#i hope the gif shows how shiny she is!!

[textiletattoos]

my newest design 🌅 daylight 🌅 is now available on my website

I wanted to make an illustration as warm and gooey as the lyrics of this lovesong - I hope you like it! as always, everything is vegan, biodegradable, Fairshare and organic 🌱

[strangermarvelss]

strange love- e.m

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Summary: eddie has a date, with someone who isn’t you. you’re less than thrilled about it

Warnings: ANGST, jealousy, unrequited love, eddie being clueless, cursing, mentions of vomiting, me knowing nothing about D&D (i’m sorry but it deserves a warning), eventual best friends!-to-lovers!

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: alright y’all this is the imagine i had talked about a few days ago and as someone who loves these kinds of fics, i’m quite proud of myself. also i apologize for my lack of knowledge about D&D, eddie would definitely be disappointed, but i had a friend read it over and he thinks it makes sense so we’re going with it! i hope you all enjoy :)- sava

part two

“Well hello everybody!” Eddie exclaims, scaring half the Hellfire lunch table with his presence. You hear groans and curses fill the table as Eddie laughs at the reactions he pulled from his friends. You just sit in the seat that’s located on the left of his, laughing at his usual antics, but curiosity begins to strike when you take a look at Eddie.

His face is bright and shiny, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he sits down with his lunch, pulling out some pretzels to munch on. You take in the other details about him, how his hair looks actually kept up and how he doesn’t reek of his usual pot smell, but of…cologne? You had no idea who it was that was sitting next to you, but it sure as hell wasn’t Eddie Munson.

“What’s got you so happy today, Eds?” You ask, nudging him with your elbow. He flashes you a big smile, pretzel bits showing along with his pearly whites. He looks adorable as ever.

“Well I’m glad you asked, sweetheart. I, Eddie Munson, have a date tonight,” he announces. Your heart does a summersault at the nickname, his nickname he always uses on you, before you fully process the second part of his statement, making your breathing stop for a moment. What the fuck?

You didn’t make this fact known, but you were crushing on Eddie…hard. The two of you have been close since your middle school days, having really connected with his band Corroded Coffin playing at the school talent show and approached them afterwards to share your appreciation. It’s been history ever since.

But it wasn’t until your freshman year of high school when you started crushing on Eddie. You had been having a hard time at home due to your parents divorce, and your father winning full custody meant you moved into the same trailer park Eddie and his Uncle Wayne lived in, the two of you growing closer than before now that you only lived a few doors down. You and Eddie would spend most of your nights together anyway, and one particular night your freshman year, you felt these butterflies flutter around in your stomach as your head rested against Eddie’s shoulder watching Sleepaway Camp, your and his favorite movie that you’d watch at least once a month together. Since that day you had kept your feelings hidden from him, not wanting to ruin things between you and your best friend. You thought the pain of not having him in your life at all outweighed the pain of being stuck in love with him, and that was a fight you’d be willing to battle.

“W-what? W-with who?” You ask, trying to cover up your slight stutter with a cough.

“Okay so you remember our latest show at the Hideout? Well with more and more people starting to show up as of recently, we’ve been getting some fans. And this girl, her name is Shirley, gave me her number and I thought ‘What the hell?’ and rang her up yesterday,” he explains to you and everyone at the table, the freshman not being able to help their curious little selves. 

“That’s cool Eds,” you reply back, trying with all your willpower to remain neutral and shove the emotions you were actually feeling down deep inside.

“Yeah. We’re actually hanging out after Hellfire. She even said she might swing by, she’s been curious about the game a little. At least, that’s what she told me,” he tells you, causing you to drop your fork and look at him. He shoots you a weird expression at your reaction.

“Oops, sorry. But uh, I thought you weren’t allowing non-members into the meetings anymore?” You ask, your eyebrow raised.

“That’s true, but, as Dungeon Master, I’ll make an exception this one time. Who knows, maybe she could become an honorary member. She’s really cool, Y/N. You’d get along with her great,” he tells you as he clasps his hand on your shoulder. 

“I seriously doubt it,” you mutter lowly, hoping your close proximity to Eddie didn’t allow him to hear. As if a saving grace occurred, the lunch bell rang and you jolted up from your seat, collecting your trash. You could see Eddie eyeing you from your peripheral. One thing there is about Eddie, he’s observant as hell. You’d usually applaud and commend it, but in cases where you were trying best to hide your feelings, you absolutely hated it. Sometimes you wondered how you were able to get away with him not knowing how you truly felt, but all the more relieved that he didn’t.

“Hey sweetheart? Is everything okay?” He asks you. You quickly turn to him with a slight smile and nod, before rushing towards the trash can that sat behind him.

“Yep, all good. Just gotta go tend to some newspaper stuff. I’ll see you at Hellfire!” Your words moving as fast as your legs as you bid the table goodbye until your meeting tonight, practically sprinting towards the newspaper room, where you’d spill your feelings to one Nancy Wheeler in your secluded gossip corner.

Nancy was one of the only people who knew about your crush on Eddie. The two of you have been super close since you started high school, and even more so with all the shit that’s happened with the Upside Down that started when the two of you were sophomores. Plus, with her brother now joining the Hellfire Club, she asked you to keep an eye on him, especially with everything that’s already happened in Hawkins, but you really didn’t blame her for that.

Stumbling down the hall with your backpack sliding off your shoulders, you open the doors to the newspaper room and see Nancy’s head pop up from her collaborating with Fred. You walk down the stairs calmly while giving her a pleading look, nodding your head towards the corner the two of you have your major discussions at. She gives you a small nod before returning to her conversation with Fred.

You unpack your bag and begin working a bit on the paper while you wait for Nancy. You were trying your best to remain calm, focussing on your breathing so you didn’t get worked up more than you were when you started talking with Nancy. Your mind had a habit of working against you, running a hundred miles a minute coming up with the absolute worst scenario of every situation you encountered. You didn’t need to be thinking doubtfully about your friendship with Eddie, but you physically couldn’t help it.

How could Eddie have a date with someone and not tell you sooner?

The two of you were best friends, he always told you when something great happens to him immediately after, and you do the same with him. Living just a few doors down, you had that luxury of always being near the person when you celebrate your wins, or comfort one another in your losses. So him keeping this from you until the next day? It definitely hurt, in more ways then one, and you didn’t quite understand it. Would you still be upset about it? Absolutely, so that bit didn’t matter much. You just wanted to know why. Why he’s choosing to date someone now, after being single for so long. Why he-

“Hey, I’m here. Sorry, I was working with Fred on the basketball story,” Nancy tells you, pulling you out of your zoned-out state.

“No worries,” you say, your voice residing somewhere distant. You feel a slight kick come from under the desk, prompting you to look down for a second, before bringing your eyes up to see Nancy, who shoots you a look of concern. Nancy too, was very observant, from what you’ve seen over your friendship the past three, nearly four, years. The people you surrounded yourself with the most were some of the most observant people in Hawkins, which was both a blessing and a curse. You sigh, turning slightly closer to her, ready to confess.

“Eddie has a date tonight,” you whisper softly. You watch her jaw open, as shocked as you were. At least, hoping in the same sense that you were, and not in a negative way. You never really knew about Nancy’s stance on Eddie, whether she liked him or not. The way you talk about him all the time you would think she’d be sick of it all, but never stopped you from spilling your secrets out to her.

“No way! With who?” She whisper-yells, scooting closer to you. You watch over her shoulder at Fred and some others looking your way, so you fake working on a spread, signaling Nancy to do the same.

“Some girl that came to their gig at the Hideout on Tuesday. I didn’t see it so it must’ve been when I went to the bathroom,” you continue to tell her while fake focusing on the piece of paper in front of you. Your entire demeanor suddenly became deflated, saying it aloud and hearing it from yourself. All becoming so real.

“That’s crazy. Are you okay, Y/N?”

“No, but what can I do about it? He and I aren’t dating, so I have no room to say who he can or can’t date,” you answer. You peak over at her and see her looking you dead in the eye, to which you couldn’t blame her. Even you didn’t believe what you were saying.

“Yeah, I know. He said she might stop by Hellfire, and, Nance, I have no idea how I’m supposed to get through the meeting tonight if she’s there,” you tell her. She reaches out and squeezes your hand and you give her a tight-lipped smile. 

“Hey, if you think it’ll help, I can pick you up from Hellfire tonight and we can chill at my house for a sleepover. Junk food, distractions…I can even invite Robin and see if she’ll pick up some tapes after her shift at Family Video tonight,” Nancy suggests. You eyes widen in excitement and nod, truly needed a night where you don’t talk or think about Eddie. Just a night with your girls.

“That would honestly be the best, thank you Nance,” you tell her. She flashes a warm smile your way and scoots a bit away from you.

“Perfect. I’ll pick you and Mike up at 9 after I get Robin from her shift, if she’s free. It’ll be fun,” you tells you. You agree and continue working on your spread, excitement flowing through your body at the thought of a fun night ahead, even with the dread buried in the pit of your stomach at the thought seeing Eddie tonight at Hellfire with a woman at his side. A woman that wasn’t you.

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

Running down the halls and towards the room behind the theater, you look at your watch and try to pick up the pace. You had lost track of time in your efforts in avoiding Eddie by doodling some drawings in the sketchbook that you kept on you at all times, which in turn made you late to Hellfire, something you never did. But in your defense, you usually had Eddie giving you a ride to and from the meetings. Today was not like the rest. Walking through the threshold of the meeting room, you give yourself a few moments to catch your breath.

“Sorry I’m late, I-“ you began to say, but were interrupted by giggling coming from Eddie’s throne. You see a girl with strappy heels and a short, short dress leaning against it playing with Eddie’s brunette fringey curls. That must be Shirley.

“Oh good, you’re here. We almost started without you,” Dustin exclaims, his goofy smile appearing on his face.

“Yeah, I doubt it,” you tell him, throwing your bag in the seat closest to him and ruffling his hair, him protesting and swatting at you in return. You notice out of the corner of your eye Eddie giving you a confused look, then looking towards your usual seat, which remained empty. It was no secret that you had your own seat in Hellfire, right next to the Dungeon Master himself, but today, you knew it was best to keep your distance. Didn’t want to interfere with his date and all. 

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Eddie pauses, giving you a look. You chose to just look at the table in front you to avoid eye contact. “Lets start.”

Dustin is the first to roll the dice, and everyone around watches as the campaign for the week begins. You try your best to pay attention to the game in front of you, but keep getting distracted by the amount of giggling coming from Eddie’s throne, due to himself and Shirley. They were acting like those couples you and Eddie would make fun of in the halls that were practically fucking in the halls of Hawkins High, and you’d always make fake sick sounds as you passed by them. Now that he’s acting those same people right in front of you and the rest of the club, you felt yourself growing sick, for real this time. 

You stood to the side as you watched Shirley climb in Eddie’s lap, draping herself all over him and her lips ghosting over his ears as she whispers little things in his ears, and the reactions he gives to her words make you want to punch a wall. Not in anger, but in jealous. The green eyed monster had awoken inside you, and you felt yourself getting riled up at the thought of them continuing this act throughout the rest of the meeting. The worst part of it all? You knew this isn’t where the night ended for them, and you could only imagine what other kinds of plans they had up their sleeves.

“Y/N, you’re up,” Mike whispers to you, snapping you out of your small jealousy-induced trance. You take the dice from Gareth and shake the dice in your cold hands a few times, before tossing them on the table.

6.

You didn’t have enough health to pull any big moves. No luck to play the hero tonight. You sigh and slump your shoulders as the rest of the group lets out an annoyed groan. You were completely off your game for the night and you knew with how observant the club was, they could tell. But luckily for you, they didn’t press you about any issues you may be having. 

“What’s your move, Lady Y/N?” Eddie asks you, his smug look making your skin crawl. Usually his dramatics during the game always wowed you and you’d join in, but it was hard to take in anything he was saying or doing with the leech that was attached to his hip.

“I…retreat,” you say, taking a step back from the table and Mike is quick to take the dice and roll for himself in order to save the campaign. You walk over to the seat you set your stuff in and take the sketchbook out you’d been busy with before the meeting and begin to draw.

“Do you know where the closest bathroom is, rockstar?” you hear Shirley ask. You mentally groan.

“Sure thing. Y/N, can you show her where it is?” Eddie asks, turning to you. You place your sketchbook back in your bag and stand from your chair. Flashing Eddie a fake smile, you nod and begin to walk towards the door, the sound of Shirley’s heels clicking behind you filling your ears.

The halls are quiet as you make your way to the bathroom around the corner. 

“So you and Eddie, you’re best friends right?” Shirley asks you as you continue your journey to the bathroom.

“Yep, since middle school,” you answer.

“Oh that’s cool! I’m gonna be honest, I was a little worried when Eddie told me he had a girl best friend. I always think guy girl friendships are weird and don’t last. They usually always end up dating in the end or ending the friendship because one likes the other, and the other doesn’t feel the same way. At least, that’s how I see them,” she rambles. You slowly nod and point out the bathroom, her thanking you and doing a fake little run inside.

Pressing your back against the wall outside the bathroom, you can’t help but think on the words she said, the thoughts of you and Eddie ending your friendship lingering and seeping into every fiber of your body. It’s the exact reason you kept your feelings deep down and hidden, but would that work out in the end? Are you putting yourself through the pain and heartache for nothing?

The bathroom doors opens once more and she comes out.

“Thanks for waiting for me. I’m really excited to hangout with Eddie after your club ends,” she tells you. 

“What exactly do you two have planned?” You ask, your curiosity getting the best of you. Part of you didn’t want to know, but your brain was screaming at you to find out.

“Nothing special. We’re gonna go back to his place and hangout, maybe smoke some. He also mentioned something about watching a movie…Sleepaway Camp? Have you heard of it?”

You froze.

Did she really just say that?

She stops and turns to you, giving you a look of concern. You felt the world around you starting to spin, the feelings from everything starting to come up.

“I-um, I’m sorry, but I-I’m not feeling too great right now. The theater’s in there, but I’m gonna go outside and get some air. C-Can you tell someone to bring my stuff out to me when everything ends?” You ask, your voice shaking as you lean against the wall for support. She gives you a nod and scurries inside the theater, leaving you to bolt out the doors of the school and towards the parking lot. 

You bent over and held onto the railing by the stairs that spilled out into the parking lot, convincing yourself you needed to wretch. The feelings clouding your brain were mixed, swirling together in a nasty mixture that you weren’t sure how you’d describe to Nancy and Robin. The feels of hate and sadness blurring the lines and becoming one as you stood outside, wishing you had your jacket to protect your from the harmful feelings and the cool March temperature. 

Sitting on the stairs with no luck on spewing your guts out, you let out a sigh and hug yourself in a pathetic attempt to warm up a bit. Your body grew cold rather easily, something that was always an issue, but the solution, or rather the two, were inside. You kept your jacket on you at all times, even despite the temperature being hot, because you never know when you might need it. In the event you forgot your jacket, Eddie would either lend you one of his, or just wrap himself around you, rubbing your arms with his big ring-clad hands to get you in a good place. You always welcomed that comfort. It felt nice being so close to him, even if he may not feel the same.

Your pity party is interrupted by a car pulling into the lot and parking right by the stairs. As the window rolls down, you see Robin pop her head out in a cheerful manner, but soon her features soften when she takes in your sour expression and sad body language. 

“What happened?” Nancy asks from the driver seat. You rise to your feet with a sigh and walk over to the car, leaning inside through the window.

“More like what didn’t happen,” you respond, shaking your head and shrugging. 

“Did that girl show up? Nancy filled me in on everything when she picked me up, so I have a ton of movie choices for tonight,” Robin rambles.

“Yeah she showed up. And they were being gross and lovey-dovey all night. Made me want to puke,” you explain. You feel Robin’s hand touch yours in an attempt to comfort you, to which you place your other hand on top of hers and give it a pat.

“And what prompted you to be out here instead of inside?” Nancy asks. 

“Well first off-“ you begin, but hear laughter coming from behind you as the school doors open. You turn and see everyone laughing and walking together, the meeting drawing to an end for the week and you let out a soft sigh. Everyone goes in different directions, with Jeff, Gareth, and Dustin going off in one direction, Eddie and Shirley going towards their van, and Lucas and Mike coming towards you guys. Mike nor Lucas had your bag in their hands, which made you worried that you’d have to go all weekend without your supplies and homework.

“Wait, Y/N, where’s your stuff?” Robin asks. You shrug your shoulders and turn to the side, Eddie standing by Nancy’s car. You see his unreadable demeanor comes closer to you, his eyes fixed on yours as he holds out your bag to you. Taking it, you sling it over your shoulder and slide over as he kept walking closer to the window you once hung out of.

“Wheeler, you might if I borrow Y/N for a sec before you take off?” He asks. You watch Nancy nod and Eddie leads you over away from her car, out of ear shot of both Nancy and that crew, and Shirley, who’s waiting at Eddie’s van. You both just look at each other for a moment, you not really knowing what to say.

“Thanks for grabbing my-“

“What’d I do?” He asks you, his voice sounding neutral. You look towards the ground and swing back and forth on your feet for a moment, trying to think of a reasonable excuse for your behavior today.

“Nothing,” you reply, your eyes glued to the ground.

“You can’t even look at me, Y/N,” he says, looking down to try and catch your eyes. You let out a huff and look back up at him, trying to get this conversation over with, which was something you never wished with Eddie.

“There’s nothing wrong, okay? I promise,” you tell him. Now it was his turn to huff, added with a kick to the ground. You could see that you’re irritating him, and if you were him, you’d be irritated as well. But today was not your day, you just needed time away from him and try to bury the feelings you had towards him even further down. Take the weekend and recoup. Not to mention, his date was merely a hundred feet away and waiting for him to go back to your place and watch a movie together. Your guys’ movie.

“Y/N, please, I know you better than anyone. Can you please ju-“

“Eds! Are we going soon?” Shirley yelled from the van.

Ouch.

She just used your signature nickname for him.

What else did they plan on taking from you today?

“Soon sweetheart, I promise,” Eddie yelled back.

