#i don’t know what’s going to happen between these three but i like it

[luveline]

Something for hotch? Maybe where reader gets hurt/a concussion on a case and goes to the hospital but refuses to tell him she went until someone else mentions it?? <3 you dont have to do it if you have something similar but i love your writing!

ty for requesting!! <3 —Hotch will look after you, even when you don’t tell him you need him. fem, 1.7k

cw reader has a concussion

Hotch rubs his face when he knows nobody’s watching. Hand over his eyes, thumb and forefinger working against a brewing migraine. It eases a little of the tension there, but he can’t do it like you can. There’s something in your hands that makes him want to call them lovely hands, such a quaint word. You rub the space between his brows with your thumb until his aching is gone or replaced. Fondness with its own heartbeat wakes whenever you’re near. 

You’re not near. His head hurts. He wants a cup of coffee and a shower and to call Jack. The cases are never over when they’re over, is the thing, and he can’t keep track of everything. He has to answer questions and patch holes now, before the work follows him home to take up space on his desk. 

He talks to police officers, chiefs, victims families and firemen and Penelope, too, anybody who needs to ask him a question. He tells Emily to go back to the hotel because she’s exhausted, and warns Spencer that staying too long will give him another headache. He’s surprised half an hour later when Morgan grabs him by the arm. Hotch assumed he went with Spencer. 

“Hotch, what are you still doing here?” 

Hotch gives him a strange look. It’s not as though Morgan hasn’t seen Hotch clean up a mess before. “Sorry?” 

“I thought you’d be with Y/N.” 

He tries very hard to look casual. The team are often better at pretending they haven’t noticed you and Hotch slowly moving together. “She went home.” 

“No she didn’t, they took her in an ambulance. She’s at the hospital, nobody told you that?” 

Hotch knows Morgan can finish up for him. He doesn’t even say where he’s going or what there is left to do, Morgan is more than capable of handling the unit, and he’s a phone call away. Hotch rushes for an agent with a car and tells them where he needs to go as he punches your speed dial into his phone. Number three, after Penelope and Jess. 

You don’t answer, it makes him feel sick. He calls again and JJ picks up. Blessed, amazing JJ. 

“Hi Hotch.” 

“Is she there? Can I speak to her?” 

“She went in for an MRI a half hour ago.”

“JJ, what happened? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“She said she told you.” A dry laugh from down the phone. “You’d think I’d learn not to trust her. I love her, but she’s a liar.” 

Hotch could say the same thing. “JJ, what happened? What’s wrong with her?” 

“I think she’s embarrassed. When everybody was coming back out, someone stepped on the back of her leg and she slipped down the stairs.” 

“Who stepped on her?” Hotch asks. 

JJ laughs. Hotch wonders if they’re too far into working together to scold her for unprofessionalism, but then he remembers the Unit would fall apart without her and holds his tongue. He’d fall apart without you, maybe, and he could stand to be a little more defensive. 

He’s out of the car and into the hospital in record time. He follows the signs to the Emergency Room, gives your name at the desk, and doesn’t have to flash his badge to get told what room they’ve put you in. He would’ve, and he would’ve threatened legal action. He’s no saint. He’ll abuse the system (in innocuous ways only, of course) if it means he gets to see you. 

You’re in a bed but sitting on the side of it rather than laying down. JJ sits in the chair beside you, two contrasting expressions on your faces. You’re smiling. JJ bites her lip. 

She turns to Hotch with relief. “Hey, look,” she says gently. 

“You took a long time to get here. Was it the moon?” 

Hotch understands quite quickly. “Sorry. Nobody told me you got hurt. What happened to the moon, honey?” 

You give him a vacant look. Turning back to JJ, your hands vying for her arm, you hold her to your stomach gently and squeeze your eyes closed. “The light.” 

Hotch turns to the wall, looking for the light switch. It’s hidden behind other concerning tech, so he’s careful about what he presses. You sigh and draw his attention, wiggling back on the bed to almost fall off the other side. 

“Maybe she thought she told me,” he suggests, not scolding JJ, but unhappy nonetheless. You clearly aren’t in a state to make decisions for yourself. 

JJ rubs your arm. “She got worse after we got here. That’s why they sent for her MRI so quickly. She’s on and off with it, incoherent and normal again.”   

Hotch knows she’s concerned for you, but he can read her restless leg; she hasn’t talked to Will or heard about Henry in hours. “Go back to the hotel, JJ. I have her.” 

JJ gives you a hug, to your confusion, and bypasses him fast. He can hear her phone ringing before the doors shut from her departure. 

He admires her loyalty, he just wishes she’d called him two hours ago. 

You rub your eyes, the loose sleeves of your hospital gown shifting against the loose knot behind your neck, and he genuinely despises the idea that you’d been here, hurt, without him. “Can I tie your gown again?” he asks. 

You nod into your rubbing. 

“I turned the lights off. It shouldn’t be so bright in here anymore.” He rounds the bed to your back, where a great deal of skin is showing. He smiles though he shouldn’t. You poor girl. “You’re a little… stark.” 

“I’m trying to think of some fruit and milk,” you tell him. 

“Do you need help?” 

“Not for the fruit.” 

“But for the milk,” he surmises, bringing the ties of your gown as close as he can without strangling you and tying them in a neat bow. 

“I don’t think that’s what I meant to say.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb to bare skin. “That’s okay, honey, you’re having a little trouble now, but it’ll go away soon. If there were something wrong, the doctor would be here.” 

“You could be a doctor.” 

“I couldn’t. I don’t know anything about medicine.” 

“A very nice doctor. Big hands.” You breathe out loudly, more animated than he’s ever heard you. “Whoo, I’m cold. I think they made me naked.” 

“How about I tuck you in, would you like that?” he asks, leaning over you in hopes of you turning your head. 

You stare up at him. “You want to?” 

“I’d love to. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“My boyfriend might not like it.” 

Hotch tries not to sulk at another horrible symptom. You aren’t only incoherent, but amnesiac. And you’ve forgotten who he is, in a way. At least you’ve remembered you have a boyfriend. He hopes it’s him. 

“No? Why wouldn’t he like it, honey? I’m just trying to take care of you.” 

You visibly fluster. “You’re calling me honey like he does, and he won’t like it ‘cos he takes care of me. He loves to go to places but he doesn’t know where he’s going.” 

That second half is gibberish, he’s sure. Hotch puts his hands carefully under your armpits and manoeuvres you back toward the top of the elevated hospital bed.

You put your hand to your tummy as you lean back, and hiss as your head touches the pillows. “Ow.” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“Don’t tell Aaron I got hurt.” 

“Why not?” 

“I fell down the stairs. He’s never fallen down the stairs.” 

“I have, actually. Twice. And it doesn’t matter how you get hurt, I want to know you’re alright, so I need you to tell me.” 

He pulls the sheets up to your legs and over your lap. Tucks them tightly behind your back, hands lingering on your hips. He watches you look at him, your cloudy gaze tracking over his eyes, his nose, and his lips. “Aaron?” you ask eventually, lifting your chin. 

“Yes?” 

You breathe out an unmissable sigh of relief. “You didn’t come with me.” 

“I didn’t know you were hurt.” He squeezes your hip softly. “You didn’t tell me. But it’s not your fault, is it? You got hurt.” His voice falls into silk. “Is that warm enough?” 

“I’m glad you’re here. I need you to get my shoes.” 

“No shoes. Can I have a hug?” 

“Why?” 

“Just to hug you,” he says softly. “It might make you feel better.” 

You raise your hands clumsily like your fingers are full of sand, forcing him to see his arms under them and behind your back. Your cheeks align, his rough with stubble, yours warm with the heat of a flush, perhaps from the injury. Your hands flop down onto his back as he rubs two separate, loving paths on the gown and your skin. 

Thank god she’s okay, he thinks. 

“Am I stuck like this?” you ask. 

“Are you worried?” He taps your back. “I doubt it. We might have to stay here for a while, but it’s okay. Feeling better is the priority.” 

“I’d like to go back.” 

“Home?” 

“For breakfast.” 

“Are you hungry? I can find you something to eat.” 

“What?” you ask. 

You sound so genuinely confused that Hotch laughs into your shoulder, before giving the fabric a soft kiss. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna bring that chair over and sit with you, okay? We’ll wait for the doctor together.” 

He sits with you for hours, talks to doctors and nurses alike as they come to check your vitals and explain your scans. Your confusion doesn’t lessen until the night time, and even then you act oddly, bringing his hand to your mouth to kiss strange parts of his fingers. The skin shy of his nail. The underside of a knuckle, the curve under the meat of his thumb. 

[i2ycat]

clumsily yours

pairing lee heeseung x fem!reader synopsis when your clumsy ass never fails to embarrass yourself in front of your crush, lee heeseung. but the catch is that lee heeseung is embarrassing himself to get your attention as well. a match made in heaven, if you will. genre college au, fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers word count 5k+ warnings one mention of wanting to have heeseung in your bed, use of the word whore (in a non-derogatory manner), my man jungwon working overtime as the resident best friend, reader compares herself to other people, kissing, lmk if i missed anything else main masterlist

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

Clumsy might as well have been your middle name with how much you embarrass yourself, tripping on your own two feet like a toddler learning how to walk for the very first time being just one of the many. However, your clumsiness doesn’t just extend to matters pertaining to your body; you’d much rather it end there, but things never really go your way. It also includes embarrassing yourself in front of Lee Heeseung.

You first met Heeseung at orientation. He was in the year above you, acting as one of the guides that led you and a bunch of other freshmen around the campus. You didn’t know it at the time — though you could’ve guessed — but you were just one of the many girls who fell for Heeseung’s charming smile on the first day of the semester.

Heeseung was known to be good with his words, having the innate ability to let anyone’s guard down. He had a disposition for making kind gestures and making you feel at ease, even with just his presence alone. You still remember the smile he passed you as you wandered aimlessly around the university. At one point, he was even nice enough to initiate small talk, asking you what course you took and whether you had clubs in mind you wanted to join, to which you remember answering the music club.

It was around mid-winter when you succumbed to the heat spreading throughout you whenever Heeseung was around, even at a distance. That was also the same time you found out about his reputation — an infamy for being a tragic womanizer. Tragic because he left every single girl behind with a hotter desire to get him back, but once he left, that was it. He was never one to get back with the same girl.

You’ve heard rumours of how Heeseung was such a good lover that they just couldn’t let him go. Another was that he dated three girls at the same time while he was in Bali for the holidays.

They didn’t bother you because it wasn’t like you had a chance with Heeseung to begin with. It’s hard enough that you’re his junior, but adding the fact that you’ve endlessly embarrassed yourself in front of him just makes it that much more of an exacerbation. Admiring his pretty face from afar doesn’t hurt anybody, especially not your heart.

“Stop ogling at him like some creep.” Jungwon grimaces, stabbing his fork carelessly into pieces of chicken atop his plate of creamy fettuccine.

Even in the packed dining hall, you couldn’t help but notice Heeseung the moment he entered. It wasn’t that you were looking for him; it just so happened that when you looked up, he and his friends walked in. “I wasn’t ogling; he just came in when I looked up.” You explain, despite knowing that Jungwon doesn’t believe you one bit. He has every reason to not, really. You’ve dragged him around campus just to get a glimpse of Heeseung in between classes, talked his ear off about how much you wanted the boy, and all the in between.

“I really don’t get why you don’t just talk to him.” He starts chewing in between words. “It’s not like he has a preference either; he literally dated Yuna from our introduction to economics class.”

“That’s ‘cause she’s pretty!”

“And you’re not?” He raises a brow incredulously.

“Well, I am... but what I’m saying is that Yuna is in a different league of pretty.” Your platter of chicken parmesan sits half eaten and forgotten. “An exclusive league of Heeseung’s exes.” You mutter almost enviously.

It’s true that every single girl that Heeseung dated was beyond the threshold of being just beautiful — Karina, Yuna, and Yunjin, just to name a few. It didn’t help that they are all such nice girls; though you’ve never interacted with them yourself, you know a good-hearted person when you see one.

“You could easily add yourself to that list,” Jungwon states matter-of-factly, taking hold of your unfinished plate of food.

Could you really though?

You look past your best friend and towards the direction of the table where Heeseung and his friends are currently sitting. He’s everything your highschool self could’ve ever wanted in a guy; older, funny, tall, handsome. How could anyone not fall for him? You don’t even blame the girls for wanting to get back with Heeseung, no matter the heartbreak.

Even as he conversed with Jay and Sunghoon, he had this cheekiness and charm to him that drew you in like no other. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought for sure that he was like any other nerd in the campus, with semi-permanent smiles, black rims and jean everything, but way hotter.

As if Heeseung could feel your lingering stare, his eyes met yours. Is it overly cheesy and overused to say that your entire world has stopped? Yes, but you can’t help it because that’s exactly what happened. For a moment, it was nobody else but you and Heeseung in this entire universe.

The rosy tint in your cheeks is hard to conceal, and you can practically hear the heart palpitations in your ear. You don’t even notice that Jungwon is rolling his eyes at you, because he’s sure he’s seen this exact same scene about a hundred times before.

Oh, you were horrendously down bad for Lee Heeseung.

—

“Y/n?” A familiar voice faintly calls from behind you, taking your attention off the book you were reading. You turn, half-expecting it to be Jungwon asking to borrow your car, only to be faced with Heeseung sporting his signature smile. You could’ve sworn you died right then and there.

“Heeseung?” You managed to keep your composure, but you were feeling like a high school girl all over again, internally giggling and kicking your feet over the fact that he was within a 2-metre radius of you.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve talked to Heeseung, but it definitely was the first time you’ve ever gotten this close to him. You could almost make out the number of freckles across the expanse of his face, and you’d gladly continue to do so if he hadn’t already realised the fact that you’re practically a breath away from each other due to his miscalculation of distance.

Heeseung awkwardly falls to his ass as he tries to inch backward. “Ouch,” He hisses.

“Are you okay?” You let the book fall from your hands, instinctively reaching towards him.

“Pretend you never saw that.”

“My eyes were closed!” You hastily reply.

Heeseung’s hazel eyes momentarily swim in yours, as if he wanted to dig deeper into you and know everything about you that he possibly could. He felt as if he was put into a trance under you. A beat passes before he lets out a hearty, genuine laugh. It fills your ears with a heavenly symphony. You wish you could hear it forever, so you commit it to memory. You also wished you would always be the reason he laughed like this.

You don’t know why he’s laughing, but it’s infectious enough for you to want to join in the short concord of laughter. So, it becomes just you and him laughing like complete maniacs in the centre of the campus quadrangle. Other students in the area send the both of you weird looks, but you don’t pay them any mind, because who cares? Who cares if the school’s heartbreaker is having a little fun with little old Jang Y/n? What could possibly go wrong?

In this moment and time, absolutely nothing could go wrong. Right now, the Lee Heeseung in front of you isn’t just what the rumours say he is. He doesn’t have to be the lover everyone makes him out to be.

“We should do this more often.” A smile is still present on Heeseung’s soft features.

“Do what? You fall on your ass, then we laugh?” You don’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but you don’t mind it in the slightest bit. You’re finally able to hold conversations with Heeseung without stuttering over your words and making a fool of yourself.

“Hey! You said you didn’t see a thing.” He pouts, and you feel your heart melting. You put your hands up in faux defeat, softly chuckling at the childish side of Heeseung that he’s suddenly showcasing to you on a sunny Tuesday afternoon.

A comfortable silence starts to permeate the air.

From behind, Heeseung’s friends start to call out for him, breaking the trance you’ve been put in under his warm stare. “I guess I’ll get going. See you around.” He gets up, waving with a boyish expression, which you gladly reciprocate.

—

Jungwon lets out an exasperated sigh, his fingers shifting to massage his temples as he takes the time to cool his nerves. He wonders why he continues to go through with his friendship with you, letting the question take laps around his mind while you stare at him with unwaveringly bright eyes.

“Come on,” You whine. “Please?”

“Can’t you just ask him yourself? You told me that you talked to him a few days ago.”

“Yeah, but what if he thinks I’m weird?”

“That’s because you are,” Jungwon mutters, huffing once more out of pure dispairment. “Look, it’s not weird for you to simply ask a friend out.”

“When you phrase it like that, you make it sound as if I’m asking him to be my boyfriend!” You nudge him in the arm.

“That’s because you make it seem as if you are.” He gives you a look and says, “See? It’s not that big of a deal.” You’re rendered speechless at Jungwon’s words of wisdom, as he likes to call them.

