handle of your weapon.  ‘How’s the training going?’ You asked, looking over the group that had bags under their eyes, and were scuffing their feet along the sand. The heat would be getting out them, it got to everyone the first week they were on ground.  ‘I think we’ll be sore tomorrow.’ Bob commented, you smiled and nodded. ‘Normally are.’ You commented, a low whistle came, you moved your helmet to the other arm.  ‘Where are you off to then?’ Payback asked, you motioned behind you to the group climbing into a humvee.   ‘About to head out on a ride around, check the perimeter.’ You told them.  ‘Ghost.’ Someone behind called, you looked over your shoulder and gave them a thumbs up.  ‘I’ve got to go but if you’re still here when I’m back we can grab a drink or late dinner.’ You told them, they nodded as you pulled up the face mask that revealed the painted white jawbone and teeth. 

You jogged across the sand, having gotten used to the small grains invading your shoes. You reached the back of the convoy, stretching an arm up and grabbing the pole before you yanked yourself up. You fell into your seat next to Sage and Magpie, who smiled at you.  ‘What are you two smiling like that for?’ You asked them voice slightly muffled by the fabric, they shook their heads.  ‘They’re talking about the eye candy from the navy.’ Spartacus said, you arched your eyebrow and looked at them.  ‘That so? I can hook you up if you want?’ You offered, they shook their heads.  ‘No thank you but we want to know what is going on with you and the navy boy?’ Magpie asked, the entire team all turned to look at you.  ‘What?’ You asked.  ‘Blondie, he can’t take his eyes off you.’ Magpie stated, the corner of your lips curled up as your shook your head.  ‘Hangman, we’re friends, he was on the ship and then he helped when I was in hospital.’ You informed them, Spartacus leaned her head back.  ‘So, it’s him we’ve got to thank for letting us see you?’ Spartacus asked, you nodded.  ‘Yeah, him and Sandra, knocked some sense into me.’ You informed them.  ‘That’s good, think I’ll get him a lovely and warm beer tonight.’ She said, the sarcasm rippled off him.  ‘Don’t be stupid, I put it in the fridge.’   ‘You’re my hero.’ She said, resting a hand on her chest as you laughed and shook your head. 

‘You still up for dinner?’ Phoenix asked, you nodded as you removed your helmet.   ‘Give me five minutes to take everything off.’ You told her, she smiled and watched as you removed the mask.  ‘I’ll gather the boys.’ She informed you, you nodded as your started to unfasten the weighted vest.  You let out a groan at the cooling air brushed your back, the sweat from the ride around chilled to further and caused goosebumps to appear. You set the vest on your bunker, the covers wrinkled before you unfastened the long-sleeved shirt, sliding it off you looked at the white and pink scar that covered your arm. You quickly folded the shirt before pulling the soaked t-shirt off, leaving you in the black sports bra.  ‘Shit. Sorry.’ The familiar voice said, you looked over your shoulder.  ‘You’re fine, Jake.’ You said, he nodded but still adverted his gaze.  ‘A gentleman never looks.’ He said, you scoffed as you pulled the fresh black T-shirt, tucked it into your trousers as you turned to him.  ‘Why are you here anyway?’ You asked him whilst you folded the dirty t-shirt up and set it on the bottom of your bed.  ‘Phoenix ran away from here.’ He stated, a thumb pointed behind him.  ‘And you thought I had turned into the beast?’ You questioned, he started to shake his head.  ‘No, I -,’ he stuttered to a stop.  ‘It’s fine, don’t get much privacy out here anyway.’ You told him, you noticed as his eyes looked over you before his gaze got caught on your arm, where your scars continued down to your forearm. You watched his face twist before he noticed you.  ‘Do they hurt?’ He asked, you wriggled your fingers and looked at the arm he had looked at.  ‘Not anymore,’ you rubbed your arm, ‘sometimes they’ll tingle but not much.’ You truthfully told him and slid your radio onto your waist.  ‘Let’s go then.’ You gestured to the flaps that he had walked through, he nodded and turned around before you grabbed your holster, you fastened it around your thigh and slid the gun in. 

‘Shit.’ You noticed a thick cloud of sand and dust swirl into the air, you straightened to get a better look before you raised your wrist and looked at the time, brows furrowed.  ‘What’s happening?’ Phoenix quizzed, Sage stood up and moved as did Magpie.  ‘Get into the bunkers.’ You pulled your radio off your hip as you looked at the cloud of dust rising that wasn’t from a sandstorm, ‘Now.’ You commanded, they quickly crossed the sand and slid into the large tent that had been their home for the last six days.  ‘Actual one?’ You asked, you bent your knees but kept your gaze on the growing cloud as you pulled your weapon out.  ‘Go ahead.’ The crackled voice replied.  ‘We’re under attack here.’  You informed them, stretching your gun out and watched the vehicles appear in the dust.  ‘Who’s there?’ Actual one asked, a round of bullets was fired. and you ducked.  ‘Myself, Sage, Magpie and the Navy team.’ You said, the radio cracked.  ‘Then you three need to protect them. We’re ten clicks away.’ He said, you closed your eyes, and tilted your head back and sighed.  ‘Understood.’  ‘Sage.’ You called, the radio placed on your hip once more.  ‘Here.’ She appeared at your side.  ‘We’re under attack.’ You said, more bullets were aimed at the base.  ‘Really I thought it was fireworks.’ She commented whilst you rolled your eyes.  ‘The navy team are still here, back up is ten clicks.’ You informed her, her face dropped and she nodded stiffly.  ‘Ten clicks?’ you gave a stiff nod, ‘shit.’  ‘Yeah.’  ‘Teams location?’ Sage questioned.  ‘In the bunkers.’ You said, flinching when a handful of bullets landed in the sand next to you.  ‘I’ll meet you at the bunker.’ Sage said.  You gave her a nod as she pulled away from you, you marched over to the small wall that had been built up of sandbags. You widened your stance and pulled your mask up to cover your mouth and nose, the sand was horrible if it stuck to the back of your throat  ‘Copy.’ You rested your gun against the makeshift wall, lining your eyes up, and you fired, taking out a couple of assailants.  ‘The groups big.’ You said, Magpie tapped your shoulder and you pulled away.  Both of you moved, your backs almost touching as you crossed to the bunkers, the sand sliding under your feet. You reached the bunkers, the cotton door was open, you could just make out the team, huddled together.  ‘Coming around West.’ Sage announced, you kept your gun aimed ahead before the solid pat on your shoulder alerted you.  ‘Nice that you could make it.’ Magpie said, she shrugged.  ‘You know I love attending surprise parties.’ She commented, you smirked and shook your heads.  ‘Why now?’ Sage quizzed as they both glanced at you.  ‘We’re empty and they’ve probably got information that they’re here.’ You said, gesturing your thumb backwards.  Magpie and Sage turned to look at the group, they were sat together and watched them closely, their faces tight as they tried to hide their panic. They knew that being up high, dealing with it and being on the ground was different.  ‘Who knew they were coming?’ Sage asked, you looked out, three black jeeps were pushing their way through the sand, the cloud growing behind them.  ‘They’ve got a rocket launcher.’  ‘They wouldn’t use that right?’ Magpie asked, they knew the odds.  ‘Get in.’ You said, Sage moved backwards, and Magpie followed before you straightened, bullets coming from the East.  You jerked back and lowered your gun before you pulled the binoculars out. Leaning around the edge of the building you tried to find him, you came up empty until the small flash of light gave away his position.  ‘Magpie, East, one point five clicks.’ You said, another bullet was fired at you.  The team watched as Magpie moved to the window, she set her gun up on the ledge and focused through it. The handle rested on her shoulder and she calmed her breathing down.  ‘Upper ridge, every third seconds he reloads and gives his position away.’ You explained, you stepped out from behind the ledge and allowed him to shot at you.  

‘Got him?’ You asked, the room stayed quiet before she pulled the trigger, the team jumped at the loud pop.  ‘He’s down.’ She said.  ‘Copy.’ You replied.   ‘Y/N.’ Sage called out, a hand wrapped around your shoulders and yanked you back.  ‘Stay.’ You yelped out.  The shook caused you to tumble backwards, the attacker took that to his advantage and straddled you, he pointed his gun at you but it was empty. He quickly recovered and flung it to the side, sending a punch into your face. With a grunt you tried to buck your hips but he didn’t budge. He managed to get a punch into the side of your chest, a sharp pain spread through your chest, briefly closing your eyes as you guessed it was a broken rib.   Opening your eyes and looked at him, wrapping your legs over his calves you swung your arm forward and connected with his throat. You managed to get enough force that he gasped for air, using this to your advantage you flipped him over. His back collided with the sand as you held onto the soaked shirt. You continued to punch his face, when he stopped fighting, you looked down. His face was red and swelling as some parts were turning purple. Sitting back on your feet you took deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeat before a force slammed into your chest. ‘We need to help her.’ Jake said, as he watched the second attacker pin you to the ground, Sage moved and blocked his path.  ‘We’ll be shot.’ She said and sent a look to Magpie, they knew the only reason you hadn’t been shot was because you were being attacked. You reached to the side, your fingers just brushed the top of your boot. Grunting you twisted for the side and pulled the handle out, the sharp blade followed, you rotated it hand your hand before you brought your hand up and sliced his throat. The dark blood sprayed out from the wound and leaked into your uniform, you watched as your attackers faced paled but you bucked your hips and he tumbled to the side. You dropped your head back and sighed before you rolled onto you side and held your side as your climbed to your feet. ‘How the fuck did they get that close?’ You asked, the team turned to you. You were a sight, your entire outfit was soaked with blood as it seeped into your outfit. You were breathing heavily and you grip on the blade hadn’t eased up. Sage and Magpie spun around and you raised a knife at the quiet footsteps sounded behind you.  ‘We don’t know.’ Spartacus said, you narrowed your eyes at her then you looked to Hangman and the team, your shoulders slouched.  ‘Where were you going?’ You quizzed.  ‘Perimeter check.’ He stated, you shook your head.  ‘No, you were too far away.’ You said, brows furrowed as you folded and slid the knife back into your boot.  ‘Major said to expand it tonight, credible threats.’ Spartacus stated, you shook your head.  'Shit.' You cursed.

[julijbee]

playing pathologic 2 as a disconnected ndn hitting harder than local man expected, more at 8

[mrfoox]

me: -literally crying as i explain how roo was extra kind to me when i expected the bare minimum-

roo: miranda... thats the norm. you should expect guys to be gentlemen. men should be kind to women

me who has had so many things mentally damaged by men around me and thus have little expectations of others: um.... -sobbing- don’t think that is the normal thing for every guys alive

[sukunasteeth]

Wrestle Me

Tokyo had reached record temperatures that day. The sun was roasting the city, every street was a mirage from the bending light of its shine. The weather recently had been sending everyone either inside or to the nearest water source.

Yuji had gone to the beach with Megumi and Nobara in a futile attempt to escape the heat that had Japan in the sweaty palm of its hand. They had offered you and Sukuna a spot on the railway car there, but you knew that Sukuna was too exhausted from his recent missions to do any sort of going out. Not to mention the draining effect of the heat stacked on top of that. You were in the mood to just enjoy each other's presence.

The two of you were sheltered away in the darkness of his bedroom, lying sprawled out across the floor in front of his small rotating fan. Sukuna and Yuji never turned the A/C on. Since they had moved into their own apartment, the brothers had become rather stingy when it came to the bills. The air didn't start up until the room felt like a sauna, and it turned off much too soon to give relief.

Sweat continued to drip down the both of your spines, but Sukuna didn't seem to mind it. He was enjoying the peace of his day off, dressed against the heat in nothing but his boxer briefs and a tank top. He had his head resting in the cushion of your lap, his eyes were transfixed on an old leather notebook that he had stolen from one of the professors a few days ago. It was in a language you hadn't taken at the academy yet, but Sukuna tells you it was early notes on jujutsu from the old world.

You had been scrolling through your phone, occasionally showing him something you found amusing or anything that reminded you of him. He only gave you a reaction to maybe 10% of the material, but it was fun to see him roll his eyes, or scoff and wave your phone away.

The longer you remained in the same spot,however, the sweatier you felt and the more frustrated with the heat. You tried not to squirm under Sukuna's head, remaining as still as possible as though he were a sleeping animal taking refuge on your lap. Boredom, however, eventually pulls the last straw that has you stirring.

An idea comes to mind.

Sukuna glances up at you, as though he expects you to show him something else on your phone, but instead his attention is caught by the mischievous glint you feel twinkling in your eye.

"Wrestle me." You beam at him.

It was somewhat of a joke.

Compared to your boyfriend, it was clear who would win in a pinning tournament between the two of you.

 Sukuna, who enjoys kickboxing in his spare time. Sukuna, who has never missed an opportunity for a fight in the decade that you've known him, who could dead-lift your torso with ease if he so desired.

Sukuna, who has never touched you with anything but heart wrenching gentleness.

His eyes widen at your command, the notebook he had previously found so interesting has been completely forgotten. He seems to catch the drift of your lack of entertainment, and quickly plays along. His surprise melts into an amused little smile.

"Oh yeah? Think you got a chance, kid?" He taunts, placing the book beside him. His attention now fully focused on you.

You snort, you were only a year younger than he was, but he loved to emphasize it when he could. Sukuna mistakes your noise as a scoff and cocks a daring brow at you.

You love when he’s in a playful mood.

"I could take you any day." You tease. Part of you is running for the hills inside, but another part is having fun with the big bad wolf. That was the constant state you were in with him. Sukuna didn't even have to try and he always had your heart racing.

Sukuna makes an impressed noise, "That, I'm well aware of. I don't know about in a fight, though."

You groan at his joke, shaking your head in disappointment, but Sukuna grabs onto your chin before you can get even one turn of your head out.

"Let's find out."  

~

Ten minutes later, you're drenched in twice the amount of sweat as you were before, but Sukuna has barely lost a drop. He's got you twisted like a pretzel beneath him, holding your limbs in just the right way so that you're completely incapacitated in his hands.

Your first mistake was thinking Sukuna knew how to play-fight. The only person he had been remotely close with in your childhood was his twin brother, and the two of them had often "wrestled", but it only ended when one of them had blood dripping out of their noses. You learned early on not to question it. Having two boys as your childhood best friends had you turning your gaze from a lot of things, in fact.

The only thing you questioned now, was how you were going to get out of your current predicament. You were sure Sukuna was having a blast practically hogtying you with his hands, and now he knew how easy it was to get you in this position. It was a double whammy that would surely effect you in the future. 

"Did you really think I'd go easy on you?" The weight of his chest presses into your back as he leans over you, sending hot breath over your neck. "How cute."

"Okay, okay! I give!" You whine, trying to wriggle out from beneath him. You had to admit that it was getting slightly painful, but Sukuna was well aware of your pressure points and where to stay away from. You still had one last trick up your sleeve, however.

Satisfied with your surrender, he nips at your ear with his teeth before he slides off of you and relinquishes his effortless grip. Before he can fully turn away, however, you're leaping onto his back like a monkey and tackling him into his mattress. It was a dirty tactic, but you had been wrestling your childhood best friend Yuji since the two of you were in elementary school, so you were no stranger to tricks of the trade. Especially the feign defeat card.

He blinks up at you. It was a difficult task to take Sukuna off guard, but you had accomplished it.

"Sucker." You playfully stick your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. Inside your chest, your heart is racing like a hummingbird’s wings. It’s almost like Sukuna knows this, because even though you’re the one on top of him, he’s still looking at you with an amused grin- unaffected by your change of position. 

"You have a higher pain tolerance than I thought you did." He notes, tilting his head to the side like he's considering something. "What can we do with that new information, I wonder?" 

It was another intimidation tactic. A good one. It had chills running down your spine. But, you weren’t going to let him win so easily this time. Suddenly, you were interested in how far you could push him, as well. 

"Come on 'Kuna," You chide, your nose is practically touching his- a rabbit pressing against the snout of a hungry wolf. "Can't take defeat, my love?"

"Oh doll," His voice is a husky drawl, rough hands slide their way from their resting places on your hips to slip under the hem of your shirt and brush the skin of your waist. You try to contain your shiver. "You're playing a very dangerous game."

One last wave of confidence sweeps through you as you lean down, just like he always did, to murmur lowly into his ear. "And you're losing."

That did it.

Sukuna grabs onto your waist so quickly, you barely have time to register it before he loops his leg around your knee and easily flips the two of you back to your original position. You're giggling beneath him as he gathers your face into his hands, pressing calloused fingers into your cheeks. You've gotten under his impenetrable skin. You didn't know it, but you always did.

No matter how strong a man is, he will always lose to the woman he loves.

Sukuna was slowly starting to accept that.

[humansofnewyork]

“I’m basically a big butch lesbian. I hosted lesbian parties for ten years. And let me tell you, they adore me. A lot of my closest friends are big butch lesbians. Certainly my best bodybuilding partners: amazing, aggressive, powerful women. Very dominant over the males in the gym. Not dominant over me, of course. Unless they’re busting my balls, because strong women are ball busters. They're just like the dudes. They are the dudes. They just happen to be dudes that are dudettes. They understand both sides of the fence; which is why we get along so well. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still friends with a lot of ‘dude’ dudes. But a lot of guys are just too rough around the edges when it comes to women. I don’t want any part of it. I find it grotesque. One term I’ve been hearing these last couple years is ‘body count.’ I’ve heard men say: ‘What’s her body count?’ They’re referring to the amount of people a woman has been with. What a pathetic, disgusting, wormy question. How dare you? This is an independent soul. This is a human that needs to be treated with honor and respect. This isn’t some piece of property you can put in a box. Imagine thinking someone is not worthy of you because they were a little experimental when they were younger, or even when they were older. That’s their choice. Leave them alone.  A woman can be with whoever she wants, whenever she wants, however she wants. If you ask me, it all comes down to insecurity. A lot of men think: ‘If she’s had a lot of lovers, there will definitely have been somebody better than me.’ They feel threatened, and they try to make that the woman’s problem. What a sad way of viewing things. No matter how many lovers a person has had, they’ll have never been with another you. Every person comes to the table with what they bring to the table. All of us are exactly what we are, different. And that what makes us all so special.”

[boiohboii]

The Royal Way 《Pt.2》

(Leclerc!reader x Prince of Monaco!oc)

After his older sister marries into the Monaco Royal family, Charles knew he would be treated differently, to his surprise (and his sister's disappointment) his F1 team, ferarri, treated him the same way.... and that did not sit well with the new princess of Monaco

or

in which YN Leclerc uses her new familial connections to fuck up ferarri just like how they fucked up her baby brother's hopes and dreams.

N.B: so, this was supposed to be longer and the last part, but it's currently 3 AM and I have classes at 8 AM thus me splitting this little fic into a trilogy. Hopefully, I will have time tomorrow to post the third and final part! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!! WARNINGS: NOT REALISTIC AT ALL!! if you are looking for a realistic revenge sort of plot, it is not here, I tried as best as I can to search up what the whole electronic system does and it's relation to the DRS, BUT I AM BY NO MEANS AN EXPERT NOR HAVE ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE, SO EXCUSE THE POOR RESEARCH. The car designs are from Pinterest... Some swear words (fuck, bitch, etc...) Let me know if I missed anything else please!

Faceclaims:

yn leclerc --> anya taylor joy

Prince Thierry --> louis partridge

Masterlist // part 1

Liked by ferrariisdone, charlesthefrench, leclercfam and 716,920 others

F1_updates_live: Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc heading into the Ferrari motor home in LA. Neither of the Royals look ecstatic to be in this position and it's no doubt to do with the statement released by Ferrari's Formula one media team, where they had essentially blamed the newly wedded Princess, YN Leclerc and their own driver, Charles Leclerc, for his DNF in the previous GP.

username: let them cook

username: the amount of bodyguards they have is insane

username: they do not look happy

username: yeah, no shit sherlock, ferrari basically said that it was yn's fault that Charles is distracted

username: ferrari blaming everyone but themselves

LEAKED AUDIO FROM LAS VEGAS GP, FERRARI'S MOTORHOME: tensions rise in the Ferrari garage as the young royals of Monaco, Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc, threaten Fred Vasseur of taking him to court after buying out the rest of Charles' contract with Ferrari.

(Princess YN Leclerc,Prince Thierry, Fred Vasseur)

"It has been proven time and time again that the team is so incompetent! Why won't you do any changes?"

"Do you think that it's easy? These are people's livelihoods we are talking about"

"You do realise you are talking to a princess, right? She is well aware of how to run a business and a team, unlike you."

"I am just saying that I can't just fire people because Charles can't manage the car!"

"CAN'T MANAGE THE CAR? Are you out of your fucking mind mr. Vasseur? There is evidence, very strong evidence for your information, that the problem was from the electronic system. Do you have any idea how fucked up your engineers and strategists have to be to send out a car with failed electronic system?"

"Correct me if I am wrong my darling, but don't the electronic system control the DRS?"

"Mmhhmmm"

"And if the DRS opens in a corner it might result in a crash, am I correct mr. Vasseur?"

"The DRS was fine, there was-"

"My husband is asking a yes or no question Fred."

"Yes."

"So basically, Ferrari's Formula one team had, intentionally and with their knowledge, put a member of the monegasque royal family in direct danger."

"But Charles isn't a member of the royal family! He is only YN's half brother!"

"PRINCESS YN MR VASSEUR! YOU WILL DO WELL TO REMEMBER THAT!"

"Charles is my brother, and you dare put him in harm's way. I am princess YN Leclerc of Monaco, I can and I will hold you accountable as the principal of this team."

"You can't do anything! Carlos had the same car-"

"Carlos did not have the same car and you know it!"

"We already know Fred, we have had professional inspections done on both cars, it's quite deceiving really, telling a driver that he's the priority and still disappointing him every single time."

🔊 a thud is heard 🔊

"This is the amount of money to buy Charles out of Ferrari, but don't spend it Fred, we will be getting it back in court."

"YN WHAT WE-"

"PRINCESS YN FRED! *sigh* it seems like no matter what you are still convinced that you and your workers did no wrong, we will see about that."

"There is only one race left, there will be no team to take in Charles now!"

"Oh, we are not looking for a team to take him in, we made a team for him."

{Taglist: @phillydilly @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @omgsuperstarg @formulas-bitch @brakingboundaries @kyuupidwrites}

[shiny-jr]

from DIASOMNIA

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: This is just the first part, only with Diasomnia. I’ll post the rest later once its written. For now, I hope you enjoy this part! Oh, and this was inspired by the mention of letters @qierxing​‘s fic inspired by the whole imposter au idea. So yeah. Hopefully I caught all the mistakes in this post because I am not rereading all that again.

Diasomnia   |   Ignihyde

Among the first letters you pick is carefully sealed in a black envelope. You found it peculiar that Grim, who had offered to use his claws to open the envelopes, hadn’t been able to cause the slightest tear as if it were being protected by some magic. But it opened with ease during your first attempt to rip it open.

You didn’t care much for the wax family crest that had sealed it, or the black envelope itself. Maybe it would feel liberating to just set them all ablaze as soon as you finished skimming over the carefully written words.

To my dearest human,

I understand the pain I have caused you.

Ever since that moment I betrayed you, all I have seen in my vision and in my mind is your expression of terror. It tortures me. Your terror spurred by my actions and my very own hands. I am your most beloved and loyalest of companions in this world, and yet, had my retainers behind those doors not intervened, you would have been gone forever. And it would have been all my doing, all my fault.

I write this letter to apologize, but as I write this, I realize that there is no forgiving what has been done. Ever. No matter how I plead or what comes from my lips. But I will say this: there are no amount of words that can truly convey how sorry I am. This will haunt me for the remainder of my centuries of life.

Agonizing thoughts plague my mind and torment me at all hours of the day and night, at every and each moment. Even now, I reflect on everything I had done to harm you. While, the time I believed in those falsehoods was minuscule compared to the days others knew and acted upon it, the fact still stands that I was too easily deceived by mere rumors alone. I was blinded by my rage when I heard that someone dared to impersonate you and had been the probable cause of your vessel’s malfunction, that I did not even take a brief respite to consider the validity of the information that reached my ears.

Believe me, although I realize you have no reason to hold even a shred of faith in a single word I say and for that I would not blame you, but I will atone for the crimes I have committed. In any way possible. Even if it takes my entire lifetime, I will continue forward until I have achieved this goal and you may smile upon me once again. There is a human saying, which if I recall correctly I believe goes something like, forgive but never forget. Well, I would beg for forgiveness, while knowing full well that my misdeeds will never truly be forgotten. The harm I inflicted will leave scars that will never fully fade.