Double ouch.

Now he was using your signature nickname.

“You know what Eddie, just go, she’s waiting on you. Have fun watching Sleepaway Camp,” you tell him. Shit, why’d you just say that.

Your mind was starting to think before your mouth, the feelings that have been brewing the entire day bubbling to the surface and taking over the part of your brain that had rational thinking. That green-eyed monster was started to show her true colors. You turn on your heel and begin to take off towards Nancy’s car, when you feel Eddie grasp your wrist, stopping you.

“Wait, Y/N, how’d you know we were watching Sleepaway Camp? Did she tell you that?” He asks. You sigh and shift towards him.

“Yeah, we talked in the hall. But it’s not big deal Eddie, just go,” you say, not understanding why he was so determined to make things right between the two of you right now? Yeah, the two of you hated leaving things in a bad place, but you never pressed him about anything he was super upset about or just didn’t feel like talking about, and usually he was the same with you. Maybe today was not destined to be in the cards for you after all.

“You’re jealous,” he says matter-of-factly. You scoff and cross your arms, trying to add another layer of defense between you and your fragile heart that was about to break loose with all these feelings. You were starting to lose your resolve, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I am not jealous!”

“You are totally jealous! Jealous that I’m spending time with someone, a girl, who isn’t you. Don’t worry, Y/N, you aren’t being replaced, I’ll always make time for you,” he tells you, thinking he’s helped, when really, it only hurt more. Like he thought he’d have to pencil you into his life.

“It’s not that Eds-“ you begin to say, but his laugh cuts you off.

“Then what is it then? You mad you don’t have a ride? Or-or-or upset that we’re watching Sleepaway Camp?” he pesters you. You could feel yourself getting really worked up and uncomfortable, wanting to just jet off to Nancy’s car and ride far away from this conversation.

“Oh wait, do you like me or something Is that it? Do you have a big ol’ crush on me?” He asks mockingly, making you freeze. “Just tell me what’s wrong Y/N, please.”

You hesitate.

Fuck.

You. Fucking. Hesitate.

“N-no, I don’t have a crush on you,” you say, brushing it off with a weak laugh. You see Eddie himself freeze, looking at you with a deadpan expression. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Wait, Y/N…you have a crush on me?” he asks. That was definitely an understatement. You swallow down a breath that wasn’t able to escape, your body beginning to shake in fear.

You see the way his entire demeanor changed when he realized. The dramatics you so desperately loved stopped all together, replacing it with a scared look. Scared that it’s true and he had to let you down? Scared that he didn’t feel the same way? Scared it was you, of all people? That familiar feeling of wanting to throw your guts up began to boil in the pit of your stomach, your chest tightening as you continued to stare Eddie down like a dear caught in headlights, the silence booming throughout the parking lot. You couldn’t handle this, not tonight. You’ve already had the shittiest day possible, you need to escape before you lose your best friend forever.

You take off in the opposite direction, towards Nancy’s car as you hear Eddie calling after you. The tears were brimming your eyelids, desperate to fall and let every emotion you’ve been bottling up all day to come out in a flood. You open the car door and hop inside, practically shoving Mike in the middle.

“Drive Nance,” you say, shooting them a pleading look.

“Wait, Y/N, what happened?” Robin asks.

“Nancy, can you please drive away, now,” your voice raising as you plead. Nancy responds by changing the gear and stomping her foot on the gas pedal, making your escape out of the parking lot and away from Eddie Munson, who you can see still standing in the empty lot watching you leave. You let out a shaky breath as you turn and face out the window, hot tears rolling down your cheeks and sobs racking your body as you all make the journey to the Wheeler’s house.

[trashogram]

He Chose You (Pt. 10)

Lucifer/Reader: Lucifer chooses you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for Explicit.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Everything was white. Pristine white. 

You couldn’t be blind, but no one would blame you for entertaining the idea as nothing but white stretched beyond your gaze.

Unending white. 

Uncanny. White. 

“Hello?” You asked the white abyss. Your call echoed out and back in, the way you imagined sound would echo in a canyon. 

“Hello!” 

You screamed, jumping up at the new voice coming from somewhere high above you. You tried to pinpoint where it came from, staring up at what you hoped was the sky before things slowly materialized. 

Pastel pinks, oranges and soft blues bled into the white, adding definition to what had once been literally nothing. The whiteness remained in the shape of buoyant, fluffy clouds pillowing all around you. 

“Over here!” The voice chimed. “Oh no, here! You’re getting warmer! Almost there!”

After circling around like a dog after your own tail, you finally found the source. Behind you rose a ginormous golden gate, gleaming beneath an electric-looking, all-seeing eye.

 And at its entrance towered a gold and platinum podium. 

A very… well, there was no other way to say it — a very white man with swooping blond hair eyed you from the top of the podium, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Hiya! Welcome!” The man said. “You’re right on time!” 

“Uh, okay…?” You replied. 

Without a hitch, the blond lifted up a large tome and began flicking through the pages. In the meantime, you stood there awkwardly, a question on the very tip of your tongue. 

“Wh-um, where am I, exactly?” You finally asked. 

“Why, you’re in Heaven of course!” He stated jovially before turning the book around and tapping on a name. “This is you, correct?”

Your name stared back at you in a glowing golden font, all pretty and shiny — 

And underlined? 

“Yeah.” You blinked. “Wait, did you just say Heaven?”

“Mm-hm, yep! And if I could just get you to stand right here at the center of the platform, that’d be great.” 

An elevated slab of pure gold rose from the clouds beneath your feet a little ways ahead of you. Timidly, you made your way over and onto the platform as instructed. You were pleasantly surprised at the instant warmth that met the bottoms of your bare feet. 

“Pe-rr-fect!” With a flap of suddenly conjured wings, the gatekeeper floated down to hover right beside you. “Now, we just wait for Emily. She should be here in 3, 2, 1… .5 — ”

A loud clang startled you out of your skin for the second time, and you whipped around to face the woman that had spontaneously appeared in front of you.

She panted. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to be late!” 

The golden gates pulled back to reveal the white-haired newcomer in all her splendor. This other angel was bedecked in a floor-length white gown to match her downy-white hair and periwinkle-grey skin dotted with white freckles. A halo hung over her head, casting an eternal light over her large, bluish eyes that sparkled with mirth. 

Like the gatekeeping angel, her wings flapped behind her, but you noted how they seemed to flutter nervously. Or perhaps excitedly? 

“Welcome to Heaven!” She opened her arms toward you. “We’re so glad you’re here! I’m Emily, but you can call me Emmy, or E, or Millie. Whatever you want!” 

You waved dazedly. “Hi.” 

Emily stopped short of touching you, despite looking like she was about to wrap her arms around you in a hug. Instead, the angel bit her lower lip as she stared at you. 

“I really am sorry I was late. I got caught up talking with Sera, making sure everything was all ready for your arrival.” She gushed. “Thank you for greeting her, Peter!” 

Peter brightened. “Of course.” 

Emily turned back to you, buzzing with anticipation like a bumblebee. “Anyway, I’m sure you have tons of questions! No worries at all! I’m here to give you a tour and show you around your new home!”

You cautiously took the hand offered to you, and let yourself be led through the golden gate. 

— 

Heaven was very beautiful, and very clean. The polished golden floors and beautifully-crafted architecture, complete with smiling people of all races, sexes and species didn’t unwrench you from a nagging sense of confusion however. 

“Um. Emily?” You asked your companion — well, one of your companions. Peter had elected to join the two of you on your tour, commenting that he’d gotten someone to cover his eternal shift at the gate for the next few hours. 

“Yes! Yes?” She smiled at you encouragingly. No doubt, your silence, while it had not stopped her constant chatter, had been a downer in as far as engagement. 

“I’m… dead. Right?” You asked. “I mean that’s how one gets to Heaven, so obviously I am… right?”

The mood turned down at that, with Emily turning morose. “Yes, I’m afraid so.” 

“Okay, good. I mean — I’m dead, but I’m having a hard time remembering h-how it… happened.” You admitted, embarrassed. And a little afraid, if you were honest with yourself. “Is that… normal?”

Emily and Peter stopped on either side of you, twin looks of confusion on their poreless faces. 

Peter was quicker to recover. “Oh that can happen sometimes! Dying can be a very traumatic thing for the soul.” 

Emily seemed hesitant for the first time since you’d met her, but with a look from Peter, she seemed to gain resolve. “Yes, yeah. Lots of people forget… but you’ll remember in time, I’m sure!”

“But wait!” Emily gasped. “We could ask Sera about it!” 

She clapped her hands together joyfully, while Peter’s expression teetered on uncertainty. 

“Uh, Em? I don’t think —” 

“We were headed her way anyway.” Emily nodded as if affirming her own plan. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to help us figure this out!”

The angel yanked you forward in her quest to get to Sera (whoever that was) and had you stumbling on pure fluff to catch up with her. 

Many angels raced to get out of the way as Peter called out in alarm, but apart from shouldering a particularly tall angel clad in a chasuble, you were unable to stop or slow down. 

—

“Hello child.”

The Seraphim (“Sera.” Emily had urged) was so large that you had to crane your neck up to see her face. 

She was beautiful in the most ethereal way. To look upon her was to look at a celestial body and feel your own insignificance dragging you down and swallowing you whole. 

Your surroundings — a gold and white antechamber with delicately carved archways and a grand war table in its center — did not help. 

Emily laid a hand on your shoulder with concern before you realized that you’d been paralyzed by the scene before you and had yet to say a word.

You stuttered a hello, and Sera’s stoney face softened into an understanding smile. “Be not afraid, my friend. I mean no harm.” 

You returned the smile, albeit shakily. 

Emily squeezed your shoulder. “Sera? We have a question.”

The Seraphim gestured with open palms. 

“Well, we were going around Heaven, and just kind of talking before um… well…”

“Emily, dear. Please speak up.” Sera’s command was gentle but firm.

Emily bounced in her spot, unable to keep herself from floating up from the ground. 

“Shesaysshedoesn’trememberhowshegothere!” She blurted out.

You and Sera both stared at Emily for a long moment, trying to process what exactly she had said. Sera had opened her mouth once more before the grand entrance into the committee room was slammed open and all heads turned to the unwelcome sound. 

The angel with the chasuble came barrelling in, and the omnipresent sunlight that touched everything around you glinted off the sharp black horns winding down from his skull. Or was it a skull? The face of this particular angel looked odd to you, with its smooth, glassy surface and flickering pixelated expression that replaced natural features like lips, cheeks and a nose. 

Their appearance looked at odds with everything else you’d seen in Heaven, regardless of the holy garbs they wore. Everything, while somewhat fantastical on the basis of it actually existing, resembled the organic and natural, and this figure stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison. 

“What the actual fuck? She’s actually here?!” The abrasive, aggressive voice that came out his digitized face shook you from your musings. 

You shrunk back toward Emily and Sera, instinctively trying to get away from the rapidly approaching figure that also towered over you. He glared in your direction, as if you were an insect he wanted to squash, and only when you lost the nerve to meet his gaze did you realize there was another angel behind him. This one wore a similar face, though they were smaller, slimmer and straight-backed. They wore darker vestments and jet-black horns as well, with wings nearly as jagged and hardlined. 

“Adam,” Sera greeted hesitantly. “I don’t believe you were summoned.” 

“Why is she here?” ‘Adam’ demanded, as if the Seraphim had never spoken. His companion stood firmly just a pace behind him, arms behind their back. 

Their combined presence was so off-putting, and your brow furrowed with mounting confusion. Sera’s shoulders slowly rose and fell as she sighed, disapproval in the hard line of her mouth. 

“That was part of the agreement.” 

“Uh, yeah — with the Devil!” His demeanor completely threw you off, so much so that you didn’t catch the full extent of what he’d said. “Who the fuck keeps their end of the deal with that asshole?”

You couldn’t hold back a scoff of disbelief, even as your confusion deepened. ‘The devil?’ 

A hand wrapped around your forearm, making you turn to look at Emily, who’d once more moved beside you. Her ire was clear, though much less contained than Sera’s. “Who are you to question Divine Judgement?” 

Adam laughed condescendingly. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the fucking CEO of Divine Judgement, kid!” 

“We are literally judges, juries and executioners in Hell.” The other angel chimed in, flat and resolute. The smirk that curved her stitched lips gave away some covert sense of satisfaction in that statement. 

“Executioners?” Emily’s voice rose a few octaves. “What’re you talking about?” 

She was legitimately bewildered. 

“Enough.” Sera stepped in. “Adam, this has never been, nor was it ever, a debate. If you have a grievance, you can take it up with the counsel at a later date.” 

“My ‘grievance’ isn’t gonna fucking wait for this bitch to fuck shit up!” Adam pointed at you with a poisonous claw. 

“Excuse me?” You demanded in sheer disbelief. “Who do you think you are?!” 

The grin Adam shot you was more a bearing of one’s teeth, which further threw you for a loop as, again, his face was completely digital. “I’m fuckin’ Adam. The First Man. The Original Dick. I’ve been here since the fucking beginning. I earned this shit.” 

“Who do you think you are?” He asked, advancing on you. “You think you can whore yourself out to the worst being in all of Creation and still take up space in Heaven? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Your gaze narrowed, a stark contrast to the whirlpool of thoughts swirling in your mind at his accusation. 

“HA! Seriously?” His face was mere inches from yours. “What? D’you open your legs for fuckin’ everyone? Have a hard time keeping track of all the brats you pop outta that used vag? Guess so, if even dying for one doesn’t ring your fuckin’ bell.” 

“ADAM!” 

Adam’s sharp grin dropped, expression dawning from stunned to petulant as Sera’s thunderous exclamation reverberated through the vast space between your unusual group. You swore the clouds trembled beneath your feet, but it was hard to care too much with the insinuations that had been thrown at you rattling within your being. 

Dying for… 

“Charlotte.” Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. Air escaped your lungs - which shouldn’t have been possible, but you were already dealing with one crisis upon the epiphany of what you’d been missing this whole time. 

A blitz of images and sordid emotions saw you struggling, legs falling out from under you as the weight of how exactly you’d died forced you down. Emily’s distressed cry sounded from above you, melding with Lucifer’s frantic pleas for you not to go as life drained from your body. 

The Seraphim’s shadow engulfed your broken form while you panicked on Heaven’s floor. 

—

Lucifer sat hunched in his chair, your cold, lifeless hand hanging in his. 

Charlotte had stopped crying and presumably gone to sleep. He hadn’t put up any fight when Cass took her to a crib set up beside your… your bed.

That was who knows how long ago. And apart from Cass coming over the check on his daughter, the elderly worshippers had left him to grieve in peace. 

The King had tried to convince himself to get up. He needed to take Charlotte and leave. Go home. The sight of you in death was unbearable — but he could not move. 

He couldn’t leave you, even if you were no longer there in spirit. The You he loved the most, your soul, was gone and had been gone for some time now. 

You had gone to the one place he could not follow. 

Lucifer’s hanged head slowly rose. His thoughts were starting to become more coherent — what if you hadn’t gone where you were meant to? 

Heaven was a paradise bound by rules, but it was also a cold bureaucracy where things could fall through the cracks. 

And any dealings with him — Heaven’s sworn nemesis — were likely to be one of those things. 

Slow-building anger replaced the gold in his veins as Lucifer considered that his own Deal was not met. If it wasn’t, that meant you were down Below, alone and afraid and suffering. 

The Devil’s claws cricked, fist clenching as he glared at the wall opposite him. 

He would not let you Suffer. Not you. Never you.

And you weren’t here anymore. He needed to know where you’d gone. Now. 

Rising from his seat, Lucifer laid your hand at your side and ignored the tears that stung his eyes at the sight of your ashen face. 

He touched your brow, lingering only to memorize the way your lashes rested against your sinking cheeks before turning to Charlotte’s cradle. 

She was sleeping peacefully, unaware of his anguish, of the great loss that not only he had endured but she as well. It made Lucifer’s heart ache. 

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

Then, with a sudden snap of his fingers, Lucifer conjured the presents he’d made especially for her. 

The twin goats appeared, suspended in the air behind him. Lucifer didn’t bother to turn until their bodies were triple their original size, fur changing from felt to coarse fiber, eyes glowing as they were transformed from button to bonafide, and their bat-like wings began to beat at the air, blowing back the gossamer of Charlotte’s bassinet. 

Lucifer looked between the two magicked goats after kissing his daughter’s fragile head. 

“Stay here and protect the baby.” He ordered. “Charlotte is your top priority, do you understand?” 

The two creatures nodded simultaneously, determination set in their naturally adorable maws. 

“If anything happens, just bleat, and I’ll be back in the wink of an eye.” Lucifer’s wings extended and propelled him upward with a great stroke. 

The King of Hell disappeared through an enormous portal, sparking and swirling reddish-gold before vanishing behind him. 

*** Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1, @loquacious-libra, @glowymxxn, @avadakadabra93, @froggybich, @hamthepan, @ukor02, @adaizel, @boogiemansbitch, @vinillies, @lbcreations-blog, @thesoundresoundsecho, @serenity-loves-red, @alientee, @aquaamythest96, @0strawberrysorbet0, @fluffy-koalala, @washeduphazbin, @rebecca-hvnstn, @velvette3, @kermitdafroggy, @wpdarlingpan, @apatcheworkofproblems,

[sacharinee]

pairing: bestfriend!peter parker x fem!reader

sypnosis: after peter misses his chance to ask you out to the homecoming dance, he has to suffer the consequences of his own actions

wc: 1200+

a/n: hiii!! i have the urge to write again bc im bored and i dont wanna do my summer course work. this prompt is based on this post and loosely based on that one scene in the movie ladybird when she gets picked up by her date. i wrote this super quickly so not the best but i hope u enjoy :)

peter had it first. he had the idea, the flowers, the poster, your favorite chocolate strawberries all ready for you. until brad davis came in and stole everything. 

now he has nothing. he’s on your bed munching on the melty strawberries as he watches you get ready for the dance; you’ve asked for his help in choosing which dress you should go for. 