“Please?” You attempt to coerce Jungwon one last time, looking up at him with the infamous puppy eyes, but immediately admit defeat when he narrows his eyes at you, brows furrowing in the process. “Ugh, fine.” You get up from your position on the couch, dusting yourself when you stand in front of the body-length mirror by the front door.

“Text me when it goes wrong!” Jungwon’s voice echoes in the small apartment as you shut the door.

The walk to campus was relatively peaceful, but it doesn’t do much to calm either your heart or thoughts, even as you rehearse the lines in your head ten times over.

Hey, Heeseung! I really wanted you to come to the show my friends and I are having tonight! No, you’re doing way too much. Might as well tell him you want to kiss him.

Heeseung! Come to the show my friends and I are having. Definitely not, too demanding.

Hee! Could you please come to the show my friends and I are having tonight? Hee? And you sound way too desperate.

Hey, Heeseung! You and your friends could come to the show my friends and I are having tonight! You could roll with this. Friendly, casual, and totally doesn’t sound like you desperately want him to be there at all.

As you go over the lines in your head one last time for good measure, your body crashes into one that is much firmer and larger than yours.

“Ow!” You yell, hands flying all over the place to find something to hold on to catch your fall, which you do — a bicep, more specifically Lee Heeseung’s bicep.

In the flurry of emotions, you didn’t even notice who you bumped into, only realising seconds later when you'd already gotten steady on your own two feet by using their body as an anchor.

“It’s you again.” Heeseung’s voice is hard to mistake; the familiarity in his sweet and melodic tone does not fail to strike you in the heart, making it beat ten times faster against your chest.

Oh.

Oh.

Almost instantly, you become hyper-aware of his touch on your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your eyes are blown wide, unable to compute that you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of Heeseung yet again. You just grabbed him in the bicep. All you wanted to do right now was hide in a ditch, preferably for the rest of the semester.

“Yeah, haha. It’s me again.” You rub your nape awkwardly, letting out a forced chuckle. “I was thinking about you!”

“Really now?” Heeseung raises a brow, with both intrigue and mirth present in his features.

The colour in your cheeks deepens. “No! That’s- that’s not what I meant. I was- I was just-” Each second that ticks by makes you want to run away even more, as you’re sure you’ve embarrassed yourself more than enough by now. He definitely thinks you’re some weirdo who thinks about him every second of the day — which you are, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Not that I mind you thinking about me; I actually quite like that you do, because at least I know the feeling’s mutual.” A smug smirk maintains itself on Heeseung’s face, twinkling eyes scanning the expanse of your face.

The what is what now?

You gulp almost painfully, blinking up at Heeseung with a bewildered stare, because there’s no way he just implied that he thinks about you too. Surely you’ve inferred wrongly. There’s just no way that you can take up space in the Lee Heeseung’s head.

“I-I have a show today at Delton. My band and I are performing. It would be nice if you could come.” You make the effort to completely disregard the revelation he’s just thrusted upon you, instead taking the chance to make use of the mental prep you were doing just minutes earlier. You were ready to ask him to come to your show, not to receive an indirect confession. It wasn’t a profession of love, but a confession nonetheless.

If Jungwon knew about this, he’d probably kick you in the shin for your pathetic excuse of a response. You internally shudder at the thought of Jungwon blowing up at you after you tell him what just transpired.

Before Heeseung can even come up with a response, you excuse yourself, brushing past him in a rushed manner. You didn’t even want to spare a glance at his face, scared that you would fall to your knees right then and there.

—

“Are you nervous?” Gaon, who is situated with a mic stand beside you, asks.

You nod your head ever-so-slightly, wiping your sweaty hands on the sides of your sweatshirt. You joined the music club a few months ago, but it wasn’t until just a few weeks ago that you started joining them as a lead vocalist in performances. So even until now, you weren’t acclimated to singing in front of a crowd just yet, no matter the size.

“I know you’ll kill it; you always do.” You both share a smile before the curtain in front of you slowly reveals the humble crowd just beyond the stage. In the dim lighting, your eyes scan the audience one by one, recognising a few girls from the classes you take and a few from the other majors. You even spot Karina with Yunjin near the back, as well as Jungwon.

When you don’t find Heeseung, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t disappointed. But after the little encounter you had with him this afternoon, you wouldn’t have either.

You put your thoughts aside when the familiar strums of Gaon and Junhan’s guitar fill your in-ears. You take a final deep breath, calming the last of your shaking nerves.

“Think of me when you’re out, when you’re out there.” The stage lights finally bring attention to you as you sing the first verse, closing your eyes in the moment. “I’ll beg you nice from my knees.”

Right as the beat drops, guitars and drums harmonising to create a new rock-sounding melody, you open your eyes, only to see Heeseung in all his jean-clad glory standing at the front row. He’s hard to miss as he practically towers over everyone else with his intimidating height.

“All I wanted was you.” You pull the mic stand towards you, emotions pouring out of every lyric that you sing. As if no one else mattered in the confined space of the bar, you kept your gaze solely on Heeseung. The confidence in your voice mirrors the one you wish you had as you make it further into the song, singing the lyrics line by line. Adrenaline takes over, letting you enjoy the moment to the fullest.

When the music comes to a complete stop, the loud cheers and hooting of the audience replace it instantly. You thank the crowd for the night and make it backstage, getting bombarded with compliments from the stage crew and other performers.

“You sang so well!” along with other compliments, continue to follow even as you disappear back into the crowd, attempting to find your way back to Jungwon. You make an effort to smile at them bashfully, even though you don’t think you did as well as you wanted to tonight.

“Y/n!” Heeseung pushes past people to get to you, mumbling a roll of short ‘excuse me's in the process. “Hey, um, you did really well.”

“Thank you.” You smile at him.

You looked so beautiful, which was what Heeseung wanted to add, but he remains silent and motionless, admiring the way you looked under the dim lighting instead. You’ve both made it near the back of the bar, where there was nobody else but you two. The next performers kicked off their performance of the night, so it made conversations between Heeseung and you harder to hear, prompting him to inch a step or two towards you.

“You have a really beautiful voice,” He shouts over the background instrumentals. His body is closer to yours, with his hands ghosting over the shell of your ears. Is it just you or was it getting hot in here?

You thank him once again, not trusting yourself to say any more than that, already semi-traumatised by this afternoon’s incident. Because what if you accidentally let out that the reason you chose to cover the song was because of him? With your luck, you were sure you would be spilling how much you wanted him entangled with you in your bed.

“You like Paramore?” He asks, trying his best to keep the conversation alive. He knew you liked music from the get-go, so he used it to his advantage. He usually isn’t one to pull all his weight with the girls he talks to, but it felt different with you. He felt that he needed to try even harder with you if he wanted to get you. It’s a first for Heeseung, and it scared the shit out of him.

“I do, actually!” You purse your lips into a small smile, reminiscing about the times when you would hold a makeshift concert in front of your sister with remote controls as microphones and stools as stages. “I used to listen to them a lot when I was younger.”

“All I wanted was you is actually my favourite song from them.”

“Really?”

“Maybe even more now after I’ve heard your rendition of it.” Your breath hitches in your throat probably for the nth time today and because of the same damn reason: Lee Heeseung and his endless flirting. Could you even call this flirting? You don’t know anymore. He’s just playing with you, like he does every other girl on this entire campus.

“I think I heard Jungwon calling for me!” You motion with your hands, already taking a step back before Heeseung could even catch you. He watches as your figure disappears into the sea of people, sighing to himself in defeat. You’ve ran away from him, again.

—

“Then what the fuck is the issue here? Because I don’t see one!” Jungwon groans after hearing your side of the story. “He’s obviously into you if he’s making the effort to flirt with you. Plus, I saw you guys talking real close last night. You left me alone for a MAN of all people.”

“Jungwon, must I remind you that you’re a MAN yourself?”

“Then take my fucking advice, as I am a part of the MAN community, when I tell you that you should just let yourself be happy and be with the damn guy! Who the fuck gives a fuck if he’s a man whore?” He finishes his piece of bread, dusting off the crumbs towards you in a manner of frustration. “We’re in college; everyone’s a whore.”

You roll your eyes at him, but you don’t say anything to retort because you know it’s true.

You’ve long accepted the fact that you would only ever hold the title of Heeseung’s friend, so it felt like sudden whiplash when Heeseung was starting to show signs of reciprocating your feelings — or at least you think so, when all you’ve ever fantasised about was him feeling the same way. Maybe it suddenly felt too real, and you weren’t actually expecting him to like you when all you’ve done is embarrass yourself in front of him.

You didn’t want to jump the gun either, making your heart feel even worse if it really was all just friendly. I mean, what could you possibly have done to make him finally notice you the way you notice him?

“Ugh, I know that look. Give yourself more credit!” He ruffles your hair and says, “You’re already extremely pretty in your own way.” The intensity in his eyes softened. “And this thing isn’t just a friendly gesture, I can tell that much. He wouldn’t go this long to just play with someone, you know that.” You nod, acknowledging that Heeseung was too nice for that. He may have dated a long list of girls, but those girls only ever had good things to say about Heeseung, from how attentive he is to how he always takes care of them. It’s what made Heeseung such a popular bachelor in the first place — being such a good lover.

“He likes you for you, Y/n. Plus, you deserve to be loved, so let yourself be loved, yeah?” Jungwon’s thumb goes over the apples of your cheeks lovingly.

“Jungwon,” You pout, touched by your best friend’s sweet words. “Come here.” You widen your arms for a hug, and knowing that he despises physical touch, you’re not surprised when he runs away from you, but even then you chase after him.

—

A few weeks have passed since Jungwon gave you that pep talk, and ever since then, you’ve been more open and less awkward to Heeseung’s flirting, even replying with your own few flirty lines here and there. The both of you have evidently become much closer than just friends; everyone with a pair of eyes can see that much. And with Heeseung’s reputation and popularity, it’s all everyone has been talking about these few days.

Girls have been approaching you left and right, telling you to keep your guard up with Heeseung because he’s going to leave you the way he left the other girls, telling you how you’re not special and that you’re just his newest plaything. You know they all had good intentions, but deep down, it still hurt all the same. Did it instill a newfound insecurity within you? Yes. Did you now have an irrational fear of being ditched? Yes, times two. But the catch was that you weren’t even a thing to begin with.

Every single lingering touch and loving stare was under the umbrella of just friends, with neither of you making the effort to clarify because it was always more convenient that way. But you’re starting to get greedy as the days pass. You don’t want to just be his plaything, and maybe you’re reaching, but you really want this to be something. If you’ve already gotten this far, what’s a little more?

You’re unable to stop these thoughts from spreading throughout the crevices of your mind, even while you’re lying across Heeseung’s couch with your head on his lap. His tender hand caresses your locks, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok with the other.

Routines like this have unknowingly formed throughout the few months you’ve gotten to know Heeseung; after class, you would either end up at Heeseung’s apartment to chill and talk or find yourselves at a nearby restaurant to try. You recently found out that Heeseung is a big foodie, with ramen being his favourite of them all. It’s small stuff like this that makes you feel as if you’ve dug deeper into Heeseung than anyone else ever has before. After all, you’ve stayed with him longer than in all his past relationships.

It’s a sense of false accomplishment, really. They’ve got to actually call Heeseung their boyfriend, while you’re just some fake. A girl-friend.

“Baby, look at this.” Did you add that he also calls you baby? Because he does, all the damn time. You always remind him to just use your name, but he reasons that baby fits you much better. It’s as if he’s deliberately trying to torture your heart.

Heeseung shows you a video on his phone, but your mind is already occupied elsewhere, which he takes immediate notice of. “Baby?” He calls, his fingers brushing your cheek.

You sit up from your position on his lap to face him, “Heeseung, what are we?” You see Heeseung’s body tense up, his jaw going rigged, and his eyes blown wide.

The silence is deafening.

“I-” Words fail to make it past Heeseung’s lips, leaving him at a loss for words. As each second on the clock ticks by, your heart breaks a little more. So he really was going to discard you like everyone else.

You continue to chide yourself for your naivety, for thinking that you could change him when you couldn’t even make him like you. You don’t even blame him because you’re definitely not a Karina or a Yunjin in any aspect; there’s no way he would fall for you.

“I wanted the timing to feel right.” Finally finding the courage, he continues. “I didn’t want to rush into things because this felt different.” His auburn orbs soften as he gazes at you with such love and affection, wanting nothing more than to hold you tight in his arms.

“I don’t get it.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you to be my girlfriend for a while now, and I’ve been thinking of ways to ask you. Over a fancy dinner, maybe?” He chuckles, his hand flying to scratch the back of his neck. “And I still want to do that officially, but if you must know, you’re the only girl I want.”

You’re the only girl he wants. His voice echoes in your head, effectively melting every single doubt and insecurity in its path.

Heeseung scoots closer to you with his hands cupping your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” You slowly nod.

His soft lips felt perfect on yours, and you could feel your body buzzing with relief and warmth, your skin burning under his. His touch, his kiss, and his body being so close to yours made you feel lightheaded with want. It electrified you. Every single thing would no longer matter after this moment because Heeseung wanted you the same way you wanted him.

He was yours, and you were his.

—

“Where are we going?” You ask as you watch endless views of the seaside flurry by. With the windows rolled down, you relish in the onshore spring breeze.

“You’ll see, baby.” Heeseung squeezes your thigh for good measure, letting out a hearty laugh when the apples of your cheeks tint a bright red.

Minutes continue to pass you by, and when you reach your destination, or you believe that it is, Heeseung asks you to don a blindfold. You immediately comply, albeit a bit concerned, yet you still let yourself get dragged by Heeseung into unseen territory. With one of your senses gone, the sounds of hushed whispers, the clinging of keys, elevator sounds accompanied by their music, and the closing of a door are amplified tenfold. You try to make sense of your surroundings but give it up when you haven’t a single clue as to where you are or what you’re doing. You occasionally make the effort to inquire Heeseung about it, but he shuts you down almost immediately, repeating that you’ll see it soon enough.

“Come on, you big baby.”

Heeseung unties the blindfold, letting it fall onto the ground as you get slowly acclimated to the sudden difference in lighting.

It takes you a few seconds to realise that you’re in a hotel room, one that has been neatly decorated with helium balloons and flower petals everywhere, as well as the most stunning view you’ve ever seen. The sun continues to set in the background, painting the sky hues of orange and pink. You could even see the beach so perfectly from where you stood in the doorway. Your heart swells in its place, looking back at Heeseung with tears lining your eyes.

With his hand still clasped in yours, he leads you further into the suite, pointing at the large metallic letters reading, ‘Can I Be Your Boyfriend?’ on the headboard of the bed.

You knew that Heeseung wanted to make it special when he asked to officially become your boyfriend, but you didn’t think he would go this far: booking a hotel, letting the hotel staff in on it, then decorating said room in all your favourite colours.

“Heeseung.” You turn, hands flying towards Heeseung, to capture him in a deep and passionate kiss. When you’re both breathless and panting, you stick your forehead together with his, savouring the sweet moment. “Yes, a hundred times yes. You can be my boyfriend.” You smile at him, feeling the salty tears finally start to trickle down.

“I love you.” He picks you up and twirls you around before he continues to plant kisses on your lips and the entirety of your face. “I loved you the moment you fell in front of me, the moment our eyes met, the moment I fell on my ass for you, and the moment you sang my favourite song.” He whispers in between kisses.

This felt like a dream — how you went from crushing on the campus heartbreaker to dating the guy of your dreams.

© i2ycat 2024 i love heeseung sm goodbye. also if u see any mistakes no u don’t… i’ve proofread this like 20 times and i think i might’ve gone insane (real)

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

What Happens in the Shadows

Title: What Happens in the Shadows

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Word Count: ~5,155

In which Mimzy has suspicions about Alastor’s feelings towards the reader, and plans to use them to her advantage.

A/N: Part 4 of my Never and Always series

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING (attempted assault), angst, fluff

Mimzy was a lot of things. She was loud, she was brash, she was showy, and she was bold. She was also, however, good at picking up a scent. Whether it was a good deal to be made, money to be earned, or an advantage to be won, Mimzy was there.

This usually led to one of two things.

One, she would get too confident, pushing herself into a corner when the tables inevitably turned against her, leaving her scrambling to the closest ally she had as a defense.

The second option was much more rare, when she would take her time, allowing herself to gather enough facts to truly know a demon’s weaknesses before pouncing and closing a deal. Though it didn’t happen often, those that did manage to fall under Mimzy’s control were there for eternity, serving and slaving away as she ever so slowly gathered more power.

Mimzy was ever so hungry for power, after all, even if she was bad at obtaining it.