For every scratch my nails left on your delicate flesh, you may drive vines of the sharpest thorns against my own skin until blood pools all around me. For every bruise from my hand that tainted you, I would hand you an iron sword to use as you wish against me until you believe I’ve had enough. If it pleased you, I would even utilize my magic to transform into a figure with wings, which I would then proceed to sever the wings by my own hand and offer them to you on a silver platter.

Any punishment you can think of, I would readily accept.

Although living with the guilt of my mistakes and knowledge of the weight of my actions against you, is by far the most painful torture I’ve ever known.

If I do not receive word from you soon, I fear I may go insane with my own guilt. Yet I know I bring this upon myself. And if I were to go insane, if I was not insane this entire time already, you are all that would be in my thoughts. You are all that would remain in the part of my mind that is intact. You are currently and have been all that I think of, so perhaps my sanity is already long gone.

I would venture into the deepest crevices of hell and back, just to prove my worth to you. Even if I must be punished for the rest of my life, so be it. But I implore you to allow me to redeem myself, let yourself bear witness to the incredible feats I may accomplish in your name. Redemption... The thought of perhaps one day receiving the blessing of your smile and your grace once more in the near or distant future, is the light at the end of the tunnel in this dark period of my existence. I am yours. Whether you still desire me or not, I will forever be yours, and I will brave through trials of fire to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you.

Just know that I will do everything in my power to please you. Whether it be to fulfill the judgement you cast upon me, to demonstrate my worth and determination to achieve redemption, or simply because you command it so, it shall be done. 

For now, I will wait on your response and deliberate over my next course of action. Should you desire anything, anything at all, wether it be something as simple as traveling to the store for a purchase, you have a moment of recluse and desire company, or if you command me to move the island or clear the very heavens, all you must do is speak my name. Then, consider it done. Once my name is upon your lips, I will be there as the last syllable leaves your tongue. 

I will await the moment I am summoned.

Forever yours,

Malleus Draconia

That was... unnerving. Your hand unconsciously drifted up to the slight puncture wounds on your neck. They had long since dried, but you vividly remember feeling the thin trail of crimson being drawn and dripping down like a steady stream. 

You could remember the way Malleus withdrew as soon as he realized the truth, like he had been burned with his hands on you in that fashion. The blood, your blood, staining his sharpened nails. The red was deeper than any nail polish or ink. 

You were nearly sent spiraling, until you felt a tap and the texture of paper against your arm. When you glance down, you see Grim pressing his paws with another crumpled letter onto you. The ink on this letter is red, but the feline’s wide curious eyes are a glowing blue. 

“You okay? What’s so interesting about that wall you’re lookin’ at? You’re kinda just staring off into nothing there.” 

Offering a grateful nod to Grim who frowned worriedly, you accept the already opened envelope while tossing aside the letter from Malleus. “I’m good. Just... thinking.” 

Lifting a hand, you place your palm against his head and scratch the spot behind his ears. Grim lets out a content purr and holds a bag of junk food, which he probably found among the mountain of gifts, and curls up beside you. You continue the slow and soothing scratches as you use your freehand to unravel the letter Grim brought you from the towering stacks. 

This envelope was already cut open. It was a light brown and more square-shaped as thin rope kept it tied together. It had a mash of colorful strings that formed a messy bow to top it off. At least, you assumed it was meant to be a bow, but it looked more like a messy knot that would be impossible to untangle. Good thing it was already partially cut by Grim’s claws earlier. 

As mentioned, the ink was red, an interesting choice. While the handwriting was not as elegant as Malleus’ letter. Some words were written neatly, before falling off the line and blending with other words. Making it a bit difficult to read, but you managed. 

If you’re reading this, 

This means that I am not irredeemable in your eyes. 

Had I been beyond redemption, you would have not even opened this letter. If this was a lost cause, a merry dance, this paper would’ve been tossed into the trash without a second thought. But, my words have reached you. You’re reading this right now, aren’t you? It’s why I decided to write this. I could predict the actions you’d take. You are different from your vessel, but it’s only natural that you would act similarly to the silly little doll you controlled, the same doll that sparked this whole fiasco. 

I truly am so sorry if I frightened you. While I will admit, it was my intention to strike fear into your heart and use you to serve for another dubious purpose, that was when I hadn’t recognized you. Although, I know this doesn’t mean much to you, I figured I should be entirely honest to you. It’s the least I can do. I’m such a fool for being quick to believe the rumors like some sort of senseless child.

All I can do now, is remain true and offer up my loyalty. It’s nothing compared to the mistakes I made, and I’ve made plenty, but I know an apology will never suffice. So, even if you’re still uncertain about redemption, I’ll remain loyal. Among all the beings and creatures I’ve met in my lifetime, you remain an enigma. You’re human, but at the same time, you’re different. There continues to be so much I do not know of you. I wonder, could you hear me whenever I spoke to your plaything? Do you recall the stories I told, of my time as a reckless youth? Foolhardy, wild, that I was. But I was also fiercely loyal. For the Draconias, I razed down all foes like wheat in a field. 

Now that I consider it, perhaps it's best if you hadn’t heard me recount those tales. While I had been eager to share with you my experiences and act out my thrilling adventures, perhaps my story telling was much too graphic. I wouldn’t want the vivid details of bloodshed to be cause for alarm as our most recent encounter was far from pleasant. You have to forgive me, sometimes I get carried away when narrating my accomplishments and exploits. I’ll share more light-hearted memories with you the next time we meet. 

Our first meeting with your true self really went abysmally, didn’t it? I know that things never really go as planned, so I don’t bother planning such things in advance. But, I had pictured it to be a lovely moment. Silver and Sebek would look at you with shining eyes and proclaim their loyalty as they had practiced vows over and over again for such an occasion, I would get to embrace your true form and unlock your secrets, and of course Malleus would be truly content for once as he finally received the company he deserved. 

But, as expected, things didn’t go accordingly. 

Those three youths are miserable, thinking of the proper words to pen, a way to apologize for the suffering they’ve caused. But now, we are the ones suffering because we hurt you. 

They write and write, but tear their letters over and over again as they believe no words they’ve written so far are adequate. Soon they’ll realize that no words will ever be sufficient for an apology. Even if they were to create new words that are unheard of by any dictionary, it would not come close to being enough. That’s why I’ve decided to stick with this single attempt, because I already know that nothing I ever write will measure up to being acceptable. 

There is something about you that always leaves me bemused. Your grace left me feeling dizzy and giddy, like I was experiencing a little crush again, although this was much more intense than any crush. The truth about your vessel controlled by you, had me perplexed as I had never heard of such a thing. And well, the disastrous chase that followed your arrival... you know that part well and could assume how I feel about that from what I’ve told you. At present, all I can do is remain loyal, for what my loyalty is worth to you. Beyond that, despite having an abundance of experiences, there is no such situation that could have prepared me for this moment. 

Genuinely, I am stumped once again. I cannot even envision what can be done with my own two hands, that can be worthy of your attention once again and earn me redemption. But, you can be certain of one thing, and that is: my loyalty is undying. I still have a few years left in these old bones of mine, and I will use the rest of my life to serve you. 

Whether you want me or not. If you still want me, I will be of use to you. Whatever you are in need of, a soldier, a plaything, a companion, or even someone to take out your anger on. I shall be it. If you don’t want me, I will still be there. I will always be there to smile and lift your spirits like you once did for me through your doll. 

I eagerly wait for word from you. 

Until we meet again soon, 

Lilia Vanrouge

None of these letters were comforting in the slightest. In fact, they only placed you further on edge. For a moment, you considered stopping it here after only two and getting rid of the rest. 

Grim by now had settled in your lap, and looked up at you with those watchful blue eyes. Had he been staring at you the entire time? 

“Let me guess, they’re not taking it well?” 

“No, not at all.” You answer with a grimace. If this was how they were like now, you didn’t even want to know how they acted when they found out your vessel stopped working over a week ago. 

“Huh, sucks for them.” The feline stretched out, his claws poking out for a moment before quickly retracting as he plopped back down on his back with his stomach up. Maybe it was his own attempts to fill the silence, or to let you know you weren’t alone, but he eventually groaned. “Hey, read me one. I wanna know what they say.” 

Unable to say no to your companion, you nodded slowly and smiled weakly, “Alright, alright, let’s see what we have here...” 

You plucked out a random letter with neat packaging. However, just because the exterior was pretty, didn’t mean the interior message would be. You learned that already from the last two letters you had read. 

This envelope looked somewhat similar to the last one, square-shaped and tied closed with string. However, instead of the knot of ribbons on it, it held a simpler gift. The brown rope around it was tied in a neat bow, and between the string were lavender stems with a small branch of wild berries. 

Grim immediately indulged in the berries and the flowers, staining his little fangs and whiskers with the sweet sticky juice and purple petals. All the while exclaiming, “Oh, oh! I remember this letter. Some bird came to drop it and it flew away just before I could catch it...” 

A short laugh escaped your lips as you hear him. “So that’s why you were grumbling this morning.” 

Not wanting to be reminded again, he swat his paw at your nose as the feline hissed, “Shh! Just read already!” 

Dear player, 

I truly am deeply remorseful and I offer my sincerest apologies. 

I was to be a knight, that has been something I have strived for ever since I was a child. A knight not just to serve Malleus but to protect others, and eventually I discovered my purpose was to serve you as well. But... all I did was stand idly by and watch the torment. Shortly after meeting your vessel, I had promised to shield you from all danger. I broke that promise. 

I cannot imagine how frightened you must have been. Had just one person stop and thought things through, they may have realized the horrible mistake that was being made. Had I acted as soon as I felt the tug on my heart when I saw you weakened and on the dirt, I may have saved you from anymore pain. 

Those eyes, your eyes, I see them in my sleep. You were scared, and through your gaze you were pleading for help, were you not? I see it every time I close my eyes. You witnessed it yourself, the very moment when I had failed you. You were right there, so close I could have extended a helping hand. But my grief rendered me sightless, all I could think of in that moment is how my heart ached and how I longed to see you again. Even if it was through your vessel. The rumors didn’t quite make any sense to me, as I wondered how could anyone possibly be so cruel as to tear you away from us? 

Father had said that it would all be over soon. That capturing the imposter and bringing them to their knees, would make everything better. But when I saw you on the ground before we learned of your identity, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was alright. Would the player have wanted this? Would they have scorned upon witnessing the scene? Would this undoubtedly end the throbbing pain I felt in my heart? The pain was becoming unbearable, and I was not the only one to feel it. The news made little sense to me. Sebek insisted that it was true, and Father seemed to believe so as well. However, that is no excuse for how I went along as if it were okay. 

You were innocent and helpless, you, the player, not only witnessed the scene but were the victim. I’m so sorry, I should have done something... If it were the only way to gain your forgiveness, I would spend every moment of my waking hours writing letters of apology. To do so I would keep myself awake for as long as humanely possible. If asked, I would use every moment to pen these letters, each different from the last. Although after several attempts in redoing this single letter, I realize that it would be a pointless endeavor. 

After reflecting, the only way to make up for what I have do is be patient. 

Be patient and await for word from you. I cannot force you, I cannot pressure you, I can only pause and prepare myself to do whatever I must in order to earn back your grace. 

Please, do not keep me waiting too long. I know I have no right to ask you this. I’m willing to wait years if needed, but part of me has this fear that I will never regain a spot near your heart until I’m frail and feeble with age. Rest assured, even in old age, I would be willing to be your knight. Even if my bones ached, I would raise my sword and shield. If I couldn’t use my weakened legs, I would call upon a horse to be my steed. And if I were to become magicless, I would use the remainder of my physical strength to serve you. 

If I may be honest with you? I have no idea what to do. Yes, I said I would wait, but what else can I do? What can I do to eventually secure a place beside you, if it were possible? In times of trouble I normally turn to Lilia and Malleus for advice, however, I am a bit unsettled by their approach to this delicate matter. Truthfully, I am anxious, but while they share the sentiment, they are oddly confident that things will turn out alright in the end. I am unsure how they can muster the self-assurance to quell their fears. Maybe they know something that I do not, and have decided not to share this secret for now... 

Nevertheless, for now I’ll eagerly anticipate the day we can reunite just as I have dreamed. I greatly look forward to the second where not only I can see you smile once again and your eyes might finally look at me with content, but also the moment where all those I know might get the opportunity to be in your peaceful grace. 

I’ve dragged this letter on for too long. If you were to take something away from this letter, let it be this: I will carry out your wishes. No matter what you may think of me, whether it be a positive or negative image in your mind, I will continue forward in your name. Even if you think me unfit for the title of knight, then consider me a humble servant instead. Nothing will shake my commitment, and I will do whatever it is you ask. 

This is a pledge that will not be broken. 

Cordially, 

Silver

This letter felt a bit lighter than the others. Still, it was slightly intense in its own way, but it was nowhere near as extreme as the previous two were. And, maybe you had a better opinion on Silver, not because he was gentle with his words but because he was one of the very few who hadn’t threatened you, directly harmed you, or treated you cruelly. 

But! He didn’t get a free pass just because of that. Yes, he may not have directly caused any harm, but he didn’t exactly help you either. 

Grim had taken the letter from you, and inspected the paper in his paws. He held it above his head, scrunching up his nose a bit as he looked it over. “I dunno... he’s okay.” 

At that, you roll your eyes a bit as a smirk crept up from the corner of your mouth. “You’re not just saying that because his letter came with a snack?” 

“No! You think me easy to bribe? I think not! It would take a whole bucket full of berries just to get me to even discuss it. Then, I’d turn them down and take the berries anyways!” The feline proclaimed his brilliant plan should that situation ever arise. Maybe the gifts you allowed him to take were starting to get to his head. “But... he could be worse. Silver, as dumb as he was like everyone else, he did hear me out after they separated us.” 

Silver did that? If that were true, it’s possible that he wasn’t as bad as the others who had wronged you.

“That’s... good to know.” You murmur as you pluck up another random envelope from the pile. 

The last envelope you pick up before you planned to take a break was surprisingly plain. It was just that. A plain white envelope, sealed by green wax with what looked like a family crest that depicted a creature with fangs and scales. One of the corners was crinkled, as if it was gripped too tightly there. 

As soon as you slid out the folded letter, you were bombarded by the ink. Whoever had wrote this, seemed like they applied too much force. This caused certain parts of some letters to be too round and heavy with ink that made those bits feel damp and stain your fingers the slightest bit. Like whoever wrote this, placed just as much pressure with their hands on the pen gliding across the page, as much pressure as they felt weighing on their mind. 

Great Player, 

As I pen this, I am on my hands and knees.

I have prepared a multitude of letters which I will send daily, so that now and in the future you will continue to hear my apology and know I truly mean it. One admission of regret is not enough. An apology is only an acknowledgment of an offense, it does not absolve one of their wrongdoings. I know this! So, I, Sebek Zigvolt, will atone by any means necessary! 

To you, the player who I wronged and deserves nothing but happiness and perfection, I give my deepest sincerest profuse apology. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY. Right now when I look at my hands that I use to write, I’m reminded of the vicious way I grabbed you like some... heathen! These hands sullied your flawless self, and for that alone I will never forgive myself!

Had it not been for the wise words of Master Lilia and the bothersome yet logical reasoning from Silver, I would have been at your door everyday, every hour, begging for a second chance. In the midst of brainstorming, I presented my idea of crawling on hands and knees, from Diasomnia to the Ramshackle Dorm, to deliver the letter myself. Then, I would display whatever cuts or bruises formed on my palms and knees which I would receive from the rocky roads or thorns, that way you may see my devotion was true and no lengths are too great when it comes to you! No matter the pain or burden! The idea seems to appeal to Lord Malleus, but I was told that it comes off as too extreme...

But! I beg to differ!! I only consider it so that you may understand what I feel, so that you might comprehend the things I would do for you, and receive me back in your good graces! Additionally, delivering the letter in this manner would cause me as much or more physical pain than I caused you! It is a shame that things have come to this. I had wished so much for our first proper meeting to be one of joy where you might accept me as your knight! In spite of that, I will not falter in shame! If I were to deliver the following letters in that method I had detailed earlier, I would wear the scars proudly! It would be physical proof of my faithfulness towards you! 

I am sorry, and I will continue to say it. Perhaps, this may be presumptuous of me, but if you consider it, Diasomnia did not torment you nearly as long as any other insolent dorm had! And! We retainers accompanied Lord Malleus every day to check on the wellbeing of your vessel, and watch over it while investigating various possible approaches on how to revive Yuu. We diligently did this until the moment we encountered your true self! 

I swear to you, no one shall harm you from this moment forth! 

From now on, I’ll march forward and see to it that you are never hurt ever again! This is something I know that my fellow dormmates will tirelessly work toward as well. 

Have you realized that we have been guarding you and the serenity of your dorm in the past days? Have you not thought it strange that none have come to needlessly pester you? Yes, that is all thanks to the efforts of those in Diasomnia! Even when you do not realize it, we are insuring your welfare and the tranquility you require to recover! Of course, as much as I desperately want to inform you of the details, I will not. It is best you don’t know. 

Now, I must be honest with you. Originally, I had planned this letter to be much longer and have contents that would have been much different than what you are currently reading. I aimed to be honest in my feelings! But before I could sign off on the original draft, I realized that the others may be in the right. It is possible that our devotion, my devotion, may come off as disquieting if I were completely sincere. I’ve had to restrain myself on many occasions, reminding myself to at least appear collected and controlled. That is not as easy as it sounds! 

How could it be, when the one I must suppress my emotions and actions for, is you? That’s as if asking to repress part of my very soul and heart! I absolutely detest hiding it!! But when I remember this is for you and your own comfort, it becomes bearable. I can only hope that soon, very soon, I might be able to unveil my true sentiments towards you! As intense and extreme as they may be! 

It seems that I’m nearing the word limit that they imposed. Once again, I apologize. I’ll have to contemplate new ways to write ‘sorry.’ I wish I could write a million more words for you! But even a million words wouldn’t be anywhere near a satisfactory amount for me to detail how much I revere you! And it would take more than another million words for me to write a full apology, but even then I wouldn’t be satisfied! No single letter is adequate enough, so be prepared to receive the rest I have written! 

I will make sure they are delivered posthaste! 

Faithfully, 

Sebek Zigvolt 

Great... you’re back to being unnerved again. 

There was something about them all being so weirdly obsessed, but in vary different ways. Malleus and Lilia puzzled you, they had you feeling the most uneasy by far. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they were both not human, they were arcane beings with enigmatic personalities and objectives that were incomprehensible to you. 

Out of the four, Silver was the only one that was fully human like yourself, but even he was a bit of a mystery as he was raised by the fae. It was hard to be wary of him, which was probably because your distrust and fear of him wasn’t as intense as it was towards the others due to his good nature and lack of actions he took during the whole disaster. 

As for Sebek, well, he was unnerving in his own right but it was nowhere near on the level that Malleus and Lilia were on. At the very least he wasn’t a complete mystery to you. It was easy to figure out his intentions, because he either said them or wore them on his sleeve. 

Your mind was spinning as you looked over the four letters, filled with lines upon lines and more lines of pages. In that moment your breath quickened as you noticed the cloudy sky outside. For a brief second, you feared you would see that familiar flash of green lightning, taking you back to that dark day when you nearly died. It’s like you could feel Sebek’s hands tightly gripping the back of your skull that forced you against the earth, you saw Silver’s sorrowful gaze that spoke a thousand words you didn’t yet understand, you heard Lilia’s words hinting to a doomed fate of becoming some lifeless doll, and god, you couldn’t forget him even if you wanted to. Malleus. He was the worst of all. You felt his nails and fingers constricting around your neck and squeezing out all the air, you saw his haunting green eyes with those slit pupils as he glowered at you with such anger and hate, and you heard what you had thought would be the last words you ever heard come from his lips––

“Hey!” 

You were torn out of those dark thoughts by the feline in your lap. A concerned frown tugged at Grim’s lips, but once he saw he had your attention, he mustered a slight grin as he held up what looked like an armful of snacks. At least, as much as he could carry in his small paws. From his grin, you could see his little fangs still covered in the remnants of the berries and flower petals.

“Look, I found your favorite! This is getting boring, so let’s just take a break!”

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby (part 4)

alastor w/ angel daughter reader

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(requested tags: @insomniacfigure @pooplyface1423 @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @maliciousmace @nevermorekisses @wildfire153)

(thanks to my amazing editor for helping me with this chapter!! @kruncher mwa mwa! /p)

It's been half a month, and you still aren't sure if you really wanna do this.

Sure you have done your research on spells, blessings, everything to protect yourself and maybe even others while venturing into Hell, possibly even in battle if you felt brave enough.

But nonetheless, it was conflicting. Not only were you going to see your father again but you're going to be literally in hell-- the terrible place was always a tempting topic to bring up in a hushed conversation, though few actually dared to do it. It's the worst place to go to after death, everyone on earth hated speaking of it and mentioning it was somewhat like a bad omen, at least from how you've seen others react to it at certain times.

Why bother diving head first into a realm where none of it’s events or residents were any of your business? The souls are in hell for certain specific reasons, so why bother saving a world that was meant to be the end of the line.

Oh but-- Charlie.

Charlie Morningstar's case and evidence sure intrigued you, but was it really worth the risk? Is it worth the sacrifice, the hiding, the possible dying to try to save a bunch of sinners? All of them, more than likely... are very much similar to, if not the same as, your father.

"Maybe..n-.." you breathed out loud, your hand moving away from under your chin as you were stuck in thought sitting at your desk. You were reluctant, of course you'd be.

You looked down at your bag on the floor beside your desk, filled with supplies and necessities for venturing into hell-- you planned it out but-- was it really.. Do these sinners truly deserve to be saved? Helped?

Why, of course they do.

At the very least.. some of them. 

Those who genuinely want redemption and those who committed sins in which they had no choice before they died or to help others. Those are the ones who should be saved.

And from what you learned in the court trial exactly half a month ago, you could only imagine how many sinners Adam and his fleet of Exorcists slayed that were genuinely hoping for a better chance at this 'second' life.

Besides-- why not save lives? Even if they weren't worth saving, even if you didn't know them personally or at all. Isn't that why you got into heaven anyway? Because you sacrificed yourself for someone you didn't know in the slightest?

You died for that reason, what's so wrong in doing it a second time?

Besides, souls like that one sinner Charlie showed the court, Angel Dust, could be on the path to light and eternal paradise... you could almost feel it in your bones and you bet Emily did too.

Wait, that's right--

Emily!

You could have almost jumped from your seat, Emily was the key to your path to Hell! But how to get to her-- Sera was always around..

Oh-- No, no, this is too good.

Ever since the court day Emily has been getting a bit more distant from Sera, if you could find Emily alone once without any inclination you were seeking her out then you could do it! Convincing shouldn't be too hard, she feels the same way as you do in a certain way.

You've been so caught up in your plan to escape disguised as an exorcist that you couldn't see the answer right in front of you! All those weeks wasted-- the initial plan was bound to fail anyway no matter the amount of preparation since, according to your research, the exorcist angels were scattered everywhere in their HQ like a beehive swarm; like busy bees buzzing with bloodlust. They seemed to all recognize each other and have specific physical attributes that you lacked immensely, even if you were to try and steal a uniform you really couldn't because-- you didn't know where they kept them inside.

You took in a deep breath in and out, 'I'm definitely not coming back unscathed..' you thought 'but.. everyone deserves a second chance, even sinners. And if they really don't deserve it then might as well save them so that they may continue living out their eternal sentences with no easy way out.'

You then looked towards a corner of your desk, grabbing a small and recent photo you took with someone very dear to you. You smiled softly at it before letting out a gentle huff of confidence and then carefully stuffing that photo in your bag for your trip to hell.

You then grabbed your bag, put it over your shoulder, and carefully walked out of your home.

It was currently early night in heaven, the sky as always was filled with stars that glow immensely so that heaven is never in utter darkness. At this time of the evening everyone was home and getting ready for bed, shops closing, people walking home. Thankfully you've hung around Emily long enough to know that when she's bothered by something, she doesn't go to sleep easily till she can fix it, and from what you knew the extermination in hell was still going to happen. 

Your wings started to gently flap and as quietly as they could they flew you up to the home quarters of Emily and Sera, them owning a taller building than the ordinary 'winner' would have considering their higher statuses.

It wasn't that hard to fly by since there was no need for security or guards, heaven never exactly needed to be protected from the inside.

You made your way around a high up balcony, one that you knew led to Emily's quarters. You noticed the balcony doors closed but light flickered from within; she's in there.

Your feet carefully plopped themselves on the balcony, nervously lifting your hand to knock on it-- still hesitant.

'Do I really want to do this?' 

It was too late to even ask that now, for your hand already knocked on the glass surface of the balcony door, breath hitched-- you awaited an answer.

...

The sound of pitter pattering steps could be heard from the inside as they neared where you were standing, a figure approached you from behind the glass.

Emily!