“okay how ‘bout this one, pete?” the boy glances up at you, mid-chew with his mouth open. 

his eyes snake over the outfit you’ve chosen. you do a swift twirl to show off the pretty soft blue satin dress that falls down to your mid-thigh with an open back. the skirt of your dress rides a bit high revealing a little too much. peter gulps, running his hands down his legs, immediately your sweet honey perfume floods his senses, his brain feels a little fuzzy, and he thinks the room gets smaller while his pants get a tiny bit tighter.

however, your eyes are what he takes in the most. you look eager, nervous about his approval, and hopeful for his admission.

his eyes widen as he gives you a soft nod and a pursed smile, “super pretty.”

you stare back at peter, his hair is flared, and you see chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. his posture looks defeated and you can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

you give him a sour yet confused face, “why is your face like that?”

peter’s eyebrows furrow at your expression, “my face- why is my face like what?” 

“like…” you take a moment to think, “like- you look like that chef in that one movie with the rat, he’s got that same awkward funny looking face.”

peter barks out a laugh in disbelief, “alfredo linguini?? from ratatouille?!” “yea! that guy.” 

the boy in front of you offers you a pout and rubs his eyes, “thanks.”

“sure thing.” peter glazes over your seamless makeup when you take a seat next to him, “so, you’re really not coming? why not? it’ll be fun, plus all of our friends are going” you whine. 

peter kicks himself every day since you got asked out to homecoming by brad. he knows he should have made his proposal to you sooner, but now that he missed his chance, he feels like he’s lost you. 

“oh, so brad’s our friend now? and nah, it’s alright. i’m just gonna go patrolling tonight, might get some good action.” his eyebrows suggestively 

 you muster up a smirk and breathe out a laugh, “right. maybe you’ll find your own ‘cupid of crime’ that’ll show you a good time.” 

peter groans at you, “oh my god, margot robbie is so-”

honk!

“oh,” your ears perk up at the sudden interruption, “i guess that’s my date.” you quickly stand up and straighten your dress, taking nervous breaths. 

“i’m good right? my dress? face? hair?” your fingers run through your shiny locks, “its- i’m, i’m okay?”

peter has an indiscernible look plastered on his face as he gazes out the window and back at you. he’s shocked you’d settle for this, and even more appalled at you’re excitement to go with a douchebag who can’t even meet you at the front door. he knows you deserve better than this, and he knows he would treat you so much better with much less than your date. his stomach turns upside down and he feels his face get hot, breathing through his nostrils as he struggles to control his disbelief. he slowly stands up and meets your anxious expression peering up at him.

“you aren’t gonna get in a car with a guy who honks, are you?” 

it’s almost as if the entire atmosphere shifts. peter studies your appearance. your face shimmered sanguinely regardless, brighter than the glitter that sparkled atop your eyelids.

it was safe to say you were excited to go to the dance, even if your date wasn’t your first choice. you had been waiting endlessly for peter to ask you to homecoming. you were almost depressed at the thought thinking your crush didn’t like you back, but even more upset at the fact that your best friend didn’t even want to take you as his date, romantically or not. 

you remembered the feeling of delight swirling through your body as betty gushed about ned asking her to the dance, and mj agreeing to harry’s proposal. 

you only wanted the same for yourself. the same thrill and warm feeling of someone wanting to take you as their date. you wanted more than anything for it to be peter, but you figured he simply didn’t think of you like that as empty time and hopeless anticipation went by. so yes, you did settle for brad davis. he’s only ever been sweet to you, with harmless flirting and sultry smiles in the halls. plus you had a hunch about peter’s displeasing stance on the man, and presumed this may have tipped peter over just the right amount. 

you simply blink at his desperate eyes and nod, your adamant expression not wavering, “i think, yes, i am.”

you offer him a wistful smile when you brush past him, grabbing your purse on the way.

“y/n, stop.” peter’s finger’s wrap around your small wrist, your charm bracelet dangling against his hand.

“are you serious? what, the shithead can’t walk a few feet and knock on the door like a real man?”

“peter!” you snatch your wrist back and his hands rise.

you feel heat rushing up your neck and settling behind your ears. you had wanted a reaction out of peter when brad asked you out, yes, but the entitlement he has to mention about the manhood of brad angered you.

“i’m just saying,” he steps back from you, licking his dry lips while he chuckles back at you. “a guy who doesn’t have the balls to greet you at your doorstep isn’t worth falling for.” 

you scoff at him, he was so sweet and now he’s only taking his anger out on you. “well it’s a good thing that he’s just a friend then. what’s it to you anyways?”

peter disregards your last statement, “a friend?! y/n/n, listen to me. you’re being naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”

another honk outside pierces your ears, yet you can’t seem to shake your stare on the boy before you. you narrow your eyes at him.

“you sound jealous.”

peter sputters nonsense out and breaks his eyesight away from you, nervously running his hands through his curls.

“jealous? me? pfft. never. i’m not jealous, i’m- i’m being absolutely reasonable.”

you keep your eyes on him as he looks down at the carpet floor. he sighs and drops down at your chair, scratching the wood on your desk. his head shakes and ever so softly murmurs, “seriously, why are you going out with him?”

peter continues to stare at the rotten wood he’s chipping, “brad asked me to be his date, so i’m going whether you like it or not. unless,” peter glances back up at you.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

hope bubbles down in your stomach, and you anticipate his confession, waiting to hear the words of his true feelings that you know for certain are deep down inside him.

except, he doesn’t.

the boy only blankly stares at your desk, clenching his jaw, and drowns everything inside, letting you down yet another time. you turn away, disappointed in peter, ready to leave him alone for all the false hope and hurt he has caused you. 

“right, well, when your balls finally drop, let me know. i’ll be at the dance with my date.” 

[thewriterg]

𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞

paring(s): Miles Morales x fem!reader, Miles morales x spidey!reader

summary: you were two months pregnant and it was only a matter of time before you had to stop hiding the child growing inside you and tell your boyfriend miles little did you know he has his own surprise for you as well

word count: 1.3k

request: Hi, can I ask for a, Miles Morales x pregnant reader please. Where reader is pregnant with Miles baby. She doesn't know how to tell him because she is skared that he's going to leave her and the baby. She doesn't realize that he knows and that he can hear the baby's heartbeat and not just hers. Just the rest love and fluf please. You can write the rest however you want. If you can do this thank you, if not that is ok.

warning(s): pregnancy, some tears, hormones, kisses, pet names, just a pinch of perinatal depression, I’m thinking this can be college-ish set, pet names, fluff, drinking while pregnant (a glass of wine is okay!), and language

A/n:—GIFs; @dailymilesmorales— I had to set my little angst whore brain aside for this and kept rewriting to make sure it was more happy than sad

Miles watched You in awe as you lied in bed staring at the feeling you were glowing under the late sunlight that seeped through the curtains of your shared bedroom Your was shiny, your nails were growing out, and your skin

that damn skin

“Hey love, I’m gonna go out on patrol for a little while” Miles had brought himself to your side of the bed down on both knees to get down to eye level with you as you let out a small breath before replying

“Okay, I’m sorry I can’t go with you” You felt beyond guilty for lying to your boyfriend this long he’d been taking up your shifts to patrol the city and holding you tight when you needed the comfort

What you had been telling him hadn’t necessarily been a lie you were feeling sick and the running to the bathroom every morning at the crack of dawn for the past two weeks was enough to prove it but you weren’t really telling him or anyone for that matter the full story

“Don’t apologize, ill be back soon okay?” Miles reassured you with that warm smile of his pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose as you nodded and soon enough the brunette was out the door on the way to protect the city

You finally decided to get up heading to your bathroom as you ducked to the cabinets level pushing aside the cleaning supplies and razors to wear two individually wrapped pregnancy test lied flat

You had already took some plenty actually that had all gave you the same results in someway

Two pink lines

or a

blue positive

You unwrapped them both carefully making sure not to tamper with anything even though deep down you knew it was true and that you were pregnant

You sat on the toilet as you went through the process you had many times before as you found yourself staring at the wall waiting as the timer on your phone silently ticked away the remaining time left

You would be more than overjoyed if you didn’t have the voice in the back of your head taunting and chastising you for even hoping Miles would stay with you and raise your baby together why would he you’ve been together merely four years your anniversary was three months from now

Or it would’ve been. Your little family would’ve been something breathtakingly beautiful.

You stared at yourself in the mirror a hand over your belly you weren’t showing but nonetheless it was a little version of you growing inside it and it made your heart squeeze in your chest

You slipped off your clothes and turned the knob to the hot water of your shower to sweep your thoughts clean you would tell Miles when he got back from patrol and would take care of your baby on your own if it came down to it

💌💌💌💌

Miles didn’t know what to do.

It was around two to three weeks ago that he heard something out of the ordinary, way out the ordinary.

He was lying next to your sleeping figure with an arm thrown across your hip draping over your stomach when he heard little rhythmic beats in the drums of his ears usually yours sounded more… lively and vibrant these ones were soft and dainty

Miles listened a little harder and he could hear both beats at the same time lively, vibrant, soft and dainty finally the realization had took his breath away

He was going to be a dad

you were going to be a mom

you had a family

Miles was so close to waking you up to engulf you whole and prepare kisses around your face but he settled you must have been tired carrying around the news of having a child growing inside you and maybe you wanted to surprise him he didn’t want to ruin that for you or himself so he waited

And waited

And waited

Now it was two weeks later and Miles was still trying to let you tell you on your own he tried to gently encourage you with warm smiles and checking up on you more than he usually would to the point where he thought it was overbearing

The only reason the man knew you were aware is when he offered you a glass of wine your favorite wine and all you did was take a sip leaving the cup deserted

The only reason Miles would confront you tonight is because he was simply worried for you and the baby’s health you hadn’t been to the doctor and the brunette didn’t want to wait too long to go

So he swung to the corner shop leaving with a dozen of white roses and some of your favorite snacks you enjoyed in a bag waiting to get home to you

💌💌💌💌

You sat on the couch your leg bouncing up and down in anticipation as you waited for your boyfriend to come back home you had six pregnancy test on tucked under your thigh playing with your hands in your lap

You finally heard the window beside you as you watched your boyfriend climb through the window of your home his suit skin tight on his body book bag residing on his back

you would miss seeing him like this

“Hey… how was patrol?” You questioned timidly and Miles would be lying if he said he weren’t surprised to see you out of bed

“Hi lovie it was good, calm surprisingly.” The boy responded as he sat on the couch next to you sliding the straps of his bad off his shoulders

“I got something for you”

“I got something for you”

You both chuckled at your in sync comment as you nodded for Miles to continue he didn’t speak he just reached in his bag before pulling out a bouquet of white roses and some of your favorite snack you had been eating on the last few weeks

“Thank you baby, your so thoughtful” The lump in your throat was more prominent that ever as you zoomed in on the feeling of the plastic test under your thigh

“Now what’s my surp-” Miles sentence was cut short as you shoved the test in his lap some facing up some facing down all of the saying the same result that you were pregnant

“I’m pregnant two months, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but I-I was scared and I’m still scared and it’s okay if you want to leave I can do it by myself and-” This time you were cut short of your sobbing speech as Miles held your face In his hands his heart practically ripped in his chest as you sniffled heavy trying to keep your tears in your eyes for him to break up with you

“Oh sweetheart, im not going anywhere you hear me? I’m so glad you told me baby I’m so proud of you and I can’t wait to raise our baby together” Miles shushed you as you sobbed harder face pressed against his shoulder his suit soaking up your tears

“I’m so sorry it took me so long” You sniffled and Miles hugged you close rubbing small soothing circles on your back

“I’m just glad you told me okay? I’m so glad you told me baby” The brunette whispered running a hand over your hair smoothing it out as you began to fall asleep in his warm embrace

Miles would choose another day to tell you that he knew all this time but for now he would settle with holding you close in his arms and rubbing your belly

He held his world in his hands

[sycamorelibrary754]

Merry Christmas

Summary: It’s the most wonderful time of the year. You and Natasha are off to the annual Stark Christmas Party. Little does the team know that a special surprise awaits them.

Genre: Fluff

Pairings: Natasha x reader, Avengers x reader (platonic).

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

A/N: This is part 2 to Happy Thanksgiving! I recommend reading it first, but it can be read as a stand-alone story as well. I hope you enjoy!

“Be down in a minute, malyshka!” Natasha called from your bedroom. 

You were standing in the kitchen eating peanut butter out of the jar topped with chocolate sauce. A “homemade Reese’s” you dubbed it. Your first pregnancy craving that had Nat popping down to the corner grocery store at 2 am for the dynamic duo of ingredients. 

“No worries, love!” Already dressed for Tony’s annual Christmas party at the compound. Clad in a green Sequin-Lace Halter Twist-Neck Jumpsuit, your baby bump beginning to show. 

The click of Natasha’s high heels signaled her arrival a few moments later in a sleek long-sleeved red scoop-back midi dress that hugged her in all the right places. 

“Wow, Nat. You look beautiful. Red is most definitely your color.” 

“So you prefer it over the black,” she smirked as she put on her earrings.

“I didn’t say that now, did I,” with a wink.

“The baby enjoying its homemade Reese’s?” grabbing her clutch. 

“Very much! I was thinking,” Putting away the chocolate and peanut butter. “Tomorrow we could make fudge!”

“Ah, because the baby has such a sweet tooth?” 

“Yes,” you giggled.

“Well, whatever the baby wants, I suppose,” wrapping her arms around you in a loving embrace before leaning down and kissing your stomach.

“You ready to drop the baby bombshell tonight?” Patting the top of Nat’s head. 

“Yes, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous,” sighing as she stood up. These are the same people who freaked out when they found out Clint had a family. How are they going to handle this?”

“Like the amazing aunts and uncles they were meant to be,” grabbing Natasha’s hand. “Plus, I think announcing it with the Christmas crackers is a cute idea.”

“I hope so,” placing a soft kiss against your lips. 

“Frankly, I’m more surprised Yelena hasn’t blabbed yet.” 

“Oh, that’s because I warned her if she told anyone I would make her run with me every morning at 5 am until the baby is born.”

“Well played,” high-fiving your wife. 

“Thank you,” she smiled. “Now come on, let’s go get our holiday cheer on.” 

*^~^*

The drive to the compound was even more beautiful during the holidays. A light snow fell as you passed house after house dressed in beautiful Christmas lights. Natasha placed her right hand on the center console. You softly intertwined your fingers with hers and placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. 

You are greeted by a rush of warm air upon entering the compound lobby. Natasha shook the delicate snowflakes out of your hair and off your coat. You both step onto the elevator and are welcomed by the soothing voice of FRIDAY. 

“Merry Christmas, ladies. Welcome to the annual Stark Christmas party.” 

“Merry Christmas, FRIDAY. How’s the party so far?” You asked as the hum the elevator carried you up to living quarters.

“The party is in full swing. Mr. Stark is currently treating guests to a medley of Christmas carols.

“Of course he is,” you giggled.

“You know, he only plays that baby grand piano when he gets a bit tipsy,” Nat said. “When we got home from our month-long undercover mission in Romania, he celebrated on the jet and then made us all listen to his rendition of Dancing Queen.”

“Aww, and I missed it!” Feigning disappointment.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to joyous noise and laughter. An abundance of greens, reds, gold, and silver flashing here and there, adding opulence and brightness. Classic poinsettias tied in tradition, and shiny bows and foiled paper glistened under the 12-foot tall Noble Fir Christmas tree, inviting their recipients to sneak one open before the actual day.

“Hey, the Romanoff’s are finally here!” Clint exclaimed as his kids rushed over to both of you.

Nate jumped into your wife’s arms as you hugged Lila and Cooper. It seemed like every time you saw the Barton kids they had grown a bit more. It was thanks to Banner and Cho that you were carrying a child that would be half yours and half Natasha’s. Looking at Clint and Laura’s kids and how they resembled their parents, you couldn’t wait to see what features your little plum would inherit from each of you. 

“How’s my little namesake?” Kissing Nathaniel’s cheek. Have you been practicing the punch and kick combinations I taught you?”

“Practicing the what?” Laura asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing,” Natasha smirked as Nate giggled. 

“You two look great, I love the green and red thing you’ve got going on,” Clint said.

“Thank you. Lovely Christmas sweater by the way. I especially love Rudolph’s glowing nose.” you pointed.

“Hey, the Barton’s are the cream of the crop when it comes to ugly Christmas sweaters.”

“Clearly,” Nat teased.

“I’ll take your coats,” Cooper offered.

“Why, thank you. What a gentleman,” you winked at Laura as you handed him yours and Natasha’s pea coats. 

You scanned the room and noticed Wanda putting the finishing touches on trays of Christmas cookies. You put a hand on Nat’s shoulder and motioned toward the kitchen. She gave you a quick nod as you meandered over to the counter. 

“Wanda, Wanda, Wanda… what do we have here?”

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you,” wrapping you in one of her signature hugs that you loved so much. “This is my parents’ Christmas cookie recipe,” she proudly declared. “I convinced Tony and Pepper to let me handle the desserts this year. So, we’ve got cookies, the Viennese torte is in the fridge and the pumpkin pie is cooling.” 

“Wow, you have been busy,” you smiled. “Anything I can do to help?” 

“Yes, you can take a cookie and go mingle. I’ll be done in a few minutes,” handing you a charming little cookie decorated like Santa. You took a bite and couldn’t believe it. It was the best cookie you had ever tasted.

“Mhmm, Wanda! This is amazing.”

“That is why I will always vouch for homemade over store bought goodies. Now seriously, go mingle,” shooing you away.

You turned back around to see your wife sitting by the fireplace talking to Steve, champagne in hand. As you started to across the room you were intercepted by a festively-dressed Kate and Lucky.

“Y/N! Hey, oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in so long! How are you?” 

“I’m good! I see you and Lucky are enjoying the party,” petting the Golden Retriever.

“Absolutely, say hello to Santa Paws and Mrs. Claus!” Kate exclaimed. Unfortunately, we’ve lost Yelena. She’s our elf,” glancing around the room.

“Wait, Yelena’s dressed as an elf?” Eyes wide. “Oh, that’s fantastic.”