Which is why, when she witnessed the small spectacle at her club between her dear friend Alastor and a lowly sinner who had done nothing but dance with a woman, the gears in her head had started to turn.

She had never mentioned the incident to anyone else, of course. She wasn’t stupid. She knew that the Radio Demon would have her head if she so much as breathed a word of it. 

But he couldn’t stop her from thinking. He couldn’t stop her from watching. He couldn’t stop her from noticing. And he most definitely couldn’t stop her from coming.

~~~

“Ya think ya boyfriend would let mine go if you asked nicely?”

You flushed and looked away. “Alastor is not my boyfriend.”

Angel Dust winked over at you. “Uh-huh, sure. Whateva ya say, dollface.”

“He’s not,” you insisted. “We’re just friends.”

From his place behind the hotel bar, Husk put down the cup he was cleaning and looked up at you. “You and Angel are ‘just friends’. You and me? Just friends. You and Alastor?” He shook his head, picking up a new cup as he looked over at you with an expression of vague concern. “You’re more than that.”

“Ha!” Angel said as he pointed over at Husk in triumph.

You could feel embarrassment pooling into your stomach. “You’re both wrong. Al doesn’t-” you struggled to find the words. “Al doesn’t like anyone that way,” you said hesitantly. “And I know for a fact that he doesn’t like me that way. He just feels responsible for me now, that’s all.”

Husk huffed lightly, his eyes narrowing. “Alastor’s never felt responsible for anyone in his life. Not for the souls he’s collected, and definitely not for a sinner that doesn’t owe him any more than the dirt on her shoes.”

You looked away. “I do owe him,” you muttered. “He saved my life.”

Angel laughed forcefully. “That was his choice, toots. You don’t owe him nothin’, ya hear me?” He glanced over at you, his expression bordering on desperation as he searched your eyes. 

Maybe you didn’t agree, but it wouldn’t do anybody any good to have Angel and Husk worrying over you with each passing moment while you stubbornly believed that Alastor was a good man who had earned your trust long ago.

So instead, you nodded, smiling softly. “I know.”

Angel nodded firmly, but the concern in his eyes was still overwhelmingly present.

You couldn’t blame him, of course, but you wished with all of your undead heart that the three most important people in your life would just get along. Not that it would ever happen while Alastor held Husk’s soul. 

You let out a long exhale before you clapped your hands together and smiled over at the hotel’s bartender. “Alright, enough of that.” 

Angel Dust’s expression relaxed as he turned to Husk as well. “She’s right. Pour me a drink.”

Husk returned your grin with one of his own, pouring the three of you a glass and sliding yours over.

The three of you sat in silence for a moment, staring down at your drinks as you thought. You couldn’t say exactly what was going on in Husk and Angel’s heads, but you knew that you personally were thinking about a specific radio-themed Overlord. 

You hadn’t seen Alastor since the two of you had danced together in your bedroom a few days prior. It made sense that you hadn’t seen him the day after, of course. It was your day with Angel, and Alastor would love nothing less than to get involved in your makeover session.

The days after that though, were different. Normally, you’d at least catch a glimpse of the demon before he left the hotel to run his radio show or do whatever else Overlords did in their free time. If you weren’t able to catch him before he left, he would always drop by the hotel a little later on, even if just for a moment. But no matter what, he would always stop by your room at the end of the day, and the two of you would just talk.

But now, you hadn’t seen or heard from Alastor in days. You weren’t worried, per say. You knew he was more than capable of taking care of himself. You did miss him, though, and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t looking forward to your next evening conversation. 

You drummed your hands lightly on the counter before shifting off of your barstool. It wasn’t likely that Alastor had finally stopped by, but it wouldn’t hurt to check. “I think I’m going to turn in for the night.”

Angel Dust quirked an eyebrow at you playfully. “Sure thing, toots. Just goin’ to bed, nothin’ to do with Smiles at all, right?”

You blushed and turned away, walking towards the staircase leading up to your room. “Goodnight.”

“Have fun,” Angel called up after you as you climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to your room as quickly as possible. 

You breathed a deep sigh of relief when you were able to reach your bedroom without any more comments from Angel. Though, that was probably courtesy of Husk. You made a mental note to thank him in the morning.

You closed your door behind you and leaned against it with a sigh. 

Something flitted across your vision. You jerked back.

The object popped up in front of you, causing you to bite back a scream before you recognized it as Alastor’s shadow. 

You huffed in annoyance and pushed away from your door, walking around the shadow and making your way to your bed before plopping yourself down. “That was absolutely unnecessary,” you said.

The shadow only smiled, quickly weaving its way over to sit beside you. It took your hand and raised it, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

You blushed. “Fine, I forgive you,” you said with a giggle. 

The shadow’s smile broadened, using its other hand to gently put its claws to your throat as your laughter slowed.

“Not that I don’t love to see you,” you said as your eyes took a quick scan of your room. “But where’s Alastor?” The shadow made a small noise before reaching back and pulling a note off of your nightstand. It turned your hand over to place the folded piece of paper in your palm. 

You pulled your hand back and opened the note, your eyes skimming over it as you tried to keep your heart from sinking. 

It was a short note, and straight to the point. Alastor wouldn’t be coming back to the hotel that night due to some unfinished business with gaining new territory. He didn’t know when he’d be back. He wished you a good night.

You folded the note again and placed it in between yourself and the shadow. “It’s alright,” you said, forcing a smile on your face. “I understand.”

But the shadow’s smile had lessened significantly, and it stared at you almost expectantly.

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted. “I know he’s busy. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

The shadow looked unconvinced. But, you noticed with disappointment, its eyes had started to flicker back to your window. 

“You need to go,” you said. It wasn’t a question.

The shadow looked back at you regretfully.

You reached out and placed your hands on its cheeks, lowering its head until your foreheads touched. “I’ll be okay,” you said quietly. “I promise.”

You released it and moved back.

The shadow caught your hands and pulled you back in, pressing a kiss to each of your palms before pressing them to its chest where its beating heart would have been. It gave you one last long look before it released you and melted back into the shadows, disappearing out your window.

You stared after it for a moment. Part of you wished that it had been Alastor who had come into your room and kissed your palms goodnight. The other, less selfish part of you knew that he had done the best that he could, and you appreciated it more than words could say.

“Don’t worry, he’s always like this,” a voice said from the other side of your room.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as you spun around, searching for its source.

Mimzy stepped forward from the shadows and gave you a sickening smile. “It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you.”

“What are you doing here?” you blurted without thinking. Your hands clutched your bed sheets as she approached you as casually as you would approach a friend in public. But you weren’t in public. And you most definitely weren’t friends.

“Oh, don’t give me that, doll,” Mimzy said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve been dying to see you ever since Al brought you to my club.”

“Why?” you asked before pressing your lips together. It wouldn’t do you any good to antagonize her, you knew. But you couldn’t seem to stop yourself. “What do you want from me?”

A small voice in the back of your head wondered how she had managed to slink into the shadows and avoid Alastor’s. Shadows were part of his domain, after all. Shouldn’t he have sensed her?

Mimzy’s smile changed into something more sinister. “I don’t want anything from you, doll. You’re a sweet little thing, but-” she looked you up and down with a note of disdain. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t make me much revenue.”

You felt an anger flare up inside of you. You stood, crossing your arms and pasting what you hoped was a firm expression on your face. “If you don’t want anything from me, why go out of your way to sneak into my room?”

The club owner’s smile only grew. “Relax, sugar, I’m not here to trick you into services. I’m here to talk about ol’ Alastor.”

You tried to hide the surprise and fear that shot through your core. “What about him?”

“Well,” Mimzy said with nonchalance as she began to stroll through your bedroom, poking at your belongings. “We both know that he tends to keep to himself. Not many friends, but loads of enemies, am I right? But he’s really just a sweetheart, that’s why we’ve been friends for years now.”

You blinked. “Alright.”

“But,” Mimzy continued, her voice oddly sweet. “I noticed the other night that he’s taken a bit of a shine to you.”

You dropped your arms and shook your head. “That’s not true. Alastor and I-”

Mimzy waved a hand dismissively. “Now, I’m not one to stir up unnecessary drama. But Al’s my friend, so I’ve been a bit worried about him since then.” She turned to look at you, her eyes boring intently into yours. “He’s an Overlord, you know. Lots of enemies. If any of them find out about you, think about what it’ll do to his reputation. Or worse,” she said, her eyes widening dramatically as she placed her hands on her cheeks. “His power.”

You flinched. 

If you were being honest, the very same thought had crossed your mind more than once. Every time you went out with Alastor, even for a brief moment, you worried about being seen with him. You worried what it would do for his image. 

He had been quick to ease your concerns, reassuring you that nobody would dare cross him, even if he were to be seen with you. 

Even so, you had noticed that he was careful to never touch you, and rarely ever look at you, when the two of you were in public.

But, it seemed, despite all of his precautions, that your night together at Mimzy’s might have started something that you had feared from the very beginning.

You swallowed heavily, meeting Mimzy’s gaze as you repeated the same words that Alastor had said to you, time and time again. “Nobody would dare cross the Radio Demon.”

Mimzy nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Of course they wouldn’t, sugar. But they might mess with you. And if Al cares about you half as much as I think he does, well, that’ll be enough to ruin everything that he’s ever worked for.”

You bit your lip with worry. You were never quite as good as Alastor when it came to hiding your emotions. “So why did you come to me?”

The demoness shrugged. “I knew Al would never listen if I told him that you were bad for him.”

You winced.

“But,” she continued, “I thought maybe you could convince him.”

An alarm bell began to ring in the back of your mind. “Convince him of what?” you asked wearily.

“To keep his distance from you,” Mimzy said, a little too quickly for your liking. “The longer you stick around, the more he gets attached. And the more he gets attached, well…” she smiled, her teeth sharp and her eyes dark. “The more likely it is that our old friend gets tossed out of commission.”

Your gaze hardened. “You want me to stay away from Al? Fat chance.”

Mimzy laughed, the sound forced and brittle. “Not at all, sugar. I won’t be the one who ripped the two of you apart.” She began walking towards your bedroom door. “In fact, I think you two are adorable together. But, you see, it’s not just Alastor I’m looking out for. I’ve gotta take care of myself, too,” she said as she turned to face you.

You recoiled at the sight of her hardened eyes and cruel expression.

Your bedroom door opened, revealing two large demons that closed the door behind them, blocking your exit. You whirled around as another demon entered through your window, cutting off your only other means of escape.

“Mimzy-” you began.

“Don’t you worry, doll. They can’t exactly kill you again, can they?” she giggled. “They’ll just rough you up a little so that Alastor can finally come to his senses.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked as panic began to set in.

“Let me explain it in simple terms for you, hun. I need you to help me break Alastor and get him away from you. Whether or not you help me willingly is completely up to you,” she said with a shrug.

“If Al does care about me,” you said desperately, “then it won’t do any good for you to hurt me. This is just going to make things worse for him. It’ll make him angry. He’ll lash out.”

Mimzy’s eerie grin only grew in size. “Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar. I can’t exactly gain more territory with the Radio Demon breathing down everyone’s neck. If I can get to him through you, he’ll be too upset to think straight.” She chuckled. “If I’m lucky, he’ll be the cause of his own downfall. With him out of the way, things can be the way they’re meant to be.”

The three demons surrounding you came closer.

“Mimzy,” you gasped. “Please, don’t do this. Alastor’s one of your oldest friends, he doesn’t deserve this.”

The club owner tilted her head in consideration. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception.” Her teeth flashed. “If you were willing to cut a deal with me.”

The demons grew closer still.

You could feel your resolve faltering. One measly deal to get out of this mess didn’t sound too bad. But as you looked back over at Mimzy, her eyes flashing and her smile turning into a snarl, the voice in your head that screamed out to protect Alastor came to the forefront of your mind with full force. Any deal that you made with Mimzy would only be used to hurt Alastor, and you would never forget how you had met him in the first place.

He had saved you once. You weren’t going to make him save you again.

You straightened and stared straight into Mimzy’s eyes. “I hope you get what’s coming to you,” you spat.

The sinner shrugged. “Whatever you say, doll. Have fun, fellas!”

You heard your door open and close as the demons drew nearer, blocking your view. 

A deep fear spread throughout your body, starting in your chest and working its way out. You could scream, but you were almost certain that Mimzy had found a way to mute the sounds from your room to the rest of the hotel. Nobody was coming to save you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and braced yourself as a feeling of regret shot through your heart. You had never thanked Husk for having your back. You had never finished your makeover with Anthony. You had never told your friends how much they had helped you, and how much you appreciated them.

You had never told Alastor that you loved him.

You let out a sob. You cursed yourself for crying.

A hand grabbed your arm roughly, your eyes flying open in horror. But before the demon could do so much as pull you closer, a shadow swept through your window and across the room, knocking the other two demons away from you. The third demon tightened his grip on your arm, but it was already much too late.

The lights in your room began to flicker as a new shadow entered your room. It grew in size, becoming more and more solid until it finally took the shape of one of the most feared Overlords in Hell.

“I do believe,” Alastor said to the last standing demon as his antlers began to grow and his eyes began to flicker. “You have something that belongs to me.”

You didn’t wait to hear the demon’s response before you shut your eyes and turned away. You knew what came next, and though you had yet to argue with Alastor over his methods, you had no wish to see them for yourself.

The demon’s hand was ripped from your arm. Even without your sight, you were able to hear the screams of all three intruders as Alastor and his shadow punished them a mere feet away from you.

You sank down onto the ground, keeping your eyes closed as you pulled your knees up to your chest and buried your head in your arms. The tears that had begun to flow earlier suddenly returned with a vengeance, making their way down your cheeks as you sobbed violently.

You’re safe. You’re safe. Al is here now. You’re safe, you thought to yourself as you pulled your knees in tighter.

But another, horrible voice spoke up as you cried. He wasn’t able to see Mimzy, it said. Why wasn’t he able to see Mimzy? If this happens again, will he know? Will he miss it? 

Can he save me?

You gasped and whipped your head up when a gentle hand brushed your arm.

Alastor was staring right back at you, kneeling on your floor. His smile was tense and close-lipped, his expression concerned. “It’s only me, mon chere.”

You glanced behind him and noticed vaguely that Mimzy’s three demons were nowhere to be seen.

Your chest began to hitch as you tried to hold your tears back. “I’m so sorry, Al,” you said, hating the way your voice broke. “I should have been able to defend myself, I’m so sorry.” The tears began again, your body slumping forward as you began to weep. 

A pair of arms caught you and gathered your body closer until you were resting against a warm chest. 

Al’s shadow, you thought to yourself as you nuzzled closer.

One of its arms wrapped around your back, holding you close, while its other hand grasped one of yours and pressed it to its chest. It held you tightly, allowing you to cry and hiccup into its shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there before your sobs became whimpers, and your whimpers became hiccups. You weren’t sure how long it held you before you were able to breathe properly.

The hand holding yours released you gently, coming up to wipe your tears away from your face.

You finally opened your swollen eyes, already regretting having been found in such a vulnerable state. 

You came face to face with Alastor’s shadow. Holding Alastor’s staff.

Standing across the room.

You gasped and pulled back violently, causing yourself to fall out of Alastor’s lap and onto your floor. 

The Overlord didn’t react, instead watching you with an expressionless smile on his face.

“I thought you were your shadow,” you stammered. “I didn’t realize-”

“I do hope you aren’t going to apologize for reacting to the given situation, my dear,” Alastor said as he tilted his head at you. He sounded, much to your surprise, mildly annoyed.

You froze. “Are you mad at me?”

A flash of irritation appeared in the Overlord’s eyes as his teeth gleamed. “We’ve now spent a notable amount of time together. I do hope you know me a bit better than that.” His voice held a note of challenge.

You sniffed and brought your knees to your chest once again without a response.

Alastor’s eyes softened and his smile eased at the sight of your trembling form. He sighed, the sound revealing an internal exhaustion that he would never admit to out loud. “I assure you, mon chere, my anger does not lie with you.”

You nodded, looking away. 

Silence. Deep silence.

But you couldn’t avoid the upcoming conversation forever.

“People have seen us together, Al,” you finally said, your throat raw. You looked up at him. “People who want to take your power.”

You didn’t miss the way the demon’s smile tensed. 

“I won’t be the reason that you lose everything you’ve built so far,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You deserve more than what I can give you.”

Alastor stood abruptly, climbing gracefully to his feet before offering you one of his clawed hands and pulling you up beside him.

He released you and grasped your chin in between his fingers, tilting your head up to face him. 

“Any demon who hopes to steal my power is going to find themselves sorely disappointed, my dear, regardless of whether or not your presence is noticed.” His eyes hardened. “I am more than capable of holding on to what I’ve gained.”

“You couldn’t sense Mimzy,” you blurted, regretting the words as they left your lips, but unable to stop them. “You didn’t realize she was there until-” you swallowed. “What if it happens again, but this time they come for you?” You hated how desperate you sounded. “What if they hurt you, Al?”

The Overlord tilted his head. His smile twitched and his grip only strengthened as he looked down at you with something resembling regret. “I do admit that both myself and my shadow were a bit distracted during its visit, and I do apologize for not preventing this whole ordeal before it ever began.”

“That’s not what I meant-” you started weakly.

Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Though I can promise you that such a thing will never happen again, mon chere. Not while I still stand.”

You didn’t respond. Not because you doubted his ability to take care of you, of course. But because you didn’t want this added responsibility to prevent him from taking care of himself.

“I do hope,” the demon continued, the static in his voice suddenly disappearing as he searched your gaze. “That you haven’t finally begun to doubt me.”

You shook your head as well as you were able to with his fingers still clutching your jaw. “No,” you whispered. “Never.”

And in a rare display of courage, you reached out, placing your hands gently on either side of the Radio Demon’s face as he released your jaw. You pulled him down until your foreheads met. “Never,” you repeated, your voice firm. “And if you really aren’t worried, and you want me to stay, then I will.” You pulled back to look into his eyes. “I’ll stay with you. Always.”

Alastor’s hands reached up and settled on top of yours as his eyes bore into you. “That’s quite the commitment, my dear,” he said. There was something strange in his voice, something that sounded almost like uncertainty, almost like tension, almost like fear.

Your grip on his face tightened as you looked up at him. “I mean it, Al. I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me. If you’re sure.”

Now, there were a great many things that Alastor would never do. He’d never make a deal that he wasn’t in control of. He’d never submit to the Vees. He’d never tell Charlie the real reason that he was in her hotel.

He’d never tell you that he loved you.

But, he found as he stared into your eyes, he would absolutely give up everything that he’d ever built if it meant that he got to keep you.

“I don’t intend to lose anything, my dear. Least of all you.”

You blushed, maintaining eye contact as a gentle smile took the place of your previous frown.

Alastor leaned forward. You followed his lead, expecting to press your forehead to his, when he surprised you by placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You pulled back and smiled up at him before pulling him down to place your own kiss on his cheek.

Maybe Mimzy was right. Maybe you were something of a danger to the Radio Demon. But you’d be double-damned if you were going to give up on him so easily.

“Now,” Alastor said, his eyes flashing dangerously as he released you and stepped back. His shadow surged forward, returning Alastor’s staff to its rightful owner and standing behind its master with a chilling grin. 

Alastor faced you, his smile gentle and his eyes hard as the static returned to his voice with full force. “Would you care to give me the name of the foolish soul who tried to harm what was mine?”