You smiled and waved at her awkwardly as she looked at you with a mix of shock, joy, and exhaustion. She opened the door to you with anticipation.

"______! How are you!... wait-- what are you doing here? It's late, you should be at home.."

"Look Emily," you said breathlessly due to your anxiety. "There's no easy way to say this but I need a huge favor from you.. bigger than anything I could ever ask for and will ever ask for. Not only that but- I'm sure you'll believe in my cause.."

She hummed in thought, eyes narrowed at you in an attempt to see if she should listen to her head or heart. "I'm listening..."

You then nodded towards the inside of her room, silently asking if you could go inside so no prying ears could hear you, even if it's unlikely. She read the words in your expression as she nodded and welcomed you in, closing the door behind her carefully.

You started whispering, "I need you to teleport me into hell."

Emily's breathing scuffled a bit, absolutely shocked from your request. "Hell??.. but why?.. ______ you nor I have ever been to hell!.. you could get really hurt or worse die..!" she whisper-yelled in concern to one of her best friends.

"Well-- we aren't sure if they can truly kill angels but I've practiced a few spells to try to defend myself. You know I'm a lot faster with my wings and if I find Charlie I'm sure she'll keep me from getting hurt!.."

"Charlie?.." she asked, now fully remembering what happened on that fateful court day "Wait, you want to go to hell to see Charlie?"

You nodded, "I have to, it's the only way I can survive there. Besides, I need to help her.. you know that what Adam and Sera are letting happen is unjust and inhumane.. you and I both know and agree about this and you can help me by sending me down there."

"but.. _____ I--"

"Emily, the extermination is going to happen in less than a month now.. there's no time left to leave this in the air."

"______.. are you even sure you'll survive a second down there? how do you even know you need to be there, if you really want to help you can try and stay up here where it's safe--"

You let out a quick sigh of fear, afraid that she's getting cold feet "C'mon.. even with your influence Adam won't stop and neither has Sera ordered him to pause for even a moment.. Besides, if they need to have sinners show their improvement and actually redeem themselves.. they need someone who actually has been in heaven and knows how to get there. 

They need a role-model, an example, and I'm willing to help and sacrifice myself a second time to at least give other people a second chance at 'living'.

This time, you shut Emily up, she's speechless-- you truly took her breath away with how determined you were. You were right to some extent, help from a 'winner' for sinners, become just like them as a teacher and be an example could genuinely make much improvement and possibly open the case once more. 

She softly smiled at you, a small amount of pride swelling in her chest, pride that she has for you and hope that she has in your mission.

"Well.. I'll take you there but not without one thing--" she stepped closer to you and folded three fingers of her right hand, then crossed you with them in an all too familiar pattern. Right shoulder, left shoulder, forehead, chest. The sign of the Cross. A sudden glow shined from you for a split second as if a star bursted around you,

"A protection spell. To protect you from the strongest blow that encounters itself towards you, it only works once but it's the strongest spell I know that can be an extra safety net for you down there.. meanwhile I'll try my best to convince Sera to think differently about the genocides.."

"Oh.. thank you Ems!.." you hugged her and she hugged back tightly, both of you guys brimming in a flurry of hope, determination, and anxiety. "I won't let you down.. I promise when I come back, and I will, Adam won't need to kill anymore people with his exorcists anymore.."

"Just-- be careful, _____. You're one of a kind, no one helps and brightens things up like you do.." she backed away from the hug only to hold your hands and smile at you, conflicted but convinced by you.

"Promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"Pinky.. promise?" she took out her pinky finger for you to hold onto, to reassure her that she's making the right decision. Helping you.. she doesn't want to lose you by sending you down your death sentence.

"Hehe.. pinky promise." you took out your own pinky finger to wrap it around hers, another spark lighting up around your wrapped fingers as if sealing the deal.

"Good.. once again are you sure you're prepared??.." she couldn't help but ask-- she didn't want to lose her best friend..

"I'm ready to face what I have to face, ready as I'll ever be." you let out a shaky sigh, betraying you slightly.

Emily let out a shaky sigh of her own before stepping back and slowly summoning a portal, it starting from a little glow in the air to slowly trying to mass itself into your height and size so you may go through with ease. It was difficult since it was mostly Sera or Adam opening them with constant ease and she never really had to until now, unfortunately though.. it was starting to make noise.

You hold your bag as tightly as you could, double checking if all the zippers are closed before preparing yourself for the even growing yellow portal.

"I don't know exactly where the Hazbin Hotel is so-- be... be careful _____.."

You looked at her and nodded with confidence, a look of strength emitting from your face. 

There was shuffling from the hallway outside Emily's room, "Emily? What are you doing at this time of the night?" Sera could be heard from afar, her voice loudly echoing across and even through the closed doors. 

Emily sped through her magic as she used as much of her mental strength as she could to open up the portal, it shouldn't be that hard but-- she never had to do this, she never thought she would do this. She was only in charge of keeping you happy-- but if this were to make you happy, then she's obliged to do so.

The portal was finally big enough for you to enter through, both of you hearing loud oncoming steps coming from outside the halls and in a quick motion you waved at Emily with a smile, her doing the same thing before finally-- you jumped into hell.

Right as you disappeared into the yellow and gold void, she let herself go from holding it open and right as Sera was opening the door, without even knocking mind you, the portal disappeared from thin air and all that was left was Emily standing in the middle.

"What are you even doing?.." asked Sera looking puzzled.

Emily chuckled nervously, shrugging her shoulders "Practicing for next show's fireworks..? heh.."

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You on the other hand-- were being slammed against a hard metal surface that smelled like rotten flesh and food, dried blood, and other stinky items. Hitting your head against it causes you to groan in pain and slowly hold your head, the smell beside you slowly making you feel a bit sick.

Your halo, clattering to the ground, its glow still present on it.. confirming your status to still be an angel. 

"Fuck.." you mumbled, rubbing the back of your head while picking yourself up from the ground. Looking at your surroundings you were in a sort of alley, the metal surface being a large dumpster. Your wings flapped a bit to stretch them out from the hit you took. 

You look at your halo and feel a huge sigh of relief get out of your mouth, despite knowing that only becoming a fallen could only happen if the court officially banishes you from heaven from all you knew it still felt good to know you're still the same you. Besides, you didn't know if a winner has ever become sinner before so.. that at least helped your mind keep itself from flipping over.

God..but your surroundings?

It reeked.

You peeked a bit in the dumpster out of curiosity but the intensity of the smell made you wanna puke so your nose begged you to move away. Now looking at the exit out of the alley you first picked up your halo to then place it above your head, floating above you right after letting it go. Picking up your bag once again to hold it tightly near you so no one would steal it.. being as cautious as you could.

Slowly peeking out of the alley you noticed a humble little town with colors of red, shades of pink, and filled with a few sharp toothed people. Everyone walked around casually and happily, like how normal humans would. Despite how huge the place is there seems to be a lack of crowds.. as if half of the town is missing.

Huh, this place reminded you of a sunny day in New Orleans when you were alive. Is this.. really hell? You haven't come across any people jumping out to kill you or anyone else randomly but a few explosions from far away still made you jerk from fear.

You carefully stepped out of the alley, feeling especially out of place the moment you started walking out. People with various shades of gray skin, everyone with blacked out eyes, sharp teeth, and all still dressed in clothes from around the time you died, maybe a bit of more older fashions but still.. reminded you of back home on earth just slightly.

Each step you took was a new question that you gave yourself.. where were you? is this a level or part of hell? does hell look this way all the time? is the Hazbin Hotel of walking distance? is Emily okay? why does the air smell weird? is your dad Alastor around? is it obvious im not from here-- oh of course it is you have a fucking halo damn it.

'Everyone looks almost normal," you thought 'Maybe I can try to find someone to help m--'

"Oh!.." you bumped into someone, someone small. You looked down to see a fairly normal looking child with eyes entirely blacked out, no pupils to be seen. Geez.. you couldn't lie but they creeped you out a bit.

"Hello there.. sorry I didn't see you.." you spoke to the kid despite how weary you were, giving it an apologetic smile while waving a little towards them in a very awkward manner.

They spoke nothing but instead flashed you a large sharp toothed smile that made your blood curl a bit, what made it worse was what it did next.

"It's okay missy! I like your wings!" Normally you'd smile more and make small talk but-- then the kid took out a cut off hand from behind their back and started chomping it on it as if it was corn on the cob. With your skin crawling and your face as white as a sheet from the shock, the kid then proceeded to run off nibbling on the bleeding hand.

You stood there frozen, your stomach begging to release anything you ate before you came upon here. You slowly turned your head to the right, your peripheral vision noticing a large wooden sign.

'Welcome to Cannibal Town!'

'Well that.. really explains it.' you took a few deep breaths as you tried to control yourself and your upcoming panic as to not alert other cannibals of your fear.. but you could've sworn they could probably smell it off of you.

Would they eat you? Are they going to eat you?.. but some have been looking at you walking by-- are they getting ready to pounce on you, bite off your flesh and--

You stopped in your tracks, noticing how further you are in the town from all your overthinking. You looked up to see that you are at the front steps of a small stage?.. gazebo..? you couldn't remember how hard your heart was pounding.

All of a sudden you felt an incredibly sharp pain on your wing, one that made you shriek aloud and everyone suddenly stopped and stared at you. You turned to see an old lady with a cane looking very similar to other residents around you-- BITE your wing?? what the actual living fuck??

The old woman seemed to grin and licking the golden blood from the bite she got from your wings, fortunately for you she only bit and didn't actually get a chunk of your wing off instead.. either way it fucking stung the way a large wasp sting would.

"Angel wings.. not bad at all-- OUCH!!" The old lady then let out a shriek herself, being hit by the end of a sun umbrella this time and whoever was holding it was shooing her away from you.

"Shoo! Shoo! Susan!! Run off now! We don't bite new otherworldly guests like that!" The voice shouted before the old woman scurried off just as fast as she came. 

You whimpered a bit as your bitten and slightly bleeding wing leaned towards your hands, your palms and fingers then gently caressing them as an attempt to soothe the pain with tears brimming and silently sliding down your eyes.

"Oh I'm so sorry about that sweetheart, that old hag has no manners." The same voice, a woman's voice, called out to you. Her appearance also looks similar to everyone else, the only difference is her large hat decorated with elaborate feathers and adorned with a small skull. 

"Let me see that dear.." she leaned in with her hand reaching towards your wing but of course you flinched away from her, absolutely not trusting her in the slightest form your first terrible experience and the many words of others before you.

You looked at her with fear you've never felt before, fear that you haven't felt since your death. You quickly backed away, your injured wing cowering towards your hands and chest.

'Holy.. fuck..'

"The names Rosie, sweetheart, what's a pretty little thing like you walking around here with no sense of danger?"

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alastor held you in his arms as your nine year old self was fiddling with a toy in your hands after a long day of being taken care of by one of Alastor's lady friends. The man was coming out of work from hosting his famous radio show as he usually always did and now was entering his home after a tiring day from work and honestly he wasn't up for taking care of you right now. If anything he should've probably let you stay with the woman forever and he wouldn't have to be dealing with baby troubles..

Yet everyday you somehow always gave him a reason to keep you despite his almost heartless nature.

He walked in his home and closed the door behind him, locking it as well. Walking over to the sofa he turned on a nearby lamp before setting you down on the cushions and let you be in your own world while he then went to go eat something himself. You didn't have to since the woman that babysat fed you quite well and you liked what she gave so there was no need for you to be overfed.

Alastor went to prepare a meal for himself, not saying much to you in the process since all he wanted was to eat and sleep so better to just fill one of the boxes on that checklist as soon as possible. So while you were still distracted he quickly made himself a meal and started eating so he wouldn't starve before bed.

You were playing with your toy the nice lady gave you, mumbling small nonsense here and there while playing around. Until you decided to speak up loudly from afar,

"Papa, can I ask something?" you talked as you kept yourself entertained with your toy.

Alastor sighed a bit "Yes dear, what is it?" exhaustion evident on his voice that contracted to his permanent smile, be it small or big.

"Is it true that when you found me, my mama and papa didn't want me because I was an ugly and loud cry-baby?"

Alastor almost spit out his food, inevitably starting choking on it. Saving himself from dying of choking by drinking his drink he set with his food and calmed down. "W.. Why do you think that sweetheart? Who told you such an untrue lie!.." 

In truth, he didn't actually know why you were abandoned in that alley. All he found when he picked you up was you wrapped around in baby blankets in a basket and a note with a date on it, most likely your date of birth, but other than that he never knew why you ended up there and why. He simply just took you in and called you his own.

"The boys in the playground I played with said their mamas and papas knew you, and knew you found me. They then started saying I dress too girly and that my real mama and papa left me because I was ugly and a loud cry baby and that's why I don't have a mama and papa." Your little voice seemed to shake a bit but obviously tried your best to hide it away even at this young of an age.

But your father could see and hear right through you. 

Alastor sighed before taking one last spoonful of his food before leaving his meal there to walk towards you, settling himself on the same sofa you both always make the best of memories, this being one of them.

"Well darling, those boys obviously have parents who don't educate them! And are as dull as a doorknob if they say all that foolish nonsense.. you do have a mama and papa!"

You looked at him incredibly confused, since when did you have a mother?

He noticed this and laughed a bit at your expression "Silly, I'm your mama and papa! I do both jobs! I make you food, I have clothes for you, I give you a home, I get you ready for school, I talk to you all the time because you're mine!" He spoke cheerily, as if stating a very well known fact "Their eyes also must not be working also since I think I got the prettiest daughter in all of New Orleans if I do say so myself!" he pinched your cheek playfully, making you giggle. 

He continued on "Yes, you did indeed cry a lot as a small tiny baby but do you think I would've kept you if you were an enormous crybaby? Of course not! Which is why I still have you here with me." Alastor-- "And you dress too girly??.. why, but of course you'll dress the way you do.. you're my little girl! how will my little dove be able to shine in her natural beauty if she doesn't wear the most marvelous pieces of wardrobe I can get her!" He then continued to pinch both your cheeks at the same time, some of your cute baby fat still present on your face despite being a year behind in heading towards the double digits. 

You giggled and laughed loudly, smiling.. just the way you should always be.

Yes he was too tired for this, he was downright exhausted, but hey-- if he can keep an unfaltering smile despite feeling this then of course he can keep up with you even if he's not in the mood. You're the only person who he doesn't like to see in pain, in tears-- 

It's his job to do this, for what is he if he leaves you wilting by yourself with no 'light' of your own to guide you.

Certainly, he wouldn't even deserve to be called your father.

"Oh and dear?"

"Yes papa!"

"What are the boys' names? And their parents? I must have a little chat with them soon!..."

Oh, Alastor.

[kingconia]

TWISTED WONDERLAND'S HOUSEWARDENS WITH MC, WHO IS MUCH WORSE THAN THEM

(Aka. In their ’signature’ character trait.)

A/N: Idia was left out, because this author had no idea how to write his part.

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— It is not a secret that Riddle might appear a little bit obsessed, when it comes to rules. He knows all of them, and he merely can't understand how others can be so careless!

— And since no one learned them, excluding him, they trusted with each word he said. Mostly, Riddle said truth, following the codex precisely;

— But, oh, he is still a human. Sometimes, he can make mistakes or confuse things...

— That is why, when a new student of his suddenly stood up to point out at his mistake, Riddle doesn't even know what to do: be happy that there is someone else like him, or get annoyed for a necessity to admit his wrong?

•

”Hmph, how dare you call yourself a housewarden of Heartslabyul, when you can't follow elemental rules?”

As other students gasp, shocked by this kind of braveness, Riddle feels his cheek heating. Either from anger or from a strict gaze of yours, that reminds him much of his mother.

”You said that the ’only ever drink tea with slice of lemon on even thursdays’ rule is under 53 number,” you repeat, with hands on the tips, and with no care to Trey, who tries to stop you.

”That, I did,” regaining his coldness, Riddle admits.

Truth to be told, he sensed that he made some kind of mistake with this one. But recently he had been more tired than usual, and it is not like someone else know those rules but him, right?

Right?

”Well," you huff. ”It is under number 35.”

Oh.

”I...” Riddle tries to ignore others eyes on him, fingers digging in the fabric of his pants.

He fights an urge to lie about checking other students, instead of admitting his fault. You don't give him time for any of that.

”Well, keep that in mind then,” you say. ”I expect my housewarden to respect our dorm rules, after all.”

With that, you merely leave.

Riddle has a very mixed feelings about this encounter...

Leona Kingscholar. 💛

— When headmaster Crowley stops him not for yelling at him for missed lessons, but to speak of another troublemaker from Savanaclaw, Leona is caught off guard;

— It appears, a new freshmen, gained a quite awful reputation. You seem to be sleeping all the time—you did, in the ceremony; and you do, if you appear on lectures, though, mostly, you don't at all—and the only good thing about you is your surprisingly high grades;

— Truth to be told, Leona is just amused by that. All those warnings some pretty familiar, so, he decides to see you himself;

— Of course, Leona couldn't expect you to be so familiarly annoying!

•

”Shit,” you yawn, a frown touching your face instantly. ”Dude, you must have a really good reason to wake me up.”

Leona blinks; his curiosity changing with irritation quickly as he hears you speaking so carelessly, while stretching under the tree, not even standing up to meet him properly.

”Oi, brat, pay some respect to your housewarden!” He hisses. ”Perhaps, you are forgetting who are you speaking with?”

”Leona-sama,” you sigh tiredly, not impressed by his answer, ”I can't pay respect to someone, who thinks that distracting me from my power nap, is fine.”

Leona is speechless. Mostly, because he doesn't know how to argue about this—he agrees that sleep is more important than anyone or anything in this school, after all. But the amount of disrespect...

”Do you have an idea of your reputation? Headmaster plans to expel you from the school if you continue like this.

Leona internally cringes from these words.

”Sure,” you hum lazily. ”Good luck with throwing off the best first-year student, just because they find those lectures boring.”

Leona can't even answer to you properly. You just fall asleep as soon as you stop speaking, with your tail wrapping around your legs peacefully. At least, he understands Ruggie now...

Azul Ashengrotto. 🩵

— Azul makes a quick background check on all of his students, of course. For safety reasons. More or less;

— So, he is surprised, when one of the freshman, who happens to be you, is too secretive. Azul can't find anything on you at all, even the smallest piece of information, and so, he gets curious;

— His first plan—to get twins stalker on you—fails, when you catch them in the action, somehow. Even worse, you somehow make a pact with them, which stops them from trying to dig in your past more...

— Your next step is to send Azul invitation for a little friendly lunch in the Monster Lounge. Sadly, when he agreed, he couldn't know that was expecting him here...

•

”I am failing to understand a purpose of our meeting,” Azul locks his hands together, staring at you without even blinking.

You make another sip of the apple juice you ordered, lips stretching in a soft smile.

”I am here to offer you a pact, Azul-sama.”

Azul almost bursts in the laughter. Who do you think you are, making this bold offer, going against him? What an amusement.

”Oh? Surprise me, then.”

”As far as I know, you spent last three weeks, trying to gain a little information about me. But, oh, all for nothing. Just as I tried to find an answer for a few questions considering you and the Monster Lounge, and failed... So, what I am proposing, is to exchange our secrets mutually,” you wink. ”What do you think?”

How stupid of you to think that he will agree on something like this!

”And why would I want to make a pact with you?”

Suddenly, you search for something in the inner pocket of your jacket. And as you find some envelope, you offer it to him.

”Because you don't want this to get leaked, perhaps?”

It takes a few minutes from him to process what is inside, but when he does, colours leave his face instantly.

”Y-you—”

How did you?..

”It is a deal, then.” You laugh.

Azul hates how there is nothing he can say to you...

Kalim Al-Asim. 🧡

— Kalim tries to befriend each student of his house naturally! But, sometimes, others don't want to return his sentiment as he is too loud and too naive for them, so they avoid him or offer a fake sympathy;

— So, when one of the students rushes to befriend him first, smiling widely as they met their old friend, Kalim is very, very happy!

— You match instantly, your undying energy and enthusiasm about everything bringing you close as soon as you start speaking;

— Even better, you take him seriously, too. It is something other do rarely, seeming him stupid and air-headed, but you know that is more than that. It goes in both way, after all.

•

”I... I must admit, I am very happy to be your friend,” you muse softly, back pressing to the carpet as both of you taking your short flight around the school. ”I think, I annoy a lot of people here... But I am not annoying you, am I?”

Kalim looks surprised with this question—after all, you knew him better than anyone!—as he rushes to shake his head in denial.

”No, no! You would never.”

You hum, turning on your stomach slowly. Head pressed on your crossed hands, you nod at him.

”That's good. Thank you.... And, Kalim?”

”Yes?” He asks, mirroring your pose, your shoulders pressing together.

”I think you are amazing housewarden, too. Don't allow anyone think otherwise.”

Before you manage to understand, Kalim is already tucking you on the back, to hug rightly. Just how you always know what to say to him, or how to make him happy?

Vil Schoenheit. 💜

— Everyone knows that despite his tight schedule, Vil always checks on all of his students, so they could fit standards of their dorm;

— He takes more time to deal with new students, though. Most of them are still not aware of Pomefiore rules and expectations, so, he needs to speak with all of them individually;

— So, Vil is slightly taken aback, when someone is already instructing new students before him. He watches as you explain others common rules, while giving them random advice on how to enhance their skin and hair routine, basing on different problems and offering interesting solutions, curiously:

— Of course, Vil can't wait to speak with you personally!

•

”Y/n Y/s, right?” You pause your speeches, nodding at Vil, who just entered the room. ”I had been watching you for a while, and, I must say, you have impressive qualities. And style, too.”

Vil partly expects you to become all shy over his compliment—that is what happens usually, at least—but, instead, you became even more serious than before.

”I appreciate that, but I believe my wish to help other classmates is partly selfish. And selfishness shouldn't be praised.”

It is not what he thought he will hear.

”And how so?” He asks with unhidden curiousity.

”I strive for perfection, and perfection can only be achieved by the hard work,” you punctuate firmly, raising your chin higher. ”But I also believe that your surroundings should fit you—and so, my dorm, classmates, and housewarden should meet my expectation for myself, too. Therefore, I need to guide them in perfection alone with myself.”

Ah.

Vil can't help but smirk. What an absolute pleasure to speak with someone, who knows what they are doing, who has right morals!

”Well, well,” he folds arm on his chest. ”I can't wait to see more of your hard work, then.”

”I would never disappoint.”

But as the conversation is finished, Vil already knows who is going to be the next housewarden, when he leaves.

Malleus Draconia. 💚

— When Lilia tells him that they now have another half-dragon creature in the Diasomnia, Malleus is partly curious. It is a rare thing to have someone of his own kind, after all;

— But, of course, Malleus can't just walk to you and start a conversation. Instead, he tries to see you more often; in school or corridors;

— It doesn't give him much. You seem very cold, and other classmates ignore your presence constantly, though, you don't seem to be interested in them, either;

— He finally has a chance to speak with you personally, when he finds you walking around gargoyles in the evening, though.

•

”Malleus-sama,” you bow your head, noticing his presence even earlier than he announces it. ”Good evening. How this one can help you?”

”Y/n,” he slightly nods, examining you closer. ”If I am not mistaken, there is party for the first-years in the school. Why are you here?”

Malleus can't help but notice hints of confusion, raising in your eyes, before you cover it with the usual stoic expression of yours. With a quiet sigh, you start petting the statute affectionately, much like an animal.

”Is that so? I am afraid, I wasn't invited, then.”

He rewards you with sympathetic look.

”I see,” he adds, awkwardly: ”I am sorry to hear that.”

”Oh, no time for regrets,” your fangs bare in a smile. ”Actually... Malleus-sama, I planned to ask you something for a while, but never had a chance to speak with you before. Can I?”

”Of course.”

”Headmaster told me, that you are leading the club of the researches that are dedicated to gargoyles... And so, I wanted to know what I need to join it. You see...”

As you start rumbling about the importance of gargoyles, Malleus can't help but wonder why he saw you as someone cold before. Was it something others thought of him, judging by short glimpses of his attitude in school?

But it doesn't matter anymore. He thinks, your company is very enjoyable, after all.

[avocad1s]

About the Creator: Favoritism

Requested By: No one. Original Work.

CW: None?

Summary: Voiclines about your favoritism over certain characters.

Characters Included: Wanderer, Kazuha, Ei, Childe, Kamisato Ayato, Eula, Beidou

Note:

-

Wanderer: “I wonder time and time again why Their Grace favors me over anyone else despite all the bad things I’ve done. Perhaps they see some use in me that no one else has seen, or maybe they are waiting for me to drop my guard… why are you giving me that look Traveler… huh? You think I like being favored by the Creator? Well, who wouldn’t? They are the God of Gods and if they see usefulness in a pawn such as myself, then I will keep proving myself as worthy.”