“Yeah, if you see her will you send her our way? We’re supposed to be taking the photo for our holiday card tonight.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you smirked with a hand on Kate’s shoulder.

You bid the young archer and pooch farewell and rejoined your wife.

“Hey, deka,” Wrapping her arm around your waste. 

“Y/N, I was just telling your wife that she needs to find her holiday spirit and come Christmas caroling with us next week,” Steve said.

“Natasha singing? I’m not sure that would be good for community morale,” you joked 

“Says the woman who performs one woman tributes to Harry Styles in the shower?” Nat giggled.

“Hey, my rendition of Sign of the Times is highly praised, I’ll have you know.”

Tony and Pepper join your little huddle with Morgan in tow.

“Romanoffs! You have to try this Hot Buttered Rum,” Tony remarked.

“Oh, I love Hot Buttered Rum, but I think I’ll stick with sparkling cider tonight,” you said “Nat would probably love some though, right, love?” 

“Sure,” grabbing the glass from Tony’s hand as Steve looked back at you curiously.

You peered down at Morgan who was sitting on the ottoman next to the fireplace. Ever since you found out you were pregnant you were drawn to children like never before.  

“Hi, sweetheart! You look so pretty tonight,” kneeling down to the little girl’s level.

“Thank you, Aunt Y/N,” she grinned.

“Are you excited for Christmas? You are clearly at the top of Santa’s nice list this year.”

“Really?!” Morgan squealed.

“Oh, absolutely, I have a feeling the man in red is going to be very good to you this year,” you winked. 

“Did you hear that Daddy? Aunt Y/N said that I’m on the top of the nice list!”

“I sure did, squirt. I didn’t realize Aunt Y/N was so tight with St. Nick,” eyeing you coyly.

“Oh yeah, we’re on a first name basis. I’m surprised you’re not?” Smirking at the billionaire. You loved Tony like a brother, but you enjoyed giving him crap.

“Trust me, Mrs. Romanoff, I’m much closer to Santa than you are.”

“Really, do you have a direct line to the North Pole?”

“Are you having milk and cookies flown in from Holland? Because you know those are his favorite,” raising an eyebrow at you.

“Ooookay, that’s enough,” your wife placing hands on your shoulders from behind. “You both know Santa. You both have giant egos. Merry Christmas,” Nat mocked. Come on Tony, let’s go grab some hors d'oeuvrs for our better halves. I’ll be right back, detka,” leading the billionaire toward the kitchen. 

You couldn’t help but admire Natasha as she walked away. Looking back over her shoulder, she smiled at you with all the love in the world. You just about melted right there in front of the fireplace. Snapping out of your love daze, you noticed Pepper grinning at you.

“What?” 

“Oh, nothing. I just can’t help but notice how glowing you look tonight,” as Morgan pulled her away towards Clint’s kids and Steve strolled away to join Bucky in conversation with Rhodes. 

“Pssst… Pssst!” 

You turned around just as a styrofoam snowball was about to hit you in face. You caught it in one swift motion. 

“Nice catch,” a Russian voice said.

“Yelena, where are you?” Glancing around not seeing your sister-in-law.

“Over here,” poking her head out from the behind the seven-foot snowman next to the pool table.

“Oh, now don’t you look adorable as an elf,” you giggled.

“If you weren’t pregnant with my niece or nephew you would be hanging upside down from the rafters right now.” 

“You know Kate and Lucky are looking for you, right?” 

“Why do you think I’m hiding behind the giant snowman? Kate Bishop forced me to dress in this saccharin American Christmas costume and now she wants photographic evidence of it.” 

“Because she loves you, silly,” your arms crossed over your chest.

“Detka, it’s time for dinner. Let’s go—“Natasha stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her sister. “Oh my God,” she burst into laughter. 

“Tred carefully, sestra,” Yelena threatened. 

“No, I love it. I think this qualifies as new mission suit attire,” poking the bell dangling from her elf hat. “Maybe you can get Stark to upgrade this outfit with Widow Bites.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Yelena sneered.

“Come on you adorable elf, it’s time for dinner,” placing an arm around your best friend’s shoulder.

*^~^*

You took your seat next to your wife at the Astoria Grand Giovani dining table. Natasha quietly squeezed your hand. You looked over with a shy smile and a festive blush on your cheeks. 

Pepper stood up from her seat next to Tony at the head of the table. “Before we enjoy this lovely holiday feast, I just wanted to take a moment to tell you how grateful we are that you’re all here,” grasping Tony’s hand. “Everyone in this room knows how precious life is and we don’t take a moment of it for granted. We love you and Merry Christmas.”

“Here, here!” Thor declared a couple seats down from you as glasses clinked around the table. 

A traditional Christmas dinner soon filled your plate. Roasted turkey with all the trimmings. Home baked bread, mashed potatoes and garden veggies gently roasted, drizzled in balsamic vinegar. The group drank, were merry, and told the most terrible of jokes.

Pregnancy mood swings were becoming commonplace and as the dinner wore on, you suddenly found yourself overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of your extended family enjoying the holiday season together. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Carol looked at you with concern in her eyes from across the table.

“Oh, yeah” dabbing at the corner of your eyes with your napkin. “I’m fine.”

“The holidays always make her a bit emotional,” Natasha offered laying her head comfortingly on your shoulder.

After dinner you helped Wanda serve the desserts. The Christmas cookies took their place in the center of the table, flanked by the Viennese torte and the pumpkin pie. Coffee and dessert wine circulated around the table. 

The group of full bellies and ever so slightly sleepy eyes then made their way to the living room to relax. Christmas music softly enveloped the room as the kids were discussing what they hoped Santa was going to bring them this year. 

“Okay, Kate Bishop. Let’s get this picture over with. I want to put on my pajamas,” Yelena announced as she stood from the sofa.

“Yay!! Okay, don’t move. Lucky! Here boy,” calling the dog who promptly romped over. “Vision, can you take the picture?”

“Of course Ms. Bishop.” Taking the Canon EOS R-50 from the archer. 

“It is customary to say cheese before a picture, but since it is Christmas time perhaps you should say mistletoe?” 

“Just take the picture,” Yelena deadpanned

“Mistletoe!” Kate yelled. 

“We’re going to get one of these cards right?” Looking at your wife. 

“I had Kate put us down for two,” she smirked.

*^~^*

As night fell, you rested your weary head on Nat’s lap as she ran her fingers through your hair. 

Natasha looked at her watch. “You ready to drop the baby bomb?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be. I’ll get the Christmas crackers,” rising from the sofa.

“Umm, everyone. Y/N and I have a special gift for you all,” your wife announced nervously as you passed out the gold and silver novelties to the team. 

“Christmas crackers? I have to be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more extravagant… Oww!” Tony whined, as Pepper pinching him on the arm. 

You smiled with nervous anticipation as you reached for Natasha. The snap of the festive crackers echoed across the room. Clint was the first to reach inside and remove the tiny gift. A small round ceramic white ornament tied to a red ribbon appeared in his hand. Lila, Cooper, and Nate huddled around their dad to get a glimpse as Clint read the inscription.

“Uncle Clint?” Looking up at Natasha in shock.

“No way!” Sam shouted.

Wanda, Carol, and Kate all screamed at the sight of their own ornaments. Their names adorned with the title of Aunt.

“This is joyous news!” Thor crowed. 

Pepper got up immediately and embraced you in a warm hug as Laura did the same with Natasha. 

“How far along are you?” Wanda asked.

“Almost three months,” Yelena cut in.

“You knew?! Why didn’t you tell me?” Kate shouted; slapping her girlfriend on the arm.

“Because I want to sleep in!”

“I’m so happy for you, Nat,” Steve kissing her on the cheek. 

Bucky wrapped his arms around you with a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“You ready to be Uncle Bucky?” Your eyes meeting his gaze.

“Oh God,” his face like a deer in the headlights.

“You’ll be great, Buck,” you giggled. 

Bruce and Helen embraced Natasha in a tandem hug.

“I’m so relieved everyone knows,” Helen said turning to you. “Now we can openly discuss your pregnancy. Have you been continuing with your prenatal vitamins?”

And remember, you have an appointment on Friday,” Bruce interjected.

“Yes and yes,” you said as Natasha placed a soft kiss to your cheek and then another to your belly. 

Tony walked up to you with that signature smirk on his face. You mentally prepared yourself for a signature Stark one-liner or some stupid joke. Instead, he took you by surprise when he wrapped you in a warm embrace.

“Congratulations, Romanoff. Looks like you do know Santa best.” 

[thefallennightmare]

Eternally Grateful-Miracle!Noah Sebastian

*GIF created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: smut, language, fluff.

Summary: Reader refused to take the laptop Noah bought for her, after she specifically asked him to stop spending his money on her. That was, until he wore her down with his tongue.

A/N: Again, this takes place in the Miracle Universe! If you haven't read it, no biggie! You won't be missing too much! But you should really check it out. I've been told once or twice it's a pretty great story.

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @sammyjoeee @thisbicc

“Noah, what is this?” I pointed to the shiny plastic box in my suitcase. 

His head full of fluffy hair popped out of the hotel room bathroom. “What’s what?” 

I pointed to my suitcase again. “That!” 

“Oh,” he muttered while coming up behind me and shrugged. “Whoops.” 

Before he could walk away, I grabbed onto his arm, keeping him in front of me. I could feel the aggravation creeping in. I knew he did it out of his love for me but I specifically told him not to buy this for me. 

“I told you I didn’t need a laptop. Bryan has one for me to use.” 

Noah kissed my forehead. “Think of it as a birthday present.” 

“My birthday is in six months,” I crossed my arms. 

“Christmas present?” he suggested. 

“It's April!” I sighed exasperated while pinching my eyes shut. “When we get back home, please return it. I’ll save up my own money to buy myself one.” 

Noah’s lips parted to speak but there was a knock to our hotel room door, halting whatever he was about to say. When he opened it, Matt stood on the other side while nursing a Celsius. 

“Ready?” 

Bad Omens had a sound check at the venue before the show tonight, the first show of the Europe leg of the tour. 

“Are you coming?” Noah asked after turning back to me. 

I was still angry about the brand new laptop in my suitcase but didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Matt. So instead, I grabbed the camera Bryan gave me and pushed my way past the two guys, ignoring their protests of waiting for them. 

Ever since the fire and losing everything, Noah had made it his mission to buy me things I needed to replace. The necessities were fine but when it came to expensive things, I drew the line. Noah worked hard for his money and I felt terrible to have him spend it on me. 

The entire time of soundcheck, I didn’t say a word to Noah, hoping my silent treatment would show him how angry I was. Deep down, I knew it was a sweet gesture but it was in my stubborn nature to be a brat. 

“Angel,” Noah’s voice came through the microphone. “How does it sound up there?” 

I was standing up in the balconies of the venue because Matt was worried about how the mix would sound this high up. 

“It sounds good, Matt!” I called down to him, who was standing in the sound deck. 

Once again ignoring Noah. 

Then later, after I took my round of pictures, I was sitting on the edge of the stage and looking back at what I took when Noah sat beside me. His long legs swinging off the edge. 

“You’re ignoring me.” 

I hummed, still clicking through the pictures. I stopped on one I took of Noah bending at the knees while holding his microphone. The white tank top he wore always stood out against the tone of his skin. I bit the inside of my cheek when I noticed how thick his muscles were in this position. 

Curse the burning between my legs. Due to the long travel from the States to the U.K, we barely had time alone before dealing with things to get the first night of the tour set up. 

“Y/N,” my voice came out in a low rumble in his chest. “Why can’t you accept the fact that I want to take care of you?” 

“I told you not to buy me one and you did it anyway,” I said, not looking at him yet. 

I knew if I gazed up into those almond eyes I would falter immediately.  

“I wanted to,” Noah said. “Why is the idea of me taking care of you so hard to understand?” 

“Because I’ve been taking care of myself my entire life,” I semi-snapped while jumping off the stage and sauntered off to the green room. 

I knew from the thundering footsteps behind me that Noah was following and when we were alone in the green room, I placed the camera on the couch. 

“Please take it,” he breathed while placing his hands on my hips. 

I pouted, my resolve crumbling. “I feel terrible you spent a lot of money on it. On me.” 

“Angel,” Noah’s thumb grazed over my cheek. “I want to take care of you.” 

“It’s an expensive laptop, Noah. I know how much it cost because I’ve had my eye on it long before the fire,” I admitted. 

He had a playful smirk on his lips as he shook his bangs away from his eyes. “How do you think I knew which one to get you? You’re not very good at hiding things.” 

I scoffed while smacking his chest, causing a rouse of laughter from us, but I wasn’t ready to accept his gift; yet. 

“I don’t know,” I sighed while slowly moving from side to side in his embrace. “You could have used that money for something else. Something for the studio.” 

Noah led me to the couch in the green room, the back of my knees hitting the leather armrest. 

“Take it,” he spoke quietly before getting to his knees. 

When I didn’t say anything right away, he placed his hands behind his back and knelt even farther on the ground, resting his forehead on the toes of my boots. 

“Please, angel. Let me show you how much I want to take care of you.” 

My eyes widened when his long fingers hooked into my leggings, pulling them down to my ankles, and then made me sit on the armrest. The coolness from the leather felt wonderful on my heated skin as Noah spread my legs wide for him. 

“What if someone walks in?” 

He tore his hungry eyes away from my pussy and up to my eyes. “Give them a show, Y/N.” 

I gaped down in shock at him which caused him to give a curt laugh. “I already locked the door.” 

Soon his tongue flicked over my already sensitive clit and my nails quickly found his scalp, yanking him closer to me. 

“I fucking love the way you taste,” he groaned seconds before completely devouring me with his mouth. 

My mewls of pleasure sounded disgustingly loud in the small green room. Noah knew exactly what to do with his tongue to make my body ignite for him. His hair was a mess thanks to my fingers running through it, bucking on the ends to keep him in place. 

“Oh, fuck,” I shook when a finger slipped inside, pumping in and out of my pussy with such speed it made my head spin. 

“Do you want to be a good girl for me, angel?” Noah broke away from my clit to look up at me with wide pupils. 

My arousal coated his lips and I let out a small whimper when I nodded. 

“Then take the laptop,” he ordered before diving back in to enjoy his meal. 

I wrapped my legs around his head as another way to keep him close to me as my orgasm began to build and build. It teetered on the edge of the cliff and with one piercing cry of his name, I came apart. Noah lapped up my juices like a man who had just found water after trekking in the desert for days. 

When I blinked through the haze that danced at the edge of my vision, I noticed Noah was standing in front of me now, lips and chin covered in my wetness, and he held up a finger; a silent command. 

I brought it to my mouth eagerly to lick it clean, humming at how delicious I tasted. 

“You’re such a good girl for me, angel. Fuck,” Noah hissed when my teeth grazed along his finger as he pulled it out of my mouth. 

“Can I repay you for my gift?” I asked with doe eyes while raking my nails down the tattoos on his arms. 

Somehow Noah knew I wasn’t talking about money. 

In one swift motion, we switched positions so he was sitting on the armrest and I was standing in front of him; his large hand resting on top of my head. 

“On your knees, Y/N,” he demanded while pushing me roughly to my knees. 

His cock sprung free when I pulled it out of his black shorts and I wasted no time licking up the precum at the head before swirling it over my tongue. I took his entire length in my mouth and bobbed my head up and down in fast strokes. He always had a tangy yet sweet taste and I purred when the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. 

“Shit!” He hissed and gripped the back of my head. “Right there, angel. Fuck, I’m gonna-.” 

When my hand began playing with his soft balls, I knew he wouldn’t be able to hang on for much longer. With a grunt, his warm cum shot down my throat and I dug my nails into the skin of his thighs. 

“Every.” 

Thrust. 

“Last.” 

Thrust. 

“Drop.”

I did. 

My mouth popped off his dick and I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before tucking his cock away. 

“I will be eternally grateful for your gift,” I vowed with a kiss to his lips; myself still lingering. 

Noah vibrated as he slowly pulled up my leggings for me just as the door to the green room opened with a distraught-looking Matt.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Noah. What the fuck! We only have ten minutes left before the doors open and your M.I.A.” He took off his hat to shake out his hair.

My gaze snapped away from Matt to Noah. “You told me you locked the door!” 

He winked with a shrug and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Whoops.”

[virginsexgod69]

Idk why, but I've really been loving the idea of Daryl proposing to reader recently. Like, he was just gonna pop the question in the confines of their own home, but maybe while on a hunt, the reader successfully tracks down and kills a deer on her own without Daryl's help, and while she's excitedly rambling about the fact that she finally did it on her own, Daryl just looks at her and thinks, "yeah, this is the girl I wanna marry," and then unexpectedly just says "marry me". He pulls a ring out and everything. Fluff all the way!

Thank you so much if you write this, but don't feel pressured to! You don't have to write something you don't want to. I completely understand either way. I appreciate you nonetheless 💜

❝ Marry Me ❞

pairing Daryl Dixon x F! Reader

cw killing a deer and some walkers

1.7k words

note this was such a cute idea and i loved writing it so much! i hope you like it and it fits the vision you had! =]

“What’s on your mind, baby?” You asked sleepily, running your fingers through his soft hair as his head rested comfortably on your chest. 

“Nothin’,” he lied. He hated lying to you, but he didn’t know how to go about popping the question. Now would have been a nice time, with two of you cuddled comfortably on the couch in the privacy of your own home. Moments like these were some of his favorites with you and adding the memory of a marriage proposal to them would only make these moments better. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wasn’t scared you’d say no, in fact he would have bet his life on you saying yes. Yet, each time, the words kept dying on his tongue and the ring weighed heavily in his pocket. 

“You can tell me anything, you know that, right?” You insisted. He looked up at you sweetly and muttered an ‘I know.’ You gave him a sad smile, wishing he’d tell you what he was thinking, but respecting his decision not to. 

“I love you, Daryl,” you said dreamily. This was it, the perfect segue into a proposal. He sat up properly and felt around in his pockets for the ring. The words were just about to leave his mouth, but the tired yawn that escaped you interrupted him. 