~~~

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in days.

Three new screams had joined the Radio Demon’s broadcast.

You’d been too afraid to leave the hotel for a few days.

Alastor had begun checking your room every night before leaving you alone.

Nobody else at the hotel knew what had happened to you. Not even Angel and Husk.

You gained back your courage in the following weeks with help from Alastor.

The two of you had grown closer than ever.

Nobody had seen or heard from Mimzy in weeks.

~~~

You leaned back against your bed’s headboard, watching as Alastor had his shadow sweep through your room once again.

“I’m fine, Al,” you said, trying to contain your laughter. “Really. Nobody else is going to get in. There’s locks on the windows, and your room is close enough to be able to hear if something goes wrong.”

Alastor hummed in acknowledgement, though his eyes continued to roam around your room until he was satisfied.

He turned to you with a grin. “I’m only protecting what is mine, mon cœur.” He turned to your door, walking away from you with his shadow following close behind. “I do expect to see you bright and early in the morning for a short stroll.”

It was your turn to hum in agreement. 

You were more than thrilled with the offer, of course, but you felt a sense of unease that threatened to keep you up all night. You didn’t doubt Alastor’s abilities, of course, but you worried about what might happen to him if he was attacked while he was momentarily distracted with keeping you safe.

Alastor’s hand reached towards your doorknob. “I bid you a good night, my dear.”

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you blurted before you could lose your courage.

Alastor froze in place, his hand hovering. His shadow, however, was much more reactive. It leapt up in excitement and made its way back over to your bed, jumping in beside you and nuzzling its head against your cheek. 

You giggled and pulled away, allowing the shadow to slowly run a clawed hand from the base of your throat up to your chin before looking back over at its owner.

He had turned to look at you, a fond expression on his face as he watched the interaction. 

“Only if you want to, of course,” you said hurriedly as your smile began to slip. “I don’t mean to pressure you.”

Alastor waved a hand dismissively before he made his way over to you. “You couldn’t pressure me if you tried, my dear.”

Your heart soared as you moved over, giving him enough room to not have to even brush against you during the night.

The Overlord climbed into your bed easily, settling against your headboard before looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I do hope you weren’t expecting me to sleep.”

You smiled. “Not at all.” You began to shuffle around to get comfortable and to avoid looking into his eyes when you said, “I just feel safer when you’re here, that’s all.”

The last words of your sentence had hardly left your lips before Alastor’s shadow finally moved from its place on your other side. You laughed as it nudged you over before wrapping its arms around you and pulling your back to its chest, giving you a sense of security that you had never found with anyone else.

You closed your eyes and nuzzled in, allowing yourself to be swept away in a wave of comfort and exhaustion. “Goodnight, Al,” you murmured as you drifted away. “Thank you. For everything.”

You fell asleep before you could hear his response.

So you didn’t see his eyes soften. You didn’t see him reach out and grasp one of your hands in his own. You didn’t see him lean down and press a soft kiss to your temple. You didn’t hear his last words before he began to doze as well. 

“Thank you, mon cœur.”

A/N 2: I really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! This is an ongoing series, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 

I’d also like to continue writing for Hazbin Hotel, so send me requests and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any those as well :))

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx @maybememoriesx @martinys-world @axellovesalastor @mo-0-o @looking1016 @saturn-alone @sirens-and-moonflowers

[queenxxxsupreme]

At the End of the World

(Cooper Howard x Reader)

A/N: I have no idea what is going to happen next ya’ll. I need to figure out what direction this shit is going in cause I’m so lost 😭

Warning: mentions of child death, mentions of panic attacks, nothing outside of canon

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You open up to Lucy about your past. Here is Part 1 and here is Part 2

As you followed Cooper back down the hallway towards the kitchen, Lucy passed you both.

“We’re leaving soon, girly.” You told her.

“Okey-dokey! Just gonna get my things together really quick.”

Back in the kitchen, Alma was lighting herself a cigarette.

“Icy May said the girl is the daughter of a Vault-Tec big wig.”

”What’s it to you?” Cooper looked over to Alma.

“Cooper.” You said his name almost scoldingly. He didn’t need to be rude to Alma. She had been gracious enough to let the three of you stay the night.

His eyes flickered over to you. He took a puff of his cigarette, flicking the ashes into a metal pan on the table.

Lucy was just beginning to make her way back down the hallway when she heard her father’s name.

“She’s gonna be our key to get close to Hank MacLean.”

Lucy stopped, her brows furrowing together as she listened more carefully. What were they talking about?

“How do you feel about that, Icy?” Alma asked. There was no answer for a couple seconds.

“I’ve thought about killing her so many times, Alma. I-I lost my Grace and that bastard got to see his little girl grow up—,” You abruptly stopped talking.

Lucy took a step backwards. You had thought about killing her? Lucy couldn’t believe it. You had been so nice to her, so much more concerned about her than the Ghoul was.

***

”How do you feel about that, Icy?”

Your gaze found Alma. You were quiet for a few moments, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ve thought about killing her so many times, Alma. I-I lost my Grace and that bastard got to see his little girl grow up and—,” You stopped yourself, shaking your head softly.

Alma watched you, a pitiful look twinkling in her eyes. She knew your story, had heard first hand from you the heartbreak and the horrors that you had had to face.

“But she doesn’t…. She doesn’t know about her father, Alma.” You pulled a chair out at the table and sat down in it. “Her vault believed they would be the ones to repopulate the earth, that they were the chosen ones…. She has no idea that he was instrumental in destroying the world.”

”Well, I’m sure she’s finding things out the hard way.” Alma sighed out.

As she left the room, Cooper tried to follow her, but you stopped him.

“Why won’t you tell me what Lucy said to you, Coop?”

He stopped in his tracks, shoulders falling slack as he let out a heavy breath. He adjusted his hat, tilting the brim down a little more to cover his face as he turned to face you.

“She, uh…. She asked if I loved you.” His voice was quiet.

You looked at him, almost shocked by what he was saying.

“If-If you…” You tried to repeat his words but they got caught in your throat.

In the two decades or more that you knew the ghoul, neither of you had spoken such words to each other. Maybe it was a little ridiculous that it hadn’t happened yet, but to share something so special, so beautiful in a world marred with death and destruction…. It felt wrong. It felt dangerous.

Cooper stood there for a few minutes, watching the wheels turn in your head. What were you going to say? How were you going to react? Now wasn’t the time to be discussing such things. Not in Alma’s kitchen, not while Hank MacLean was still stirring in the front of your mind.

“Why did you get so worked up over the question?” You murmured.

Still, Cooper was silent. He peered out from underneath his hat to meet your gaze.

“I reckon I don’t like her askin’ me questions like that, doll.”

You nodded your head gently. You stood to your feet and closed the space between the two of you. You messed with the lapel of his jacket, fingers gripping the old, worn leather.

“Don’t let that vault dweller get under your skin, old man.” A little smile tugged ever so slightly at the corner of your lips. “You got bigger fish to fry.”

A crooked grin crossed his features. His hand slipped around your waist to draw you closer to him.

“We better get this show on the road.” He dipped his head down to seal a kiss on your lips. You brought your hands up to his shoulder and the side of his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. His hand on your waist moved around to your lower back, offering you support as he pushed even harder against your lips.

“Careful—,” You tried to speak but his mouth prevented you from doing so. “Easy-Easy…. Cowpoke.”

You pushed him back a little, giggling as he fought against you. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then your cheek and your temple.

“You’re kissing me hard enough to leave bruises, old man.”

”Just you wait ‘til we don’t have that vaultie to worry ‘bout.” He finally loosened his grip on you and adjusted his hat. “Bruises will be the least of your worries.”

”Oh, I’m shivering in my boots.” You teased him. “I’m going to go get our little vaultie.”

”You girls need to hurry up. We’re losin’ daylight.”

You slipped around him to go down the hallway and see where Lucy was.

“Are you ready to go, Lucy?” You poked your head into the room she had been staying in. She was in the corner of the room furthest from you, standing rigid with her arms by her side.

Your left eye picked up on her heart beating fast.

“What’s wrong?”

”You’ve thought about killing me?” She whispered.

Your shoulders fell. She had heard you. You let out a sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the frame of the door.

“Yeah, I have.” You nodded. “Your father has done horrific things, Lucy.”

”No. No he hasn’t.” She firmly shook her head. “My father is a good man.”

”I don’t know how to get you to believe me. Vault-Tec, a company your dad works for, dropped the bombs. They killed so many people, Lucy.”

Still, she didn’t believe you. Her blue eyes stayed on you, brows furrowed together.

“Grief has a way of making you feel certain ways. Part of me has thought about killing you many, many times as a way to get to your father. But I wouldn’t hurt you.”

”I don’t believe you.”

You nodded your head gently.

“Either way, we need to get moving. Cooper’s an impatient man.”

Lucy crossed her arms.

”I’m not going anywhere.”

”You can do this my way— and come with us willingly —or Cooper will come in here and tie you up.” You turned and left the room.

***

For the first hour or so of your walk, none of you spoke.

Part of you felt bad. She had begun to trust you and you knew just how bad it felt to have someone you trusted betray you.

“I had to kill my husband, Lucy.” You spoke, making sure your voice was loud enough to hear from where she walked just ahead of you.

Upon hearing your confession, Lucy stopped walking so that she could fall in line beside you.

“Why?”

”It was just after the bombs dropped. We were barely making it. Everything…. It was so much worse then than it is now. I didn’t know the things I know now…. My husband’s name was Adrian. He, um, was affected by the radiation. No one knew what a ghoul was at that time. We had seen people around us turning, seen what they were capable of. There was no medicine to keep them from going feral…. We were staying at a camp just outside of Anaheim here in California. My husband and I…. We saw a mother who was affected by the radiation attack her own children.”

You paused to take a deep breath. You could still hear the sounds of her hissing and growling, the sound of her tearing her children into pieces.

“Adrian and I decided that we couldn’t stay there any longer. We didn’t know if it was some sort of sickness going around or what but…. We left the camp. A week later, my husband began to get worse. The coughing, the hissing….” Goosebumps rose across your skin as the memories echoed in your head. “He begged me to kill him. He-He didn’t want to hurt me or to hurt Gracie. At that point in time, I hadn’t killed anybody. Hell, I had never even thought about killing anyone. But my Adrian was my first.”

”Icy, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, blinking quickly to get rid of the tears in your right eye.

“Shortly after that happened, Vault-Tec found me. They put my girl in a cryochamber and started their little experiments. Took almost everything on my left side. My eye, my arm, my lung, my leg…. All of it is what they called cybernetic. After they were done, they threw me in one of those chambers too.”

”How did you get out?”

You took a deep breath.

“The vault the chambers were being kept in was raided. Me and my daughter barely escaped. That was about twenty years ago, give or take a few.”

“You don’t look that old,”

”Whatever they did to me, it slowed down my aging.”

”And your daughter? What happened to her?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. It took you a while to be able to say it out loud.

”Icy.” Cooper’s raspy voice came from behind you. You came to a stop, eyes dead set on the vast emptiness ahead. “Your heart’s beatin’ too fast.”

He knew you were about to talk your way right into a panic attack.

”I’m okay.” You took a deep breath once, twice, then three times. You needed to regain control of yourself.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Lucy shook her head.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You insisted. “We need to keep moving.”

”We’ll make camp tonight and tomorrow, we should be passing through Bolder some time in the morning.” Cooper looked to Lucy and nodded his head in the direction that the three of you had been walking. “Get movin’, vaultie.”

Lucy gave you one last glance before she started walking.

“Come on, doll.” Cooper reached out to put his hand on your back, offering you support through the small touch.

”Don’t treat me like I’m crazy, Cooper.”

”I ain’t treatin’ you no way. Just don’t want to see you get yourself all worked up. You’ll start hyperventilatin’ and then you won’t be able to breathe right. You’ll fuck yourself up for the rest of the day with that iron lung of yours.”

You said nothing.

***

Later That Night

Cooper stood in the doorway of the rundown shack the three of you were staying the night in. He leaned against the worn wood, a cigarette perched between two fingers while his eyes scanned the Wasteland before him.

It was dark out, but every so often the clouds would part enough for the moon to shine its light over the emptiness.

The Ghoul glanced down, watching the ashes from his cigarette fall to the ground.

Movement behind him made him turn his head. Lucy was awake. She glanced over to him momentarily.

”Can’t sleep.” She said, pushing herself to her feet.

”Welcome to the club.” Cooper placed his cigarette between his lips.

Lucy slipped past the ghoul, who watched her carefully. What was she doing? Surely she wouldn't try to make a run for it, not with him watching her.

Cooper’s hand found the rope hanging on his hip. He was ready to use it if need be, but the Vault Dweller sat down on the side of the hill that led up to the shack.

She pulled her knees loosely to her chest and looked up at the sky.

Cooper took the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing smoke through his nose.

“I never knew the stars could be so pretty.” Lucy commented.

Cooper said nothing, not that she expected him to.

Silence fell between them. The only sound that could be heard was the breeze blowing through the few trees around the shack.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Lucy apologized.

“Don’t worry about it.” The ghoul muttered.

“How did you meet Icy?”

Cooper finished his cigarette, throwing the end of it onto the ground.

“You just like to yap, don’t you?”

Lucy looked away from him.

He stood there for a few moments, debating on whether or not to entertain the vault dweller.

What the hell.

Cooper moved to sit down, putting plenty of space between himself and Lucy.

“‘Bout twenty years ago, there was a bounty put out for her.”

”What was the bounty for?”

”Didn’t say, but she said it was Vault-Tec. They wanted her back, I reckon, ‘cause of whatever science experiments they were doin’ with her. The bounty notice didn’t say anything about the little girl travelin’ with her.”

”Grace.” Lucy murmured.

“If anyone had gotten their hands on Icy for that bounty…. who knows what would’ve happened to Grace.” Cooper pulled out a carton of cigarettes and took another cigarette out. “So I agreed to help get them across the Wasteland. West of here was a city many considered a refuge. Icy just wanted me to take her and her little girl there.”

Lucy watched as the ghoul’s face lit up as he put the flame of the lighter beneath his cigarette.

“We got a day or so into the trip when we came across this run down dumpster of a place. It was an old trader’s post turned into a little village but the folks who lived there had long since disappeared. What we didn’t know was that a paranoid fella had set up shop. Littered the whole place with traps and trip lines. Grace got ahead of us. Icy saw the line she was about to run into and…. Well, there wasn’t much that could be done after that.”

“Oh my gosh.” Lucy whispered.

Cooper could still feel the way you had gripped him so tight as he shielded you from your daughter.

“I can’t…. I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your family like that.”

Cooper flicked his cigarette, shaking his head gently.

“Ain’t a feelin’ I’d wish on my worst enemy, vaultie.”

Lucy looked over to him, eyebrows drawn together just slightly. That was perhaps the first time she had seen something in his eyes that resembled humanity.

Taglist: @green--beanie @mack-attack420 @miniemonie2001 @eykismyfav @fallout-girl219 @msrawog @midwesternwitchery @classaysstuff @keyofgigi @sunnexaltation @ghcstvibess @jayden-okayden @grippleback-galaxy

(I’m so sorry if I missed anyone, and tumblr was being stupid and wouldn’t let me tag a couple of you :()

[gothic-thoughts]

Wrath

Lil homage to Supernatural lowkey (cuz i miss that show)

Ghost Riley x Black GN Reader Angst

Fallen Angel!ReaderAU, MeetUgly

CW: Ghost finds you, Reader wakes from a coma

TW: I, myself am not religious but that don't mean ion respect other people's beliefs and obviously this isn't meant to be offensive in terms of religion, killing mention, bad injury/wound description

Word Count: 1449 (give or take)

The ground finally stopped shaking like nothing even happened, but this wasn't some minor tremor. This was the most unlikely place to have earthquakes and yet a 5.2 just rocked the entire base out of nowhere like it was nothing; strong enough to shake the building but weak enough that nothing was broken, just knocked over. We tracked the origin to find it was only 20 miles from here in a random forest, deducing that it was some kind of weapon meant for us but thankfully missed by only a couple miles. And I was determined to find out who had the balls to threaten us in our own home.