Kazuha: I am forever grateful for my position with Their Grace. Even though I travel often, and they are constantly busy, we always make time to spend together. I like showing them the best views within Teyvat. I hope that one day they’ll agree to wander this beautiful world with me… ehem… I apologize, speaking about this with you has inspired me to write a new haiku about Their Grace.”

Ei: “You wish to know about my relationship with Their Grace? Well, they have been spending lots of time in Inazuma with me… they had promised to teach me how to cook. It hasn’t been successful yet, but I will keep trying just to see that smile on their face. I truly adore spending my time with them, I am learning how to be my own Archon rather than following in her footsteps… perhaps I have no reason to live in fear any longer.”

Childe: “Their Grace is the only God that is above Her Majesty. Despite what you think about the Fatui, we all still worship them comrade. Anytime Their Grace is in Snezhnaya, I always enjoy taking them ice fishing. I think the other Harbingers are a bit jealous of our closeness though. It doesn’t matter, as long as their eyes stay on me, then I’m happy.

Kamisato Ayato: “Hmm? My relationship with Their Grace is strictly professional… yes it is true that they spend lots of time at the Kamisato Estate but it because our discussions go late into the night and I wouldn’t dare send Their Grace away… huh? You wish to know what we discuss? Hehe… let’s change the subject, shall we..?”

Eula: “They are part of the very few who don’t judge me solely because of my clan. Their benevolence is like no other… hmm? What do you mean you saw the two of us at Good Hunter together? I was just showing them around Mondstadt, nothing else… Their Grace wishes to learn the Dance of Sacrifice… that’s the only reason we spend so much time together… why are you giving me that look? Hmph, vengeance will be mine!

Beidou: “Anytime Their Grace is on the Alcor we have an overwhelming amount of luck! We get so much treasure and never run into any storms in the middle of the ocean, I like to think of them as my good luck charm! The crew and I love having them on board, not to mention that they can hold their alcohol unlike anyone else I’ve met.. I wonder if they’re willing to be a permanent member on board… I’ll even make them co-captain if they desire.”

© avocad1s 2023

[yelenasfloppyhand]

Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Summary: Spencer is feeling insecure about his glasses, good thing you are there to help him see his beauty.

Warnings: none?

You glance up, concerned, as you see your boyfriend squinting at the television in front of him. His face looks scrunched up uncomfortably as he tries to read the subtitles that he insists on having on every time he forces you to watch a documentary with him, mainly because he talks over the documentary so often that it would be practically impossible to follow without them. This is a bit unusual, which makes you wonder: what is bothering him? "Why're you squinting?"

He breaks his gaze from the screen and looks at you with a puzzled expression, the kind of look that a child would give a parent after receiving a scolding for misbehaving. "Umm... could you repeat that I didn't hear you?" He asks sheepishly.

That was the moment it clicked. Whenever Spencer wasn't wearing his glasses or contacts, he often exclaimed that he couldn't hear without his glasses on. Most people didn't understand, considering glasses aided sight - not hearing. However, to you it made perfect sense. Spencer often relied on lipreading to prevent any miscommunication. He feared it would lead to an accidental offence. "You aren't wearing your glasses" it came off as more of a soft accusation than an observation.

A delicate pout graces his plump lips as he glances bashfully at you before sighing. "They make me look ugly..." His tone is dejectful as he breaks eyecontact to stare at the soft tartan blanket on his lap.

You feel your eyes widen as a frown pulls at your lips, there are many adjectives you could use to describe Spencer: awkward, intelligent, sweet, loving, beautiful, thoughtful... never in a million years would the word ugly even cross your mind. He was truly gorgeous, his eyes were a light brown with flecks of gold near his pupils, his nose was button like with a small bump on the bridge, his lips were plump and pink, he had alluring crinkles at the corners of his eyes each time he smiled (which was frequently around you), his hair oh his silky hair that he often begged you to play with in order to help him fall asleep, it was soft and a light shade of brown that shined bronze in the sunlight. You could use a multitude of synonyms to describe how beautiful he is but never would you describe him as ugly.

"Spencer Walter Reid, I'm appalled! How dare you call yourself ugly?" Your anger simmers as you stare at him with a pointed look, utterly disgusted with his self-deprecation. "You're not ugly," you add, softening slightly, "And I think your glasses make you even hotter." His cheeks flush with color and he looks away, clearly embarrassed.

"If you'd let me, I'd kiss each and every part of your beautiful body, I love the small freckle on your forehead, and your toothy grin, I love the way your glasses sit on you're gorgeous nose" you continue, you've been with him since you were both in your 20s and despite him now being 30 he still looked just as beautiful as ever.

"My confidence always takes a hit with my glasses on. The frames make me feel like an even bigger nerd than usual." His gorgeous gold eyes usually wore contact lenses, a solution to his glasses related insecurity. But recently, he developed a slight allergy to the contact lens solution he uses meaning he was now forced to wear his glasses. The whole situation leaves him feeling like more of a wounded puppy.

You could cry at his self deprication. You wished you could see him the way you see him. You immediately have a great idea. You stand from your spot next to him on the couch before rushing away, leaving him confused and slightly curious.

You return wearing his glasses, admittedly you can't see much considering how strong his prescription is, it distorts your vision an uncomfortable amount. But you watch as his expression changed to utter disorientation as he trys to understand what you're doing. "Do you think I look ugly?"

You watch as he is taken aback by your question, he cannot fathom ever finding you anything other than breathtaking. His eyebrows furrow as he answers quickly. "No, you're absolutely breathtaking as always." You can't help the grin that pulls at your lips at his compliment.

"So you don't think these glasses make me ugly, don't they change how I look? Do they make me unappealing to gaze at?" You ask confidently, praying to whoever is listening that you can help him see himself in a more positive light.

"How can I ever see you as anything other than beautiful?" He asks with confusion. He frowns before continuing. "Nothing could ever change how I view you, you're the sun in my solar system." You can feel yourself metaphorically melt at his words, he was always sweet with his complments, its what made you fall for him.

"You've just proved my point pretty boy." You smile before walking over to him and placing his glasses on his face, you can see the slight relief in his eyes when his vision focuses. "Hey." You grin and wave slightly at him. "There's my love. I promise you that just because you wear glasses doesn't mean you're ugly, you aren't ugly and you know why?" You watch with amusement and adoration as his eye brows furrow in confusion as he waits for you to answer your own question. "Because despite your gorgeous face, it's your heart I feel for, and as long as you're heart stays just as sweet and lovable as always I will always find you beautiful."

You realise how clichet and corny it sounds the second the words leave your mouth but you can't help but find the truth in them. He is gorgeous and not even his glasses could change his beauty. After all his nickname was 'pretty boy' for a reason.

Note: I'm so sorry if this was badly written it's like midnight and I'm sleepy, this was inspired when I remembered that mgg wore glasses as Spencer in season 2 because he developed an allergy to his contact lens solution (thank god that happened if not we would've never been blessed with glasses reid). Also you can request stories using the request box in my bio :)

[lovelettersfromluna]

͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Sink my teeth in you　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: One stupid dare had changed Ellie’s life forever, and the person she cared about the most was suffering because of it.

an: Shes baaaackk!! The amount of feedback you guys gave me for Still Alive had my jaw on the floor, so here’s part two! This will most likely be the last part of the Still Alive story that I’ll be doing, but if you guys do want more of angsty, hot, demon Ellie, please let me know. I also changed my format a little bit, so let me know if you guys prefer this or how I was writing before. I hope you all enjoy this one as much as you enjoyed the last. (Also this one isn’t proofread either sorryyyy)

Warnings: smut! Will be a lot softer and more loving than last time but still…smut. Mentions of blood (don’t worry I don’t get too graphic I can’t handle that shit either), Ellie smoking because bby is stressed and having an identity crisis, angst, use of strap (r!receiving), pet names, shy!reader standing up for herself, Ellie is shamelessly in love with reader, mentions of…spells and rituals?? It’s mainly from memory of Jennifers body and things im making up myself, let me know if I missed anything pleaseee.

You can read part 1 here!

Ellie Williams was fucking dead.

At least she was pretty sure she was dead, she truly couldn’t tell. She felt…different, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t put her finger on what had changed. She was so out of tune with herself, and her thoughts and her actions, it was like she was standing behind a wall while someone else controlled her, and it was fucking scary.

She did know however, that she sure as hell wasn’t human anymore.

It was fucking ridiculous, and she felt like she was losing her mind, but she was pretty sure she knew how this all happened.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was her typical Friday night, hopping from bar to bar with a group of her party friends. They were drinking too much, smoking too much, and she felt herself slowly slipping away from reality with each sip of her drink that she took. She fucking needed it, classes were kicking her ass, and her grades were dropping..

And it was becoming harder and harder to pretend like she wasn’t in love with you.

It was fucking pathetic, because you’ve been her best friend since you guys were like…8 years old, and she’s always felt butterflies whenever she was around you. But she let it go on too far, her feelings settling in the pit of her stomach every time you laid your head on her shoulder, or held her hand whenever you were nervous, and before she knew it she wasn’t 8 years old with a crush anymore, she was well into her 20s and falling in love.

She hated it because she felt selfish, she felt like she was taking advantage of your kindness, of your friendship.

So, she went out with her friends and she got drunk, as one does when they’re hopelessly in love with their best friend.

She was following behind her group of friends, already visiting the fourth bar of the night, and Ellie was mindlessly staring at her shoes hitting the ground, her fists balled up in her pockets, images of your pretty face flashing through her head, when Dina spoke up.

“Let’s go into this one! I think there’s a live band here tonight” She gasped, squinting her eyes as she tried to read the horribly written sign outside. Ellie frowned softly as she tried to as well, leaning in a bit to get a better look at what it said.

Live performance tonight! Violet Skies!

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows as she read, blinking a few times before she sighed, noticing that her friends were already stumbling into the bar without any further questions. “Corny fuckin’ band name…” she mumbled our, taking one more look at the sketchy looking bar before she walked in.

Whoever the hell it was, sure as hell wasn’t popular. The bar had ten people max, and most of them were already too belligerent to even comprehend that there was a live performance. She sighed, making her way to the bar and ordering herself a glass of whiskey.

Her friends were crowded near the stage, creating some what of a make shift audience for the band that would be playing soon. Ellie was miserable, she was getting to a point where she wasn’t even having fun anymore.

She just wanted you, in your comfy little home with your comfy blankets and your sweet smelling lotion that you wore every night. She wondered time and time again why she chose a cold, empty bar over your warm inviting home and even warmer embrace.

She was a coward, that’s why.

She was more than half way done with her drink far too quickly, when the band began to set up for their show. She turned her attention towards them, squinting her drunk eyes a bit as she watched them all tune their instruments and adjust the microphone.

Before she could even realize what was happening, she was being tugged throughout the bar by her arm, by Dina. Ellie let out an annoyed groan, letting the girl drag her around like a rag doll. Once Dina had brought her with the rest of the group in front of the stage, Dina gave her a gentle nudge. “M’not letting you sit at the bar all night like a creep…maybe these guys are good!” She beamed, causing Ellie to roll her eyes gently.

Dina smirked gently as she leaned into her a bit, her voice dropping. “I caught a glimpse of the lead singer…she’s hot”. Dina’s words made Ellie scoff, because Dina knew that she was sulking over you right now. And there wasn’t even any reason to, Ellie was simply the queen of self sabotage.

Ellie opened her mouth to complain, but before she could, the show was starting.

The bright lights that settled onto the stage hurt Ellie’s head, and they weren’t even directed at her. She was just fucking annoyed and she wanted to leave but she also didn’t know where to go because she couldn’t escape her fucking thoughts. And now this godforsaken band was walking on stage and she couldn’t care less and..

Her breath gets caught in her throat, because Dina was right. The lead singer is hot.

Because she reminds Ellie of you.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d think this girl modeled her entire appearance after you. She’s got the same pretty hair color as you, and the corner of her lips turn up the same way yours do when you’ve got that cute little smirk on, and it’s making Ellie feel warm inside because she’s bringing her the same comfort that you bring. Ellie finds that she can’t take her eyes off of her.

The band sucks, and they’re out of tune and the songs are cheesy and it sounds like radio music, but Ellie doesn’t fucking care, because you’re literal twin is standing in front of her on a stage, swaying her hips in a tiny skirt, and she’s too drunk to apply any common sense she has in that moment. She pretends it’s you on stage, putting a show on for her.

It doesn’t help that she’s eye fucking Ellie the entire time.

It burns her because she wonders what you’d look like if you looked at her that way, not some carbon copy, but you, her best friend, her girl. She’s licking her lips, her eyes burning from a lacking of blinking as she stares at your clone, and in that moment she feels like this is the closest she’ll ever fucking get to the real thing.

Dina notices immediately, and she smirks gently. She’s just as drunk as Ellie, and her better judgment has flown out the window far too long ago, so she doesn’t stop herself when she leans into Ellie again towards the end of the set and whispers to her.

“I dare you to try and get it in with her”

Ellie truly didn’t need to be told twice, because adrenaline was already pumping through her veins and she was fucking horny, and she seriously had nothing to lose at this point.

Or so she thought.

She smirked softly as she eyed the lead singer, downing the rest of what was in her glass and passing it to Dina.

The bands set had ended a few minutes after that, and the little smirk that the lead singer gave Ellie, followed by the silent calling with her fingers when she walked off was all she needed to carry out the dare that she was given.

The bar was small, with little security, so it was fairly easy to navigate her way to the backstage area. She made her way out of the bar, the warm breeze wafting onto her face as she circled around the bar so that she was at the back of it.

And as if they shared a brain, there she was. She looked even more like you in the moonlight, and it made Ellie’s heart beat faster. Her back was pressed up against the brick wall of the bar as she brought her cigarette to her lips, smirking the second she saw Ellie making her way over to her.

“Didn’t think you’d come…” She purred out, trying desperately to sound sexy. If Ellie wasn’t so gone, the attempt would’ve made her cringe. But the alcohol and weed in her system made it so that she even sounded like you, so she took it.

Ellie smirked softly, leaning against the wall as she stood next to the girl, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as her eyes shamelessly roamed down her body. “With that little show you were putting on for me? I’d be crazy not to come…” she sighed out, her voice raspy.

The girl giggled softly, her cheeks turning pink as she turned her body so that she was facing Ellie before she nodded her head towards the building. “Wanna see my dressing room?” 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ellie had the girl pressed up against the dark walls of the dressing room, if she could even call it that. It was a small room with a couch against the wall, a make shift vanity and a tiny rack with a few hangers on it, but Ellie didn’t care.

Because in her drunken state, a pair of soft lips and a warm body pressed up against hers was just what she needed. The little moans and whines that came from the girl were urging her on, and it was finally giving her the distraction from you that she needed so badly.

“Fuck…you taste so good..” she moaned out. Ellie knew she was lying, she tasted of weed and whiskey and her kisses were harsh. It made Ellie wonder how many times she’d told someone these things before.

Ellie groaned, gripping the girls waist and walking backwards until they had reached the couch. The girl pressed her palms against Ellie’s chest, pushing her back to lay on the couch as she straddled her.

Without missing another beat, her lips were on Ellie’s again. Ellie placed her large hands on her hips as she began rocking her back and forth, letting her grind down on her body. The moans that she let out were sinful and Ellie wanted more, she needed to hear more.

When the girl broke the kiss, she expected her to take her top off, or stand up to take her skirt off, or anything other than what she actually did.

She was straddling Ellie, and Ellie moaned out softly as she let her hand trail up her body, grabbing and squeezing as she waited for her to do something else. The girl opened her mouth and she began speaking, but Ellie couldn’t understand what she was saying.

Her words sounded like they were in a different language, one Ellie couldn’t quite pinpoint, and it made her furrow her eyebrows in confusion. She sat up a bit, proving herself up on her elbows as she stared up at the girl. “What…what are you doing?” She mumbled out, but she was only met with a hand pressed to her chest and pushing her back down to lay on the couch.

The girl continued speaking, reaching behind her and grabbing a small dagger, and Ellie’s heart began beating faster and faster.

The girl got louder with each passing word she spoke, and Ellie was starting to think for a moment that this was all a bad dream and she’d wake up soon.

But she never did.

The girl inhaled deeply, holding the handle of the dagger with both hands before she lifted it over her head, biting her lip almost nervously as she stared down at Ellie.

“We won’t make it on our own in Hollywood…you’re our ticket there…sorry” she mumbled softly, and Ellie’s eyes went wide.

“Are you fucking crazy!? What are you-“ her words were cut off by the dagger piercing her through her chest.

She doesn’t remember anything after that.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

That night was the last normal night of Ellie’s life.

Because after all of that, she woke up gasping for air in the woods. She had no idea where the fuck she was or how long she had been there, but she did know that whoever the hell put here there, thought that she was dead.

When she got up, she had the worst headache of her entire fucking life. The throbbing was so loud, she was sure if anyone was standing next to her they’d be able to hear it too. And she was so fucking hungry. She placed a hand on her stomach to try and calm the pain she felt, but it didn’t help.

She felt empty, drained, like all of the life had been sucked from her body, and she was merely a corpse left to rot in the woods.

Corpse…death…dying.

That girl tried to fucking kill her.

It was all coming back to her, but when she looked down at the area of where the girl had stabbed her, it was completely gone.

And Ellie was sure she was having a bad fucking trip at that point.

All she knew, was that she needed to get home and fucking eat something.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It was like she was suffering the worst hangover of her entire life.

No matter how much she ate, she couldn’t shake the empty feeling that settled at the pit of her stomach. She tried everything, cleaning out her fridge, her pantry, she even splurged and bought food from her favorite fucking take out place.

And nothing.

She felt like she was going to pass out every time she stood up. She was weak, and frail, and there wasn’t enough medicine to get rid of the pain that riddled her entire body.

And to make things worse, she couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She always did, you were almost always on her mind, but this was all different.

The hunger she felt in her stomach was almost identical to the hunger she felt for you. It was like she couldn’t separate lust and basic human needs, and she felt like she was going to lose her mind if she wasn’t able to touch you soon.

But she couldn’t, not in this state. She had to wait to see you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Ellie learned a lot within the week that she took off of school.

She learned that food wasn’t enough. After about the third day of trying to satisfy herself with the second set of groceries she went through, she was convinced that food just was not going to cut it.

Then what the hell would?

Her answer came to her when she was at the store, trying to buy more medicine for her everlasting headache.

The fluorescent lights in the pharmacy were making her dizzy, everything around her just entirely too loud, and it was making her angry.

But for a moment, it was all clear.

The girl standing next to Ellie was so unsuspecting, bending down a bit to find whatever medicine it was that she needed, living her life just as everyone else was doing in the store.

But Ellie couldn’t ignore the way that her mind was clear, and for a split second, her headache was gone and the hunger she felt subsided.

Until it all came rushing back again once she stepped away.

She wasn’t sure what it was that ignited her to follow the girl, or what it was that was even prompting her to continue doing so outside of the store. But before she knew it, her new instincts were taking over and she was pouncing the girl outside of her car in the dim parking lot.

So yeah, Ellie finally figured out what it was that she needed to satisfy her hunger.

Because after she finished the girl, she felt stronger, like she had been born again. Any pain and suffering that she was experiencing had disappeared the second her teeth sunk into the girls skin. It was like euphoria, and she wanted more.

That week was spent entirely by herself. Researching and trying to understand what the hell had happened to her. She figured she wasn’t a vampire, because she’d watch those twilight movies with you and she was pretty damn sure she wouldn’t turn into stone if someone killed her, and she was breathing and walking around just as much as any other living person so she wasn’t necessarily dead.

But she was stronger, radiant, she was sure her skin even had a new fucking glow to it that wasn’t there before. So something had changed.

After digging through countless libraries, she finally found a book on spells and rituals. That’s how she settled on the fact that she indeed was used as a sacrifice.

A fame spell to be exact. Ellie couldn’t decipher what spell it was exactly that had been used on her, but from what was physically done, and the final words that the girl spoke to her, she narrowed it down to that.

Dealing with…her new way of life was..strange.

Because her strength would last for a few days after she…ate, and she would feel like she was on top of the world. But then, she’d crash.

After reading further, she figured out that she had to feed every other day now. She tried her best to put it off as much as she possibly could, but Jesus was it hard.

The books she had about the spells and rituals also told her, that her hunger could only be satisfied when in the presence of her true love, and that made Ellie’s cold, dead her skip a beat.

Because she knew it was you, and she knew that she needed a lot of time before she could face you again. The hunger for you was still there, no matter how much she fed on others, she only wanted to be with you, and that scared her.

Ellie wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she ever hurt you.

And that’s why she waited so long to see you, wanting to be at her strongest before she was setting foot in your home and into your embrace. She told herself she could do it, that it would all be easy.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

She was wrong.

Because come Monday and you’re sitting in the courtyard, the sun dancing on your pretty skin, soaking it up beautiful, your skirt flowing in the wind, and Ellie just wants to whisk you away and keep you in her bed until the end of time.

But she gets closer and she notices that you’re sitting with Amber.

It was stupid enough that Ellie had gone too many days without feeding, and she was already irritated to begin with, but now you were sitting there looking like a fucking goddess and it wasn’t for her, you weren’t waiting for her and it made her want to rip someone’s fucking throat to shreds.

Ellie finds that she can’t really control herself or her actions these days, especially when it’s been a while since she’s gone…hunting..it’s like she’s suddenly seeing red at any minor inconvenience and she’s too weak to even care about the white hot rage that’s surging through her body.

And that’s how you end up crying in front of her in the library, and Ellie feels like fucking shit about it.

Once her head is clear and she isn’t tucking starving, shes texting you and she’s trying to apologize but it’s all left in vain, because she’s sure at this point you’ve either muted her messages or gone all out and blocked her, and it’s making her want to cry because don’t you know that you’re all she fucking wants? Can’t you see how she feels about you? She’s suffering without you and it seems like you don’t even fucking care.

Ellie finds herself getting upset again, and the worst part is, is that you aren’t even there to defend yourself.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It had been a few days since the party, and Ellie was once again suffering.

You’d gone completely silent after it all. You gently pushed her off of your body, put your clothes on and walked out of the room to go home.

Ellie had sat there with a confused look on her face, scurrying around to grab her own clothes as she kept trying to talk to you, see what was going through your head, anything.

But you said nothing, you simply got dressed and left, and it left Ellie panicking.

Because she felt as though she just got you back, and she finally felt okay with herself and with you when she was around you, kissing you and holding you. But you were slipping through her fingers just as quickly as you were falling into bed with her, and she didn’t know what to do.

So, she gave you space.

She ignored any impulse that she had to text you, to show up at your apartment with your favorite flowers and a stuffed animal of the stupid cartoon you like, but it was fucking hard, and she couldn’t help but feel like this was the end between the two of you.

She started taking things a lot more serious when you didn’t show up to school.

Never in all of your friendship did you let anything make you miss school. Even when you were 11 and Ellie gave you strep and you almost passed out during gym class, or when you refused to miss a final even after a dentist appointment and you were all loopy on laughing gas, to this day Ellie doesn’t know how you passed a test in that state.

But bottom line was, you never let anything get in the way of your education. So Ellie was really fucking worried when her first lecture of the day was going on and all she could focus on was your empty seat that was next to her.

After class, she had raced to your apartment. She had given you more than enough time to figure out what you wanted from her, and she decided it was time you let her know.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Her hand was banging on your door, the same exact way it was the first time she revealed herself to you after she had…changed.

She knew she had to be persistent, she knew that the sudden silence from you was only going to grow more space between the two of you if she didn’t do something about it.

So she stood there for about ten minutes, knocking on your door and calling out for you until you’d decide to call the cops, or open up for her.

“Baby come on…we…fuck, we need to talk. Either you let me in or I’m letting myself in” her tone was stern, and from the other side of it you stood there, staring at it, and you knew you should take her seriously.

Ellie almost passed out when she catches sight of you, and it feels like she hasn’t seen you in years. Your eyes are puffy, and your lips are swollen from all the times you’d rub your sweater sleeve against your nose, and as sick and twisted as it may sound.

Ellie thinks you look so fucking pretty.

But she can’t ignore the way her heart tugs at the tiny sniffle you let out. You’re standing in front of her, and you have that cute little pout on your lips, and your arms are wrapped around yourself like you’re protecting yourself from her and she feels like she’ll break at any second because this is her doing, she’s the reason you’re like this.

She let out a soft sigh and she’s pushing the door closed before she’s pulling you down to sit on the couch to sit with her. She winces slightly because you still won’t look at her, and she feels like she’s already lost you.

Her voice falls lower, just above a whisper as she brings her hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Bambi…you’ve gotta talk to me…we…we can’t just…do what we did and not talk about it”

She feels like the worst person in the world because the second she speaks, she can already see your chin wobbling and she hears the way your breathing becomes uneven and she knows it’s coming, and she wishes she can do something to stop it.