“G’nite,” you muttered as you dozed off. Daryl would never not be amazed at how fast you could go from being wide awake one minute to falling asleep in the next. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and fiddled with the shiny piece of jewelry. It was a small, elegant ring with a fairly thin band and diamond right in the center. Whoever had originally bought it had to have paid a fair amount of money for it, but stuff like that didn’t matter now. Even though you would say yes without a ring, he still wanted to do something nice for you because you deserved it. The weeks of examining the hands of every walker he killed and searching through abandoned cars and buildings all became worth it once he found the perfect ring for you. But somehow, that was the easy part. Finding the right words at the right moment was proving difficult as every minute he wasn’t married to you passed by. He sighed to himself and tucked the ring back into his pocket, disappointed that yet another opportunity slipped by. 

He gently lifted you from the couch, taking extra care not to wake you from your peaceful sleep. He carried you up the stairs and into your shared bedroom before pulling back the comforter and sheets and tucking you in. He slid into the bed beside you and you gravitated toward his warmth like you usually did. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Love you, too.” 

The sun blooming over the horizon created an orangey hue across the clear sky, illuminating the once dark forest. It became easier to see the tracks of the deer you’ve been tracking since dark morning. Hunting wasn’t something you did before the dead started rising, but it quickly became a necessary skill to have and thankfully, you had Daryl to show you the ropes. He even showed you how to use his crossbow once when you joined him on a hunt way back at the prison. That same day you learned that you preferred a hunting rifle. In return, you shared with him the medical knowledge you had from being a paramedic. The quid pro quo relationship you had with the hunter slowly grew into something more deep and meaningful over time. 

Finally, after hours of following the tracks imprinted in the damp earth, you came across a clearing where the doe stood. You aimed the rifle at her, careful not to make any noise and scare her off. Through the scope, you pointed the weapon at the place Daryl taught you to in order to ethically kill it. Just as you were about to press your finger to the trigger, you noticed walkers approaching the doe. Their loud groans and clumsy footsteps spooked her, sending her running into the forest just at the same time you fired your shot. 

“Goddamn walkers!” You cursed. You put the safety on your rifle and hung it on your shoulder by the strap. Unsheathing your knife, you entered the clearing and approached the undead beings. You put them both down once they approached you and cleaned your knife on your jeans before putting it back into its sheath. Red blood contrasting on the green grass caught your eye. It belonged to the doe, meaning your shot actually landed and she could be somewhere wounded, or even dead. Excitement increased your heart rate as you followed her blood trail. This was the closest you’ve come to killing a deer on your own. You’ve managed smaller kills, like squirrels, before, but never a deer! You couldn’t tell if you were more excited about actually killing the deer or seeing Daryl’s reaction, but either way you were giddy. 

After trekking about a half mile in the direction the doe fled, you finally found her lying in the greenery having succumbed to your shot. You were beaming with happiness as you effortlessly picked her up and carried her across your shoulders. You’ve carried people heavier than her out in the field during your paramedic days. 

Daryl nervously fiddled with the ring as leaned over the railing of the front porch, smoking a cigarette. He hated how hopeless he felt when it came to actually proposing to you. With how long the two of you have been together romantically, the ability to propose should have come to him naturally. He knew there was nothing to be nervous about and that he was just psyching himself out and he should just ask you to marry him already. But every time it felt like the right moment to, that feeling was gone once he started digging around in his pocket for the ring. 

The sight of you walking toward the house with a big smile on your face and a deer draped over your shoulders snapped him from his thoughts. Maybe it was just the sun shining from behind you, but you were absolutely glowing.

“Daryl!” You shouted excitedly as you increased your walk into a small jog. You set the deer down before hurrying up the porch stairs. He put out his cigarette before you excitedly jumped into his arms, embracing him like you haven’t seen him in months. 

“Guess what!” You said as you reluctantly pulled away from the hug. 

“Wha?” Based on the deer laying at the base of the stairs he was sure he could tell what happened, but you looked so happy and he wanted to share your excitement and hear you tell him yourself. 

“I finally killed a deer! All on my own!” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as pride swelled in his chest. He remembered when he took you hunting with him the first time. You were the one who wanted to go with him and "see what he does when he's off to who knows where for who knows how long." When he finally did, you complained about how boring it was and how all you were doing was looking at dirt and not seeing any animals. But now, here you were with a deer you had hunted all on your own. 

"I had been tracking it since way earlier this morning and I almost thought I wasn't gonna catch it but then I saw it in a clearing and so I was gonna shoot it but then walkers got in my way like they usually do, those annoying sons of bitches, and then the deer ran but I had shot at it so then I followed the blood..."

Daryl stared at you in awe as you rambled on about your adventure. The sense of pride and adoration he felt whenever he looked at you, but now especially was overwhelming. You were perfect in every way and he'd be damned if he went another second without being your husband. 

"...and then I found it further in the woods and I was just so excited that I finally caught a whole entire deer all on my own for the v—"  

"Marry me!" he blurted out suddenly. 

"Huh?" You blinked at him in confusion, not sure if you heard him right. As if he suddenly remembered something, he patted all his pockets until he felt the one with the ring in it and pulled it out. The sparkle of the diamond in the sunlight caught your eye. 

"Will ya marry me?" he repeated, this time holding out the ring to you. He lowered himself to one knee, still holding out the ring. Your eyes filled with tears, happy tears, and you held out your left hand to him. 

"Of course!" you said as he slid the ring onto your fourth finger. It fit almost perfectly. As soon as he stood up from his position on the floor, you jumped into his arms. He caught you and held you tight as you peppered kisses all over his face. He set you back down onto your feet and held your face in his big warms hands, wiping away your tears away with his thumbs. 

"I'm so proud of ya fer catchin' that deer all by yerself." The smile that graced his face was contagious. 

"Learned from the best," you said, smiling up at him. He leaned down and you met him halfway in a kiss. 

"Can't wait to skin this deer with my wife," he said once he pulled away from the kiss. 

"Ooh," you exclaimed, giddy at the new title, "Can't wait to eat some venison with my husband!" 

thanks for reading!

note i've been a pescatarian for 3-ish years now, but I've been wanting wing-stop, so i got some wing-stop and it was great. thanks for listening

Taglist @banquetwriter @eternalrose81 @the-dixon-effect @dilfsandmartinis @millybaby @daryldixmedown @theoraekenslover @aeriean @lesbian-horror-fan @in-this-minute @paintlavillered @zhannamustdie @thegeorgiahuntsman @bigbaldheadname @Lumi362 @lettersfromyourlover-blog @princesssparkel2024 @hayweee @d0p3ys-delusions @xxlaynaxx

[topperscumslut]

Kiss Me With Your Eyes Closed (Sejanus Plinth x Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) is the victor of the 9th Hunger Games and the beloved girlfriend of Coriolanus Snow, though she’s secretly in love with his best friend (in this au the hunger games progressed more quickly, for example mentors were already present before the 10th games etc etc). title inspired by Hot Freaks’ Puppy Princess!

Warnings: not much rlly tbh, a wee bit of angst but mostly FLUFFY FLUFFFFF. might write a smutty sequel if this does well (or just if i feel like it lol) but even then it would be more fluffy smut, like sweet love making rather than getting absolutely railed lmao yk? (i probably will so stay tuned if u like this and lmk if u wanna be tagged!)

spoiler free apart from references to coriolanus x lucy gray!!

ok actually it is a pretty good amount of angst nvm lmao

Word count: 2k

You sigh as you run your fingers over the tattered poster, so shiny and new only a year before, reading the now barely legible words. (Y/N) (L/N) Victory Tour, In Honor of the 9th Hunger Games, Arriving Soon in Your District. You remember your victory tour all too well. Despite the traumas you had endured as a victor, you’re grateful for how far you’ve come. Sure, you still have nightmares of your games every now and again, yet even still you have the best fate a girl from District 3 could ever hope for - you had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was the perfect love story. A doomed romance from the beginning; star crossed lovers, one might say, a Capitol boy and a District girl. When you had arrived at the Capitol for the 9th Hunger Games, near certain you had no chance of winning, your dashing mentor Coriolanus Snow had immediately taken a liking to you. He took you under his wing and coached you through your games, and when you had miraculously emerged victorious and returned to the Capitol, he decided that he wanted you for his own, and who were you to say no? Not even a few weeks before, you were just another girl from District 3, completely unknown, barely scraping by. Now you had been thrust suddenly into a lavish lifestyle with a handsome suitor to boot, adored by all of Panem; the nation’s sweetheart. After your games, you could have left it all behind. Sure, you would never be granted total anonymity being a victor, but you could have gone back to your beaten down home in District 3 and lived a relatively quiet life. After all, it’s not like the Snows had the finances to buy your freedom from your district and turn you into a full fledged Capitol citizen.

But the Plinths did.

You never particularly enjoyed Strabo Plinth as a person, but you couldn’t help but be grateful to him for what he had done for you. You had, however, immediately taken a liking to his caring wife, as well as his juxtaposition of a son, Sejanus, who clearly took more after his mother. In contrast to your rugged, analytical lover, Sejanus was gentle, complex. The two of you had become fast friends while Coriolanus had helped you prepare for the games.

And so before you knew it, this was your new life. At first you were anxious, concerned that your becoming a Capitol citizen and Coriolanus associating so intimately with a girl from the Districts would be seen as an act of rebellion and put you both in danger. However Coriolanus assured you that the nation loved you, both as an individual and as a couple. Sure, it was unexpected, yeah, it broke the (admittedly unwritten) rules, but that’s what made it oh-so fun to watch. Because at the end of the day, the games weren’t a competition - they were a show, and everyone loved an underdog.

There was only one minor flaw. You had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol, yes, but it wasn’t the one you had so publicly given your heart to.

Your relationship with Coriolanus was practical, and that was about the only positive thing you could truthfully say about it. Neither of you were particularly wealthy or powerful individually, but together, you had potential. If you could keep all of Panem tuned in to your epic love story, you could almost certainly ensure mutual survival. You offered Coriolanus the opportunity to be known as not only a mentor to a victor, but a lover as well. And though nearly a year later his eyes had started to wander, the dapper blond had been quite infatuated with you when the courtship had begun, and Coriolanus was notoriously possessive. While his family was in the midst of financial hardship at the current moment, becoming a Capitol resident gave you the opportunity to get by still much more comfortably than you had in your impoverished home district. And who knew what volatility Coriolanus was capable of if you had rejected his advances? You had been coaxed into this very moment and had no other option but to grin and bear it. After all, all the girls you knew back home would kill to be in your position. A handsome sweetheart, financial stability courtesy of the Plinths, and the whole country all but worshiping you. Coriolanus Snow had offered you not only fame and fortune, but more importantly, security. Safety, in return for your undying affection.

Coriolanus was sweet at first. Charming, for sure. He was certainly attractive, yet he had never really had much of an effect on you. Maybe it was simply intuition. Or maybe it was the fact that he could never compare to his best friend, Sejanus Plinth.

Kind, pure Sejanus. The type of boy that, unlike Coriolanus Snow, truly made your head spin. The chemistry between you and Sejanus was unspoken, yet undeniable. However, you had already reluctantly sworn yourself to Coriolanus, and knew running off with his best friend would certainly put both you and your not so secret admirer in a treacherous situation. Sejanus Plinth was a risk you simply couldn’t afford to take.

What stung the most was that in any other situation, it could have worked. Sejanus was certainly more wealthy and influential than Coriolanus, not that that was what truly mattered to you. If you had been just a bit more fortunate, you could have had the boy you truly loved as your mentor and still have the same security and more that you were now so gracefully granted, if you had simply found your way to Sejanus before Coriolanus had set his sights on you and claimed you as his own. But unfortunately for you, your current romantic relationship was one built upon the grounds of survival rather than love.

If you were fully honest with yourself, you never truly loved Coriolanus - well, not romantically, at least. There was once a time where you had loved him as a dear friend, but in the time you had known him, he had become cruel and vitriolic. You knew from the start that he had always had it in him to become this way, though you had always naively hoped that he wouldn’t, that he would control himself, but the poison within his soul had soon taken over his cold, uncaring heart. He had become hardened by the misfortune of his family and gradually more complaisant in the ways of the Capitol, as well as secretly resentful of the great fortune of his supposed best friend and honorary brother Sejanus.

Now just over a year since you had met, the 10th Hunger Games were nearing to start. You had heard the whispers of Coriolanus sneaking around with his newest mentee, your replacement in more ways than one, Lucy Gray Baird; however it never bothered you. Lucy Gray knew that your relationship with Coriolanus was nothing more than a facade, and the two of you had become unlikely friends. You weren’t sure just how much of his affections for Lucy Gray were genuine, or how much was motivated by a desire to flatter her in an attempt to gain another victor to further his own career. Though Coriolanus’s mood was recently heightened by his new lover, he was still resentful of being assigned such an impoverished district for two years in a row and was prone to fits of rage over this perceived insult. While your home of District 3 was never much of a spectacle, Lucy Gray’s District 12 was miraculously even more down trodden, the poorest district of them all. You couldn’t help but wonder if this assignment was actually made to compliment Coriolanus, to show that if he could made a diamond in the rough out of you, that perhaps he could do the same for Lucy Gray.

As you sit alone in Coriolanus’s bed, still running your fingers gingerly along the photograph, you hear a knock at the door.

“Sejanus?”

“Oh, hey. Is Coryo around?”

You shake your head. “He’s out right now.”

Sejanus’s jaw tightens at your response. “With her?”

You nod unenthusiastically and can see the disgust and anger wash over his face as he makes his way over to you.

“It’s not her fault, Sejanus. She’s actually really sweet.”

He sits down on the bed next to you, careful to leave enough space between the two of you as to not make you uncomfortable. “I know it’s not. It’s his. Does it really not bother you at all?”

“Not particularly.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’re better than me, (Y/N). I don’t know how you put up with it. If I truly loved someone, it would kill me to see them with someone else.” He’s subtle, but you can tell exactly what he’s implying.

“Well good thing I don’t have to see it.”

“Fair enough.”

Sejanus looks sympathetically at you for a second, blissfully unaware that his kind, beautiful brown eyes are making you melt, before noticing the poster in your hand.

“Is that-”

“Yep.” You shiver, remembering your games, the things you saw… “I don’t think it ever occurred to him, the things I had to do in there.”

“It occurred to me.” He gently places his shaky hand on your knee, carefully surveying your expression to make sure you’re okay with the contact, to which you nod slightly, nearly involuntarily. “Look, I’ll say it since no one else in this screwed up place will, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You bite your lip, feeling butterflies in your stomach once again as he gives you that look and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss him right then and there. Your boyfriend could come home any moment, after all, and you quickly compose yourself, breaking Sejanus’s gaze. “It’s okay. I won. It’s the Hunger Games. It’s an honor.”

He inches carefully closer to you before speaking up again, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “(Y/N), you don’t have to pretend around me.”

You shake your head in denial. “I’m not pretending.”

“Then why haven’t I seen that light in your eyes that I love so much since you’ve left the arena? Why don’t you care that he’s always off with Lucy Gray? Why are the rules different for you than they are for him?”

And suddenly it hits you all at once. Sejanus is right. If Coriolanus is sneaking around with your friend everyday, even when they aren’t training, then what’s to stop you from doing the same to him? What do you owe him when all he’s ever done is keep you like a bird in a cage?

You don’t stop yourself, you don’t even think as you lean in and kiss Sejanus. He gets over the initial shock quickly and melts into it, cradling your body in his arms and pulling you in by the small of your back. You both pull away at the same time, not quite sure what’s gotten into you, but whatever it is, you like it.

“Coriolanus has never kissed me like that.”

“Go figure.”

His nerves kick in once again as he starts to stutter an apology before you shut him up by kissing him softly again.

“Since I first got to the Capitol… Sejanus, nothing here has felt right, except for you.”

“I could say the same about you,” he muses as he leans in once again, kissing you slow, both of you pretending the moment could last forever. If only…

[thestarrynightslover]

Maybe We Could Do It Again

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 4,632

Warnings: bickering and fluff.

Summary: Jay meets the Reader as they’re both babysitting Makayla for Adam and Kim and they end up tangled up on the ground and kissing.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way, or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Okay, so this is one of the longest fics I’ve written, which might be a little too long but I hope you guys like it and feel free to send feedback! By the way, this is the first time I insert Burzek in one of my fics but I think I got their energy right ;)

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

“Oh my God, Adam! I can’t believe that even when you’re not supposed to do something you get it wrong!” Kim yelled at her boyfriend.

“What the hell-” He even tried to respond but got immediately interrupted for his bad language.

“Adam!” She hissed again, not believing how he could still curse so much now that the two of them had a child in the house.

“Sorry, sorry!” He said, nervously raising his hands, as Kim already peeked through the kitchen doors to see Jay and Makayla pretend like they hadn’t been listening to every word of their conversation in the living room. “It’s just… I remember you specifically telling me to find someone to babysit the kid, so I did it! How is it possible that I’m the one who-”

“Yes! I did ask you two to do that! On Monday! And do you remember what you told me?” He didn’t dare to say anything. “Oh, no? Because I do! I remember you saying, and I quote:” she said, even making finger quotes to emphasize the whole thing, “‘Where the hell am I supposed to find a babysitter for Makayla? None of my friends have any experience with kids!’” Kim shoved it in his face, making a very good point for herself. But, as usual, Adam decided to go against any sign of good judgment and continue to defend himself. He knew he could never let Kim in on it, but Jay himself was one of those who had already heard the officer saying how much he loved bickering with his girlfriend and getting her all fired up against him.

“No, uh! That won’t cut it! You told me, and I quote: ‘Then hire someone! I don’t know! But you’re the one who came up with the date night idea, so don’t come and throw something that should be your responsibility on my shoulders!’, so I knew that I needed to find someone! Kev and Vanessa are visiting his siblings this weekend, so I thought: why not Jay? He’s good with kids, and he offered to help us with Makayla!” Adam concluded, absolutely proud of himself while Kim just rolled her eyes.