Once the chopper landed, I cautiously led my squad across the field towards a huge clearing of knocked-over trees and scorched grass with a giant, steaming crater in the middle. We approach it to find nothing: no metal, no casing, nothing. Just somebody lying naked in the center.

"Oh, what the f--” I trail off as lowering my gun, “Who the hell is this? And why are they naked?"

I groan in frustration before ordering most of the squad to investigate the area while ordering a couple others to get a blanket from the chopper. I carefully walked down into the crater with my gun trained on the person, waiting for them to make a move but the only movement was the staggering rise and fall of their chest. I nudge their calf with my foot only for it to move limply.

“And what the hell were you doing all the way out here...? Whatever, hello?! Hello, hey!”

No response. Not even an eye twitch to let me know they could at least hear me...or alive. I put my gun away and kneeled into the now dissipating steam to examine the many, many cuts and bruises marking the front of their body that seemed to be already healing. I reluctantly reach down to shake their shoulder but again not even a change in breath; they’re out cold.

I roll them onto the side to check but the sight of two, large matching wounds between the shoulder blades makes my eyes widen. The skin around it was pulled outward, looking either melted or like they were ripped off of something hot. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days after we bring them to the medical bay, their eyes finally open, darting around the room and then to the cuffs keeping their right wrist chained to the gurney. The medics thought it was a bit much since they were so hurt but I couldn’t trust them just yet, if at all, given the fact that in 3 days, we still knew nothing about them: not their name, age, nationality; nothing, so I wanted to be extra cautious. Their eyes lock with mine and I give them nothing but a cold, skeptical stare as I walk into the room and stand at the end of the bed.

“Stop struggling; I don’t trust you enough as is.”

“So we understand each other then.” They snap, “Who are you and what have you done to me?”

“Done to you? I brought you to a medical bay and kept you even more alive than you looked in that crater so how ‘bout we start with your name and we’ll go from there.”

“I don’t have to tell you damned thing, I demand you release me. Now.”

“Yeah, that’s not how this works.” I cross my arms, eyes narrowing behind my mask, “I don’t care how pretty or rich you think you are, but--”

“Do I look ‘rich’ to you?”

“I don’t know what you look like, all I know is we found you at the epicenter of 5.2 earthquake only a few miles from our base, thinking you were some kind of missile. That was 3 days ago.”

“Three...? I... I caused an earthquake...? Was anyone hurt?”

“You must’ve hit your head harder than we thought if you think you could cause a damn earthquake, much less one that strong.”

“Wait, did you say ‘base’? Like a mortal military base...?”

Mortal? They're more entitled than I thought. "Yeah, sure a ‘mortal’ base. You’re being detained until we determine and learn who you are and what you are."

“What I am? So you do understand I am not from here...”

“I almost considered that since that's the only answer I can see after 3 whole days of trying to figure out why the hell you have no blood type, fingerprints or an even an SSN; so either you’re an infant, faked your death, or you’re a fucking spy. So as I said earlier, we’re gonna start from the fucking beginning.”

They sigh, no longer struggling with the cuffs, “Fine... I’ll comply.”

“And no lies; you may not have a blood type, but you have a heartbeat. If I feel like you're lyin', we do this the hard way, got it?"

They nod. I don't budge an inch, continuing to watch for even the slightest twitch.

“Name.”

“(Y/n).”

"See, easy. Alright; then (Y/n), what makes you so special that we can't read your fingertips?"

“Since you're already so skeptical, I doubt you will believe me if I tell you...”

“Try me.”

They rolled their eyes with a scoff. “Yeah, because you mortals are known for your trustworthiness.”

“What I believe isn't the point here, just spit it out."

Another exasperated sigh. “I'm an angel...or I was...”

I blink a few times, processing their words. “I said no lying.”

“Thought you said what you believe wasn't the point.”

“It is when you lie.”

“Whatever, if you're so smart how do you explain my lack of human information, Mr. Easter Bunny? The earthquake? You didn’t find anything else besides me in the area, did you?”

I scoff with a chuckle. Angel or not, they're a smart ass. "You're right, I actually can't. But I know that angels aren't real... and if they were, they can't be hurt. How'd you go from this invincible being to half-dead in the middle of a forest?"

“I said I was an angel, didn't I? I'm a fallen angel now.”

"So how'd you lose your wings then?"

“Simply put, I sinned.”

“Can you elaborate on that?” 

“A demon killed my best friend and wrath got the better of me..” Their voice cracked a little, “So I found that monster and showed him the exact same mercy he showed her...”

I pause, hearing the amount of stifled anguish in their voice. I relax my shoulders and uncross my arms, softening my eyes just slightly enough to let them know I believe them...enough...for now.

"You regret it?"

“I am aware of what I signed up for when the thought entered my head... but she was my best friend.” (Y/n) sniffles, avoiding eye contact, “It was worth it, though I am a terrible person for it...”

“Well yes...” I walk around the bed and unlock the cuff from their wrist, “And no.”

They gasp, doing a double take. “No? I killed someone."

"We have something called nuance down here on Earth. What you do matters, but the intent matters more."

"So you don't think I'm a terrible person? Are you serious right now?"

“Not a terrible person, just a terrible angel. You’d make a great person.”

"Right, because mortals kill more often than not."

"Hey, not all of us are serial killers, (Y/n). Most have legitimate reasons for killing someone, your case just so happens to be very common."

"Oh..." (Y/n) sits up against the pillows, "That doesn't make it okay."

"I never said it made it okay; I said it doesn't make you terrible."

"I never got your name..."

"Call me Ghost."

"Ghost...?"

"We'll work on real names when I trust you more."

"Okay then...Ghost. So what happens now? I stay in some special cell, treated like a freak while your army interrogates me?"

“I'm not putting you in a cell."

“You won't?”

"Unless you give me a reason to, no. You don’t seem dangerous, and besides, if we keep you in an actual cell... I think you'd just try and break out. You're just gonna have to live here for now."

“Thank you... I think..."

"Don't get too comfortable though, I'll still be keepin' my eye on you. But at least you get to not be cooped up in a cell. Until we figure out what to do with you that is."

“...And... just how comfortable are army barracks?”

I let out a soft chuckle. "They might not be the most luxurious, but I can give you a room to yourself. No one should bug you as long as you stay out of others' way."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet; you might hate it here. Not many people like being surrounded by soldiers in every direction."

"Better than the middle of a crater."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(a/n): Last mythical one i swear (prolly, maybe, not really)

[cross-my-heartt]

Alright, I’m saying it

I hate what they did with Crosshair in season three

Yes, the entirety of season three, barring maybe only the first three episodes. Let me elaborate.

I’ve been seeing people be more open about criticizing the finale and it’s given me the push to be more open about my own thoughts. And since I still advertise myself as a Crosshair girlie, I think this is a good place to start.

I really honestly don’t like the majority of what they did with Crosshair’s character this season. And yes, that includes the hand tremors. From the myriad things that felt out of character for him to making him a walking exposition dump, to completely stripping him of his more interesting qualities I honestly struggle to see him as the same character I loved right up until the end of season two.

I almost understand why so many people have come around on him – it’s because he’s a completely different character. We’re meant to believe that his time on Tantiss and Hemlock’s attempted reconditioning has changed him as a person. Which is all fine and dandy until you realize that this new character we get feels more like he’s gone through therapy rather than trauma.

New Crosshair is much more agreeable. He’s mild, he rolls over at the first sign of conflict, he talks about his emotions at the drop of a hat and there’s barely any meaningful tension between him and the other characters (not one that’s not forced anyways).

And my question is, why? If we’re just going to use off screen trauma (off. screen. trauma???) to change characters willy nilly then what even is the point of watching a show?

Say I suddenly wanted to make Wrecker this very angry character with a short fuse and I decide that he got an injury off screen that’s causing him chronic pain. It makes sense logically while at the same time making zero sense for him, even less so if you don’t see it play out, because it erases core parts of the character that we already know.

One of the first things Crosshair does in tcw is start a fight. Crosshair has always been a belligerent guy. He literally responds to being hurt by attacking. Where is that combativeness now? I would even go as far as to say that he’s been the primary source of conflict for the group since season one and I don’t even mean that in a bad way. Crosshair bites back. He hides pain by trying to inflict it, he talks back, he challenges, he digs his heels in to the point of proactively making bad life choices.

And the reason why he’s worked so well in this team so far is because his tendencies were counteracted by those around him, right up until the inevitable rift caused by the chip. I could go on about Wrecker and Tech but we all know that the main counterbalance, Crosshair’s foil here, is Hunter. Hunter is supposed to be the one that deescalates, they’ve gotten along so far because he’s the one that handled rising tensions (it’s the reason he’s the leader of their group to begin with. Remember who deescalated that fight in tcw? Remember who started it?) Where Crosshair pushes, Hunter puts a stop to it. Where Crosshair attacks, Hunter deflects, maybe sometimes too much.

And these first two season have felt like they were steadily building towards a confrontation between these two. We wanted Hunter to snap at Crosshair on Pabu because we’ve been craving it. This whole time Crosshair’s been saddled with more and more trauma, unresolved tensions from as far back as season one (which we all seem to have forgotten about as if that story never happened, tldr I’m still bitter no one addressed the Crosshair being abandoned subplot, hello remember that) while the narrative has simultaneously been stripping Hunter of his patience; months of anxiety and frustration and stress chipping away at him and wearing him down so that we can finally get to see these characters clash. The perfect recipe for all of that tension exploding and being set loose.

And what did we get instead?

A tiny little spat. An argument that gets interrupted before fizzling out (because Crosshair can talk about feelings all of a sudden). We got Hunter in the exact right position only for the show to purposefully strip Crosshair of his characteristic belligerence because apparently we don’t want to see any conflict. It’s like they’re teasing us – look Hunter’s on the verge of snapping but Crosshair’s the bigger man now so we don’t get to see that! Why??? What part of that was satisfying?? We got Crosshair pushing back for the tiniest of seconds and resolved two seasons of tension in half an episode. Where they had to fight a giant worm. In what universe is that a satisfying conclusion.

The only reason I can think of is that this mirror development is supposed to be some kind of irony or subversion but honestly that explanation falls so flat in the face of our expectations as an audience.

And the thing is, I think even the authors realized that they had nuked their most intriguing character. Because once they removed his established response to trauma, which was all of those wonderfully complex emotional reactions, they realized they needed to manifest it in some other way. So we got the hand tremors.

Now Crosshair doesn’t get angry or stubborn he just gets jittery. And I know this sounds dismissive but the only reason that is is because the show itself deals with it in a completely ham-fisted and surface-level way.

I hated the hand tremor subplot. Me. Someone who spent two years being disabled because of neural damage to my hands that prevented me from doing the hobbies I used to define myself as a person. Someone who spent two years depressed and dysfunctional because of the loss of identity and purpose I suffered because of that disability.

So no I’m not fucking happy that they used something as serious as ptsd to spice up a character they themselves made bland in the first place. For no reason other than a subplot that went literally nowhere. A subplot that was shish kebabed after an underwhelming fight scene.

Don’t even get me started on the pun level writing of chopping said hand off.

But back to Crosshair… or what’s left of him after this season (see I can make a pun too). Crosshair was already interesting enough as a character without the added hand tremor subplot and I'm dying on that hill.

The thing is, they were so intent on pushing this new, watered down version of Crosshair that even more reasonable, level-headed characters had to be thrown under the bus, made irrationally aggressive next to him to try and make us believe it. I have a lot to say about Howzer this season but the only thing I’ll say for now is that he’s the most prominent victim of this, along with his entire retconned season one plotline.

And speaking of victims, I can’t help but feel like I need to apologize to all the Tech fans out there once again. Because what I think actually happened is that Tech was never the writers’ favorite and was never meant to get any sort of satisfying conclusion.

That was always Crosshair.

The focal point of season one. The most prominent source or drama and conflict. The character who drove the plot forward even when he appeared in a fraction of episodes. The character who got the most development (even if that development spiraled wildly out of control at the end). Nearly every major subplot in this show happened in relation to or in favor of Crosshair’s arc. Tech’s death. Omega’s capture. The CX clones. The hand tremors. All of the meaningful developments and events reserved for two characters in this show, Omega and Crosshair. (Some would argue Hunter as well but really, did Hunter get any development as a character? Spoiler alert, a happy ending is not the same as a character arc.)

My guess is that this was always meant to be the case. The writers just weren’t prepared for the fans’ response to Tech’s death, it caught them off guard, and here’s one more reason why I think creators should stay away from social media or any kind of prolonged fan interaction. Because all it got us in the end was some form of cruel teasing, them trying to ride the wave of attention and thinking their original plans would make up for it when that wave inevitably crashed.

But anyway.

What happens when you dump a bunch of pain and suffering onto a character with a problematic response to adversity? Apparently it makes them emotionally intelligent, at least according to this show. Crosshair in season three feels like a shadow of his former self – the combativeness and complex emotional responses that made him so interesting to begin with are gone, replaced with a ham-fisted manifestation of trauma that gets resolved in an equally ham-fisted way.

And I’m just not on board with that. Nor will I ever be. Even if you give me all the supposed emotional payoffs, hugs or whatever.

[lunar-years]

Peanut gallery social media commentary on Challengers is sooo funny to me.

“Art was the victim!” Did you miss the part where he started stirring shit up between his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend in the hopes they’d break up and he could get with her instead? Or how he chose to cut off his best friend entirely to side with Tashi because Tashi blamed said best friend for her injury (literally he doesn’t even talk to Patrick about the argument? Ever? Just kicks him out of his life because Tashi wants them to LMAO)?

“Patrick was the victim!” Did you miss the part where Patrick spends like 13 years willfully reinserting himself back into a relationship he no longer gets to be a part of all because he’d rather ruin them and come between them and repeatedly hurt them if it means he knows they still think about him, rather than taking ownership of his actions and coming to terms with the fact that they no longer think about him at all? Did you miss the fact that he’s a giant flop on top of being a giant asshole?

“Tashi is an evil cold manipulative bitch who doesn’t care about anything but tennis and comes between them!” Okay what we’re not going to do is 1) act like those two losers weren’t active participants in the vast majority of what was happening to them so that we can blame everything on the woman 2) forget that Tashi spends the entire movie both being incredibly horny for yes tennis, but tennis very much including Art and Patrick specifically, as well as bringing a wrecking ball down on her own life repeatedly because she physically cannot go on without having all three of them in her life.

“The three of them are ALL terrible, bad people!” Are they or they neither good nor bad but a secret third thing (messed up, regular people)? Are they or they all three simultaneously the one’s holding the gun and falling into the graves they’ve dug for themselves?

“The movie promised me a throuple and then didn’t even deliver!/it was just a regular boring old love triangle” Did you miss the part where Patrick was the person who taught Art to jerk off? Did you miss the part where Tashi encourages them to neck her until they’re close enough for her to back away and leave them kissing each other as she watches with horny amusement? Did you miss the fact that they’re both playing for her number? Did you miss Art molding himself into the person who could obtain the glory that Tashi was denied? Or how he saw his fiance/wife kissing her ex boyfriend who also happens to be his ex best friend in Atlanta and then spends like 10 more years doing absolutely nothing about it? Did you miss “Don’t I matter?” “Not to the most obsessive tennis fan in the world” “I’m not talking about tennis” followed by an Art who has stopped caring whether he wins or loses caring, by the end of the match, more than he’s ever cared before, because Patrick DOES matter and because he’s STILL playing for Tashi’s number? Did you miss the part where for about 15 seconds there they were actually playing tennis and they understood each other completely and so did everyone watching and it was a bit like they were in love or like they didn’t exist and they went somewhere really beautiful together? HUH?