When you finally look up at her, your eyes are red, eyelashes clumping together from your wet tears and it looks like you’ll crumble at any second.

“You’ve changed Ellie…you’re not the same and I…I want my best friend back”

Your words hit her deep within her chest, like the dagger the girl at the bar drove through her, but worse. Because you’re pleading with her for something she can’t give you, and it’s the first time in her life and in your friendship that she feels like she can’t provide you with everything you’ll ever need.

She inhales deeply, her hands dropping to take yours in her own before she gives a slight nod. “I have changed…and I…I’m not sure if I can go back to the way I was before baby..” her voice is low, and her words make you scoff.

“Typical, you’re just dancing around my words at this point Ellie. What is going on with you? What are you not telling me?” You whimper out, your voice breaking between the sobs and tears you’re holding back for your own sake, and her own.

She sighs, because she knows she can’t keep this up anymore.

With a deep inhale, she give your hand a squeeze, and she’s telling you everything she’s experienced within the past few weeks.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You’re slowly pulling your hands away from hers when she finishes, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at her as if she had three heads.

“Is this a fucking joke?”

Ellie felt like she was going to cry, and you were staring at her with furrowed eyebrows, looking so fucking angry. For the first time since all of this had happened, she realized that everything she was telling you probably sounded like a load of bullshit.

“Look, I know it’s hard to believe and…and I know you probably don’t trust me all that much right now. But I don’t even fully understand it all myself I just…” she stuttered out, feeling more and more hopeless the longer you stared at her with that dumbfounded look on your face.

Your best friend was sat in front of you, telling you that within the past two and a half weeks, she had someone been used in some…fame ritual, and because it went wrong, she was now some…some monster.

You let out a tired sigh, you were over it, all of it. You didn’t know what to think or what to feel, and in all honesty, you felt like the stories that Ellie were feeding you were all a sorry excuse to get rid of you.

“Look Ellie, I’m not an idiot…okay? And I’m not a child..if you…if you don’t wanna be friends anymore you can just say that. You don’t have to make up some elaborate story to try and soften the blow” you sighed out, your voice barely above a whisper. You slowly got up, letting her hands fall from your lap as you made your way to your bedroom, leaving her behind.

Ellie panicked, the tone in your voice told her that you were tired, and you were over her. The fact alone that you thought she could ever end your friendship made her heart tug.

The only reason she’d ever do that, is if she ever grew the balls to tell you how much she loved you.

She quickly got up from the couch and followed you into your bedroom. You were laying there, cuddling with Angel as you turned on your TV, acting as if Ellie wasn’t even there.

Ellie frowned, crawling onto your bed grabbing your thigh gently so she could spread your legs, settling between them as she stared into your eyes desperately.

“Im not lying! I wish I was fucking lying but I promise you I’m not” she groaned, grabbing your hand and holding it against her chest. “What can I do to prove it to you?” She mumbled out, staring into your sad eyes.

Angel caught her attention, and she noticed the way the cat that was curled into your side stared at her, eyes slanted and hair puffed up.

And it gave her an idea.

Her eyes widened a bit before she pointed at the cat. “Angel! She used to love me, and now she won’t even step near me. Don’t you think that means something?” She pleaded.

You frowned softly as you looked down at your cat, realizing then just how strange she had been acting.

Angel loved Ellie, she actually went with you to the adoption center to get her when she was just a baby. She crawled towards the both of you, meowing happily the second Ellie brought her hand down to pet her, and you knew that she was the one you’d take home with you.

Even when Ellie would visit, she’d be eager to jump into the girls lap.

But that had all gone through the window, and you started to think about when she started acting this way, but you were only left with the night that Ellie had came to you after her disappearance.

You blinked a few times in thought as you stared at your spooked cat before you shook your head, looking back up at Ellie.

“That doesn’t prove anything, she could just be…going through a phase or something” you shrugged, and Ellie was letting out a frustrated groan.

She looked down at her body, trying to find anything that she could physically show you that would prove to you that she wasn’t lying, and that this was all the truth.

Then she remembered. Her fucking fangs.

They freaked her out when she first realized she had them, and the sort of weighed in on the whole vampire theory that she had at first, but she remembered that she had them.

And that was all the proof she could give, so it had to be enough.

She inhaled deeply, staring down at you before she rested a hand on your soft thigh. “I’m going to show you something, but I need you to know that I’m not going to hurt you, and you don’t need to be afraid of me…okay?” She nodded slowly, trying to get you to understand that she was serious with what she was.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you stared up at her from your spot against your plush pillows, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “Ellie I don’t have time for this, and really tired. Maybe you should just-“ she quickly cut you off.

“You know my better than anyone else does…please…just give me five minutes” she begged, her big green eyes staring into yours.

Your heart skipped a bit as she stared down at you, and you felt like you had no choice but to hear her out. You inhaled deeply before you gave her a gentle nod, urging her to carry on with what it was she had to show you.

She nodded with you, sighing gently before she closed her eyes, and focused. She had only tried pushing them out on her own once, the times before that her body simply took over and did it for her. She found that she had to make her mind completely blank, only focusing on bringing the new set of teeth that she had down.

Soon enough, her gums began to feel sore, and she felt her teeth shift a bit as the sharp fangs pushed out and settled where her canines would be. Once she was sure they were down completely, she opened her mouth for you to see.

Your eyes widened as you stared at her, sitting up a bit to get a closer look. The memories of her on top of you came flooding in, and what you wrote off to be a drunken hallucination was sitting right in front of your sober eyes.

Ellie Williams had fucking fangs.

You couldn’t stop yourself from crawling closer to her, settling on your knees as you reached out and grasped her chin gently, a soft gasp leaving your lips as you stared into your friends mouth.

“They were real…” you whispered out, more so to yourself than to her. Ellie furrowed her eyebrows in confusion at your words, letting you stare into her mouth for a moment longer before she grabbed your wrist and closed her mouth. “Wait, you saw them?”

You nodded slowly as you stared at her. “At the party..when you…when we finished…I saw them. But I just…assumed I was just seeing things because of how drunk I was” you mumbled out softly before you licked your lips, staring down at her hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Okay fine…so what if you are telling the truth. What does this all even mean? What are you trying to tell me?” You sighed out, your voice soft and tired.

Ellie sighed, her thumb rubbing your soft skin gently before she shrugged. “I’m not totally sure what it means…but I do know that I feel…I feel better when I’m with you…I feel normal, like I don’t even need to do any of that stuff to feel okay…” she sighed out, staring up at you. Her green eyes sparkled against the dark light in your room, and the sight alone had you in shambles.

She sighed out gently, her hands cautiously going to hold your waist gently before she continued on.

“I’m tired of pretending..I know I’m different now but I…..I…” she stuttered, her heart beating a mile a minute. She was scared, scared that she’d lose you forever.

But it was worth the fucking risk.

“I’m in love with you.” She confessed, her voice low as she stared up at you, hands massaging your waist gently as you stared down at her.

And you realized there were two things you had thought you imagined, but were real.

One, your best friend had fangs.

Two, she told you she was in love with you.

You froze, because you didn’t know what to say. In all the years of knowing her, you’d dream about being with her in this very moment, wishing she’d utter those words to you every night before you went to sleep.

But now that you were here, you didn’t know what to say.

Ellie continued massaging your skin, giving you as much time as you needed to respond to her. When a few seconds passed and you were still silent, she continue giving your waist small, reassuring squeezes.

“Don’t worry if you don’t feel the same way Bambi, we can still be friends-“ she was cut off by your lips pressed against hers.

Ellie groans softly, her eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. She has yearned for it the moment you broke apart the last time she was with you, and having you there with her, pressed up against her, it was like having her air fill up with lungs again.

You moved to straddle her lap, your tongue pushing into her mouth in a passionate kiss as you wrapped your arms around her neck and held her close to your body.

Ellie feels the best when she’s pressed up against you, but you haven’t said a word since she’s confessed, and she can’t let this carry on if you don’t feel the same way.

It takes everything in her to pull away from you, and the little whine you let out when she breaks the kiss doesn’t make it any easier, but she’s pulling you away by your waist and she’s staring up at you, trying to catch her breath.

“Baby…baby wait I…I can’t…I can’t keep going if you don’t feel the same way..” she breaths out, and she thinks you’re going to come to your senses and tell her to go home, that you were done with her nonsense

But you’re not, your smiling softly down at her and she swears she can see the hearts floating around in your eyes. They’re twinkling and glowing and they look like pools of love and you honestly don’t even have to say it back, but she’s desperate to hear those words fall from your lips.

“You’re such an idiot…of course I love you too Els…always have…” you whispered out, toying with the soft ends of her hair at the nape of her neck.

You hum softly, one of your hands coming from around her and tracing her features, dancing over her freckles as if they were tiny constellations, there just for your viewing and no one else.

“I…we need to talk more about…what happened to you…but I believe you” you nodded, affirming to her that you truly did believe her.

And she feels her heart beating out of her chest, because not only do you believe her, but you loved her, and she feels like it’s all she needs to keep her going for the rest of her days.

She’s nodding eagerly, pulling you closer as she agrees. “Anything, I’ll tell you anything you want. I promise” her words were genuine, and you’re smiling softly as you stare down at her, feeling so comfortable and at peace in her lap, with her arms wrapped around you, you can’t even think for another minute that the story she’s telling you is far fetched.

You nod with her before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips. “Before we do that…I’ve missed you, Ellie..” you sigh out against her ear, and she feels a chill run up her spine. Her hands are roaming your body in an instant and she’s nodding eagerly, almost looking silly as she gently lays you down into your bed.

“Fuck…please…let me show you how much I love you baby…come here…” she moaned out, already far too eager to touch you, feel you, love you.

You whine softly underneath her, staring up into her eyes lovingly before she leans down, catching your lips against hers in a loving kiss. Her hands are traveling up your body, slipping under your shirt and cupping your boob, twisting your nipple between her calloused fingers, and it’s pathetic but you’re already a moaning mess.

Her other hand comes up to grab both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. She breaks the kiss, staring down at you and moaning softly, she sounds so pretty you think you could cry. Your last memory with her like this was so fuzzy, and rough and hard to see through.

But this is all crystal clear, and it’s making your heart burst with love. The way she’s staring down at your body as she pushes your sleep shirt up to get a good look at you is so intense it almost makes you shy away, but this is Ellie, your Ellie, and you don’t trust anyone as much as you trust her.

Ellie bit her lip softly as she stares down at you for a moment longer before she’s helping you sit up, tearing off both your clothes and her clothes and tossing them in different directions of your room until your both naked and pressed up against one another.

You feel something press up against your soaked core and you furrow your eyebrows as you look down, only to see Ellie’s pink strap pushing against you. You look up at her, opening your mouth to ask her about it before she’s cutting you off with an answer.

“I…was hoping I’d be able to make love to you tonight…wore it just in case you didn’t kick me out…” she mumbles out sheepishly. And once again, your heart is bursting with love with her because she’s such an idiot sometimes, but it’s okay because she’s your idiot.

You pull her closer, pressing your lips to hers before your hand is trailing down between you and you grab the base, pushing it towards your soaked entrance with a soft hum.

“Shut up and fuck me already..” you moan out, and she doesn’t need to be told twice.

She pushes into you, and the moan you let out is enough to have her moaning with you. Her tattooed hand comes down to grip your hip gently as she steadies herself before she falls into a slow rhythm, moaning at the way her strap is rubbing up against her clit, and at the way that you’re moaning beneath her.

“F-fuck! Ahhhh Ellieeee…mmm-oh my god!” You whine out, and she’s nodding her head to urge you on further, her own words cut off by her moans and hissing.

“That’s it…that’s my fucking girl…o-oh fuck! My good girl…god I love you…fuck” she’s just as much of a mess as you are, and she’s positive she won’t last long. You’re staring up at her with those big heart eyes and she knows she’s a goner.

Because this is what she’s always wanted, to make you hers, show you how much she loves you and that you were it for her, you were her endgame, forever and always.

Her eyes are hungry and they’re eating you up, because you look like a work of art to her right now and she doesn’t even want to blink in fear that she’ll miss a fucking second of you.

“Love you so much…mmm fuuuuckk…gonna cum Els..please…please make me cum” you’re begging her, and it’s making her moans grow louder, the two of you babbling incoherently as you both confess your undying love for one another.

Ellie nods, speeding up her pace. “That’s it baby, such a good girl for me- fuck! I’m gonna fucking come. Oh my god I’m-“ she moans out, and just from the look of her throwing her head back, her fucking fangs on full display for you, looking like the prettiest goddamn demon you’ve ever seen, you cum with her.

There’s little sparkles dancing around you, at least that’s what it feels like. Ellie tossed her strap to the side once you both caught your breath and cleaned you both up, and she put you in your favorite sleep shirt, and a pair of spare boxers you had for her laying around, and you both simply lay there, holding each other in your dim room.

And it feels complete, because it’s the first time that you can actually feel her there with you, and not just pretending to be there. And Ellie feels it too, she feels satisfied and she feels like she’s normal again, even though she knows she’s not.

A few moments pass as you’re pressed up against her, your fingers tracing small shapes on her collar bone before you break the silence.

“So…are we talking like…resident evil vampires? Or…Edward Cullen vampire?” And your words makes her chuckle softly before she sighs, finally giving it some thought for a moment before she hum.

“We’ll find out together baby…”

[ashyllum]

𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 (Yandere! Sunday x Reader)

Gn! Reader (sub/bottom reader)

Desperate Pining series - Sunday edition

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

CW: power play, sexual guilt, desperation, mind fuck, mind break, yandere doing yandere stuff, sunday being sunday, conditioning, sunday molding reader

Play the song for best experience

You had made many mistakes in your life, joining the Iris family, your career choice, but none could compare to falling for Sunday, the Oak family's head, daring to pine for him romantically, while all you were a mere performer, hell, not even an innocent singer or actor, you were a host/hostess in a nightclub, a glorified whore.

You could never forget the day you saw the angel, in the club during your shift, as he entertained some family's guests.

The way he walked, talked, moved, breathed, it cause your brain wiring to fuse in mere seconds. He was holy, divine, just a mere look at him, caused your heartbeat to palpate an unhealthy amount.

And Xipe, in all their glory, gazed your way they day, as you were picked to serve his table, god, his melodious voice left you all tingly, breath heavy.

The way he looked at you with such softness, his pretty smile, making you to whimper unconsciously, your thighs rubbing together in your tiny little bunny suit, your pussy wet / cock already dripping pre cum.

So you found yourself moaning and inside a restroom stall, one hand inside your underwear, other in your mouth, to prevent any noise to escape, albeit you were doing a terrible job in it.

Your vision started swirlling around, purple curvy borders around you, as if you're looking at a screen, your mind entirely consumed by thoughts about Sunday, till the second you orgasmed.

It felt, dirty, dirtier than you were used to feeling, as you knelt on the bathroom floor, panting, heart heavy, longing, your body jittery and mind confused at your actions. But most importantly guilt, guilt for lewding someone so holy, a guilt akin to felt when sinning, yet, double as tempting to repeat.

And all those feeling increased exponentially, as you got out the stall, only for your eyes to meet those golden ones through the reflection in the mirror.

"You make such cute noises, there's no need to hold them back," he said, as he turned around and stepped closer to you, your heartbeats resonating with his footsteps, only for your brain to stop working as he took your hand and kissed the area you had bit earlier, staring deep in your eyes.

From that moment on, you memories remains a blur, the kisses, the touch, the luxury hotel room which you could'nt have ever afford, and the tears.

And God, did that strange guilt scare you off, you don't really remember it yourself how you physically jolted at the thought of him penetrating you, daring to refuse the leader of Penacony, making him settle for a sloppy blow job and a thigh fuck, you barely even touching him, making him do all the work.

Yet, the man was gracious enough to let you stay over in the room for the night, blessing you with the opportunity to wake up next to him.

"Won't you pay me back for this opportunity, little sheep?" He asked you, caressing your cheeks gently, his touch akin to a whisper, light, sight, barely there, reminding you how you dared to reject his affection last night.

So you stayed, helping him get ready, buttoning his shirt for him, as he read some texts on his phone, tying his tie, the way he liked, getting him some coffee and breakfast from the breakfast buffet in lounge, because he's too prestigious to mix in common folk, all while he scrutinized you whenever you didn't do the tasks the exact way he liked.

And the second he left the room, you felt hollow, as if your heart had a gaping hole in between as if he took away a part of your soul with him. So imagine the unfathomable amount of joy you felt when Sunday kept frequenting the club more and more, always picking you to serve his table, giving you that kind look, praising you, doing everything in your power to please him, putting extra effort in everything.

All that, only for your heart to break when you heard the whispers about Sunday starting to indulge in some of your co-workers in bed.

Cause, after all, your sin wasn't craving the angel's attention, but to even think you could ever deserve it.

Your weeks your brain stuck on the thought, if the Sunday will come back in club the next day, if he will ask you to serve or not, or will he ask your co-workers, the one who get to lay with him at night. Will he get disgusted by you soon, get tired of pathetic little you.

But till then, those few hours serving were enough, despite the pain and longing, you were willing to suffer if it meant keeping that damn smile in your life.

All such thoughts spiralling in your head 24/7, causing you to get anxious randomly, to the point, your friends started worrying about you. As your self esteem started dwindled down, day by day, as you kept comparing yourself with him.

So it was a shocker when one day the man showed up near the cramped dingy alleyways you live in, greeting you with the same sweet smile, as the first day, you saw him.

You humored the man for some while, best to your capabilities as your breath started to get heavier and heavier in his presence, only able to look at him with a longing gaze, his words flying over your head, till you both stood in silence for a while, your brain to gushy to realize.

"You know, little lamb, you really need to learn some from Sydney," he said, pulling you out of your daydream, gently brushing your cheek with two fingers, then using them to slap your cheeks lightly.

You winced at the name of your co-worker, the one labeled as 'Sunday's favorite',

"I-"

"Invite me to your apartment," he instructed, cutting you off "It's only polite to continue our conversation, inside, right?"

So there you were in your tiny, cramped, studio apartment, he thought of your living condition to be proud, that much was visible on his face, as you brewed him some tea, the most expensive one you had, which was probably too cheap for Sunday's taste, while he chewed your head off on speaking about random things.

But mostly instructing you how to do things properly, like pouring him tea, how to serve him, how to sit properly, and so on. Which you followed diligently, of course, Mr. Sunday, is a kind soul, teaching someone like you, how to behave.

"(Y/n), replace your black net stockings with white ones" he instructed, referencing to your work uniform, before leaving.

So you did, the next day serving him, like a "good boy/girl" those words causing your face to flush, redder than a tomato.

And you got rewarded alright, as he lead you to the same hotel room, from your first night. This time the experience was more sweeter, gentler, yet you still had a break down at the thought of getting penetrated by him.

Heart pounding hard, you got a full-on panic attack this time, getting coddled by Sunday, as he has you sit on his lap, facing him, his dick rubbing against your pretty hole, as he cooed on you, his one hand patting your back, while caressed your face.

"Darling, you had no problem, jumping on Hudson's dick, what's wrong with me?" he asked, out of nowhere, as his hand now grabbed the behind the back of your neck, causing you to whimper.

"W-who?"

"Ah, so you don't remember your clients, huh? How sweet of you, to happily lay with someone whose name you can't recall, over the man, who's been kind enough to hide you in your stupid mistakes"

He sighed, hitting your cheeks with two of his fingers.

"Tell me, my little lamb, what do you think, when you see me?" He asked, his lips laying on your Adam's apple.

"P-preety" you whispered out.

"That so, doll?" he took whispered, taking your hands, and putting it on his face, "if you think, i'm preety lay your hands on me," Sunday said, as you looked in your eyes, an desperate expression in his gold eyes.

To be continued ~

Have you longed for someone so much so, you start feeling disgusting?

Can't you tell I'm desperate? Can't you tell I'm cheap? You don't gotta love me, we don't have to speak I'll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave I'll see you when I see you You Were a Dream - Artemas

(Excuse me if this was bad, It's my first fic and I'm suffering for horrible period cramps )

[randombush3]

audentes fortuna iuvat

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two

words: 9541

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks III

content warnings: there’s some (a lot of) cheating + postpartum depression. it’s more frustrating than sad though x

notes: this covers 2019-22(ish). It was SUPPOSED to be the last part. It’s not anymore. I’m gonna do a fourth to deal w the mess I have created in a more self-indulgent amount of words than the 3k i had planned. That will probably have smut in it 😛

“Y/n left me.” 

The limousine you are in is completely black, save for the white lines being measured out right next to you. 

“What?” says Jenni. 

“She left me,” Alexia says once more. The hotel room is a non-committal beige. They lie in the same bed, the older of the two welcoming her lost teammate wordlessly and without judgement. Tomorrow, they will return to Barcelona, losers yet another time. “She moved back to london. She took Nico.” 

“She can’t just take Nico, can she?” 

“Y/n, how’s Nico?” Your stomach turns, but whether that is provoked by the thought of the baby boy you left crying in your father’s arms or by the white powder outlining the rim of the woman’s nostrils, you don’t know. 

Your son’s creasing eyes, red face, and grabbing hands appear in front of you. He screams as you walk away. He doesn’t understand why he has not smelt Alexia in weeks, and he misses the comfort of home. 

Everyone waits for your answer. No one comments on the bags under your eyes. “He's fine,” you say with a smile. “He loves it here.”

“I think she is depressed,” Alexia tells Jenni, comforted by the arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close and tightly and reminding her that she is not as alone as you have made her feel. “She told me that she couldn’t be in Barcelona anymore, but she said that without giving me a chance to come with her. Her bags were packed before the conversation started — she might as well have called me from the plane.” 

“Are you angry at her?” 

“Yes.” 

Alexia thinks about it. 

“No.”

“No,” you say when they point at your very own line. The drug holds a place of both familiarity and hatred in your heart. The fine, white powder reminds you of greatness – of being the most successful girl group in the UK – but, also, of hospital visits. It’s not a past addiction, but it could have been. You light a cigarette instead, though it will make the vehicle reek. “I can't. I have a son.” 

“You’re not a saint.” They boo. “You’re allowed to have fun. I saw you the other day, and you had no qualms with any drugs then.” 

“No, I'm not a saint,” you reply. You regret that night — however little you remember. “But I am a mother.” 

“Is it that thing? Postpartum?” Jenni asks. “The baby blues are really shitty, I've heard, but they’re not supposed to cripple you. Maybe the relationship has other issues.” 

“I'm not angry at her, Jenni,” Alexia repeats. “I miss Nico. He looks like her. He has started to look a lot more like her now.”

“He would definitely suit those sparkly bralettes.” Jenni giggles at the thought. 

With an understandable lack of good humour, Alexia ponders something more realistic. “He would suit a Barcelona kit.” 

“He would be made for it. You are his mother.” 

“I'm not angry at her,” Alexia says for the third time, just to make herself believe it. Just to carve those words into her bones and tell herself that it isn’t anger, what she’s feeling. “I don't want to be angry at her. I think I'm going to see if I can move to arsenal.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

“Well, I'm not angry at her.” 

“Alexia.” Jenni cups her cheek tenderly. “Ale.” She knows she shouldn’t. She’s not angry at you, and so there is no punishment needed. Not that… Not that kissing Jenni would ever be utilised as a weapon to get back at you. Or that she’d actually kiss her. 

“Daddy, I can't get him tonight. No, I don't want to stay over. Daddy, I…” You hate the baby. You hate yourself. You hate that Spain hasn’t done well, and that your fiancée is disappointed that nothing is how it was supposed to be. Alexia is probably lying awake in bed, missing her son, and missing you. You expect one of her teammates to call you soon, and tell her that she needs you. You’re her person. “I'm going to get some sleep and I'll pick him up tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime, okay?” 

“Alexia, bésame.” 

…

You had passively bought your house. It’s how property sale works when you’re a celebrity. People are always willing to do things for you if you know the price, and it never hurts to use your name to add a new flashy level to whatever stupid business they are running. It’s a mutual exploitation, to some extent. 

Highgate is beautiful. The house is beautiful. 

The reception room, with its high, decorated ceilings, is your favourite place to numbly take in the twisted jigsaw of your life when Nico has cried himself to sleep. The nursery is on the first floor. He is near enough for safety, but at a distance that allows you to regret all the mistakes you have made.

You watch him roll over onto his stomach, eyes trained on the baby monitor though your fingers graze the ivory keys of your new piano, attempting to compose something worthwhile. At this rate, your solo career is going to fail just like your relationship seems to be doing. 