“Oh. My. God!!! You do know he didn’t mean that literally, don’t you?” She was already fuming by that point.

“Err-” He had to admit that he’d never stopped to think about that possibility…

“No one means that literally!!” She shouted, this time, making even the neighbors hear their arguing. “No one means that literally, and, now, you’re just making us both look like the cops who can’t take care of their own kid in front of the entire unit.” She stated, in a lower, tone while pinching the bridge of her nose.

“But this is not the entire unit! This is Jay! Our friend Jay, who had offered!” Adam stood by that argument and Kim had already opened her mouth to shoot a remark back when Jay came into the kitchen.

“Makayla’s distracted with the tv.” He started with that so that they wouldn’t be worried. “Uh... Guys, Kim, you don’t have to worry about me telling anyone about this, okay? I won’t. Besides, I did mean what I said before. I’m here to help. Whatever you guys need. Plus, for someone who had plans of watching a game rerun alone at home on a Friday night, babysitting that cute little girl is almost like hitting a jackpot!” Jay assured, giving them a small smile and shiny eyes headed towards Makayla’s direction. Babysitting a kid, when he was probably never gonna have one of his own, was one of the things that he, personally, missed the most about when Will and Natalie were together. Back when Lindsay lived in Chicago, he used to be sure that, someday, he was gonna find someone. Settle down. Build a family. But, now… After everything that had happened, he couldn’t help but feel like his time to do all that had run out. So, instead of mooning over it, he could gladly babysit Makayla.

“Well, um, thank you, Jay,” Kim started, nervously tucking a string of hair behind her ear, “that’s really nice to hear. And we very much appreciate it. But-” She didn’t get a chance to finish as the doorbell rang and Adam rushed towards the apartment’s entrance to prevent his very excited little girl from opening the door by herself. When he got there, followed by the other two adults, Makayla was already standing on her tiptoes, hand-in-handle.

“Hey! Watcha doing, you little adventurous?!” Adam asked while picking her up from the floor and tickling her sides, which made her become a giggling mess. “You can’t just open the door like that, darlin’! You gotta check on the peephole first,” he said, as he lifted her up enough so that she could look through the hole, “like this. See someone?”

“Yes! It’s (y/n/n)!” She squealed out. “Can we open the door now? Please, Adam?” Makayla asked, shooting him pleading eyes, while her body buzzed with happiness.

“Ah, (y/n/n), right,” Adam said simply, opening the door and fearing that Kim would want to restart the whole discussion with him.

“Hey, princess!” And that simple greeting was all it took for Makayla to throw herself from Adam’s arms straight to yours. “Wow,” you laughed at her sudden movement, which had caused you to lose your balance a little, “you excited to see me?”

“Yes!! Did you bring the bakings???” She asked you eagerly, bakings being what she called your cooking utensils.

“No, not today!” Your answer made her face, almost immediately, turn into a sad frown. “But I brought this!” You told her while lifting up a box that read ‘karaoke set’, above a few drawings of a microphone and musical notes. Seeing that, Makayla’s saddened expression shifted in two seconds, eyes lighting up.

“Look, Kim!” The little girl shrieked, more than ready to have what she already knew was about to be the time of her life.

“Yeah, I see that! Seems like you girls are gonna have a blast…” Your friend weirdly trailed off, as her mind tried to find a quick solution to the mess her boyfriend had made.

“Uh…” Was all that a very handsome man you hadn’t met yet managed to let out.

“Jay, um, this is my best friend (y/n). (y/n/n), this is our friend from work Jay. I’m sorry about the mess, guys, it’s Adam’s fault.” Kim spoke again, bluntly accusing her boyfriend.

“My fault??? Are you kidding??? You told me to find someone to watch Makayla 'cause you didn’t want us to keep bothering (y/n)!”

“Guys! It’s no bother at all, really. Hanging out with this little princess is in my best interest, believe me!” You said, quickly defending your case.

“Well, thanks for saying that, (y/n/n). What happened here is that Adam told me he wouldn’t be able to get anyone,” Kim started while shooting daggers into her boyfriend with her bare eyes. “So, since I wasn’t about to just wait for a miracle, I called and asked you to do it. But someone didn’t think about telling me that he had already gotten Jay to come. And now you’re both here, ugh!” She finished, rather dramatically, while pointing a finger at Adam.

That was, seriously, the best couple you knew when it came to bickering.

“Okay, so, um, it’s not gonna be any trouble. I can leave since your colleague got here first and you don’t need to be stressed on your date night, friend.” You tried to bring things to a peaceful ending before Kim turned it into a murder scene.

“Oh, I do need to be stressed! I need to-” She started to debate but got cut off by Makayla’s cute pleading voice:

“But you can’t leave, (y/n/n)! We’re gonna play karaoke!” The little girl clearly had already gotten worked up by your idea for the night.

“Makayla, baby, please don’t be difficult. You hang out with (y/n/n) all the time, and uncle Jay is already here…” You watched as Adam tried to reason with his daughter while she held you really tight.

“No, uh…” Their friend started to say. Was it too weird for you to be thinking about how incredibly cute he looked when scratching the back of his neck like that? “Relax, man, I can go. I bet that you’re gonna have a lot more fun with her than with me, anyways, Mak.” He completed, talking to your little friend with a sweet smile, to which she reacted with a confused frown.

“But- but why does Jay have to leave? Can’t he play karaoke with us, (y/n/n)?” Makayla asked you poutingly.

“Now that’s something I’d like to see!” Adam started to mock but stopped when Kim punched him in the arm. “Ouch! That hurt, you know?”

“I know! That was exactly the result I was hoping for!” She squealed out sarcastically, “Makayla, honey, you can’t just ask both (y/n/n) and Jay to play karaoke, of all things, with you.” It was lovely to watch Kim interacting so patiently with her kid but the young girl still didn’t seem to understand.

“But why???”

“Well, they don’t know each other, Makayla.” Kim tried again but Mak still wasn’t ready to give it up.

“But they know me!” 

“Good luck explaining now, ma.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, all of you 𑁋 Adam himself included 𑁋 knew what was coming, fortunately, Kim just punched him in the arm again.

“You know, guys, you don’t need to fight over something like this, okay? Uh… Since he’s your coworker, I’m gonna assume that he’s one of the good guys, therefore I wouldn’t really have a problem with hanging out with him…” You said because you were never one to say no to little kids. “I mean if that’s okay with you, too, officer…”

“It’s detective, actually. But you can call me Jay, uh, (y/n), right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Well, I don’t have any problems with hanging out with you either,” Jay said and, Jesus, was that really his smile? “I mean, Mak should get all the babysitters she wants!” He told her with a wink. It was official. You were so done for the night.

“Ha!” Kim nervously let out a laugh, “let’s go easy there, cowboy! You can’t just come into my house offering the kid everything she wants.”

“Okay, okay,” the detective started to say with a gesture of surrender while the couple started to get out of the house to give you the space to properly go in. “Sorry ‘bout that, ma!” You could have sworn that you saw him tremble 𑁋 just a little 𑁋 under the deadly gaze your friend sent his way. Adam, who seemed to be off the hook for the first time that night, took the moment to laugh and hope that his girl would forget she had been so mad at him.

“C’mon, darling. Let’s get going before we decide it isn’t very safe to leave Mak with those two.”

"Yeah… I'm already deciding that but maybe they'll prove us wrong." Kim said, voice absolutely faithless. "You behave, Makayla!"

"It's more than obvious that she's going to be the best tonight. Get outta here already!" You heard Jay yelling a little in response to her, as you and Makayla started to get the karaoke set up.

But you, being the lucky person you were, obviously couldn't find your way around your friend's old stuff.

"Uh, you need any help there?"

“No! No, not all! Um, I got this!” You quickly responded because you could be pretty skeptical when it came to admitting your weaknesses and, from your point of view, not getting a simple karaoke set to work was a huge one.

“Alright, then…”

“Are you sure you don’t want Jay to help, (y/n/n)?” Mak asked, sounding way more reasonable than you, the actual adult there.

“Um, err, I guess maybe I could use some help… It’s just that this TV setup is quite different from mine…” You said, still unwilling to let how confused you were really show.

“Yeah, I can help!” you heard Jay as he left his spot in the corner of the room. “I was just ordering us pizza but I can totally help out 'cause Adam and I actually shopped for these TVs together, so I have the same one!” He said, this time, already gently getting the device from your hands before you could even react, which was probably him sensing that you wouldn’t give it up so easily, like he could see right through you.

“Okay, well, since you already ordered the pizza, I’ll go make us some juice.” As you said that you got both of your companions making weird faces at you, so you amended: “Or not, because you already ordered soda too… Just keep in mind that if Kim gets mad because of all the junk food that kid is eating, I’m telling on you, detective!” You said, making a point to stare right into his eyes 𑁋 God, they were so beautiful, was there nothing but beauty in this man’s body?

“Okay, so I think we’re all good here with the karaoke! Who wants to go first?” Hearing that you came of your very dangerous thoughts and Makayla jumped up and down, screaming:

“Me! Me! Me!”

“Alright, little lady, then come pick a song!” Jay told her and stood by to help her with her choice.

About three hours later all three of you had already sung your hearts out 𑁋 Jay having had gone for ABBA, which surprised you and Mak, to say the least 𑁋 eaten lots of pizza, drunk lots of soda and had begun watching a movie, cause you told Jay that that always did the trick when it came to Mak falling asleep. But, God, it was hard to pay attention to the movie you were supposed to be watching when sitting next to a guy like that. And he wasn’t just really handsome. He was sweet and kind and funny. Also, he was so good with Makayla. It was like everything you’d always imagined the perfect man being like was right there, reunited in the detective’s goof self. But you couldn't be thinking those thoughts about him. Not when he was so close. And definitely not when your best friend's daughter was lying on both of your laps.

So, in order to calm your thoughts for a minute, you gently put Makayla’s head on a cushion as you got up 𑁋 because she was already asleep 𑁋, and said I’m gonna get started on cleaning over there.” It was indeed necessary since Mak had dropped all of the content of a big ice cream container near the dining table, the ice cream being very sticky and sort of liquid 𑁋 which was obviously beyond your understanding but who were you to judge Kim and her preferences? 

"Oh God, lemme help you!" You heard Jay saying, as he quickly made his way from the corridor over to where you were cleaning the floor, by the dining table.

"Ah, there's no need for it. I'm used to spending time with Mak, and, then, cleaning up before Kim sees it." You told him with a sly smile.

"Ha! Well, I don't doubt it! You're really good with her."

"And she's really good at making giant messes."

"Right." He said, chuckling lightly. "But, this time, I bet you felt like there were two kids, huh?"

"Your words, not mine, detective."

"Anyways, I'll help. Don't tell Kim and Adam, cause they might spread it across the district, but I'm actually pretty good at cleaning. Especially, when compared to someone who's doing such a lousy job." At that, you instantly snapped your head in his direction.

"What did you just say?" You asked, pretending to be mad while standing up and raising your sponge, as if it was a weapon you were threatening him with.

"Uh… Uh, d- did you know that pulling a weapon on a cop is a crime?" He asked, trying to play along, but stuttering a little.

"And what are you gonna do?" Now that Makayla was asleep… "Huh? Arrest me?" Jesus Christ, you definitely weren't thinking straight, you thought as you watched Jay drop his mop, also spilling all the soapy water on the floor. He even motioned to take care of it but stopped when he realized that you were, now, standing closer. Closer than it was safe for him to be near a woman like you. So he decided to take a step backward, not remembering the floor situation and slipping. As a reflex, you grabbed his shirt when you were obviously not gonna be able to prevent him from falling.

So, you ended up falling with him. On top of him. Oh God, was that living room always so hot? Your thoughts were cut off by Jay's laugh, it was an open-mouthed laugh, just like when you two were interacting with Makayla. He didn't seem to be the kind of guy who got to laugh too much, especially given his job. But it definitely suited his features. His smile, that bright, was so beautiful.

"So you're seriously not even gonna try and get up? Just gonna stay there staring?" Hearing that, you blushed instantly, because you hadn't even realized you were staring.

"Ah, uh… Right." Now, that was your turn to stutter, and Jay was loving every second of it. He thought you looked absolutely adorable like that. Even more so than you had looked all night.

But you weren't feeling adorable at all. You were embarrassed. By the situation at hand, sure, but, also, by your entire behavior that had, pretty much, gotten the two of you in that position. What was going through your head? The answer was simple: nothing. Or, better yet, Jay's gorgeous face, body, and behavior. Just, Jay being gorgeous all night. Now, what really made you wanna dig a hole and jump right into it was when you tried to get up but the floor was so slippery that you just fell back on him.

Needless to say, he was having a playfield. Laughing like there was no tomorrow. In fact, he had relaxed completely under you, laying his head on the soaked floor.

"You know what? This is pretty comfortable. I think I'll stay right here." It was official: you had no self-shame.

"Are you serious?" He asked, trying hard to hold back from laughing.

"Look, I don't know what else to do, okay? And my brain is clearly affected by your little charm, because I just keep mortifying myself over and over-"

"So you think I'm charming, huh?" Damn it. A thousand times damn it.

"Uh… That's not exactly what I-" You couldn't finish your sentence, as Jay started pulling you even closer to him. Kissing you. Oh boy, how he kissed you…

"Oh. My. God." Both you and Jay jumped away from each other, as much as you could, the second you heard Kim say that, her being followed suit by Adam:

"What the hell is that?!?" He half-asked, half-barked at the both of you, trying hard to not burst into laughter.

"Uh, it's, um, it's not what you're thinking, guys-"

"It's not what I'm thinking?!?" Yeah… It was safe to say that Kim was pissed. "Are you sure it isn't? Because the image actually seemed pretty self-explanatory to me!" As the both of you just kept working out a way to get up from the floor, she continued: "I come back home thinking that everything was gonna be perfect because my daughter had two adults babysitting her! People that I thought were quite responsible but, then, I come home to find those very adults making out on the floor in my living room! My very dirty living room! And, by the way, where the hell is Makayla?"

"She, um, she's in her bedroom. Asleep." Jay finally spoke. "And, about the mess… We were just, uh…"

"Yeah, man, we saw what you were just doing," Adam said, looking like he was having the time of his life.

"No! That's not what he was gonna say-"

"Ah, so the two of you got along so well that now you even know what he was going to say, (y/n)?" Kim said, while glaring at you.

"All I meant was that, well, the place got a little dirty…" Jay started to explain but not fast enough.

"A little???" Kim was really, really mad, you realized.

"But dinner was great!" At that, both you and Kim just stared at him incredulously while Adam started laughing on his way to the kitchen.

"That's what you were going to say???" You ask him, not believing you'd just tried to defend him for some joke. "Kim, I'm sorry things ended up this unfruitful…" You began to tell your best friend, to try and patch things up, when Adam chipped in from the other room.

"You know, darling, Jay wasn't wrong! This pizza is great!" He barked, mouth full. And that's what got Kim to go over the edge.

"Don't you realize what just happened here, Adam??? And, you two! I still haven't heard an explanation on what the hell I just saw!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry! We were cleaning up and then it just-"

"It just what, (y/n)??? It just happened? That what you were gonna say?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, it is! It just happened because you and your boyfriend made me babysit with this ridiculously hot guy and I'm human! Now, before you have another crisis, Makayla didn't see anything and I'm leaving because I just humiliated myself more than enough for a lifetime!" With that said, and your flight or flee instinct activated — cause you were never much of a fighter —, you did the smartest thing possible and stormed out of there, hoping to be able to get into some sort of protection program for embarrassment victims.

Meanwhile, Adam and Kim simply had to laugh, even more so when they noticed Jay's shocked twinkling expression.

"Jay! What is wrong with you?" Kim asked, taking him out of his daze.

"What?"

"Go after her! If I hadn't been so upset about the circumstances, I would've been the first one to say that what happened over there?" She asked, pointing to the floor. "What happened there was hot." The officer finished her trail of thought bluntly, as if it was the most obvious thing.

"But… What about your living room?" Jay asked, still unsure of what to do.

"Are you kidding me? Look, Halstead, if you promise not to break her heart… I won't hold it against you." Kim stated, making her stance on the whole matter very clear. She thought it was a good way to start apologizing to you after freaking out like that.

"Uh, uh, alright!" The detective rambled, looking like he had no idea of what to do next.

“Go!” With that last push, he left his friends’ house to go try and get the girl.

“You know, this is quite a mess but they do have the potential to be a great couple!” Adam happily pointed out, as he kept eating all he could find.

“Ha! If she’s as lucky as I am…” Kim ironically muttered, as she watched her boyfriend impolitely shoving food in his mouth.

“Then she’s a very lucky lady!” He confidently stated with a grin while all Kim could do was laugh at his messy childish ways.

Outside burzek's apartment — burzek being the ship name you used to tease Kim and Adam with —, you had been slowly walking towards the subway. You wanted to move faster but your mind was too full at the moment. And, sometimes, when you needed to get your head back on straight, you couldn't really do anything else, having a hard time concentrating on your flow of thoughts.

It was right when you were beginning to think you had stopped the spirals in your mind that you heard him: "(y/n)!" You recognized the detective's voice on the spot. How could you not, after how he had managed to disrupt your thoughts and actions all evening? But you weren't about to turn back around and have your very own movie ending with him. You just knew it wasn't gonna play out like that and decided to keep walking in order to preserve the little dignity you still had. "Oh, c'mon! Just give me a minute! Please!" That pleading made you turn around, to let him down more politely, which ended up with the two of you almost hitting each other. Once again, that same night, he was too close to you. The proximity with his body sending all sorts of heatwaves through yours. He seemed to be feeling it too, given the way he started to look at you, the damn smirk back on his lips.

"Nu-uh. You don't get to look at me like that. Not after what it did to me the first time."

"Huh. Care to elaborate on that? How exactly am I looking at you?" He asked, moving even closer to you altogether. "And, more importantly, what exactly did it do to you?"

"You don't need me to answer any of that." You pointed out, crossing your arms over your chest — clearly going into defensive mode.

"Maybe not," he started, tilting his head slightly — the damn smirks never leaving his face. "But. I'd like to hear it nevertheless."