“They’re incredibly toxic!” Well, yes! but you see, that’s part of the fun!

[exhuastedpigeon]

han what's your top five fav fics you've written 👁

Amanda hi ily thanks for asking <3

These are in no particular order. Also recency bias is definitely playing a part here - all of these are things I've written in the last 9 months. I know I have favourites further back but here we are.

give your heart and soul to charity Buddie | Teen | 12.5k

“Hi Frank.” “It’s been a while since you asked for an emergency session,” Frank says, voice even as always. “Can I ask what brought this on?” “I think I just dumped god,” Eddie says and then he bursts out laughing. He can’t control it, he knows he sounds manic, like he’s somewhere between laughter and a breakdown, edging closer to the breakdown. “Holy shit I did dump god.” “I’m going to need just a little more than that,” Frank says and his face looks torn between concern and amusement.

there ain't no turning back Buddie | Explicit | 28.3k

Eddie let out a yelp when he finally took in the room. It was a two queen room, white blankets, a TV, a desk and chair near the window, nothing about the furniture was strange, except for the fact that Buck was lounging on the bed closest to the windows, his legs crossed at the ankles, feet clad in MIT socks that he’d gotten for himself the day Chris sent his application in because Buck was that confident he’d get in. “You made good time,” Buck said with a grin, his eyes bright as he looked at Eddie. “You’re here? How are you here?” Eddie felt like crying as he toed off his shoes and walked over to Buck.

wet your lips (and smile to the camera) Buddie | Mature | 6.8k

Buck has a problem and that problem is that Eddie Diaz is going to ruin his life. OR Eddie starts modeling on the side and Buck can't stop looking at his pictures, mostly because Eddie's ads are everywhere

lay your cards down, down, down by 42hrb Buddie | Mature | 6.3k

At that moment a few things happened at once that all felt equality important. Buck noticed a black ring on Eddie’s ring finger. Buck felt Eddie’s hard cock pressed against his hip. And Buck saw a matching black ring on his own ring finger. Maybe it was silly to put Eddie’s hard cock at the same level as what looked a lot like wedding rings, but it felt just as important as the other two observations. “Oh,” Eddie’s eyes widened as he spotted the ring on his hand. “I -” “Did we get married?” Buck whispered, voice dripping with panic. “Eddie I-I don’t remember wh-what happened.”

every road and every highway led me right back to your door Sterek | Teen | 2.5k

Derek would like it noted that he had been in way worse situations before. He would like that on the official record. His current predicament honestly doesn’t even make the top five worst situations he’s ever been in. It might not even make the top ten. “A random woman walked out of the preserve, handed you a new born baby, told you to find me and for us raise him like he’s our own, and then turned into mist,” Stiles said, voice incredulous. He’d been back in Beacon Hills for less than three months and in that time they’d had a pixie infestation, a clan of vampires without morals, a clan of vampires with morals, and a feral omega, so Derek wasn’t sure why he was acting like a random woman with a baby was all that unbelievable. “Yes,” Derek said, the baby still in his arms. He didn’t have anything he needed for a baby yet, so he called Stiles over to hopefully lend a hand in getting the baby out of the woods safely.

[papayadays]

.:*[prologue]*:.

summary: lando x oc - when the fine line between engineer and driver blurs

a/n: eww i’m so bad at writing prologues but here you go, also for the summary tagline, i had to make sure it wasn’t cringe or cliche - took forever

but anyways, first bit of my new series!

warnings: a little bit of language used in an affectionate way, cutesy girl gang things

part 1/? in orange daisy series

“daisy moore, receiving a master of science in engineering!” daisy walked across the stage upon hearing her name called, a massive grin spread across her face. in her fancy — albeit cumbersome — gown, she grabbed the roll of paper and shook hands with those on stage. but whatever they were saying, daisy drowned them out. her own excitement overpowered their words.

“daisy and jade, say cheese!” kayla grinned holding up her phone, jolting daisy out of her thoughts. the three of them held up peace signs to the camera while showing their diplomas. “we finally graduated, bitch!” it was the end of the year and the three girls had all completed their master’s degree: daisy in mechanical engineering, kayla in marine biology, and jade in computer science. they had met in their first year at uni, and the three of them had become fast friends despite their varying nationalities. jade was british, kayla was australian, and daisy herself was american.

“tag us on your insta!” jade insisted, peering at kayla’s screen. “also, i forgot to mention this earlier, but girls’ night at my place? you know, for our graduation.”

“obviously!” daisy smiled. “we need to celebrate this moment, ladies. after this, our lives are going to change. not to be dramatic.”

“i’ll bring the champagne,” kayla sang.

[✧]

later that night, the three girls were at jade’s apartment, sitting on the couch. the champagne had yet to be opened because they were all busy watching the formula 1 race. daisy and jade were true fans, but kayla was only in it because they were. at least, that’s what daisy guessed.

“why is it so boring?” kayla mumbled. daisy shot her a dirty look.

“ahem, mind you, right now, the drivers are all spaced out. plus, it’s a tough track to overtake on,” she explained. daisy loved the sport more than anything, and was more than happy to explain to her friend.

“sure,” kayla said, dramatically rolling her eyes. as she got up, her hand flew to the back pocket of her shorts. “oh my god!”

“what’s happening, kay? did you get your period or something?” jade asked, eyebrows scrunched.

“no, but i got a notification,” kayla said frantically, whipping out her beach-themed phone.

daisy stared at her friend. what was the big deal about a notification? “unless it’s a family emergency or something like that, i don’t think it’s that big of a deal, kay kay,” she responded.

“no, you don’t understand,” the aussie replied. “it’s from heron island research station.” daisy looked at jade and they shared a glance. they knew why kayla was so frantic. heron island research station was an internship program in queensland, australia for aspiring marine biologists and kayla was one of the applicants. she had been waiting for news of acceptance for a month now.

daisy looked at her friend nervously, crossing her fingers. finally, kayla looked up. “well?” daisy probed. “did you get in?”

daisy saw kayla’s mouth stretch into a smile as she yelled, “i made it. let’s effing go!” jade and daisy both lunged at kayla, pulling them all into a group hug.

“daisy and i are so proud of you!” jade squealed. kayla’s smile was radiant, and daisy patted her friend on the head.

“slay, queen!” she snickered. kayla gave her the finger as a sudden look of realization dawned on her.

“hey, dais, what about your internships?” the australian asked. daisy’s eyes widened. she had totally forgotten about them. on a whim, she had applied for numerous internships, five to be exact.

“oh shoot, i forgot all about it!” she pulled out her phone and opened her email. besides the junk from stores and whatnot, she found two emails. “double the celebration then!”

[love-kurdt]

Swooping, Sloping, Cursive Letters: 23

word count: 674

PLEASE READ THIS IS ME TRYING FIRST, AS THIS STORY RELIES HEAVILY UPON THE CONTEXT OF TIMT

June 27, 1989

Dear Will,

I’m not gonna lie, I thought things between us would get at least a little awkward after you came out. I thought that maybe you’d stop wanting to hang out as often, that you’d pull away from embraces faster, or you’d start calling me “bro,” and “man,” to distance yourself from me, like you had during the Vecnapocalypse after the Almost Kiss™. But none of those things happened, and the fact that things are so ordinary is confusing the hell out of me.

I think I’m starting to imagine things. Things as in reciprocated feelings. The signs are all there. When we’re together, we’re always engaging in a form of physical contact; whether it be leaning against each other, laying in each other’s laps on the couch, or even holding hands (this only happens when we’re alone, but I’m gonna let it count), we always have to be connected in some way. When we’re talking with the Party, they often acknowledge us as a pair; we’re MikeandWill, not Mike and Will, and neither of us ever make it a point to correct them. When you came out, we all formed a group hug around you. But when we pulled away, everyone’s eyes drew to me for some reason. It was like they were waiting for me to come out, too, and they looked kind of confused when I didn’t say anything except “We love you, Will,” and “We accept you, no matter what.” But then again, I’m probably just fabricating all this in my head. I guess that makes for good content for my stories. Author problems, am I write? Get it? …I’ll see myself out.

Speaking of the Party, they have become absolutely fucking insufferable when it comes to discussing your love life. You claim there’s nothing to discuss, but the constant wagging eyebrows and teasing vocal inflections of our friends tell me otherwise. For instance, the other day, they were asking you about your dream man and the characteristics he’d have, both physically and personality-wise. In short, they wanted to know your Type™. I began to think of what they’d look like. What were their names? Were they creative too? Were they gay or bi? Did they watch Star Wars for Han or Luke? Did they like popcorn or pretzels? Or did they prefer a psychotic combination of the two like you do?

I braced myself for the impact, not wanting to hear what you had to say, because I knew I’d inevitably get hurt. And yeah, I know I said in one of my previous letters (Exhibit A: September 18, 1988) that I’d be fine if you’d just rejected me and I’d be grateful to have you just as a friend, but the more I think about it, I’d probably be just a little bit destroyed… demolished… decimated. Vocabulary. Cool.

But you took a deep breath and said, “Guys, this is kind of ridiculous. I don’t even have a type.” Dustin and Max called bullshit immediately, to which you responded, “Even if I did like someone, I wouldn't tell you guys who it was. If you must know, I like guys who are confident, emotionally intelligent, and tall. That good enough?” Everyone else seemed pretty satisfied with that answer, but while the conversation shifted to another subject, my mind could only focus on one word: tall. 

I’m tall. Six feet and three inches tall, to be exact.

Yeah, I know, I’m not exactly confident (that version of me died when I came to terms with my feelings for you and what that meant in a wider social lens) or emotionally intelligent (maybe I am on paper, but in conversation? I have the emotional intelligence of a speck of dust), but I’m tall. I’m really fucking tall. So at least I have that going for me… right?

God, I sound so juvenile and desperate. But what the hell, I have one third of a chance with you, and that’s better than no chance at all.

Love,

Mike

-

previous letter | next letter

homepage

[jihyocentric]

sequel to this

it’s not quite jealousy, what sana feels, but something close to it.

she certainly doesn’t miss jihyo. at least, she firmly believes so. sana couldn’t miss someone who was inevitably close to her — in a way she never wished, constantly showing up at her place, to see her best friend. but a part of her, a part sana would never admit existed, inevitably wished none of that had ever happened, even if momo was at her happiest.

over the years, sana has learned how to hide her feelings even from herself. she eventually reached a point where it became hard to identify them, to know what she truly felt. sana believed that perhaps her body had developed an unique way to tell her when it was time for her to acknowledge her feelings. at those times, she would feel physically sick when things were hard to bear and she needed a break.

“what are you-” sana hears a gasp. momo appears in front of her in a matter of seconds, grabbing a plate with the cupcakes she had left on the counter to cool down. now, they were half eaten. “these were for jihyo!”

“jihyo isn’t into sweets.” sana says, as if she doesn’t feel guilty about stealing food from a pregnant woman.

jihyo didn’t look like one yet. it had been no longer than three weeks after jihyo announced her pregnancy to them, and she hadn’t changed at all in terms of appearance. perhaps if jihyo was already showing, sana would regret. but jihyo was far from that, and sana could still pretend nothing was going on until jihyo showed up again, looking for momo, because of course jihyo would want to stick close to the one who made her pregnant.

sana rolls her eyes the same time momo’s bottom lip sticks out, and with her index finger momo counts the number of cupcakes left for jihyo.

“she’s just picky but she likes them,” momo mumbles, a small groan passing through her lips, but she wasn’t angry. momo rarely got angry. sana had never seen her truly, genuinely like that — not with her, at least. “it’s fine, you can eat them. i’ll just make more.”

of course you will, sana thinks to herself as she grabs the cupcakes left and heads somewhere else, slightly irritated with momo’s lack of reaction. if she wasn’t eating in a hurry, wanting to leave before jihyo arrived, perhaps sana would’ve given her a grumpy answer to push her buttons.

sana has, maybe, been trying to get momo to be upset with her. that’s because momo was bothering her, constantly asking her random things about jihyo, as if sana knew everything about her, when in truth, sana knew very little about her ex. her ex. momo seemed to have forgotten about that part of the story quite quickly, because she acted as if sana had only been an acquaintance to jihyo, and then sana started to feel like the impostor between them.

exhibit 1. three days after the fainting incident.

“sana,” momo knocks at the door of sana’s room, getting in before sana got to invite her. “is jihyo into sports? i got, uh… tickets. ‘s for this weekend… but i could only buy two, so don’t be mad!”

that was the first time momo had made her a question about jihyo’s taste for things.

when momo tries to justify wanting to have a date with jihyo without her, sana thinks about telling momo that, in fact, she hated anything related to sports and consequentially hated watching games with her, but there was a chance momo would be sad if she knew about that, so sana doesn’t mention it.

“maybe? i think she plays tennis, or something.” sana doesn’t take her eyes off her phone, not wanting the conversation to last long. “why don’t you ask her?”

“uhhh,” momo scratches her nape. “i just want to impress her, i guess.”

momo only gives sana half of an answer. jihyo made her nervous, which was only natural as she was momo’s first girlfriend — not that momo had really asked her to be her girlfriend, but jihyo was. she became her girlfriend only a few minutes after momo woke up from fainting.

in a certain way, their situation was comic. momo’s three days long girlfriend had also been sana’s first girlfriend. it was like sana was being a good friend and testing the waters so that momo could dive in. deep. and with no fears.

“oh, trust me, jihyo is very easy to impress,” sana lets out a sort of laugh, slightly sarcastic with her words. “was that all you wanted to ask?”

sana can smell the chocolate from the second batch of cupcakes from her room as she got ready to go out. she had actually done a good thing by eating the ones momo had previously made, as jihyo would get even better ones — they would still be warm by the time she ate them. and momo had apparently added more chocolate to the second batch.

again, thinking about jihyo and momo’s happiness makes sana feel uneasy.

exhibit 2.

“i need a real job, right?” momo says randomly one day, when they’re mindlessly catching up with a tv show they only watched together. “jihyo told me she wants me to meet her parents. but i can’t meet them if i can’t promise i’ll take care of her and our baby’s needs. i can’t jus’ show up at their house and say i’m broke and stuff... she’s loaded and all, but...”

“you’re not broke.” sana answers simply, not really paying attention at first to what momo was trying to say.

“because i only spend money with myself,” momo whines. “do you know how expensive a baby can be? because i don’t. but i have a feeling that it’s going to be a lot more than what i make with volleyball.”

upon listening about jihyo’s pregnancy, sana no longer wants to stay in the living room with momo. her mood changes completely, and the popcorn she’d been snacking on was no longer tasty. she leaves the bowl at the table near the couch. “have you talked to jihyo about this?”

“we don’t… talk a lot.” momo blushes and redirects her eyes to the tv instead of sana. “w-well, next time we’re together i’ll try to talk to her about this. but i should, right?”

“if i were you, i would probably look for an extra income.” sana says, giving an honest, jealousy-free advice. her throat tightens, as if her body was refusing to help momo. sana forced her voice to come out. “a baby is expensive. even if jihyo can deal with the expenses on her own, you should do your part.”

sana’s advice makes momo drink her soda like it’s beer, wondering why she came inside and ended up in such a situation. instantly, she thinks about sex with jihyo and her cheeks become red. remembering her nights with jihyo is enough for her to stop making herself stupid questions and start wishing they could do it all again soon.

before leaving, sana lets momo know that she would probably return later at night.

she shouldn’t leave that night — she was starting to feel sick, her body was warm from what seemed like the beginning of a fever, but sana knew that was all her mind’s fault. there was no reason for her to feel that way other than her repressed feelings, and there was no better way to fight them than being busy with better things.