Yesterday, while Alexia seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth, you came out. It was an off-hand comment during the Graham Norton Show. A quick ‘my fiancée named him. She’s from Barcelona’ was all it took. You hope Alexia, wherever she may be, has heard about it. Jenni would have told her. You trust Jenni to be somewhat on your side because she always has been. 

The doorbell rings just as you sniffle, wiping away the tear that slips down your cheek. “Don’t be pathetic,” you mutter to yourself. “You didn’t pay five million pounds to sit here and cry. You chose to come back home.” 

Being in England – colder, drearier, lonelier England – has made you realise that your decision was not the right one. Or maybe it was. It has proven that you are as terrible a mother as you convinced yourself you were back in Barcelona, and it has also shoved the cavity Alexia leaves in your life when you refuse her entry right down your throat in the form of a constant lump and a dull stabbing in your chest whenever you think about anything past whether Nico has had anything to eat. You can’t even feed him properly, despite it being supposedly in your nature. You buy formula from the nearest Waitrose. 

The doorbell rings again. 

The insistence is not uncommon seeing as you are, at the minute, the English press’s number one target. You open the CCTV app on your phone so that you can decide whether or not to ignore the potential stalker, and your heart rate spikes when you see the hooded figure standing on the porch. Back to the door, it is not possible to determine the threat. A well-buried maternal instinct kicks in for once, and you ensure that Nico is still peacefully out cold before getting up to answer the door with the poker from the Victorian fireplace firmly in your grip. Just in case. 

You are a mother, in whatever capacity you have decided that role looks like, and so you undo the three latches on the door with brave, protective fingers. The baby monitor’s volume has increased, and the fuzz of white noise is audible if Nico were to make a sound. The vague repulsion at the idea of it all is only an aftertaste in your silent prayer for the hooded figure to not want to kill you. Some sick part of your brain imagines Nico dead, as well. It tortures you. 

The poker in your other hand, for the most fleeting of moments, is almost plunged into your chest. The imaginary, self-inflicted wound makes you think of the blood and how the baby upstairs would wail until someone found him. The grimace of annoyance on your lips is nothing new, but you have no more time to torment yourself because the doorbell is pressed again, rather impatiently. 

You open the door and the hooded figure is right in front of you. “He’s asleep,” you say, the Spanish foreign on your tongue. 

Alexia shrugs, and her hood falls down, revealing the brunette tendrils that hang from her slowly sinking bun. “I came for you,” she replies, so earnestly that it is as if nothing ever happened: past pain forgotten and replaced by sprouting memories of soft kisses and mornings where leaving was too hard to do. Some of them, you think, are not real. They don’t seem to be. Your blank stare is unsettling. You almost don’t believe her. “Can we talk?” she tries, and you notice the team-issued duffle on the tiled floor she is standing on. Then, from the pocket of her hoodie, she extracts a pastry box. The plastic window is filled with circles of different colours, and she holds out the macaroons to you as if to bribe her way into a home in which she is unsure she belongs to.

Stepping aside, leaning the poker against the wall by the door, you scratch at the bare skin of your neck. Alexia, while sweeping an arm down to collect her bag, fixes her gaze onto the ring you are wearing, and the diamond glistens with hope that this can all be fixed. “Would you like to come inside?” 

She swallows the whine of anguish that tears her heart open at the idea that this might never be her house to live in, too, and she follows you dutifully as you lead her through hallways far more luxurious than the flat in Barcelona could ever be. This is what you left her for – the person you are, no longer in worn clothing with messy hair, is quite the opposite of the woman with her back to her moments before she had to focus on football. The necklace draped on your sharpened collarbones is new, and she does not dare believe what she has been hearing is true. Yes, there are pictures, but she trusts you. She will always trust you. 

“Have a seat,” you say, gesturing to the wooden dining table. It is clean enough for her to determine that it is unused. Alexia places the macaroons in front of her, and aches at how you sit at the opposite end. 

“I…”

“I thought you were going to give me all the time that I needed.” It is a statement of distance, as if your location is not enough. 

Alexia, eyes widening at how unwelcome she suddenly feels, needs only to remind herself of the impending date of the wedding. It is beginning to loom uncomfortably, with the excitement of getting married drained out like a low tide on a deserted beach. “We have two weeks. If it isn’t going to happen, then you should tell me now. We have to give everyone notice so that they can cancel their flights.” Your silence spurs her on. “You will need to contact the wedding planner, because you refused to let me have a hand in any of it so I don’t even have their number. I’m sorry that you won’t be able to wear your dress. Vivienne Westwood is a big thing for you, I know. I’m sorry that it’s inconvenient.” 

“But Alexia,” you whisper, “I don’t not want to get married.” 

Her eyebrows furrow, head tilted slightly to the left. “I know. That is why I am saying this.” 

Your voice grows louder. “No, no. Sorry, that wasn’t the easiest thing to understand.” Across the dining table, your love that has faltered, that has hesitated and been reconsidered and been stamped down over the past month, extends towards her: its final destination, always and forever. Alexia feels it grab her by the throat, wrenching the words from her before she can even formulate a thought in response, and her body is so drawn to you, in such a powerful fashion, that she pushes her chair out from the table with a grating scrape and is stepping towards you with a finality that makes her wonder if she’ll ever leave your side. 

As she approaches, the idea that she is here becomes a little too real. You have played with the fantasy of it, of course, but the tenderness in her usually fierce eyes does not match the anger you had expected, and, in the most feeble fashion, you have never felt more apologetic in your life. 

“I’m so sorry,” you begin to say. Tears stream down your face with freed anguish, and the words are so simple yet they bear the weight of your entire soul. “I’m so sorry, darling. I made a mistake, and I have been met with the most crushing of realisations: I can’t do this without you, Alexia.” I still want to marry you, Alexia. 

The room seems to close in on your despair, attempting to bottle it, almost, and keep you trapped underneath a haze of emotions you don’t quite know how to sort through. “I… I’m beginning to hate him.” The confession hangs heavy over Alexia’s bowed head as she stands frozen in place, stuck in her journey towards you but unable to arrive. “I’m acutely aware of how cruel it is,” you continue, this next admission being what agonises you the most. It floods the room with guilt, and your voice trembles with self-condemnation that reigns harsher than any other voice in your head. 

“It’s ridiculous. I’m evil and I’m wrong, and I just feel like it is inherently in my nature to be like this, as though some fault has been built into me with warning signs we evidently ignored.” You struggle to breathe. “I wish I could take back the day we decided to have him,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, lips doused in tears, skin searing with shame when Alexia cups your cheek with a strong, calloused hand. “He should not have to be stuck with me as a mother.” 

Your chest heaves, and you are finished. You have never verbalised it before now, and it is impossible to decide whether it has helped remove the lead lining of your heart where it has been bolstered against your will. Her other hand steadily rises to your face, but then, with only a second of hesitation, she is pulling you upwards and enveloping you in her embrace. You feel a little bit closer to her. “Mi amor,” Alexia murmurs, tone cracked with sorrow and regret. “Lo siento mucho. Desearía haber sabido, desearía haber estado allí para ti.” 

Gently, she tilts your face upwards to meet her gaze. “You are not evil and no estás equivocada. Estoy aquí ahora, y no te dejaré enfrentar esto sola nunca más.” You collapse into her. “I’m here, cariño, and I am not going anywhere.”

The sentiment is wonderful, and Alexia makes good on her word. 

When Nico begins to cry, the sound piercing through your choked sobs, Alexia realises she has missed all of her life with you. Being separated and being apart due to work, she now knows, are two excruciatingly different things. The whiny wails from upstairs visibly jar you, though you pull away from Alexia to attend to him. “I will do it,” she declares, though her firmness is not mean. “Sit down. Eat the macaroons – they’re… ‘to die for’?” You nod with instinctive encouragement. “Sí. They’re to die for. Try. Jenni says that the pink ones are the best.” 

“Jenni picked them out?” you ask with a briefly regained humour, eyebrows raising. “Had to get your friend to choose your apology gift?” In truth, neither of you know what Alexia would be apologising for, but Nico’s crying grows more incessant and Alexia is climbing the carpeted staircase before the topic can be discussed. 

Alexia reaches her son with tears brimming in her eyes. The failure of Spain at the World Cup is amplified by the idea that she has disappointed him, though he does not yet possess the tools to pledge his allegiance to her country. In fact, Nico has been sleeping in Manchester United attire (your father has been his primary carer of late, and he does not charge you money, so the price is obviously Alexia’s sanity). She is more than glad to smell his nappy, and delighted about the opportunity to change him into something less hideous. 

“Mama loves you so much,” she tells him as she manoeuvres his chubby legs into a plain, inoffensive onesie. “I promise, petit. I am going to help her, okay? And we are going to get through this together.” Alexia forgets about the taste of Jenni’s lips and the heat between them. “Mama just doesn’t see the direction she is going in. It is like her eyes are covered, and she is telling herself that she is walking down the wrong path, but this is not true. You are the most special thing in the world to us. You are the sunrise, the sunset, and the hours of the day.” 

She pauses to stand him up on his tiny feet, hands hoisted underneath his armpits. He is heavier than when she last held him, but she is stronger than before, too. Women’s football is growing, along with her muscles. Nico babbles out a vague reply, but Alexia hears what he is trying to say. “I agree. We’ll be alright.” And, with all her heart, it rings true. 

…

The following day, she calls the doctor for you, script written out on a piece of paper in front of her, translated perfectly so that her concern does not waver the information she needs to tell the receptionist. The clinic is famous and discreet, and they are quick to prescribe you antidepressants before the week draws to a close. You won’t be able to drink at your wedding, and everyone might think you are pregnant again, but Alexia reassures you that it will be worth it. 

Wrapped up in your own bubble, the three of you enjoy London in a way that isn’t possible in Barcelona. 

Here, Alexia has no commitment to football. There are no training sessions she must rush off to, there are no teammates to pry, and no one else to interfere with your private little routine. You quite like it, and she does too. It is only temporary, before you fly out to Menorca and hand Nico off to Eli in order to enjoy your respective bachelorette parties and then, in exactly seven days, your wedding itself. 

“You’re still smoking,” Alexia says disapprovingly, the sleep in her voice enough to make you feel a pang of guilt. It’s late at night when Nico has finally been soothed from his aching gums, and she has been able to climb back into bed expecting to find you asleep already. “Why are you awake?” 

“I’m still smoking,” you tell her. She sighs at the way you parrot her words, but presses an affectionate kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulders despite the lingering smell of cigarettes. “If I can’t drink, I’m going to smoke. This is Hollywood.” 

“This is Highgate.” Her accent curls around the name with something a little too foreign for her to ever consider this place home. “Why are you awake?” she repeats. 

You look down at the open notebook in your lap, the pages either blank or full of crossed-out lyrics. “He was so loud, but I can’t seem to write anything either so, really, it has been quite redundant.”

“I had to get a glass full of ice and hold it to my fingers so that I could help him. I could have lost some very important assets, but it seemed to do the trick.” He’s teething. You’re telling yourself that the antidepressants are little pills of miracle, and have kicked in already. “Feel.” She presses two freezing fingers to your cheek, and you gasp, flinching away from her. 

“There’s a teething ring downstairs, you know,” you tell her. She shrugs. Maybe it isn’t clean. “Don’t give yourself frostbite. I happen to quite like your fingers.” 

Alexia’s smirk is beyond suggestive, and her lips hit your neck once more with an entirely different heat to them. “Yeah?” You push her head away. “I bet it would feel good. Nice and cold.” 

“You’re delirious.” 

She continues to kiss you. “I don’t know what that means,” she mumbles into your neck, until her lips reach your face and she is near climbing into your lap – notebook long pushed onto the floor. “Dímelo en español.” 

“No lo sé.” 

“Ah. Una palabra inteligente.” 

“Claro.” 

She laughs into the kiss she presses against your lips. She never has never felt like this with anyone else. Never this relaxed, or loved, or safe. “Me vas a matar con tu inteligencia y voy a sentirme estúpida para siempre.” 

“I love you,” you state softly. “I love every part of you.” Alexia, in that moment, decides to never do what she did with Jenni again, and to never break your heart by informing you of her betrayal. 

…

You’re married. 

You’re married to Alexia, a woman who bears the beauty of a goddess and the strength and will of someone who could capture the sun and tame the fire that rages on its surface. 

You admire her as she sleeps so peacefully beside you, tanned skin warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the hotel room. Later, you will get on the ferry, go back to Barcelona, and then fly to Capri for three days alone before Alexia’s preseason starts. Aside from a few meetings with Dave, you theoretically aren’t swamped with anything. You’ll be joining her in her city with Nico with a bit more permanence than last time. 

Alexia buries her face in the covers, crawling into your open arms the minute the sunlight rouses her. “Everything is sore,” she groans, her bare skin slightly sticking to yours, the sweat from last night not yet gone. 

“What happened to ‘mi vida, one more time won’t hurt’?” you tease, impersonating her heavy accent over your English with enough drama to get her to elicit another grumble. This time, it’s something about being bullied. “Darling, we have to get up. We’re having breakfast with our parents, and apparently Nico has been upset that we got a night to ourselves.” 

“Pobrecito,” she replies with a newfound level of English sarcasm. She spent the wedding reception avoiding the dance floor, engaged in a long conversation with your father. The topics spanned over most areas of life, and briefly touched upon how you are doing now. Alexia, with much pleasure, confirmed the improvement, however miniscule it has been. She is very proud of you, and he is too. “I only want one thing for breakfast.” 

Her hands begin to roam, the band of her wedding ring hitting your pubic bone. “Mi vida, one more time won’t hurt,” she mocks you from before but in her sexier, Spanish husk, sucking at your collarbone, straddling your waist.

You replace your near moan with a thoughtful hum. “I really want pancakes. Do you think they’ll make me some?”

Downstairs, where it is brighter and impossible to conceal the hickeys on both of your necks, you greet your parents, brother, Anya, and Gio. Alexia’s mother, her sister, and Jenni are sitting at the table, too. Your baby is pretending he isn’t teething, and grinning like an angel. 

“How’s married life?” Anya asks as you take a seat opposite her, Alexia to your right. The table has a gradient of bilingualism, but Gio discovered that she picks up Spanish quite easily considering she can already speak one romance language. “We’ve already found, like, four articles talking about it.” 

“How?” you ask, but you are not offended. 

Gio shrugs. “Drones, I guess. Nothing bad, though. Some speculation about the other bride – if the article does mention that. Most talk is on the dress.” It was a bloody good dress. “And I suspect that there’ll be a juicy little question about who was your Maid of Honour.” 

“Don’t be salty,” you tell her. The MOH issue was sorted out years ago – perhaps 2015 – when you binged Friends together despite having watched it thousands of times before. Anya has been yours, Gio will be hers, and you will be Gio’s. And they say trios never work. 

“I left Mia with her dad for this.” 

“You shouldn’t have had a baby with a man-slag,” Anya says with a snort, enjoying her second mimosa and Gio’s grimace at the idea of her daughter having to put up with her father’s revolving door of one-night-stands. “You’re one to make terrible decisions. At least our girl over here’s married someone who looks at her like she’s hung the moon.” 

Alexia turns to you with a smile, as if on cue, with Nico in her lap. You glance at his rounded cheeks and shining eyes, looking back up at your friends as though to check they are still there. Alexia leans forwards so that she can whisper in your ear. “Te amo. Nico, también. Mi familia es perfecta.” 

…

Returning to Barcelona comes with one negotiated condition on your part. You buy a bigger apartment, where there is space for an office and extra bedrooms. Alexia says her teammates will be taking the piss out of her grand new place the minute she sees it, but she is more than content to contribute to the finances with her new-and-improved salary for this season. “It’s weird to think that I’m from Mollet,” murmurs Alexia, standing in the middle of the large lounge area, surrounded by boxes. Most are from your old flat, but a few have been flown in from London. Alexia wanted you to have your Grammy with you. “This place is so fancy.” 

“It’s half of what the men’s team get,” you remind her, holding Nico with care as he gnaws away on a frozen carrot. His saliva drips onto you, but the antidepressants are working, and the therapy has been effective enough for you to start taking childcare in turns. (You had tried to previously, but Alexia wanted you to focus on yourself, knowing that things will change for all of you once the season started.) “Hey.” You place your hand on her shoulder. She tickles Nico’s chin. “We deserve this. You deserve this. Why don’t you host one of your team’s dinners? I’ll take Nico round to your mum’s – God knows she’d love to shove some food down my throat, too.” 

She shakes her head, strands of brown unstraightened due to the stress of the move and falling out of her bun with a determination to defy her hair bobble. “They would kill me if I did it without you. They’re all far too grateful that you invited Taylor Swift to our wedding.” 

“She’s a friend.” If you hadn’t been distracted by various other happenings that night, you’d have clocked that Alexia’s side of the guests were completely up to their ears in celebrities they’d never expected to meet. “Okay, so do you want me to stay here?” 

“I always want you to stay here,” she answers. 

“Not what I meant.” 

“I won’t take it back.” 

Nico babbles an incoherent yet cutely Spanish-y noise, though his words are getting closer to being said at the old age of eight months. Then, suddenly, something in him clicks. “Mama,” he squeals, his little fist scrunching up the fabric of your t-shirt. “Mamama.”

“Nicolau!” Alexia replies with just as much enthusiasm, cupping his cheeks. She kisses his nose, and then his forehead, and then his chubby knees and socked feet. “Nicolau, sí, la mama et té a las mans! Bon noi, el meu bon i intel·ligent noi.” 

“Does that count?” 

“Mama,” Nico repeats, tugging your earlobe. “Mama. Mama.” It is easy to forget about the (lessening) resentment you harbour when he speaks. Alexia gets him to say it as many times as she can before he goes back to his carrot, but, even then, the two of you stay in that spot, marvelling at your creation. 

Slowly, she turns around in a circle, absorbing the plain walls and towers of boxes. “This is going to be good. Life is going to be good,” you declare with such a firmness that it has to be true. “Darling, let’s get to unpacking and then we can think about a date for this dinner party.” 

“We are going to plan the party?” She raises her eyebrows at you. “Is this party going to start at five o’clock?” 

“Not all of us shit yellow and red.” (In a national sense – you’d have haemorrhoids for United any day of the week.)

Alexia takes Nico off you, in a show of cultural dominance. You’re actually outnumbered, considering he isn’t a British Citizen, and though he shares no DNA with your wife, he has inherited the same ability to narrow his eyes just enough to serve absolute cunt whenever he so pleases. If you weren’t feeling so ganged up on, you’d be a little impressed. “Nico y yo vamos a hacer croquetas de jamón. Adiós.” 

“Darling, the kitchen isn’t–” But you cut yourself off, deciding that she can discover that on her own, along with the criminally empty fridge. You don’t hide your smugness at all when she finds you in your almost-finished bedroom, wearing a look of utter disappointment and mumbling out a heartbroken request for a food delivery as soon as possible. 

…

November marks three years of being together and, also, four weeks of having Alexia’s ‘DNA’ – a pomeranian called Nala, whose Instagram account is run by her favourite parent after you called it silly and told your wife you’d much rather attend to your own seventeen million followers. 

Towards the end of the month, after a well-spent morning and then a family outing to Barcelona Zoo, Alexia meets Jenni Hermoso in a restaurant in what Jenni calls ‘your new rich-people neighbourhood’ in her text to Alexia.

Alexia, really and truly, is happy to have her best friend back in Barcelona. She missed her last year, when Jenni had returned to Atleti, and that separation maybe made what happened the night Spain was knocked out of the World Cup just that bit more understandable. “You’re a Culer, no matter how hard you try to fight it,” Alexia had said when she had climbed back into her own bed, not wanting to fall asleep in Jenni’s arms. “It was terrible to not have Y/n or you.” 

You and Jenni: Alexia’s people. 

“How’s your wife?” Jenni asks with a grin, two glasses of wine into a pleasant evening at an expensive restaurant. “You’ve left her with Nico, so something must be working.” 

In truth, you have been determined to get better. There were articles released not long after the photos of your wedding were circulated, and those speculated a lot about how you are finding motherhood. The baby pictured, captured by long-range lenses and invasive drones, was the world’s first glimpse at what Nico Putellas L/n looks like, and reminded many of them that you had a child to care for when in London, yet were frequently spotted at nightclubs and parties. You rise to most challenges, however, and find it a lot easier to adapt to weekly therapy sessions and pills every morning when you have a wrongful image to disprove. 

“It’s as if it never happened,” Alexia says, both with pride and surprise. “She now seeks to spend time with him. She takes him with her to the recording studio – the album’s coming along well.” It’s your first on your own. Nico plays with one mixing desk, while Dave (flown in from London with the promise that the Barcelona sun will do wonders for his wife’s misery) plays with another. “And… Jenni, we’ve been talking. The clinic that we used for Nico asked us if we wanted to reserve sperm when we first had him, and now they have called asking if now is a good time. I think… I think that she is really considering it. She told me yesterday that her therapist wants me to sit in on the next session, so we can go over how we can make this time different.” 

Jenni frowns, which is not what the woman opposite her had expected at all. “Why are you two having more children? You’re only twenty-five, Ale. Isn’t this going to affect your career?” 

“The men do it all the time.” She’s done a spot of research. They are younger than her when their girlfriends start getting pregnant, and they continue to play with the added admiration that they are fathers as well. 

“Yes, but they have the benefit of getting paid millions. They don’t have to fight with their federation for pitches or pay, and they can focus on football without their career sparking controversy for even existing.” 

“Then my children will grow up with a mother who fights for change.” 

“Or they grow up with a pop star who only wants things she cannot have and a footballer who can’t spend any time with them because she is too busy speaking at various conventions so that the next league match isn’t cancelled.”

“Jenni, do you think your opinion would be different if Y/n was a man?” 

This elicits laughter from the other woman, who rolls her eyes in a way that can only be described as condescending. “Alexia, you’re forgetting that I’m a lesbian too, which is a magnificent feat.” Jenni references the kiss they shared, and what happened after that. “But, no. I don’t. I want you to be the greatest footballer in the world, and you want that too. What are you going to do when Y/n tells you she wants to move back to England? Are you going to give up your future here for her?” 

The waiter interrupts briefly, collecting their empty plates and carting them off with a mission to retrieve the bill after a sharply declined offer for the dessert menu. “You don’t even know if that will happen,” Alexia scoffs, though she is a little sad that her exciting news hasn’t been well-received. “I was going to say that I’d think about the name Jennifer if it ends up being a girl, but now I’m leaning more towards María…”

She is kicked under the table, and she has to hold in her cry of pain because this restaurant is one of your favourite places to eat. “Mapi cannot have this victory over me. She’d be insufferable. Ale, you simply aren’t allowed to do that.” There’s another kick, but it is more playful this time. 

Alexia laughs, smiling and thankful that the tension has diffused. “I’m only joking. Y/n has a list scribbled in the back of her lyric book. She’ll probably be called Elena.” That is much more acceptable to Jenni’s ears, and she files that information away for next year, when she’ll tell Mapi that Alexia doesn’t like her name.

…

It works. Alexia and you are lucky. The doctor tells Alexia that, if she were a man, the two of you would have to be extremely careful. Your wife marvels at your ability to destroy your body and stay fertile, but she supposes that you are not the kind of woman to be a lesbian. Sometimes, she wakes up in a cold sweat, believing that you have changed your mind and left her. 

The New Year is a fresh start. Alexia decides to fix the (not so) hidden cracks in your relationship. She confides in her newly-acquired therapist. She may have made a mistake once; the secret is sandwiched between her worries about your susceptibility to depression and how Nico is a decided food critic. 

Though the therapist, a lovely bilingual woman named Sofía, raises her eyebrows, she does not pry. She slides a paper calling card over to Alexia. The paper squeaks along the coffee table between the two comfortable armchairs of the office. “I specialise in couples. Seeing as your wife is already a client of mine, I think you should consider a joint session.” Alexia is new to the idea of mental health. Before, she had been too focused on football to care about it. Even when her father died, any professional she spoke to was only hearing how her mind worked because she knew it was what was best for her performance. “And, Alexia.” She looks up at the therapist with a small, nervous smile. “Congratulations on the pregnancy. I am sure Nico will make a wonderful older brother.” 

Morning sickness drags you out of your shared bed most days. 

Alexia asks you about couples’ therapy when you have finished your dry-heaving one morning. 

“I mean,” you begin before pausing, gulping down the sour taste in your mouth and hoping nothing else is trying to hit the toilet water until tomorrow. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise.” She is dressed in her training kit, but she slings her jumper over your shoulders as soon as you shiver. “Do you think it’s a good idea?” 

“It would do no harm.” As long as Sofía does not bring up Alexia’s confession, your statement will ring true. “You book the appointment. It’ll be easier to work around your schedule that way.” 

“When are you flying back to London?” Her question is not filled with hatred for the city, but with resignation to the fact that your job involves you being stretched between here and there. 