"Well, you're not going to."

"Ah, okay." Wait, was he really giving up that easily? "Then maybe I can just try and see what it does to you one more time? For the sake of curiosity." All you could think to say was an enthusiastic 'Yes, please!' but, when he started leaning in to kiss you, you seemed to come back to your senses, pushing him away and taking some steps back of your own.

"Oh my God! Don't you get it? We can't be doing this right now. Not after the way I left things with Kim because of our previous, um, actions!" At that, Jay just gave you a confused look. "I stormed out of there but just because I was feeling too ashamed about it all and I honestly don’t think that I want any more embarrassment for a lifetime.

“Okay, okay. I get that but maybe it would feel less embarrassing for you if you knew that I was feeling all of that too: all of that buzzing energy and the goddamn butterflies and everything. You were doing exactly the same I did to you to me. And, as embarrassing as it was to be caught like that by Adam and Kim, I still can’t say I regret any of it. In fact, I was thinking that maybe we could do it again? You know, minus all the mess and the kid 𑁋 I mean, I adore Mak but that would be-” 

You didn’t care to listen to the rest of all he had to say. Instead, you threw yourself into his arms, even making him lose his balance for a second, and started kissing him, except that this time it was a slow, hot, and thought-through kiss. And the second you did kiss him, you heard clapping and whistling from afar, as you turned to find Kim and Adam there, once again witnessing you and Jay kiss. And that had Jay whispering to you:

“Let’s get out of here?” To which you responded simply with a:

“Yes, please!”

[thecuriousquest]

Hiii tyyy and same I love Gojo and geto as well 😭 can I request for either one or both I don’t mind, where they find out reader did something bad or like a maid maybe snitched on reader about sneaking out, so they punish her harshly, but later find out that reader didn’t really do it? And she was being good the whole time and basically got punished for nothing, what would their reactions be? 😩😩 ty sm you can ignore this if you don’t want to write it or something, I read your rules so I hope it’s all okay, ily your work I hope you eat and drink and sleep well <333

Welcome to the Yakuza

Mafia AU Yan!Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader x Yan!Satoru Gojo (Yan!SatoSugu)

Warnings: NSFW (nothing sexual), dark yandere themes, punishments, spanking (with a belt), hair pulling, implied kidnapping, sex implied (nothing sexual actually happens), murder (explicit), character betrayal, 18+ characters

Master List

Note: Thank you so much for the request, Adventurer! I hope you don’t mind the Mafia AU. I just thought it fit better. 🖤🤘

—————————————————————————

When you were snatched and thrusted into this world without knowing what world you were even being thrown into, you were warned multiple times about the top of the clan, and the men who picked you for the tedious job of serving just so happened to be some of the highest ranking members of the Yakuza.

You were supposed to work as a servant girl at first. Standing there and looking pretty while everyone sat at the table and ate dinner. You were just supposed to be eye candy with a small purpose. The maids loved having you around, someone to gossip and chat with, someone to tease in a sisterly way. There aren’t many girls who are picked to work for the Yakuza. Only a handful of girls work as maids, and there’s only one position for a servant girl.

You were the shiny new toy to play with for the other girls…unfortunately, you caught none other than Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto’s eyes, and even they outrank the people who picked you for your current position. And with the snap of his majestic fingers, you were shoved through the doors of a new life.

———

(Weeks later)

Now that you belong to the highest ranking members of the Yakuza, the two men nobody would ever dare to cross, you sit on your bed and chew nervously on the nail of your thumb.

Geto and Gojo walk into the bedroom, Gojo closing the door behind him. The duo is dressed sharply in black suits, and you straighten up your posture upon their intimidating presence.

“So…do you have an answer yet?” Suguru asks.

You’re still confused. You’ve been thinking about it ever since you were sent to your bedroom by Geto because you couldn’t answer his question.

“My answer is still the same. I didn’t leave.”

“Do you hear that, Satoru? She didn’t leave.”

“Well, maybe, we’ll just have to punish the truth out of her,” Gojo responds this time as he walks closer to you.

“No! No, I don’t need to be punished! I swear, I’m telling the truth!”

“Then, tell us why Maki showed us a pair of your shoes with mud all over them. If you didn’t go out yesterday, then why are your boots so dirty?”

Maki, one of the maids you were friends with, one of the girls who you actually enjoyed talking with more than a few times a day…she did something like that to you? You thought she was your friend, a good friend at that!

“I…I don’t know how they got muddy, but I swear, I didn’t leave! I would never go outside without your permission. I know I’m not allowed. I know the consequences. Please, I promise!”

Disappointment crosses the features of both men, however, Geto looks slightly agitated as well because he can’t get you to be honest.

It’s Gojo that doesn’t have any trouble following through. If you won’t be candid with your answer, then he’ll just have to make you.

His hands reach for the buckle of his belt. You hear it clink and jingle as he unfastens the leather strap around his waist. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his preferred implement pull through the loops of his black pants.

Folding it in half, he snaps it to get your attention. He looks down at you with those celestial orbs, a captivating and surreal blue that you could never imagine would belong to a man with such vicious intent.

“Satoru…I didn’t, I swear,” it’s a small whisper. You hope that he can hear it.

“How did your shoes get muddy, then? Just tell us.”

“I don’t know!” Frustration, desperation, it all comes tumbling out of your mouth, and as soon as it does, you’re crying hoarsely with Geto’s hands on you.

He forces you to turn over on your stomach, holding you down because he knows you won’t stay put if he doesn’t. The dark haired man is bigger than you, stronger, fiercer. When he sets his mind to something, he sees through until the very end.

Your punishment was already decided before they even walked in here. You stood no chance. Your choice was either to be truthful and take an easier spanking or try and weasel your way out by lying and taking a more severe whipping.

Whipping it is.

You cry out, pounding your fists against the mattress. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t! I swear on my life!”

Geto hushes you, curling his fingers underneath the short hem of your dress and pulling it up to your back. His palm brushes the soft swell of your ass, giving a gentle squeeze just before tugging down your panties. He has the pleasure of watching both your facial features twist in pain as well as seeing your bottom jiggle with each strike of the belt.

Satoru doesn’t make any type of expression. He keeps on a mask of neutrality with every lash he gives you. Though he is tough in nature, you bring out a soft spot in his heart. He finds no joy in this, none whatsoever. He’s only doing this because he has to, and he is going to drive this lesson through your brain because he absolutely hates hurting his precious gem like this.

They both feel as though you deserve it, and whereas Satoru doesn’t exactly like putting you through so much pain, a part of him does feel a sense of satisfaction in making you pay for disobeying and lying.

You clutch the silk sheets in your fists, screaming at the top of your lungs as the leather whips the crest of your butt. You squeeze your red and watery eyes shut as you kick your feet from the agonizing sting building up.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“What are you sorry for?” Suguru asks as he grips your hair at the crown of your head and pulls it back. “Are you sorry for sneaking out and trying to lie about it?”

At this point, you’ll say anything to make it stop…even if it means swallowing your pride and admitting to something you didn’t do.

“Yes, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for disobeying and lying! I won’t do it again!”

It’s not fair, but it doesn’t have to be. These are two men who get whatever they want whenever they want it. As much as it hurts your heart that they don’t believe you, there isn’t much you can do about it.

Ten strokes of the belt go by, and Satoru throws it down on the bed. He stands there, looking down at you and Suguru.

Geto finally releases your hair, and you drop your head back down to the mattress out of exhaustion and misery.

“Do you understand what happens now when you lie and go against our rules? You put your safety at risk by going out there!” The white haired man scolds.

You sob into the mattress, nodding your head along to his lecture while Suguru rubs your back in an attempt to calm you down.

When you can finally take in deep breaths without your lungs rattling and shaking, Geto speaks for both himself and Gojo, “Now…you’ve really displeased us tonight. How do you plan to make it up to us?”

“I’ll serve you both well.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will.”

You look up at both of them as they start removing their shirts.

———

(Four days later)

It’s raining in Japan, but Suguru has to go out and attend to some business. It’s unavoidable. He’s been putting it off for a while now, and he just can’t keep pushing back this meeting anymore. Sighing as he readies his umbrella, he puts his leather gloves on and walks through the garden.

As he checks his phone, his black dress shoe bumps into something, and he is forced to take a step back. He looks down and sees a young maid on the small pathway of the garden. She’s kneeling, and…appears to be rubbing mud on your shoes.

“Maki…what…what are you doing with Y/N’s boots?”

Never in a million years could he have imagined this. Maki was always such a loyal and dedicated worker. As he puts two and two together, he can’t help but deem this act unforgivable. No, her fate has already been decided. No matter what she says, she won’t be able to worm her way out of this.

Maki notices the realization pass over Suguru’s features. She knows there’s no use lying.

Gritting her teeth, the green haired maid stands up, leaving your boots in the mud.

“She was new…here for…what? A month? I’ve been here for two years.” Tears begin welling up in her eyes. “Why? Why did you choose her over me? Mr. Geto, please, tell me!”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? You clean toilets, vomit, and blood for a living. That’s your job. It doesn’t matter to me how long you worked here. You’re not interesting to me. You’re…plain and boring.”

Maki clenches her fists in anger and growls in frustration. “But she-“

“Y/N wasn’t just good at her job and diligent, she stood out, and she obviously did a better job than you if she managed to catch Gojo’s attention as a serving girl. And if I recall, you were supposed to be friends with her. So you did all of this out of petty jealousy? Well, Ms. Zen’in, it seems as though I punished the wrong person, and you have some atoning to do.”

Disregarding his umbrella in the garden, he grabs Maki by the scruff of her collar and drags her inside. Her fitting uniform clinging to her curves as Suguru pushes the doors of Gojo’s office open and shoving her inside so roughly that she falls on her hands and knees.

You just happen to be in there as well, kneeling by Gojo’s feet so that he can absentmindedly pet your head.

He looks up past his sunglasses, giving his partner in crime a curious glance. “What’s the maid doing here?”

“She lied about Y/N.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide, his brows raising as he sits up in his chair.

Maki has the decency to stay in a kneeling position, though she can’t help but glare at you with malice churning in her heart, rage roiling in her stomach. She full heartedly believes she deserves to be kneeling at Gojo’s feet right now. It should be her in Suguru’s bed. It should be her wearing the most expensive dresses and jewelry the two highest ranking Yakuza men can offer. She deserves it more than you.

“What happened? Did she say something?” Satoru can’t help but ask.

“I found her spreading mud on Y/N’s shoes in the garden when I was on my way to a meeting.”

His heavenly eyes fall on you, that rich blue sparkling and shining like a galaxy bores into you. He puts a hand on your shoulder, turning your attention to him.

“You really were telling the truth yesterday?”

All you can manage is a small nod, not really trusting your voice with how everyone in the room is looking at you, especially Maki.

Gojo picks you up under your arms and sits you on his lap, careful to set your bottom between his thighs so as not to put pressure on your rear. He hugs you closely and apologizes profusely, never having experienced such guilt before.

And Geto…Geto feels guilt as well, but it comes out in the form of anger. He kicks Maki in the stomach right in front of you and pulls out his gun, pointing it straight at Maki’s head.

“I believe I told you that you have some atoning to do, Ms. Zen’in. You should really start apologizing.”

He cocks the magazine and walks over to the maid, making sure the barrel of the gun nuzzles nicely against her green hair.

You watch as her expression of bitter hatred is instantaneously replaced with one of trepidation.

“Mr. Geto, M-Mr. Gojo, I am so sorry for my behavior. I promise, it won’t ever happen again. Please, please, don’t kill me!”

Tears rise, spilling over the bottoms of her lashes. All you can do is watch with a similar expression of horror as your lips part, your eyes never once blinking as your mind rapidly tries to process the events before you.

Maki on her hands and knees. Maki with a gun to her head. Geto standing behind her. Geto holding the gun to her head. She’s begging, you’re silently begging for nothing to happen.

Please, please, God, let everything go back to normal. Please, let me wake up from this sick nightmare!

“You betrayed us, betrayed Y/N, in one of the worst ways possible. You’re really asking for mercy from us before even apologizing to her?”

Her golden eyes shift up to look at you, and you can sense her hesitation. All she has to do is apologize, and her life will be spared. She’ll be okay if she just says “I’m sorry”.

“Maki…please…just do what he wants-“

Gojo immediately quiets you, telling you to be silent, ordering you to just watch.

“Well, Ms. Zen’in?” Suguru asks as he presses the gun further against the back of her head.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry for trying to destroy your relationship with Mr. Gojo and Mr. Geto, Y/N.”

“That’s Ms. L/N to you right now, Ms. Zen’in,” comes the cold reply of the steely man right behind Maki. “And very good, you apologized. All is well now.”

Maki sighs in relief. You hear it, you see it. A shot in the room rings out, and Maki never expected it. Your fingers cling to Gojo’s arm, and you can hear screaming in the room only to realize moments later that it’s your own shrill voice.

Her golden eyes, wide and lifeless. The blood, like a river of crimson. It’s burned into your psyche, ingrained in there forever.

You’ve never witnessed death before, especially not the death of someone you had once considered a friend. You thought everything would be okay if she just apologized, you thought she would live! Why did you think these two ruthless Yakuza men would let her live after what she did to you?

“Why?! Why did you do that?!”

You can’t help but try to squirm off of Gojo’s lap as he holds you closely.

Suguru uses a cloth to clean the blood spatter and brain matter off of his black gun. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Oh, poor thing. I forgot, you’re not used to seeing things like this. Anyway, I thought it would be better if you witnessed her punishment. It was only fair after what she did to you.”

“Should’ve whipped her first before killing the bitch,” Gojo mutters as he tries to comfort you, hugging you to his chest so that you can’t wriggle away from him.

That only makes you feel even more uncomfortable. It makes you panic even more. What the actual fuck is wrong with these two?

“Good idea. I’ll keep that in mind if something like this ever happens again.”

That…is extremely unsettling.

You hide your face in Gojo’s chest, trying to no longer look at the corpse splayed on the floor with a bullet in her head. You clutch the lapels of his suit, feeling like you’re about to start dry heaving. Tears profusely dribble down your cheeks as you sob.

Suguru finally puts his gun away in his holster. Walking over to you, he puts a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to look up at him.

“Everything’s going to be okay now. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you. Come on. Let’s get out of here so we can take care of you.”

Gojo nods and brushes my hair out of my face as I keep my face hidden against him. “That sounds like a good idea. Why don’t you close your eyes? I’ll tell you when to open them.”

He stands up and leaves with Geto. Despite his warning, you can’t help but peek over his shoulder, your eyes linger on your dead friend until the door shuts, blocking your teary-eyed view of her completely.

This is what things are going to be like now. Welcome to your new life in the Yakuza.

[randombush3]

revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

the second half of this part (it didn't fit in one post lol)

words: it's over 14k. i had lots to say.

summary: the final part, which originally had a different ending but i was told it was evil so i changed it.

warnings: it's mainly just sad, there's a bit of smut though

notes: i could give you so many excuses as to why this is being posted now but no one wants to read that so i'll just say sorry x

anyway, i got very lost along the way at points and had some serious plot crises that had me tearing my hair out. i researched children's behaviour to the point of needing an honourory qualification, and i spent the last three hours ignoring my girlfriend while i finished this off.

for as much as i put these two through (and myself tbh), i'm sad to finish it off. BUT ALSO NOW IM FREE.

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

London smells of dirty rain and exhaust fumes, of a homelessness crisis and inflation attempting to impersonate that of the Weimar Republic; greyish streets, cracks in the pavement, thousands of spices from all over the world. Grubby patterns, hidden by the smudging of millions of bottoms, coloured poles that used to match the train line but no longer do. You breathe it all in, eyes closed as the motion of the underground jerks you sideways, the train leaving London Bridge just as you left Barcelona. Without looking back. 

You had laughed when they told you they’d send a driver to get you from the airport. The luxury of some shiny black car held no appeal when compared to the familiar Northern line, its blackened route well-travelled and your own brick-road home. 

Part of this choice to ‘slum it’ is borne of your desire to return to the past; a time before the fame and the fortune, when camera flashes came from your parents’ Sony Cyber-shot and not paparazzos with a hunger to splash you across the front page of a slimy gossip magazine. There was no Alexia, then. The extent of Spanish in your life was Anya studying for her A-levels, and you’d spend time writing songs without it feeling like pulling teeth. Without having to relive some of the worst moments of your life. 

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then. 

Your London shows are in Wembley. Two nights, two journeys through your album, through your heartbreak. Both are sold out. 

“See it, say it, sorted,” you mouth along to the voice, pushing the handle of your suitcase upwards, rising from your seat. The doors of the tube swoosh open, the yellow line of the platform attacking your tired eyes as Highgate station is revealed to you. You hear a whisper of ‘is that Y/n L/n?’ but you don’t turn around. 

The wheels of your suitcase gurgle against the bumpy pavement leading up to your house, but they grow quieter as you approach. They must sense the tension, glad to have the smoother surface of your driveway to move across as you force yourself to continue walking forwards. 

A woman is standing on your porch. Her body swivels around as she hears you stop just behind her. 

Leah takes in the sight of you, deciding that you definitely did not enjoy Barcelona. “I was just about to ring the doorbell, but I guess you wouldn’t have answered the door anyway,” she says with an awkward chuckle, not sure if you want to talk about how rough you look. You cried the entire flight, and refused to contact anyone once you had landed, hoping they assumed your plane had crashed and you had drowned somewhere in the English Channel. 

“I got here in the morning.” Your voice is unused. It croaks, shattered. 

“Let me get your bag?” asks Leah, rather firmly, leaving you no room to decline her request before she has stepped off the porch and into your personal space. She looks up at you, wondering how you manage to look so beautiful even now, hand blindly reaching out for the hard shell of your suitcase as she stares. “How’re Nico and–” 

Your lips silence her before she is finished. Leah freezes, surprised this is the moment you have chosen to kiss her.