unfortunately, sana’s date never arrives at the place they had agreed to meet on. the girl cancels their date over texts and apologizes for the inconvenience, but sana doesn’t text her back. she ends up in a bar instead of going home, the thought of returning sober and possibly having to see things that would bother her when they shouldn’t encourage her to stay.

sana usually doesn’t drink a lot. never more than she could bear. she did when she was with jihyo, because jihyo, despite being way more responsible than her in most aspects, was keen on getting drunk for fun. that was yet another thing momo didn’t know about jihyo, and sana wonders if the question would ever come up, like all of the others.

sana wasn’t the only one having a bad day, it’s something she notices rather quickly. she watches, curious, the grumpy bartender’s every move from the moment she realizes the girl was quite anxious to leave. tzuyu doesn’t hide it, really, sighing as she made drinks for the clients, checking her phone every couple of seconds, only growing frustrated the more mina made her wait.

when mina eventually arrives, tzuyu is quick to switch places with her.

“you’re late. by an hour.” tzuyu complains, “an hour!”

“bike broke on the way here,” mina grunts, quickly patting her pants and passing her hands over her hair, as if her gestures would make her look more presentable. “i’m sorry, okay? i went home and tried to fix it. didn’t work out, so i walked.”

“again?” tzuyu asks, not doubting the sincerity of mina’s words. she looked like someone who walked all the way there. “just get a new one.”

“i like my bike,” mina says, in defense of her (not so) reliable bicycle. “it’s vintage.”

“and awful. get a new one.” tzuyu says as if it’s an order, quickly changing places with mina and handing her the apron that had been waiting for her to arrive — for about an hour. “i’ll leave early tomorrow. you better be here an hour earlier. oh, and try not to give the blondie over there more alcohol. she’s already had too much.”

“that’s fair, i guess.” mina sighs. “see you tomorrow,” she mutters, with little excitement in her tone.

the confirmation is all tzuyu seems to need before she leaves, closing the door that led to the back of the bar as mina put on her apron.

it’s only then, when sana catches a glimpse of the bartender starting her shift, that she guesses her night didn’t have to be bad all the way to its end. sana raises her hand, getting mina’s attention, wanting to be her very first client of the night.

“i’ll have another of these, cutie.” sana smiles after dropping the pet name. mina sighs.

“are you sure?” mina asks, recognizing the blonde woman tzuyu had talked about. “you haven’t finished your drink yet.”

“oh, are you worried about me?” sana lowers her tone, chin on her hand, crossing her legs in a way that made her skirt rise. unfortunately, mina couldn’t see her thighs the way sana intended her to see, not behind the counter.

mina seems unimpressed with sana’s attempt of flirting. she smiles and offers sana a short nod, as if she was putting an end to their brief conversation, and starts to make her drink. clients like sana were frequent, mina has learned how to deal with them — keeping a nonchalant face usually sent them away.

“it’s sana, by the way.” sana says, sipping the remains of her drink. the alcohol wasn’t as strong as it was when she started drinking, but sana guesses that her tolerance had grown after the amount of those she’d drank.

mina prepares the drink in an almost robotic way. she didn’t love working as a bartender, of course she wouldn’t as someone who quite enjoyed peace and quiet, but sometimes it was therapeutic, as if she was playing a cozy game — except for the fact that she also dealt with drunk people and there was loud music playing at all times, which wasn’t cozy at all. her job became considerably harder, though, when she had clients like sana.

mina feels sana’s gaze on her the entire time she’s preparing her drink. she places the final product on the counter for sana, and, without starting a conversation, she gets other people’s orders. surprisingly, sana doesn’t try to talk to her for a good while, until she’s ready for another drink.

“c’mere, cutie,” sana calls, making mina sigh before she turned to her. “another one, please. or should i get something else…”

“sana,” it’s the first thing mina says, refusing to call her ‘lady’ or ‘miss’. “you’re here alone, aren’t you? would you like anything without alcohol?”

“so you are worried about me,” sana taunts. “perhaps you’re right. i’m alone and i’ve had enough, but if you go home with me i won’t have any trouble.”

“my shift won’t end any time soon.” mina replies.

“i can wait.” sana offers.

“i have a girlfriend.” mina lies, wondering if that would make her client give up.

“i don’t mind. she could join,” sana muses. “or… we could do it behind her back.”

“so persistent,” mina laughs. “the answer is still a no. would you like some juice?”

sana pouts. “a no won’t do. give me your number.”

fortunately for mina, a client interrupts their conversation. she wouldn’t give her number to a complete stranger, despite finding sana rather cute. young people like sana and herself were usually at bars due to their broken hearts, it’s something mina had learned from experience. mina stayed away from complicated people, no matter how pretty they were — and she didn’t make exceptions.

minutes later, sana’s body is complaining and begging for her bed. she had been there for longer than she should’ve stayed, interested on the cute bartender who couldn’t care less about her. the difficult ones were always the most fun to play with, sana thinks, keeping a smile on her face as she got up and made her way to where mina was, standing face to face with her, the both of them only separated by a counter.

“can i at least know your name?” sana asks, propping her elbows on the counter, showing mina her cleavage, but mina’s eyes never strayed from her face.

mina decides to make her happy one time that night. her first name was a simple information, surely it would be harmless letting sana know about it. “mina.”

“give me your number, mina.” sana insists, trying to give mina her phone so she could type her number.

“i could give you a fake number, did you know that?” mina answers, offering sana an amused smile.

“oh, come on!” sana whines. “i really need to go, cutie. let’s make this quick.”

sana’s back luck didn’t seem to end that night. a group of people soon grab mina’s attention, and sana knew she couldn’t stay any longer. it wasn’t all that bad, though, that she had to leave — mina worked there, and all sana had to do was return to the bar in order to see her. getting her number couldn’t be that hard, right?

if momo knew dating someone could be that good, she would’ve done it sooner. or maybe not, because it wouldn’t be with jihyo then. only if she stole jihyo from sana, and it’s not like she hadn’t, but it’s not like she had either.

it was a fair exchange, really, at least momo thinks so — sana didn’t want jihyo, all momo did was take her when they weren’t together anymore. she did it for sana’s sake, and because she wanted jihyo. back then, in a different way than she does now, but momo still wanted her.

“sorry, bbuyo is a bit lazy.” jihyo explains, slightly embarrassed about her cat’s antics.

the moment jihyo lets go of her hand to grab her cat from the ground, momo closes her fist to find heat, feeling cold when jihyo’s hand is no longer keeping hers warm.

they hadn’t been walking for long. boo seemed like he could be walked for hours, but bbuyo had hardly spent ten minutes walking and he was already tired, meowing for jihyo to pick him up. she eventually did, but only when he stopped walking and laid on the ground, making it impossible for them to keep going.

“let me hold him for you,” momo offers. “he’s quite chunky. must be heavy for you.”

momo did that a lot — not letting jihyo hold heavy things. or whatever she deemed heavy. and jihyo knew it wasn’t necessary, she could perfectly lift heavier items and she held bbuyo like that a lot at home, but when she was with momo, she became suddenly incapable of doing those things. both because momo was always eager to help and because she liked being treated like that, desperately so, wanting to be doted on by momo, never rejecting her help.

“thank you.” jihyo smiles, her eyes almost closing as she does, grabbing boo’s leash after momo takes bbuyo in her arms.

then, boo is the one who wants to make a stop. while bbuyo prefers his owner’s arms, he doesn’t fight against being held by momo. boo, on the other hand, lets his paws reach jihyo’s knee, as if asking to be held as well.

“we should probably sit somewhere,” momo says, looking around to find an empty bench. “there!” she points with her finger.

the weather was particularly cold that day, enough to make them wear thicker clothes. while making their way to the bench, jihyo intertwines her arm with momo’s, leaning her head into her shoulder in search for warmth once they take a sit.

neither of them have the courage to start a proper conversation. from the moment momo started calling jihyo ‘her girl’, they had been a mess. momo was nothing like sana, and jihyo was still trying to figure out how to act around her. as for momo, she didn’t want to mess up, and she’d usually wait until jihyo started a conversation in order to speak.

momo eventually breaks the silence. this time, she has really has to, as it was an important matter she wanted to talk about.

“have you…” momo starts, her nose slightly red due to the weather, cheeks pink. “have you told your parents?”

“i want you to meet them,” jihyo replies, as shy as momo. “but not yet. they’ve been busy, a-and i’m a little… they won’t react badly, i know that, but i don’t know how to tell them.”

momo hums, scratching the back of her neck. the sincerity in jihyo’s voice is concerning, letting momo know that jihyo was just as lost as she was. even then, momo feels some sort of comfort in knowing she wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to do.

jihyo pulls away, only so she could sit straight, her hand tingling as boo licked her palm. “have you told yours?”

“not yet.” momo shifts the arm supporting bbuyo, letting the cat nuzzle into the other arm. her free arm passes behind jihyo’s back, hand holding her waist. it’s the way momo finds to get her closer, not possessive but caring, as if telling jihyo she wasn’t alone. “we should do this together.”

jihyo relaxes upon hearing momo’s words, surprised that she was tensed up to begin with.

“that would be better,” jihyo says, evident relief coated in her tone.

“next week i’ll start looking for a part time job.” momo says, thumb moving up and down against jihyo’s waist, caressing her covered skin.

“but… what about college?” jihyo instantly searches for momo’s eyes, their noses almost touching as she did little effort to pull away. “y-you don’t have to do that. i can take care of-”

making use of their closeness, momo leans in, lips touching jihyo’s softly, effectively silencing her.

“it’ll be alright,” momo assures, all but whispering her words. her lips meet jihyo’s once more before momo moves away, and jihyo’s head falls instantly on her shoulder, the younger girl evidently shy. momo wasn’t far behind, flushed like jihyo. “i’ll keep studying and i won’t leave volleyball, don’t worry about that. both of you are my responsibility now. i’m just taking care of you.”

momo hardly knows how she manages to give jihyo such reassurances, with words that seemed rehearsed due to how nicely they fell past her lips, but she’s relieved she’s able to do that. jihyo melts into the embrace of momo’s arm, cheeks burning as her words sink into her head.

she was momo’s responsibility now. for the first time in her life, jihyo felt like she truly belonged to someone.

much against sana’s wishes, jihyo’s visits start happening more frequently. seeing her with momo became a regular occurrence. they looked happy, always with big smiles on their faces, looking flushed around each other but still incapable of not being in each other’s arms at all times.

sana wonders why jihyo didn’t invite momo over to her apartment instead. she lived alone after all. that was one of the multiple things sana vividly remembered about jihyo — she’d been there plenty of times, enough to remember how jihyo used to complain about wanting her to stay for longer every time sana would leave, because she felt lonely when sana left.

sana had quite a lengthy list of things she didn’t like about jihyo, but her clingy behavior was what bothered sana the most, especially now that she wasn’t hers. jihyo was never truly hers, at least not from sana’s perspective at that moment, but a sulking voice in sana’s head would tell her that the girl momo had in her arms more often than not used to be hers.

and it’s not that sana missed jihyo, if she missed anything it surely wasn’t jihyo herself, but she wanted what momo had. it’s not like what jihyo and momo were living could ever happen with her — if jihyo had never gotten with momo, she would’ve been forgotten rather quickly. and sana didn’t have what it took to get her pregnant by accident.

whatever momo and jihyo had was never meant to be sana’s story. and yet, the most egoistic part of sana crumbled as a consequence of their happiness. that very part of sana also made her ask herself how they could be so happy when they had just ruined their lives with an early kid, and they hardly even knew each other.

of course that would only result in trouble in the future, sana thinks. momo had yet to know the controlling, obsessive person jihyo hid behind a seemingly innocent character, and jihyo would eventually find out that momo would never be what sana knew jihyo wanted her to be… they wouldn’t live happily ever after, there had to be something that would get in their way-

“we’re going out.” momo announces, hand in hand with jihyo, the backpack she wore already letting sana know she wouldn’t return that day, but momo tells her regardless of that. “…and we’ll play tennis tomorrow, my sister will be there. will you come with us?”

“i have a date tomorrow.” sana lies, both wanting to see if she would get any reaction from jihyo and making up an excuse. “have fun you two.”

it’s hard to detect sana’s change of behavior when she’s busy with loving — momo was falling deep for jihyo, without even knowing what she felt was love.

it blinded momo to sana’s obvious change with her. sana wouldn’t usually pass up a chance to hang out with momo and her sister, especially not for a date, but momo guesses sana didn’t want to go because of jihyo, which was understandable.

when momo and jihyo leave, momo’s hand is on jihyo’s waist and the both of them are laughing to something silly momo says. sana feels bitter all over again. conveniently enough, she ends up making use of the bartender’s name and finds her social media. sana tries sending a message, and, unsurprisingly, she is left on read.

“what’s the menu for tonight, chef?”

a tired, soft voice reaches momo’s ears. she’s busy looking for the greens in their groceries, wanting to start the recipe with them, when jihyo’s arms sheathe her waist. momo smiles at the feeling of a plump cheek against her back — jihyo is like a cat staying where she deemed a good place, uncaring of her weight falling against momo, using her as a support.

“remember that old lady i told you about? the cheesecake lady,” momo takes green onions out of the bag.

“the granny you flirted with?” jihyo utters, teasing momo with her question.

“yep,” momo’s confirmation makes jihyo laugh against her back. “she was trying to have her way into my heart and gave me this family recipe. i wasn’t expecting lasagna, but, apparently she’s italian! she does have an accent,” momo mutters, putting the items of a grocery bag out, on the counter. “do you like spinach?”

jihyo nods, letting momo feel her gesture, and hums, a soft noise similar to a cat’s meow. “so you really like her. should i be concerned?”

it’s not sudden, but a deepening of the warm feeling in her chest — momo feels her heart thumping with the display of jealousy. they were only just getting used to each other and momo knew she could do that forever: having jihyo’s smaller frame lying comfortably against hers, casually talking about trivial things, being teased sweetly by her girlfriend. momo loved that. already loved jihyo.

“i really like you.” momo says, slightly defensive, her voice reaching a higher pitch. “but maybe you should.”

jihyo pinches her tummy and momo hears a whine. “you shouldn’t be saying these things to your pregnant girlfriend, hirai.”

“you like my name.” momo coos. she’s no longer separating the ingredients for their dinner, her hands are on the counter, fully distracted by jihyo. “should we use it on our baby?”

jihyo blushes at that, heart racing at the direct mention of their baby. “only if i get to pick their first name.”

“fair enough.” momo turns around, making jihyo have to release her momentarily. the lack of physical contact doesn’t last long, and soon momo is the one with her hands on jihyo’s waist, making the younger girl wrap her arms around her neck. “you’re very pretty, jihyo.”

jihyo had been told that very same thing plenty of times. such praises weren’t new to her, yet momo was the only person who made her believe it. momo wasn’t just saying that to try and take her to bed — in the past, jihyo wouldn’t mind to hear those words while being fully aware of the intentions hid behind them. now, the same words are but sweet reminders that she didn’t need people like that, like sana, to feel the way momo made her feel.

“even without makeup?” jihyo asks.

“even more without it. and you smell so good,” momo moves closer, nose bumping into jihyo’s neck. “i should’ve joined you in the shower.”

“i could always take another with you,” jihyo whispers, closing her eyes at the tender impact of momo’s lips on her neck.

momo smiles, her hands falling down to jihyo’s bare thighs, learning that jihyo wore nothing but her panties under the big shirt she had on. “i thought you wanted to sleep before dinner.”

“d-did i say that?” jihyo lets out meekly, a weak moan leaving her lips as momo slid her panties down, letting it fall to jihyo’s feet.

“uh huh,” momo teases, “you said you were tired and i can’t let my girlfriend skip her rest. besides, you need energy for tomorrow.” momo says, lips against jihyo’s neck, hands on her hips. before jihyo gets to protest, momo offers a solution to their problem. “i’ll just have to make you sleep then. i have a few ideas, wanna hear about them?”

when momo pulls away from jihyo’s neck, looking at jihyo’s eyes and waiting for an answer, she receives a kiss instead, and legs wrapping around her waist.

it takes more effort than it should for them to make it to the bedroom.

momo bumps into some furniture and a couple of walls, incapable of not doing so with such needy lips glued to hers, lips that would complain if she broke their kiss in order to see where she was heading. if jihyo wasn’t already carrying, perhaps momo would make her a mother right then and there, this time fully aware of what she was doing.