“Not until next month. I thought that I could take Nico to an away game with my dad if I got a flight for Saturday. The rest of the week would be interviews and photoshoots.” 

“How’s the album doing?” 

So far, your songs are only written when Alexia has paid you enough attention to swirl your thoughts and blur your vision. It is in these moments that the lingering, sinking weight inside of you dissipates. “Dave remains hopeful. It won’t fail, but I need it to be better than what we currently have.” 

Shamelessly, Alexia is aware of her effect on your songs. She smirks; “Alba has been begging to babysit, you know.” With no care for your current state, Alexia’s eyes rake up and down your body. You grow embarrassed by how you are slumped over the toilet, and how she is standing above you as though she runs your world. “You look beautiful, mi amor,” she murmurs as you bashfully duck your head between your bent arms. 

“You’re a flirt.” It feels too late for her to still be in the flat. “And you’re going to miss training if you don’t get a move on. There are eggs in the fridge, and Nico definitely liked the omelette you made him a few days ago. He’ll be waking up soon.”

A small sigh escapes the midfielder’s lips, but the prospect of the things she loves most in the world appearing in her life consecutively is enough to convince her to pad her way out the bathroom, swanning into the corridor with a little grin on her face as she sings out ‘bon dia’ to an impressively multilingual toddler and heads into the kitchen with the domestic intention of getting breakfast started. She leaves an omelette out for you, which you attack shortly after Alexia and Nico disappear into their daily routine. She drops him off at preschool, and you pick him up a few hours later, taking him first for lunch with Alba, and then to the studio. 

You come home to a showered Alexia who is memorising her most recent match. She lets Nico slide into her lap without hesitation, but she stays focused on the football even when he tugs on the strands of hair falling out of ponytail. You marvel at the idea of having enough room in your heart for so much love. You decide that you are not like Alexia, though it is not necessarily a terrible thing. A further observation from watching your wife settle her son with a calm, muttered Catalan telling-off, coaxing him into loving football as though he does not already, is that you are so very content with your life at the moment. 

But 2020 kind of sucks. 

For the entire world. 

You’re cut off from your home in any other manner than a digital one, and being stuck in a luxurious penthouse in Barcelona isn’t the worst fate, but it really isn’t ideal. 

Elena, however, has the benefit of coming into the world with ever (physically) present parents, who could recite the java script for Zoom given that they spend hours on therapy calls. Elena, bright and smiley and the picture of her mother, spends the first few months of her life in a happy, happy family, protected by an entire football team and a fierce older brother. (And a yappy Pomerianian called Nala.) 

“Y/n doesn’t like the name María,” Jenni tells Mapi when Alexia sends the first picture of your new addition to the Barcelona group chat. 

“The next baby is going to be a Jennifer,” Mapi says, to both the forward and the unimpressed midfielder walking a few paces in front of such a silly conversation. “For that, I can only feel sorry for her.” 

…

The routine changes the following year. 

It starts with an abrupt but expected conversation. One that Alexia has been dreading. 

Your album – the first one that is just you – was released two months ago, and it has done too well. Selfishly, Alexia had hoped it would fail. You have enough money, and she is earning more and more each season. Success, unfortunately, means that this little life can no longer exist. Or can it? 

“I have to do it,” you whisper to her, tears in your eyes though the smell of sex still lingers. The quietness of a child-free apartment allows for you to hear her gulp. “It’ll be different this time, darling, but I can’t be here anymore. I can’t fly out to London every few days. I can’t leave you with a five-month-old and a toddler when you are training every day and playing matches every weekend. It’s not fair on anyone.” 

Alexia kisses your bare shoulder, hands slipping round your waist as she pulls your sweaty body into her. Her chest presses against your back, but she is only behind you in this bed. She does not agree with you. She does not support it. But, like she always does, she bites her tongue. “If that’s what you want,” she replies, and part of you dies with the thought that she does not really care. “I love you. I want what’s best for you. For us.” And she tells Jenni all about it when she goes to see her a week later – the flimsy excuse of meeting a childhood friend for dinner enough to wrap a cloth around your eyes and leave you at home with a screaming toddler and a baby whose only flaw is that she grows distraught the moment she is put down. 

In the dimly lit living room, the tension hangs thick in the air. You lock eyes. “Why can't you just move with us? Everyone will want you, darling, and life would be easier,” you plead, a month down the line. The house in Highgate has been readied for your more permanent return. 

Alexia takes a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “Why can't you get it into your head that I'm not leaving Spain or Barcelona? This is my home.”

“What about the children? School? Life? My career? Does it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes soften. Your heart breaks, and the piece of you that has already died somehow dies again. “I'm thinking of the children. All the time, I think of them. About the reputation of my name – their name. Putellas, the greatest in the world, or Putellas, the one with potential wasted at West Ham?”

“You're being selfish, Lex,” you snap. “This is an opportunity for all of us, not just me. Think about their future!”

“Their future is here, in the culture they know, the languages they speak. I won't strip them of their identity for the sake of a 'better' life. And my career? I've worked too hard to build what I have here. I won't throw it away.” I don’t want to throw it away. Underscored by Don’t leave me again. 

The room echoes with the weight of her voice. “Their identity comes from both of us.” It’s too final for either of your liking. Elena begins to cry in her cot. “I want to try it. I want you to be open to trying it.” 

She gestures to the suitcases by the door. “Trying it and doing it are two different things. You’re taking them from me!” 

“You’re probably going to love life without them anyway!” you shout. You feel like the crying baby, except the tears rolling down your cheeks carry much more suffering than hers. “You’ll – what? You’ll go out with your friends, and you’ll be able to go to the gym whenever you want. No arguing, no crying, no toddler to entertain, no nappies to change. You never wanted children. I forced it upon you. I regret it, and I’m sorry. We’ll go.”

“Don’t go.” 

I don’t want you to go.

“I have to.” 

You turn your back to her as you fly through the corridor, prepared to console Elena in a taxi. Alexia slips her ring off her finger, and clutches it in her palm instead. Desperately, she searches for a solution. There is nothing within her reach, not even you. 

… 

She is an island amongst a sea of happy people. She is going to be the greatest footballer in the world. It kills her to realise that she can now focus on football. 

Nico starts nursery, attending the same school you once did. He adjusts to life in London seamlessly, and Elena does not seem to care either way. He learns more English every day, and his other mother calls him nightly to read to him. 

With childcare more than sorted, you are free to be interviewed, pictured, and invited to events. You rake in the publicity, especially after laying so slow over the course of the lockdown in Spain. 

“Alexia.” Jenni’s hands knead her tight shoulders, partly teasing her. Alexia wears a frown, eyebrows knitting together with an emotion she’s not sure she can name. “Ale, it’s the same game as always. Nothing has changed.” 

“I know,” she murmurs. “I don’t understand why I feel like this.” She has continued to speak to Sofía, though your joint sessions have now come to a halt while you spend your time doubling as a singer and model. The therapist, try as she might, cannot evaluate the situation effectively enough. Eli and Alba have both tried to help, hoping that weekly dinners and the constant reminder about the invention of aeroplanes would ease the turmoil of Alexia’s mind. It does not. “I am so alone, Jenni.”

Nala is too small to fill the emptiness of the flat. Screens don’t allow for her to kiss you, or play with Nico. She is scared she will miss Elena’s first words. 

“You don’t have to be.” 

It only takes a month for Alexia to break, and it sort of works. 

In Jenni’s bed, it works. Hips keening, soft pants falling from her mouth. 

Quiet moans that stay locked in Jenni’s apartment. 

Each time Alexia leaves, though Jenni repeatedly requests that she stays, she walks out as half a woman. She blinks back her tears and she checks her phone. When she calls you – not a video call – you are never any the wiser to the scratches down her back. 

Alexia remains an island, but the sand beaches are tainted with the arrival of someone else. 

In this way, she is functional. 

She can do sex. She can deal with borderline romance. She can fill the space that you are tearing open with every passing minute spent in that god-awful country you insist on calling home. She can fix it a little bit with Jenni. 

She tells herself that it does not mean anything more than a bandage means to a wound. Who wears the bandage once the gash has healed? 

Where does she put the used bandage? 

Why is she focused on bandages?! She’s having an affair. It’s not an affair! (It is.) Alexia doesn’t… quite… wanttoadmititjustyet.

…

The buzz of your phone is the final push that gets you to conclude the current interview you are trapped in. Before checking what the notification is, you glance at the time. You have half an hour before you need to pick up Nico, and your parents said they would drop Elena home once they returned from London Zoo. 

Alexia: Jenni has had a really good idea 

It’s an intriguing text amongst the more practical ones that oil the mechanics of managing the distance. Tonight, Barcelona play their last match of the season. After this, she’ll be flying out to London. You have missed her. The last time you saw her in person was after Barcelona embarrassed Chelsea in Gothenburg. Elated and filled with pride, it was incredibly nice to have the biggest room in the hotel to yourselves. Her medal was almost as beautiful as her. 

You: Go on…

Alexia: Just draw a heart on Nico’s hand from me porfa. You’ll see. 

You slide into the driver’s seat of your newest self-indulgent car; a Porsche. Momentarily distracted by a camera flash, your turn onto the main road is a little risky, but you manage to make it to the school in time to collect your son. 

“Was he good?” you ask his teacher as she hands you Nico’s book bag. You take in the sight of him: hair messy, school uniform stained though they require the little ones to wear aprons for most of the day. “It’s a little different here. I’m hoping that he’s enjoying himself.” 

“Our new assistant is from Spain,” says the teacher with a small, tired smile, batting her long eyelashes at you. “We had to pry him off her.” 

You let out a laugh. “He misses his mum.” 

“He’s extremely intelligent. He knew to speak Spanish to her and English to us.” Though your grasp of Spanish is near-fluent after such reluctance from your wife to try English, you know that the two-year-old has a talent for juggling the three languages he is growing up around. You’re proud of him. “You shouldn’t worry about him. And, speaking of, we have a parents’ coffee morning just around the corner. It’s always great for the parents to get along – it helps the school feel even more like a family. Will it just be you attending?” Nico’s teacher is around your age, and you can smell her rose perfume that mingles with the soft hint of ready-mixed paint. She has deep, brown eyes, and she is definitely flirting with you. 

“Next week, right? I’ll have to check with my wife.” 

It’s then that a toddler-sized hand grips your fingers and tugs. “Mama, me voy,” he groans; something akin to Alexia’s impatience. It reminds you of when you used to go shopping and she’d herd you out with the threat of getting in the car and driving away. “Venga.” 

“One sec, sweetheart.” There are countless ways in which you miss Alexia. “My wife and I would love to come.” 

Her smile does not falter on her lips, but there is a greyish disappointment that dulls the warmth of her irises. You smile as you turn your back and lead Nico to the car. You are so excited for Alexia to complete the broken puzzle. 

You melt when she kisses the heart drawn onto her hand when celebrating her goal. Nico copies her, lips pursing and sloppily mimicking the action on a similar heart. “For you, sweetheart,” you tell him as he settles back into your side, careful not to jostle Elena who has fallen asleep on your chest (the therapist did wonders for you). 

“It was for you,” Jenni tells Alexia after the match. Her goal is now serving as the move Alexia feared she’d make. They have changed and been massaged and done the media the are required to do (women’s football is growing): they are free to roam Barcelona if they so wish. 

Her flight is tomorrow evening – “I have a flight tomorrow evening.” 

“Come over tonight.” It isn’t a question, yet it is not quite a command. Mapi passes the two of them, eyes narrowing at the way Jenni has wrapped her hand around Alexia’s wrist. The defender is aware that something is going on, though it breaks her heart to imagine Alexia ever doing that to you. Not knowing they are being watched, Alexia steps in; cups Jenni’s face, brushes her cheekbone with a stroke of her thumb Mapi knows is meant for her wife. Mapi’s stomach lurches. She feels sick. 

“I need to…” It’s not a ‘no’. “Jenni.” She hates that it is not a ‘no’. 

“Ale.” There’s a beat. Mapi blinks twice, shakes her head, and backs away. “I’ll miss you, you know?” 

… 

Jenni doesn’t seem to mind when, the next day, blurry pictures of you on a family outing make rounds through the tabloids she usually doesn’t read. The fact that, up until now, no one has known that your wife is Alexia Putellas has no effect on her. She was stupid for thinking the last six months meant something. Winning together, losing together. Sleeping together. 

In this deal, Alexia has fucked over both women who love her. Except, you don’t know. She hasn’t told you, though Jenni had hoped for it secretly – hoped Alexia chose her – and it is obvious. Obvious to Jenni, who is well acquainted with the blonde hair in the wings of your concert at the O2. Obvious to Jenni, who refuses to think of herself as the other woman. 

She consults Mapi. 

Mapi, who she has come to shamefully realise already knows. 

“I can’t believe the two of you.” The defender is clear in her distaste and disappointment and, honestly, her disgust. “But I am not going to be the one to break that poor girl’s heart.” 

“I’m not asking you to.” 

What is she asking? What does she want from this utterly useless conversation? 

“Mapi.” Jenni closes her eyes, but she sees two faces instead of darkness. Nico. Elena. She’s Elena’s godmother. You decided that – convinced Alexia to choose her best friend over her younger sister, told your wife that there’d be another for Alba to corrupt. “Mapi, I love her. I don’t know what to do.” 

“She loves her wife.” The next sentence proceeds to brutally remind Jenni who that isn’t. “Tell her you’re done. Find someone else. Anyone but her.” 

That is Jenni’s resolve, because she knows that Mapi is right. 

… 

June, July, and August pass with bliss. 

Everyone says that you are a beautiful couple with beautiful children. Alexia beams with pride as she flaunts her practised English, and gladly claims ownership of Nico when he wins a prize on speech day. Every child in Reception is awarded something but that doesn’t stop her from boasting.

She explores the country with the children while you shack up in the recording studio, and brings hugs and kisses (and Red Bull) every evening after dinner. The visits are what reminds you of the sun Alexia brings, especially as the warmth follows her from Barcelona and London is blessed with golden days. Dog days. 

“This isn’t permanent.” Alexia looks up from her phone, comfortable in your bed. The house in Highgate has flecks of Spain woven into the decor now, and you like it that way. 

You climb into the bed beside her, and her arm lifts so that you can snuggle into her chiselled stomach (wow, she has been working hard this season). “What’s Jenni saying?” you ask, following your statement and hoping you’ll get her attention. She presses her phone screen into the duvet before you can translate the message – it is too long of a paragraph for you to handle. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that this isn’t permanent.” 

Alexia, over the past few months, has been the most affectionate, loving, amazing person with the same smile and giggle you married. You thought she had disappeared and was replaced with stern, career-focused Alexia Putellas, jugadora del fútbol. You were wrong. 

“I’m thinking January is when we’ll come back. Nico’s English will survive.” Your parents are going travelling. They’ve never been on the Orient Express before. “I want to be with you.” 

It is a good thing Jenni has just broken up with her. 

“I love you,” you continue. “So much.” 

Alexia hums. Her heart breaks, and she does not know for whom. “¿En serio?” She is happy, she thinks. Certainly, she is glad that the four of you will be reunited. 

 You are. 

January 2022 ruins things for Jenni Hermoso. She calls Pachuca back. 

[fatuismooches]

fabulam diu oblitus - prelude.

synopsis: The tale of the raven and the sparrow has long been forgotten by most, but some will always remember.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: This is the first part of a multi-chaptered fic that became too long to put into one post. It is a telling of your and Dottore's life as a fairytale, with fragile reader because yes. Thank you to all of my followers and anons who helped me figure out the animals that should be used and especially my lovely moot @kaixserzz!

prelude. first interlude. second interlude. postlude. sequel.

“Once upon a time, there was a baby raven. The raven was an inquisitive and curious hatchling who wanted to explore things that no one else had ever dared of. But because of his ideas, the raven was beaten, shunned, and cursed for the entirety of his childhood. Eventually, as soon as he reached adulthood, he was chased away from his nest, and from that day on, the raven swore to never trust a single soul ever again. But one day, the raven came across a sparrow, who seemed to love to challenge and test him at every possible moment.”

When Zandik was exiled from his hometown, he thought that he was prepared for what was to come, for he had experienced the worst of what humanity had to offer. He knew better than to give any other person the time of day and resolved himself to be cold and closed off. And he didn’t mind being that way, as everyone at the Akademiya was a sore, shallow disappointment. He wondered if anything of substance ever went through those brains of theirs. Ignoring his classmates had garnered him a poor reputation, but it didn’t bother Zandik too much as he was far more interested in his personal research.

That was until he met you.

You had barged into his life out of nowhere, much to his dismay, and invaded his space, now occupying one of the beds in the dorm. You had greatly sabotaged his workspace and time, as now he had to be conscious of what he worked on in your presence. He had to be careful in his own bedroom because of you. It was positively infuriating. But perhaps the most confusing and annoying thing was your attitude towards him. 

You were… kind. You would smile at him. You would inquire into his studies and research with supposedly genuine interest (he had yet to deduce whether you were being real or not.) You would cook for him and continued to do so even though he had yet to thank you for it. You would run errands for him willingly without any protest. You would shut down anyone talking shit about him immediately.

Zandik didn’t like it.

—

“Despite the sparrow’s kind nature, the raven couldn’t bring himself to accept it. It wasn’t unheard of for ravens to prey on sparrows, and at some moments, sometimes the raven wanted nothing more than to swallow up the sparrow so they wouldn’t be in his hair anymore. But there were no opportunities for the raven to do that, so he was forced to endure the sparrow’s presence. However, he came to realize that the sparrow had far more strengths than he initially gave them credit for. Over time, it blossomed into a most unique relationship, one that should have never been possible.”

Zandik wanted you gone. Your behavior didn’t sit quite right with him, for reasons that weren’t hard to guess. But there was nothing he could do. No amount of harsh words or bickering could seem to deter you. Surely you heard of the rumors? Of what he possibly could have done? Of what he could possibly do to you? And yet you insisted on sticking around, despite his vehement denial of your presence.

Although Zandik didn’t like you, that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate your usefulness. And more recently, your intelligence as well. You didn’t think like the other scholars at the Akademiya. You weren’t short-sighted or close-minded, you were always open to new ideas and discussions. You were willing to listen to him even while he was being rude and made zero sense, always having a notepad handy to write down his words. At first, Zandik thought you were mocking him, but a quick investigation into your notes made it clear that you were one hundred percent serious. 

Naturally, you didn’t think exactly like him either for obvious reasons, but it was… refreshing. That made you far more intelligent in his eyes than any other brain-dead scholar. Yet at the same time, your excessive kindness made him think you were painfully stupid. Especially when his cruel insults and ignorance didn’t drive you away, and at some point you had the audacity to start giggling at him whenever he did so. Very strange, stupid, and smart.

He had dubbed you an enigma. Indeed, you were puzzling and difficult to understand. Normally, he enjoyed the challenge when it came to stuff like ancient texts or questions that arrived from his research, however, he wasn’t sure if he liked these qualities in a person. He liked your curiosity but your personality made him feel things he didn’t want to. But much to his dread, even this scholar wasn’t totally immune to your sweet charms, and he was slowly but surely beginning to warm up to you.

—

“Against all odds, the raven and sparrow became one and the same. It seemed as though the two could not be separated.”

You were always sure it was going to be a long and arduous journey, becoming Zandik’s friend, but you were well aware of what you were getting yourself into. Though even you could not have anticipated how much Zandik would like you, despite it always being your goal. It started off gradually, and it took you a bit to realize his small changes toward you. 

Something you realized was that Zandik enjoyed being genuinely listened to. Perhaps because no one had lent him an ear, or even then never took what he said seriously. Perhaps he was mocked and shut down. So you listened. And he told you more, and more, and more every time. You could be doing your own thing, and Zandik would drag you away from it, under the premise that his work was far more important. The audacity! But you didn’t really mind, except the times he woke you up in the middle of the night to check over his conclusions. 

Even still, it was hard not to find his bursts of excitement and passion cute. It was hard not to find how he inhaled your cooking cute. It was hard not to find his little grunts of approval at your work or the reluctant compliment of “Good, I guess” cute. And oh, and don’t get you started on the way he blushed when you got a little too close, and then promptly told you to fuck off. Zandik was so cute. Unhinged. Not a good or nice person. Mean. But cute. 

Eventually came a time when Zandik stopped trying to get rid of you. He stopped locking you out of the dorm and he stopped throwing insults at you for merely existing with him. Instead came times when you two would “hang out” as you would put it. You’d teach him how to cook but uncharacteristically gave up after one lesson because he was truly that bad. You would do group projects together and then snicker to one another about how the other groups’ work paled in comparison. You two would go out together, initially for the purpose of research, but end up spending some time relaxing in the soft plush of the forest together. No words were said, but perhaps fingers and legs accidentally brushed each other every now and then.

These were good times, Zandik admitted to himself.

—

“Despite their blatant differences, the raven and sparrow seemed to fit together perfectly, wings and beaks tucked into each other effortlessly. Both had accepted each other for who they were, something no one else had done for either of them. Many years passed, and the two developed feelings for each other. However, neither of them was sure how to express their love.”

The good times lasted far, far longer than Zandik could have ever dreamed of. You had remained a constant in his life for many years. He could have never imagined you’d stick around nor would he tolerate your presence for so long. It was now that he realized that there would always be a vast amount of possibilities in this world, ones that he would never believe existed, but they certainly did. You were an example of that.

Another thing he realized was how differently his body and mind could react around you.

Zandik realized, that sometimes his palms could get hot around you. Not sweaty, but hot and tingly. It was a strange sensation. He realized, that when your skin came into contact with his, instead of feeling like he had just been scalded, he simply felt… warmth. Not the overbearing or underwhelming kind. It was just warm. The worst part was, he realized that on very few and rare occasions, his heart would speed up a bit and get stuck in his throat. It was horrible. Zandik despised it.

And his mind, his mind would unconsciously favor you. He would wonder, what time were you coming home? Did anyone bother you? When you didn’t understand something, his mind automatically went to the idea of explaining again (begrudgingly?) instead of leaving you hanging. He hated group projects even more now when they weren’t with you because his mind instinctively knew that other people simply could not hope to compare to you in the slightest. His mind grew in various ways over the years, but this particular aspect… he was confused. This part wasn’t necessarily a hindrance, but it was odd and he couldn’t control it. Zandik preferred to be in control, especially of his own body, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand. 

You, on the other hand, completely understood your own feelings as well as Zandik’s. There was no doubt about it. You were in love with Zandik. Zandik was in love with you. This was the irrefutable truth. You couldn’t determine exactly at what point he began to like you romantically, but you knew you had liked him for years. You were just glad the pining was mutual now because the feelings were starting to weigh heavy on your heart. But now, you found yourself in a plight.

How to finally confess to Zandik.

You really had no idea how to do it. If it was any normal person, you’d probably have an easier time. But no, this was Zandik, which made everything complicated. You had gone through multiple different scenarios in your head, and none of them seemed right. You thought about it, in the morning, during class, while eating, on expeditions, before bed. Yes, the procedure of making Zandik your boyfriend was occupying your mind far more than it should be, embarrassingly enough.

Zandik noticed your continuous contemplative state of mind as well. He wasn’t much of a fan. No, not at all. Did you realize how much of a nuisance it was to be explaining or giving instructions to you and then find out you’re staring into space (which coincidentally happens to be his face) instead? And then he has to snap at you to pay attention and instead, you just give him a silly smile? It was nonsensical. At some point, Zandik had decided this had gone on far too long and demanded you tell him what had occupied your mind so much that it turned you into an airhead. Unfortunately, it was mostly unsuccessful as you two only had a little back-and-forth, with you defending that you were just tired lately and Zandik calling you out on that bullshit. But he let it go.

Was he worried? No, of course not. It was just that having his assistant’s mind not focused on him was entirely bothersome.

… Alright perhaps he was a little worried. Just a little. He didn’t like it when you were troubled.

—

“But thankfully, the sparrow found a moment to show their true feelings. Was it the perfect moment? No, perhaps not. But it became one. And amazingly enough, the odd duo had become an odd couple.”

It was the most average of nights. Really, incredibly average. The two of you were stuck on the floor doing a group project for the past few nights. It was a lot of work, meant for a group of people, but of course, you and Zandik refused to add anyone else to the group, so now you two had been grinding the work together for a while. But neither of you minded. It really was much easier with the two of you anyway.

Right now, Zandik was rambling on about what to add and what to do next and the comparisons and contrasting of the data and a variety of other things. Normal Zandik things, as he pointed and waved his hands to make his point. But all of his words entered one ear and came out the next for you. You were far too busy admiring his beauty.