exhibit...? (sana should probably stop counting.)

“is it too early to marry jihyo?”

the question is made the day after jihyo meets momo’s sister, as soon as momo joins sana in the living room. it takes sana off guard, but momo seems rather serious about her question.

“it’s been two months since you met her.” sana says. her head aches all of a sudden, and sana fixes her posture on the couch in order to look at momo. “you’re not really thinking about that, are you?

“i am,” momo replies. she smiles, reminiscing the days she spent with jihyo. “my sister loved her. i love her. we’re having a baby together,” momo gives out her reasons. “wouldn’t it be appropriate to just marry her?”

sana shakes her head. “you don’t have to marry her just because you got her pregnant. you barely know her.”

“it’s impossible to know everything about someone.” momo pouts. “i don’t know everything about you, but i love you and we live together. we are kind of married if you think about it.”

“it’s different, momo.” sana sighs.

“i know her enough.” momo says, softer this time. but more serious.

sana doesn’t give her an answer this time, choosing silence over saying what she might regret.

“it’s just… even though we were together only a couple of hours ago, i miss her. i never felt this way before,” momo mutters, frowning as she speaks. “it’s like… i’m constantly yearning for what i already have. and i know she feels the same.”

“marriage is not something you decide on this quickly.” sana replies. and neither is having a baby, but at least that could happen by accident. sana doesn’t say what she wants to say, feeling a burning discomfort in her chest in return. she stands up, ending their conversation shortly. “i’m going to bed. need to wake up early in the morning.”

momo is left alone in the living room, confused as to why sana seemed upset when she left. even sana’s behavior wasn’t enough to make momo stop thinking about marrying jihyo, and sana is long forgotten so that momo could think about her situation with jihyo.

that night, momo can only sleep after jihyo sends her a photo of her in bed with her cat, smiling as she cuddled with him, still with her glasses because she had been reading.

momo almost tells jihyo she loves her then, but telling that to her without being able to kiss her wouldn’t be as fulfilling. all momo can do is wish to see jihyo again soon, so that she could let her know about her feelings and see her pretty smile when the three words were revealed to her.

[rojacatmisa]

Starting over In Madrid

Misa x Nicky!Reader (first person)

Chapter 1 ➤ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➤ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➤ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➤ Hell Clasico

Chapitre 5 : Valleys and Peaks 

I was already lying in my bed when I got Misa’s text. My pillow was wet and darken where the tears mixed with make-up had rolled down. Bed shits were a mess after I vainly turned and turned around to set myself comfortable as I had planned to really take the time to think about what had happened. But the calm meditation I expected had never came, replaced by a crashing urge to let go, to loosen the vans I had kept closed for nearly four months now. 

So instead, I cried. 

I cried because I didn’t want to be hollow again. When I arrived at the Scuidad on my first day, I was still feeling broken by my previous relationship. My ex had dumped me like our three years together never existed, reaping of part of my self-estime with her. When I had looked at Misa that day, something had stirred in me for the first time in months. That something had grown since then, filling me again, meanwhile I constantly knew I was forbidden to feel that way.

So, I cried.

I also cried because I wanted Misa so much it hurt, my body longing for hers like I never longed for somebody. I had felt my heart fly when I had realized Misa was into me as well, barely believing it. It wasn’t making any sense to me to be desired by someone like her. Yet It was, yet it couldn’t happened. Yet It hurt. So much.

" Nicky where are you ? I thought you’ll wait for me 😞 " 

After reading Misa’s message, I had another reason to let my tears flowed. I had finally succeeded at hurting her. 

After we kissed and she went back to the pitch, the puffy cloud I was on had turned to a dark storm. I had been weak, letting her think that there could be something between us, letting her know that I wanted to. I had ran away, pretexting having nauseas to my boss, justifying my absence at the end of the game in the same time, as I quickly put my stuff in order and set off without telling anyone else. 

My heart sunk deeper. What was I going to say now ? 

"I had to packed my working stuff, sorry I’m home" I responded, tears falling down at an increasing pace. 

I shortly received " I don’t understand…" followed by "In fact, I guess I do. Adios" that kept me crying half the night. 

***

Days off after the Clasico passed. I was back at work. Misa and I no longer talked together. She was ignoring me during every training session. Hayley was doing the same, so I deduced Misa had told her everything. They were no longer photo lessons or endless chatting. The job I loved so much was not so great without friends, or now that I had lost them. And I knew I deserved it as much as Misa deserved an explanation. I was preparing myself to give it to her, not to expect our friendship back, but because I had hurt her and she couldn’t get a thing of what was going on, and maybe because I couldn’t bear her avoiding gaze at the beginning of each training session too. All I had to do was to find the right time and place. 

My wish to tell her to truth became quite pressing during a new commercial photoshoot for a collection of sport garments. Obviously, Misa had been chosen for modeling and I was dreading to direct her without having managed to speak with her before. 

The set was a corner of a gym with a bright blue bench and a few exercise items. As always, I was helping a dedicated photographer and his light assistants. The goalkeeper came to the set, her face a mask, her brows imperceptibly frown, her eyes avoiding mine, as usual now. She was wearing the promoted sport items, an orange neon sport bra and a matching short, completed with knee socks and white sneakers. Of course, she looked incredibly hot. 

She sat on the bench, her elbows on her lap, waiting for pose directions. 

"Hum, straighten up… put turn a bit on the left and… look at the camera." I stammered.

Misa slowly took the pose, her gaze finally leveled up with mine and stay locked here. I felt my cheeks blushed. Her almond-shaped eyes showed all the emotions she was containing. Hurt, want, sadness, Confusion. I swallowed hard. Her lips pursing, she finally glanced at the camera. 

"Ok. Get up, put your hands on your waist, your back to us, and look upon you shoulder" 

Misa stood up and turned, the muscles of her tanned back capturing the grazing light of the spots. She flexed her strong arms and put her hands on the bare skin of her waist disappearing under her fuckgod-so-tight-short. Her long legs were slightly spread to give her a steady presence while her underexposed profile detached nicely against the background. She was so stunning I couldn’t do anything but stare blankly, heat rising in various parts of my body. 

"Nicky, go put her hair in the front, we can’t see the bra properly" the photographer told me. 

I unfroze and moved forward, each step incredibly slow. I approached Misa, still keeping the pose. Our eyes met, she frowned very slightly again and took a deep breath. I bit my lips, feeling so uncomfortable to have to touch her on the top of everything. Her sweet perfume filled my nose. My fingers tips brush the skin of her neck and ran across her shoulders as I gently gather her hair to the right. She stiffened and mutter something in Spanish. I arranged her hair better, having her rolling her eyes when I tucked a strand behind her ear. I was sure I had turned red due to embarrassment and to the cooking rays of the spotlights. I went back to my spot near the photographer. He took the shots and seemed satisfied so I moved to the next pose. 

"Face us. Take a ball in your right hand, the other down and look at the camera. » I said but the photographer corrected « Not straight at the camera, it will looked forced, tell her to look a bit on her right, at you actually".

I shut my eyes. For real ? I heard Misa stifle a sneer, indicating she had caught the corrected indications. When I opened my eyes, she was indeed looking directly at me, her gaze hard, her fading sneer still on her mouth. 

"Nah it’s not working, she looks like she going to murder someone. She has to smile more frankly".

If she heard, she pretended not to. Her face harden even more. 

"Er… smile please?" I asked her, mortified. 

Misa bit her lips, her chest was rising up and down as she took deep breaths. 

"What’s…" began the photographer. 

"¡Y si no quiero!" Misa burst out. She threw the ball across the room, hitting nothing by miracle. "I’m done here!" she got off to the back room and slammed the door behind her. A heavy silence settled upon us before the photographer talked again.

"What's going on with her ? That’s really unprofessional ! I will report it !" 

"Calm down, she’s not at her top right now. I’m going to talk to her".

I timidly opened the door of the changing room. Misa was putting on a jumper, the promoted kit laying on the floor. She froze when she saw me but went back at gathering her stuff without a word. I closed the door behind me. 

"Misa… wait please, I… I have to talk to you…"

"About what ? No necesito hablar", she coldly reply while tiding her shoes. 

"I know you’re upset because of me, I…"

"I’m not upset only because of you ! But you did put the cherry on cake that evening !"

My heart sank again, I try to gather some courage. "There is something that you don’t know I should have told you a long time ago ! Please let me explain !" I twisted my hands nervously. 

The women looked up, her hands on her laps, her glance icy. "Valé, te escucho."

"Not here, I can’t! Wait for me in my office. I have to finish the photoshoot, just give me ten minutes !" My eyes begun to sting as she narrowed her eyes. Her silence was worse than her saying she was hurt. "Please, Misa !" I begged.

She looked down and sighted. "Valé", she said, getting up and putting her bag on her shoulder. 

"Will you be there for real ?" I urged her, unsure of her response. 

"Te dije que si !" she shouted at the doorstep without looking back. 

I breathed out in relief, still shaken. Angry Misa was really intimidating. 

When I entered my office, I found the goalkeeper sat in my chair and looking at her phone. She had turned on my computer, the screen displayed a photo of Hayley, herself and I, sitting in the grass of our favorite pitch corner, the tree of us laughing hard. I ignored my prickling eyes, I had a job to get done. 

Misa's gaze followed me as I searched the drawers of my desk. I put out a folder, opened it and retrieved a slack of papers clipped together. I took a second chair and placed it in front of her. I sat down, turned the pages until I found the right passage and began to read. 

"Working contract. Close number 23. To prevent any conflict, the present employee accept not to engage in any kind of private relationship with the Real Madrid team members. This applies to the current players and trainers and the players and trainers to come. If the close is infringed, Real Madrid Company will immidialaty put an end to the present employment contract and the eventual working visa and lease the employee may be beneficial through Real Madrid Company. Real Madrid Company will not assist the former employee in any kind of further administrative procedure."

I put the paper aside and stared at the goalkeeper astonished face. "I’m sorry… I so so wish it would be different…"

Misa leant back in her chair, rubbed her hands across her face, and let out a forced laugh.  "Que pasa en este puto club..?" She blinked and sighted. "Well, that do explains things…".

"I should have told you after the Clasico but…"

"Shh, Nicky please don’t, it’s done", she leaned towards me, only sadness remained in her eyes now. She stared at the photo of us on the screen. "I just wish I could rewind and go back to this moment. La Copa de la Reina was still up… we were having fun together…" 

My eyes stung again. "We did. I miss you guys…" 

"And what am I going to do without my awful teacher ?" Misa added softly with a chuckle. "Maybe we could come back at being friend ?" Her warm gaze lighted up with hope. 

I looked at her fondly, passing from her brown eyes topped with her thick eyebrows, to her cute nose, and stopping on the dimples on each side of her smiling lips. "Everytime you look at me like that, I can only think of how much I want to kiss you Misa » I confessed.  

She smirked shyly, closed her eyes, her cheeks lightly blushing, and bore them into mine once more "Only kiss me ?" she dared say. 

I gasped at the thought of her body against mine. "Not a chance" I whispered as I leaned toward her as well. Our hands on our lap brushed. We intertwined our fingers, our breathing already fastening through our half-opened lips. Our faces came closer and closer. "What are we doing ?" I vainly asked as the tip of my nose grazed hers. "Nonsense" her mouth answered almost on mine. "I’m doomed then" I admitted and crashed my lips against the goalkeeper’s. 

I kissed her intensely, feeling oddly free to do so for the first time. We both knew the trouble we were in now but we both couldn’t help it. Her tongue touched my lips and I opened them to let her in. I couldn’t suppress a whine, felt a quick worry about being over heard, before sinking in our kiss again. 

Misa grasped my neck, making me so needy for more I quitted my chair and went to straddle her. I enfolded her lips with mine once more, pushing her against the back of the chair, pushing my tongue further in her mouth. Her deep breaths had me so worked up I would have screamed if my last restraint hadn't stopped me. Misa led her hands under my t-shirt, caressing my back with her large palms, setting my mind all dizzy. I buried my fingers in her hair and she kissed me harder, soft whimpers escaping from her now. 

She pulled up my t-shirt, revealing my chest in my embroiled bra. The beautiful women stopped kissing me and pulled me closer, making me straighten up a bit so that her face pressed against my breast. I bit my tongue hard not to moan as she kissed the soft skin there. I was almost panting, hands and face plunged in her hair, intoxicating myself with her scent and touch all over me. 

Three knocks echoed on the door.

We froze. I jumped off her in panic, lowered my t-shirt and took back my chair. Misa was quickly combing her hair with her fingers to make it flat again when the door swung opened. 

Ana entered the room, a pile of folders under her arms. She didn’t bother to close the door behind her. 

"Hola Nicky. Ah ! I see Miss Rodriguez is here. Did you received her to discuss her unacceptable behavior at the photoshoot ?" 

Misa scratched her nose, her hand covering her mouth. I was sure she was hiding a smirk by faking embarrassment.  

"Yes" I responded, perfectly happy with the made-up explanation of her presence in my office. 

"And did she reprimanded you severely ?" she asked, turning to Misa. 

Misa had the time to compose a serious face, thought I saw the corner of her mouth twitched twice. "She did. I apologize for my lake of professionalism. I wasn’t feeling myself. I assure you it won’t happen again."

"Therefore, considered it over, but keep in mind I expected better pressure handling from a professional athlete, Miss Rodriguez." I saw her sunk a bit in her chair before she slowly nodded. Ana turned back to me "Nicky I have lots of things to see with you."

The goalkeeper got up "I’ll leave you then", she said and Ana took her seat.

"Yes, thank you Misa. So, Nicky, let’s start with the most urgent : the travel to Paris next week for the Nation’s league…"

I tried hard to listen but all I could think of was how wet I was down. 

***

"Hey Misa" I said, calling her in my tiny kitchen. 

"Hola Nicky, como esta ?" her sweet voice was even softer through the phone. 

"Estoy bien y tu ?" 

"Bueno. What’s up ? Did your boss figured something out ?" 

"No, not at all, don’t worry ! I… well… we were interrupted ahah… and I thought we should talk about what come next…" I began to pace back and forth in the small room. 

"Si, pero… I don’t know… I don’t risk much myself but I don’t want you to loose everything because of me… We were pretty close of getting caught". 

"You are probably right..." I sighted. "But how do we fix things now ? We’re not exactly behaving like friends do..."

She laughed. "Exacto. Right." she paused, I stopped pacing to gulp a glass of water. "Look Nicky, I say we wait after Paris. I need to focus. It’s not against you but I don’t think I should be distracted by anything else right now. It will be a tough game against the PSG, I have to work harder. I don’t want another Clasico…"

"I understand. Don’t be too hard on yourself though. You did your best !"

"I didn’t managed to save any penalty… not one in five."

"You know better than me it’s the hardest job for goalkeepers." 

"But I want to be the best goalkeeper, the one that can stop them, the one that could make my team win." 

I bit my lips, Misa was putting so much pressure on herself. In the same time, hearing her being so passionate was moving. "You will then, I believe in you."

There was another pause "I’m glad we’re talking again, Nicky"

"Me too, Misa. Friend or more, I’m here for you if you need me." 

"Muchas gracias, I’ll see you tomorrow at training." 

"Bye."

I hung up and gaze at the pinky sky of Madrid through the narrow window of my kitchen. I didn’t know where Misa and I were going. I didn’t want to think about it for now, to content to have earned back her trust, after the valleys and peaks we went through. I took another sip of water, feeling impatient to see her practice tomorrow at being the best goalkeeper she could be. 

***

[polarsirens]

guiding hands

— inspired by the adventure party’s “of course i have the cheese rind knife” and everything that came after. something something like the two skalds haunting the warlord,,,

[arthur-r]

people won’t stop FLIRTING when im just trying to EXIST IN A SPACE WITH THEM like please friend and roommate could you guys watch over the garden wall with me without like faking being jumpscared?? could we all just hangout without ignoring everything that i say but then laughing really loud when each other says the same exact thing.

[fellhellion]

I’m sorry I have to speak my truth lmao it’s a little bit hilarious that kingpin is stylistically offered such flourish and creativity, when writing wise he’s so fucking generic.

[exopelagic]

okay facing consequences of my actions