Zandik didn’t notice your adoring stare, no, of course, he was too caught up in his rambling, but that was okay. You didn’t know what came over you, but an impulsive thought to just make him see came over you. To taste him. To let him taste you. To let him realize the depth of your feelings. To let him realize the extent of his own feelings too.

And so for the first time ever, you cupped Zandik’s cheek, to which his words came to an abrupt stop. He practically swiveled his head around to give you one of those signature looks of his, and he had your hand that was on his cheek in a tight grip around your wrist, nails digging into your skin as an automatic response to such blatant physical touch. It hurt, but that was when you took the opportunity.

After all, it was hard to focus on the pain when his lips were on yours. 

You were kissing Zandik, who was immediately practically screaming into your lips, along the muffled lines of “whadahelareyodoigmph?” And you would have chuckled at his reaction, were it not for how entranced you were by kissing him. It seemed, that after the initial shock, Zandik piped down and also began to process what was happening. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t move away. His grip on your wrist loosened, and you took the chance to intertwine your fingers with his instead before pulling away in satisfaction. Zandik’s face was red and his lip quivered in a half-hearted scowl, probably cursing both you and himself because of the fact he enjoyed a mere kiss that much. But he wasn’t the only one affected. Your own heart was hammering out of your chest as you tried to stop yourself from smiling too widely.

“You know, I’ve…” you paused, trying to control your heartbeat, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” So this was what was occupying that idiot mind of yours, Zandik thinks. How stupid.

Zandik's eyes flickered to yours, bearing a half-hearted glare, and they only said one thing: oh, he hated how easily you made him feel disgustingly weak, and how his fingers tremble in anticipation when you’re near, and how his heart beats far too much for what’s to come next, but oh, he demands that you do it again right now before he goes mad. So you did. You kissed Zandik again, and this time he kissed back.

His pointy teeth grazed your lip as he awkwardly kissed back, clearly unsure of what he was doing. But that was okay. You were probably his first kiss, after all, the idea of doing such a thing with anyone was revolting to him. Before he fell in love with you, of course. Well, this was your first kiss too, but you had read enough books to know what you were doing. You caressed his hair, gently rubbed his arms, and perhaps pushed him down on the bed a bit. It was very nice, to have years of feelings condensed into these kisses.

Neither of you said anything for the rest of the night after the kissing session, the group project now long forgotten. Except when you squeaked in pain since he had the gall to bite down on your lip, then swipe your bloody lip with his tongue deviously. You should have known that Zandik being inexperienced in something only lasts for a short time.

When you two finally went to sleep, Zandik allowed it when you climbed into his bed and delicately placed a hand on his chest, cuddling into him.

—

“The sparrow and raven’s romantic partnership began just like that. Nothing else needed to be said. In all honesty, nothing had changed much between the two who had been friends for years, except for the addition of an overwhelming amount of affection from the sparrow towards the raven.”

You and Zandik were dating now. It was truly a dream come true. Truly a dreamlike moment to randomly kiss his cheek and then watch him become a mixture of flustered and angry at you for doing such things. Truly a dreamlike moment to be able to squeeze his hand under the table when people were talking about him. Truly a dreamlike moment to be able to hold him and caress him all over, to watch his face as he received the love he never received as a child. And truly a… laughable moment as he familiarized himself with holding you, which took much work and effort. 

It was fine though. You were positive your relationship would endure throughout any kind of struggle.

—

“Though, like any kind of relationship, the two sometimes encountered a few bumps and turns that would perhaps set them back. But, these problems never lasted too long because… the sparrow and the raven had unusual ways of solving their problems sometimes.”

Zandik wasn’t very strong. Smart, a definite yes, but his physical abilities weren’t anything special, which was why you took it upon yourself to fight whenever the need arose. So when he came back to the dorms one day with hastily wrapped bandages and cuts and bruises, naturally you were extremely worried.

“Who did this?” He didn’t respond to you as he made his way to the bathroom and you quickly followed after. Zandik was digging through the cabinet for more medical supplies, the previous bandages now lying on the floor.

“Zandik,” you murmured. You knew that people didn’t like him, but you didn’t think it would go to such a physical extent. Most people had the common sense to leave him alone or merely talk about him instead. But now that you thought about it, you had an idea of who it could be. Ugh, those fools from the recent expedition. When Zandik exposed their faulty and false research in front of everyone with ease, they seemed to grow some kind of grudge against him. 

“Zandik, let me see.”

“There’s no need.” You watched as he roughly treated the wounds, his emotions clearly showing in his actions.

“Zandik, I can-”

“I said no,” your lover harshly snapped, gritting his teeth. He was trying to stop himself from saying anything else because he could say things he didn’t mean when he was in this kind of mood.

“Okay then,” you acquiesced and let him be. As much as you wanted to comfort him, it wasn’t a good time now. You needed to give him some space first. But at least when you left the dorm, you had a goal in mind.

You didn’t return until it was pitch black outside, and similarly, all the lights in the dorm’s building were off, so you wandered through the darkness until you reached your room. Ah, the door was unlocked too. Zandik must have left it open for you. You just hoped you didn’t get any blood on the doorknob.

The room was dark. Zandik probably went to sleep early. You went straight to the bathroom to clean up. After all, your hands and clothes were all icky with the blood of your classmates. Flipping on the light and looking at yourself in the mirror, you examined yourself. Good thing you weren’t wearing a nice outfit. And your face, not a single scratch of course. They couldn’t lay a hand on you and they wouldn’t be laying a hand on Zandik ever again.

“Where were you?” The sudden voice nearly made you jump. Zandik was at the doorway. So he was awake.

“Oh, Zandik. Hello. I was simply out with my friends, you know?” You gave him a reassuring smile. Obviously, the scholar knew that was a complete lie. He knew what you had done, he just had trouble understanding why. And how too.

Zandik came up to you and grabbed your hands, surprising you. His watchful eyes checked them thoroughly, the blood not bothering him in the slightest. You were truly unharmed. If you weren’t, he would have done something a lot worse than what you did.

“What, are you worried?” You teased. He seemed to be feeling better. Zandik only huffed in response.

“Why would you do that? Now the Akademiya is going to be behind your back.” Classic Zandik, using negativity to mask his appreciation.

“No, they won’t. Our little friends got beaten up by some Eremites instead. They told me so themselves,” you giggled almost a little crazily at his expression. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve, Zandik.”

“Even so, it was,” he paused for a quick second to think, “a fruitless waste of time. You could have been helping me instead.” Again, you couldn’t help but laugh at his words. It would really kill him to be truthful for once, huh?

“Look,” you placed both your bloody hands over his own. “You are my boyfriend, are you not?” You cocked your head to the side, waiting for a response to which he nodded. “Precisely. So by that logic, I am yours, and you are mine. And naturally, I like to take care of things that are mine. Especially if that happens to be my brilliant blue-haired scholar,” you smiled. Perhaps you seemed a touch bit possessive. But this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, no, you two belonged to each other after all. Zandik didn’t respond but he unconsciously gripped your hands a little bit tighter.

“Just make sure no one sees you doing the laundry,” he huffed.

“Yes, love~,” you pressed a kiss on his cheek to which he made another grumble but made no effort to stop you. After you two got cleaned up, a restful and peaceful sleep came naturally.

—

“Underneath the moon and stars, the two shared years' worth of memories, touches, and love. Though even the moon couldn’t quite understand this seemingly impossible couple, it still bore witness to their endeavors every night without fail. But one day, tragedy struck. The sparrow fell sick to a terrible illness.”

Your relationship with Zandik had become one of the highlights of your life. Perhaps it seemed like you were too crazed for the man, but what was love if you two weren’t a bit crazy for each other? Your life was truly a joy with this grouchy and easily irritable scholar who went a wee bit soft at affection. Well, that was if you excluded the few ailments you had come down with recently.

It started small at first. 

Seemingly minor things affected you. Perhaps a painful throb in your head that wouldn’t seem to go away, but you passed it off as the stresses of exams and school. Aches and pains when you moved your body, but maybe it was just from sleeping in awkward positions because you kept passing out in the middle of the night after pulling yet another all-nighter with Zandik. Sometimes you felt unusually cold, or perhaps hotter than normal. But you thought it was nothing too big, maybe something was going around in the Akademiya.

That’s what Zandik thought too… at first. You were a strong person, no stranger to fighting whether it was people or Ruin Drakes. You would bounce back. In fact, in the beginning, he thought you were overdramatizing your pain. Groaning and whining and clinging to him in an attempt to convince him to stay in the dorms today instead of going out on this expedition. Of course, he shook you off and rolled his eyes, telling you to hurry up. He didn’t miss the tiny sigh you let out, and the slight twinge in his chest but that was quickly washed over by the thought that you were simply milking your unwell condition in an effort to gain more of his attention. 

He didn’t miss how you were much quieter than usual, leaving his voice to fill the silence as you two walked. He didn’t miss your slow and tired steps, to which you had to ask for him to slow down which he begrudgingly did. And he certainly did not miss when you tripped and nearly fell were it not for him catching you in time.

Zandik was about to scold you for your carelessness but the words died on his tongue at your expression. Dulled eyes and pants, your chest heaving up and down due to the strain. You swallowed before your eyes sparked back to life again, seemingly recovering from that little fall. 

“Sorry,” you smiled at him with a hint of nervousness. “Guess I didn’t get enough sleep.” Yeah, you went to sleep a bit late last night, but it wasn’t a three AM kind of night. It was rather earlier than usual, to be honest. So you really weren’t sure why your body was acting like this. Zandik looked at you, silent and unimpressed, but you think he bought it. After that, you tried to return to your normal chirpy self despite the throbbing of your head. You were saved by the fact that this expedition was only examining plants and fauna for a class instead of the normal expeditions you and Zandik carry out.

It did not get better from then. Zandik surely noticed from the way his usual rude comments gradually turned into silence and quiet help at your genuine condition. He wasn’t stupid. He could tell that you were being real. But it all boiled over one afternoon.

You wanted to ignore your deteriorating state badly. You wanted to pretend that it didn’t exist. If you admitted it to yourself, then everything would be over. For what good were you when you were stuck in bed all day? Not just to yourself, but to Zandik as well? You knew he would never leave you, wouldn’t ever hate you but… still, it bothered and worried you more than you liked to admit. So whenever it was possible, you did some tasks for your lover.

Today’s errand was simple. You’d done it multiple times before. You just had to retrieve some parts Zandik ordered (legally, this time) and bring them back to the dorm. And you had done just that… only with a minor hiccup. Yes, it was only a small setback, being pushed and shoved by some of your classmates who didn’t like you or Zandik. Yes, it was just an insignificant occurrence, your body too weak to fight back and put them in their place like you normally did. And since it was so trivial, you didn’t want Zandik to know. So when you got back to the dorm, you put on your smiling face and acted oblivious, handing your boyfriend the purchase and then scurrying to the bathroom. 

Not to mention, there were some scuffs and marks on your uniform. They looked to be only minor, but Zandik still noticed them immediately. Your uniform was crisp and pristine before you left, after all. And whenever you got into an altercation, you’d tell him every time. This time, however, seemed different. Now that you looked back, you were pretty damn obvious, but your knees were hurting really bad.

The scholar waited a few moments before waiting outside the bathroom door, listening in. What he heard were whines and grunts of pains, and then something falling supposedly from the cabinet, and then a string of curses from you. You were definitely hurt.

“[Name].” His tone was flat and serious, and immediately all noise from the bathroom became nonexistent.

“…Yes?” That tone of voice. You were guilty of something.

“I’m coming in,” he didn’t bother giving you a grace period despite your sputters of protest. Zandik found you near the sink, only in your undergarments, Akademiya uniform discarded to the hamper, now stained with small patches of blood. Knees and elbows scraped and bloody. Instinctively you moved your heads to cover your elbows at least, in an attempt to minimize the severity of the situation… which didn’t really work.

“Oh… hey Zandik!” You smiled nervously. “See this,” you motioned to your injuries, “I just tripped and fell again. No big deal!” You had a good and believable excuse. It was just that your execution of it was really bad and your boyfriend could see through you easily. But he didn’t need you to tell the truth, he already had a hunch as to what happened. Plus, if you truly had fell, the gashes wouldn’t have been so deep.

“...” Zandik seemed expressionless as he went behind you and grabbed the bandages and the necessary supplies to disinfect it, before grabbing your hand and pulling you to the bed. You opened your mouth to argue but closed it again, probably realizing there was no getting out of this. It was eerily quiet as Zandik uncharacteristically treated your wounds with more care than usual. Most of the time, he was rough with it as he scolded you for being dumb, rolling his eyes as you chastised him for being so mean. This time, however, most of the sting was from the liquid cleaning the wound. He finally wrapped the bandage neatly around your knees and elbows, before he broke the silence.

“You’re not leaving the dorm tomorrow.” You snapped your head up at this statement.

“Excuse me? Yes, I-”

“No, you’re not. You’re staying in bed.”

“You can’t decide that for me. I can go where I-”

“Not when you’re like this,” he bluntly stated. It was harsh, but it was the truth, and you knew it. But hearing it like that hurt, even though you knew this was Zandik’s way of looking out for you.

The room was quiet again since you couldn’t argue any further.

And so, you had decided to take a break from going to classes for a while. Well, it was more like Zandik had decided that for you, his words being that it would be a great inconvenience for both of you if you continued to act like this, and so he confined you to bed rest and refused to let you leave. Sure, his expeditions would have to be delayed, he lamented, but it would be a waste of time to go when you weren’t in tip-top shape. So stop being an idiot and fighting him and rest already. You know, Zandik’s typical way of being worried. He even took the time to teach you everything, and of course, keep you updated on how shitty the professors were.

So now, your days consisted of resting in the dorm, sometimes doing homework that Zandik brought home, or your own hobbies. But you did feel bad. You didn’t like sitting around and doing nothing all day long when Zandik had to be by himself now. If you were going to be stuck in the dorm all day, the least you could do is tidy up a bit. And of course, cook for the two of you.

Cooking and sometimes even baking were things you liked, but it became one of your favorite things because of Zandik. It sounded strange, but you liked seeing him well-fed and not living off of his inedible cooking. Today you would make… shawarma wraps. Yes, you were in the mood for that today. And so you got to work preparing and cutting the ingredients. The only problem was… your hands were far more shaky than you wanted them to be. The knife quivered in your hands and now the vegetables were being cut weirdly.

Indeed, it had been harder to steady your hands nowadays, so you tried to go for easier food to prepare. But you really wanted to eat some shawarma wraps today,  so you continued on. If you just focus your hand, then surely the knife would just-

…And now, there was blood spurting onto the countertop and dripping on the floor. Just great. It was like nothing would go your way ever again once you came down with this mysterious illness. You blinked back tears the whole time you clumsily wrapped the cut and cleaned the kitchen. 

It was a horrible feeling really, to suddenly be unable to do things that were once so easy. To have things you once loved doing feel like a daunting chore now. No matter how hard you tried to avoid thinking about your illness, it felt like it was consuming your life now. You didn’t want it to start defining you… but it hurt. So badly, that you didn’t even bother putting up your usual cheerful front that evening. Zandik took one look at your hand and could deduce what happened. He would have scolded you, were it not for your terribly gloomy expression.

Once again, in pure silence, he redressed your wound (which was poorly wrapped by your unsteady hands.) You didn’t want to speak, nor did you want Zandik to speak. You didn’t want any pity or reprimanding right now. You quietly rested your head on his shoulder, requesting nothing more.

—

“From then on, the little sparrow’s condition only went on a downward spiral. It seemed like no amount of rest and medication could hope to help them recover. Slowly, it seemed like they were becoming a shell of their former self… quiet, tired, and closed off. The raven could only watch as his beloved grew farther… and farther… and more distant from him in more ways than one. In fact, it would be more fitting to call the sparrow a butterfly now. Butterflies are beautiful, but transient. They are truly a joy to admire, but if one gets attached, they will only end up in a world of pain as the butterfly leaves them far too soon.”

You had long given up on classes and work. The assignments Zandik brought home were piled up in a corner. Just looking at them made you feel exhausted. You tried to do some every now and then, but how could you focus on school when you felt like you were physically and mentally deteriorating with every passing day? Though, many had no sympathy for your current predicament which was why you found yourself in your current predicament.

Kicked out of the Akademiya. How embarrassing. Yes, you were not joking. They had a letter of expulsion delivered right to your door for being absent and missing too many assignments, and an order to pack all your belongings and leave within a week. You were not very surprised and kind of accepted it. Zandik on the other hand, had a few choice words for the messenger, before slamming the door with a bang. He was much more wildly upset about this than you were, a spew of curses directed towards a multitude of people in the Akademiya came flying out his mouth. He wouldn’t accept this, he said. But both you and him knew there was nothing to be done, especially since they would never listen to an outcast such as himself. So in due time, you found yourself admitted to Sumeru’s local hospital. Zandik’s expression was grim, which you tried to change.

“I know you’re going to miss cuddling up to me at night, dearest,” you teased in an effort to lighten up the mood. “Don’t miss me too much!” Zandik, however, did not have the slightest reaction, which made your smile dim.

“Hey,” your tone dropped a bit. “Don’t look so glum. Otherwise, you’re really going to make me think you can’t live without me.” This particular tease made his eye twitch.

Zandik scoffed, “You overestimate yourself. I am not so helpless that I would need you to be near me at all times. Furthermore, I suggest you be ready for when you come back. We have a lot of work to catch up on.” You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Oh, how perfect it was, despite all the changes in your life, Zandik never changes, does he? With his harsh words veiled with some kindness underneath, a silent promise to you that he will make you better and you will be healthy again in no time.

“Of course, of course, love. I promise I’ll be ready to be worked to the bone by you after all of this,” you smiled softly. Zandik rolled his eyes, but at that moment, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

And it… kind of was, for a while. If you ignore the whole context of the situation. You were surprised to see Zandik make time for you every day to visit you in your dreary hospital room, but he did. He would bring you things sometimes, books or puzzles so that your brain wouldn’t get bored. The hospital staff were initially on guard at his presence every day, for his reputation had spread even beyond the Akademiya, but they got used to him after many repeated visits. 

Zandik, on the other hand, didn’t realize how much different you made his life until you were actually gone. He told himself that he could deal with it, that he had done it long before he ever met you, so he would be fine.

He wasn’t.

No longer could he bask in you and everything that came with you. Your brains, your intelligence, your strength, your efficiency, your productivity, your voice, your smile, your laughs, your horrible jokes, your touch, your cuddles, your body - you, you, you. No longer could he call for you and you would be there in an instant, arms swung around his shoulders. No longer could he fall victim to being the taste tester for your new recipes. No longer could he consume your very being… it was driving him mad. He despised how you weren’t at your rightful place at his side.

And he despised how dull your eyes had gotten. For the first few weeks, it was “normal” at least. You’d still be excited to see him. Listen to him. Converse with him. Beg him to stop trying to cook again and just buy takeout. “Normal” things. But now, it was very different. You never outright ignored his presence but, you were far more distant. Barely speaking full sentences, save for the “mhm” and “uh huh” that sounded more forced than anything. Not even mustering the energy to reach out to him or brush your fingers against his You had asked for your bed to be placed right next to a window, and every time he visited, you were in the same position. Staring out the window longingly, gazing down at the city.

And there was nothing Zandik could do. There were no words he could say, no amount of comfort he could provide that would somehow make things better. No, the only thing he could do was solve the issue itself. He was best at that anyway, the scholar and researcher in him paying off. The Akademiya’s libraries were overtaken by him, day and night. No medical text went unread by him. He looked for answers during class lectures. During meals, during the early hours of the morning, and depths of the night. He looked and looked and looked without rest.

But one day, Zandik realized that perhaps he hadn’t taken things seriously enough.

He arrived at your hospital room like any other day, only to see a few nurses crowded around you, fussing and worrying to each other until they saw him, visibly stiffening. It was then his eyes flicked down to your body, which looked… oddly lifeless and unmoving. His brain figured out what this meant before his heart did. One already knew what happened while the other didn’t want to accept it.

“Err…” The nurse fiddled with her clipboard, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, especially to one such as Zandik, “As of today, [Name] has fallen into a coma…” He couldn’t pay attention to the rest of her words. 

The whole world went silent to him at that moment. Everything around him did, as he could only focus on your figure.

—

“With the sparrow now asleep with no signs of waking up, the raven uncharacteristically found himself at a loss.”

Zandik decided it was time to occupy himself with other activities. Like the hospital in the desert he worked at, treating, or rather experimenting on the patients there. It was for a number of reasons. Staying in the empty dorm room without you bothering him every couple of minutes was beginning to drive him more than just mad. Going to the hospital to be greeted by your sleeping body provided nothing but a flurry of negative emotions in him. To curve his growing curiosity and thirst for knowledge. And although Eleazar wasn’t what you were afflicted with, perhaps studying it could provide some insight. 

It was entirely morbid, cruel, and unethical, whatever word one wanted to say would probably fit the bill. Using corpses as material for “medicine”, driving his last remaining patient mad. Yet there was no part of him that felt guilty. That felt bothered. In the end, all he could think about was how satisfying the results of this experiment were. He cured Eleazar. Perhaps he could cure your illness too. Zandik was, in fact, excited.

Zandik continued to visit you every single day to check on you. It wasn’t like the staff cared much at this point. It was then he started keeping dedicated notes on your condition. He wasn’t much of a doctor nor was he experienced in the medical field, but the Akademiya’s library had proven to be more useful than he thought.

He took your vitals. Your heart rate. Temperature. Everything. Everyday. This time he injected you with what he hoped would cure and wake you up. Nothing. There was zero reaction internally and externally. It was a failure. It was frustrating.

Zandik, as a child, was used to being rejected. He never got what he wanted. Which was why as an adult, he made sure he acquired everything he wanted. Regardless of what, why, or how, nothing would stop him. And now that he was hitting that same block again, no matter how hard he tried, he was starting to seriously get irritated. Not at you, but at himself. This happened before, but this time there was also the fact he didn’t have your inquisitive mind or soothing presence to make him feel better.

Not to mention there was also Sohreh. Initially, he managed to tolerate her thanks to your coaching, but now that he had so many things to deal it, he found it harder and harder to deal with the Amurta. She was also the only one who had the decency to send condolences for your current situation, though he brushed her off before she could even get the words out. Yet by some annoying twist of fate, the girl kept popping up randomly around him, whether that was expeditions or group projects together.

When Zandik found his hands around her neck, he wasn’t surprised at himself. He didn’t feel anything at all, actually. On the same day, he went to visit your sleeping body and traced your veins with the same hands that killed your classmate. He wondered if you would feel any different to him if you knew what he’d done. If you would perhaps leave him. From how deeply you were sleeping, it seemed like he would never receive that answer though.

The days that followed were nothing noteworthy unless Zandik’s further spiral into madness and experimentation for both your sake and his innate desire were to be described in-depthly. Soon enough, he was banished from the Akademiya and into the desert. Despite his dislike for that place, it was a hindrance as he still needed somewhere to conduct research… and your body was still in a Sumerian hospital. But no matter, he’d make do.

It was then he met a gray-haired Khaenri’ahn man who offered him something that was too good to pass up and bestowed a name upon him.

Doctor? He was obviously no doctor. At least not one that helps people. Quite the opposite. If you were here, surely you would be laughing and cackling along with him at the irony of that name. But Zandik liked the ring of it.

And so Il Dottore was born. He just wished you were here to see it.

—

“Many, many centuries went by, and the raven progressed with his research in all areas and became akin to a God himself. However, his sparrow remained in a deep sleep and he could only watch as he failed to help his slumbering beloved.”

Dottore was now a man of many feats. To list them all would take a large amount of time, and the only person who would be willing to sit and listen was you. And you kind of did in a way, because for centuries, your sleeping body would be the first one to know about anything. Dottore would tell you of his accomplishments, his failures and successes, his useless co-workers, and how no one could ever compare to the assistant you were to him. And how despite the fact there was no doubt that his research and progress were entirely fulfilling, there was still a distinct emptiness and boredom in his life that only a certain someone could satisfy.

He wasn’t the only one who felt that way. The same conversation was exchanged between him and a segment every day:

“Are there any updates on [Name]’s condition?”

“No, nothing to report, Prime.”

The segments too would bemoan about the situation and wonder when you would wake up. Yet there was nothing that could be done. Countless resources and time had been exhausted on you, yet he had nothing to show for it. The only solution was to wait for you to open your eyes on your own, however long that may take. Dottore would undoubtedly wait though, what was a few more centuries, after all?

—

“But one day, a miracle happened. The bird woke up from their eternal rest, utterly confused and lost.”

Nahida rubbed her eyes and stretched out her body. To think that was only the beginning part of the fairytale! It was truly a long tale, yes, the one of Zandik and [Name]. Yet every part of it was intriguing and left her on the edge of her seat. And what better storytelling was it than to leave it on a cliffhanger?