But she misses you as soon as you pull away. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and she cringes at the self-loathing that drips from your words. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you are unsure whether it falls because you have kissed her or because you want to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

You must have argued with Alexia. Leah’s realisation weighs heavy on her heart. Something has to have happened for you to have made your move, because Leah had been starting to accept the idea that you were still in love with your ex and she was nothing more than a friend. She had been looking forward to your concert tonight, in all honesty, and was excited to see you again, glad to have you in her life in any way, shape, or form.

“Because,” she starts hesitantly, “because you didn’t like it? Or…” 

“Leah.” 

“If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Leah,” you repeat, the vowels almost failing to drop from the tip of your tongue. This is a dangerous game, but the look in Leah’s blue eyes tells you that she is happy to play it. “Leah, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you?” 

“Is that a question?” 

You blink. “I’m not sure.” 

“If it’s a question, I’d say that the answer is the opposite. And that we should go inside.” She slides her hand over the metal handle of your suitcase, warm skin covering your fingers where your grip is still curled around it. “But only if you want to.” 

Do you want to? 

You value your friendship, you really do; Leah has been there for you many times since you met her, never asking too many questions. She means something more than what you crave from her, and doesn’t deserve to be the woman you use to detach yourself from reality. 

But Leah is looking at you with desire that has been missed, relentlessness promised by her toned muscles. Leah is looking at you as though you are the only star in the galaxy or the sun on a rainy day. Leah is looking at you like she wants to devour you, and you, with no soul left to give, resign to letting her have your body.

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that. 

“Course not,” Leah lies. 

You let it convince the both of you. 

Pink glitter covers the dining table at one end, and shiny green stars are scattered on top of the brown grain of the wood on the other.

“She might be at soundchek,” Alexia explains to Nico, who is finished with his Mother’s Day creation and is now intent on FaceTiming you to show you the card he has made. “And cards are supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we made envelopes!” 

“But you said my card should be put in a museum,” he replies with a frown, his nose crinkling in confusion just as yours does. “So we show her now.” 

“Mi amor, that’s not how it works,” laughs Alexia, reaching out to ruffle his hair. With Elena settled comfortably on her healthy knee, gleefully pushing piles of glitter around so that it mixes with the glue smeared on her card, it is safe to say that this year’s cards are going to be successes. “Mama has promised to call when she gets home, and you can tell her that you have a surprise for her. That will build up the excitement, and make it even better when she gets to open it.” 

Your son has become a cynic. “And when will that be?” 

“Mother’s Day is on the 19th, so we have three days to wait.” You have purposely chosen a chartered route to Tokyo that flies via Barcelona so that you get to spend the day with your children before your fortnight in Asia to end the first half of the tour. “Do you want to write the words out for Lela once the glue has dried?” 

“I don’t know what Lela wants me to say,” he explains with great concern, turning to his sister with a very serious expression. He speaks to her in English, because he knows that this card is for you. He understands that there are two Mother’s Days, though he thinks it’s because he has two mothers, and that Alexia’s day is in May. When Alexia opens her mouth to speak, Nico is quick to shut her down. “Calla, Mami, no sabes nada de inglés.”

Your legs slam together but find no available route with Leah’s body in between them. 

It feels… good. 

Liberating.

You haven’t brought her into your bed, which she notices but doesn’t comment on. It’s excusable to be on the sofa, to have stayed downstairs for the hours she has spent trying to make you feel better, because the clock has only just ticked its way to lunchtime. You laugh to yourself at the thought of that, amused by the notion that you have already eaten.

Leah is curious when it comes to you. That much you had expected, having been aware of her lingering gazes long before the sores on your heart had calloused into tougher muscle. She has been waiting for this resiliently, and you present yourself to her as though you are a new toy she finally gets to play with. She kisses you slowly at times, to memorise the warmth of your tongue or the jut of your chin, but she often grows impatient, wanting nothing more than to end her torture and find out what it is like. 

What is it like to have a woman like you? To wake up next to you, kiss you, touch you? 

How does your mind work? What do you smell like just after getting out of the shower? Does your accent ever slip, or is it really that posh? 

The air in the living room is hazy now, and your eyes close in bliss as you let your sweat seep into the grainy fabric of your white sofa. Leah doesn’t crawl into your open arms as you assume she will. 

She wipes her mouth. 

Although Leah has enjoyed this very much, she knows that this instance has not been you allowing her to start to love you. It has been for her to help you forget how much pain you are in. Somewhere deep down, she cares, but she doesn’t try to search for the emotion.

“So,” she says with a giggle, as if you are two teenage girls, best friends who have decided to kiss so that they can practise for the real thing, “do I need to send an apology present to your makeup artist?” Sitting back on her knees, she swipes one hand down to pluck her t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on top of her naked body before sending you an exaggerated smirk and prodding the developing bruise on your neck.

“Fuck,” you groan, batting her hand away. “I completely forgot I had that thing tonight.” You also need to call your children before Alexia bans your name from her household (if that hasn’t happened already). 

“That ‘thing’ being your concert at Wembley?” 

“I’d have thought selling out Wembley is the norm for you now, Captain,” you tease, clearing your throat. “England have done it, Champions of Europe for the very first time.” 

“You’re freakishly good at a commentator’s voice.” 

“Gotten used to being my own commentator. Only Spanish streams in my house – even United matches!” You smile at your own frustration but it quickly sours as awkwardness drops on top of you. You bring your arms up to cover your bare chest, but Leah clears her throat with softened eyes and you no longer feel so exposed. 

You feel safe.

“What happened in Barcelona?” You shake your head at her question. “That bad, huh?” she presses. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you tell her, grey clouds hanging over you as your voice darkens and lowers. “Like, at all.” 

“I think you should. It’s better it comes out now than later when you’ve had lots to drink and no idea who you’re ranting about it to, isn’t it? And it’s just me; I’m not going to judge you.” 

“But you know her. You know her friends.” Your hands move to cover your face. Leah can have your body, but you don’t want her to have your tears. “Thank you for caring, babe, but I think I’m going to handle this one on my own.” 

“Well, you know that–” 

“You’re always a phone call away.” You smile, tears sucked back inside you, bottled away in glassware you store in crates labelled ‘VERY FRAGILE’. Desperate to change the subject, you adjust your position on the sofa, sitting up. Leah tries very hard not to stare at the curves of your chest. “You know, Lee, I never thought you’d be that good in bed.” 

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice. 

Her muscles contract and relax, the tissues pulling on her bone, which, in turn, pulls her. She is strung along, driven perhaps by her leap in recovery and impending comeback. She almost breaks out into a jog, but the church she has dragged herself to comes into view before she can gain speed. 

She had not expected this from herself. 

It’s nothing special to her, though she will admit that the architecture of the building does hold some sense of divinity, but the heavy wooden door is propped open and she is drawn inside. 

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30. 

Alexia checks her watch, the golden links gleaming on her wrist, catching the sunlight that filters in through the glass windows. 

She catches a glimpse of white behind the doors of the Confession booth, becoming acutely aware of how empty the church is. The curtain has been pulled back, bunched to the left-hand side carefully, as though the previous handler had moved with peace. 

It can’t be that bad, can it? 

It’s just like therapy. 

Her feet carry her forwards once more, leading her into the wooden booth. It smells old. The cushion she kneels on is blue, she thinks, but she cannot tell because it goes dark once she pulls the curtain shut. 

Alexia is not a religious person. Sure, she signs the cross before stepping onto the pitch, and, like most people she knows, she is baptised, but her faith is limited to that. When she tore her ACL, she spent evenings trying to pray, trying to force her to believe in Him. It would have been comforting to know that someone had a plan for her, was watching over her carefully with the knowledge of how it was going to play out. It was to no avail. 

But somehow she knows what to say, and so she does. 

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She recites the words like lines from a play, head bowed in shame as she writes her next sentences in her mind. “This is my first and, probably, my last confession.” 

Silence. 

She rests her hands in her lap, shuffling around to ensure she is not pressing down on her knee in any way that is harmful. It would kill her to have to push back her return to the pitch because of some stupid thing she has spontaneously chucked herself into. 

“I messed up.” She laughs. “No, that is actually an understatement. I know this is a church and I really shouldn’t swear, but I fucked up. Father, I had Heaven in my hands and I threw it away as though it were meaningless. Was it greed? Was it greed that led me to do it?” 

“Do what, my daughter?” 

The priest sounds younger than she’d thought he would be. 

“I had an affair with a woman whom I am certain I do love a little bit, but, by doing that, I destroyed a life that was perfect. Was it greed?” 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

“Was it temptation?” Alexia tries again, desperately. Part of her yearns for the priest to tell her it was the Devil so that she can shed the responsibility. “I love my wife. More than anything, I love her. I do not think my own life is worth living if it is not in service to her, to our children, to the smile she reserves for her favourite people. I… I didn’t attempt it, but I thought about killing myself.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Only once, but I thought it all the same. My sister called me selfish.

“It’s just – forgive me – fucked, isn’t it? I got carried away. I got lonely, I was alone. I craved something to make me forget, to pinch the gaping hole in my life shut. I relied on it to make me feel better, and it did for a time. But now it has made me feel much, much worse.

“And I am sorry! I am so, so sorry. I have grown sick of the word; I’ve used it so much that it holds no meaning anymore. It doesn’t do my regret justice, nor my quest for forgiveness, and I’m really on that quest, Father, I want to stress that to you. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said – things I don’t even believe – but I did not mean them then, and I do not mean them now.” 

“You are not religious,” accuses the priest, very gently. His voice washes over Alexia’s ears like a wave of warm saltwater from the Mediterranean, and she feels comfortable enough to swim into the expanse in front of her. “Our God is forgiving, but it is not His forgiveness that you seek. I cannot give you a prayer that will make her absolve your sins, because our holy words are not spells.” 

“Father,” croaks Alexia. As her lips part, she tastes the saltwater of the sea, dripping down her cheeks as though the tide has come in and there is no other option than for her to be flooded. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do.” 

The priest speaks, but she assigns the voice to someone else. 

The first thing you forget about a person is what their voice sounds like. It lingers like a feeling you can’t quite name; distant, distorted, enhanced by fantasy.

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice. 

The realisation is crushing. 

She knows his words – they are her prayers – but, like Catholics do not know the voice of their God, she can no longer hear the voice of hers. 

What would her father say if he saw her like this? On her knees in a Confession booth, backed against the wall with nowhere to hide?

This is not the girl he was proud of. Alexia, of course, is not that eighteen-year-old anymore; she hasn’t been for a decade. But, recently, the legacy of that unknown Levante player has disappeared. 

Alexia is so very lost. 

She does not know where she is in her own city. In her home. 

She does not know her place in her life, much less her place in yours – if you will still grant her one. 

She has not felt the thrill of football for months, has driven herself to Hell and back, and considered giving up enough to be on the brink of actually doing it. 

She has seen countless meals hit the water of her toilet, never digested, never deserving of the very thing that keeps her alive. 

She has counted your sacrifices, memorising the digits of an ongoing figure so that she can punish herself with the knowledge. 

She has tried to forget English, tried to improve her English, and taken vows of silence. 

She has cried and cried and cried until the only thing left for her to excrete is her hot, red blood. 

She has searched for a way out of the maze. She has failed every time. 

Alexia is lost without you, and she knows it. Everyone knows it, perhaps even you yourself. Do you revel in that fact? Do you enjoy it? 

You have a right to watch her suffer. You do, you do, you do. 

Alexia runs a hand through her damp hair, sweating as she sobs in the booth next to some stranger who she will never meet again. Her mouth is dry but her cries are wet and raw, and they scrape her throat as she chokes them out, losing her breath and falling silent only to catch it and begin again. The cushion burns her knees as though she is trapped in an inferno, the darkness blazing against her skin. 

The priest talks to her for a long time, not letting her leave until she has calmed down. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her palm before softly pressing her thumbs to her blotchy cheeks to clear the final tears from them. 

When he is finished, he instructs her to take a few deep breaths, which she does. “You are not entitled to her forgiveness,” he reminds her. He begins the Prayer of Absolution – he insists for the sake of closure – and Alexia walks away from the church no more than five minutes later. 

She is still stuck in the maze, but she has restored that voice in her head that she knows will help her find her way out.

…

“So you went to church?” Olga asks with an amused smile, taking the first sip of her latte, relishing in the gentle burn of the liquid. She needs this coffee; she stayed up late last night because she knew Alexia has been struggling. There is nothing worse than being asleep when Alexia calls her for help. 

“I have no idea how I ended up there,” Alexia explains, somewhat defensive about yesterday’s catharsis. “Confession is way better than therapy. There is too much accountability in therapy.” 

“You have a lot to account for.” 

She huffs out a breath, taking a sip of her own drink. “I know, Olga, but I cannot change the past, so what would you like me to do?” Olga doesn’t reply. The brunette parts her lips, but promptly closes her mouth when she sees Alexia’s slight discomfort. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. I… I do too.” 

Olga’s smile is big and genuine. “I’d love that,” she answers. “Eli is the best cook out of our friends’ parents. Everyone knows that.” 

You’re in London, childless, and are watching the grand old Arsenal play (reluctantly, forced to by Leah if anything). Alexia has seen the pictures of you at the match on Instagram; she has already felt the frustration that you are most-likely never going to watch Barcelona play again unless it is to support the other team. Like clockwork, Alexia seeks to fill the gaping hole you have left in her life. Somewhere, somehow, the lines of friendship between her and Olga have blurred. 

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack. 

You appear in London every two weeks, attending meetings and events, but she has decided, once and for all, to see through your excuses. You come to London for her. She knows that, and so do you. Leah’s ego has not reached a size where she believes she is enough for you, but the facts (and Lia Wälti) tell her she is wrong. 

Except, what Leah tends to leave out is that no matter how many times you let her sleep with you, she still is unable to access a certain part of your mind. 

She has never been upstairs in your house because you always prefer to go to her place in St. Albans. She has never slept in your bed, nor woken up next to you. 

You talk to her like she is still the same old Leah, the captain you befriended during the tournament of her lifetime, your entrance in her life intertwined with the ecstasy of winning the Euros. She closes her eyes and thinks of how you looked that summer; white England shirt, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes. Smiling, cheering. For her, she greedily claims to herself.

Sometimes, in her mind, you lift your sunglasses – you always seem to be crying when she pictures this – but Leah is only vaguely familiar with the timeline of your divorce. This is the issue.

There is a door that you have locked and refuse to let Leah find the key. It leads to heartbreak, to Nico and Elena, to a family you once had. 

“I wish you would let me in,” Leah says one day. (The day she cracks.) She tears her ACL two days prior, something that makes you feel guiltily nauseous, and you have come to visit her. She knows that you had flown over the minute you had swapped custody with Alexia. 

Your legs curl into your chest as you try to reduce the amount of space you are taking up on Leah’s sofa, cautious of her injured knee. Leah misses the warmth of your thighs, and wants to revoke her conversation starter instantly, pained that she has to even ignite the fire of this forbidden topic. “What do you mean?” comes your quiet reply, unwilling to disturb the peace of her living room. The peace of existing side-by-side. 

“Exactly what I said.” Leah nods to emphasise her agreement with herself. “I wish you would let me in, because how do you expect me to love you if I don’t know you?” 

She sees the bullet fly through the air; she sees the moment it hits you, the way you go rigid. Dead. Dying? 

“It’s crazy because it usually takes years for me to feel about someone the way I feel about you, and I just… I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to let me in. I want to hear everything, to know everything.” 

“Oh.” What had you expected when you kissed her? “Oh, Leah.” 

“You don’t have to apologise.” She assigns your guilt, the tears in your eyes, to your distance. Perhaps you hadn’t realised, perhaps it is a coincidence Leah has never slept in the bed you used to share with Alexia. Maybe you are unaware that Leah has never heard you speak Spanish, and doesn’t know a single thing about your life in Barcelona. 

You’re a busy person, after all. 

“No, no,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. Leah can’t help but wonder if the paranoid voice in her head is right; has she been reading too much into this? “Fuck, I am such a twat.” 

But you don’t elaborate further, asking how she’s feeling, distracting her from your realisation about her realisation. Before Leah knows it, you are making her laugh harder than she has in a month, and soon, like most good things, your visit comes to an end. 

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird. 

You feel as though you have done nothing but check over your shoulder the entire journey, staring the past straight in the eye and wishing you could change it. 

You hadn’t meant to make her fall in love with you. (But she has. Oh, she has.) 

This week’s swap is no different; the same park as usual, the same pleasant weather to undergo an unpleasant task. 

On the bench usually occupied by Olga, a different, blonder head comes into view. 

“Irene?” you ask in surprise, wondering if she has been sent in Olga’s stead or just so happens to have brought Mateo, her son, to the very same park. You sit down beside her, somewhat pleased to not see Alexia’s henchwoman today. “Where’s the free childcare?” 

The defender’s eyes narrow, as though she is debating whether or not she should tell you. 

Irene has known Alexia for a long time, and, by extension, has known you for a long time too. She is calm, level-headed, and mature, much like Alexia. Except Irene hasn’t ever thought to cheat on her wife. 

You are clearly in a lot of pain, and you have a right to be; Irene does not rise to your comment. “Olga has gone on holiday,” she states with practised neutrality. 

“Ah, they’ve broken up.” 

Eyebrows raised, she turns to you, breaking her line of sight that encompasses Nico, Mateo, and Elena. The playground is small enough, and very safe. “They were never together.” You wait patiently for her analysis of whatever the fuck was going on between them. “Olga said she wasn’t what Alexia needed. She’s on holiday with Carla, and I guess she is quite upset.” 

“And Alexia?” You know Irene does not like to gossip, nor stir the pot. So you can be nosy about how she is doing. 

“I think her ego was bruised, but she sees Olga’s point. She has been… better recently. She’s focused on getting back onto the pitch, and Jona is only saying good things about it.” Irene’s eyes brighten at the thought of her captain’s recovery, and her tone soars through the air. The entire team has worried for Alexia, spending their own nights tossing and turning, wondering if the old version of her will ever return. “I know you two don’t speak, but if you did, you’d get a glimpse of what it was like before.”

You can’t help your smile, and Irene does not make you feel pathetic for wearing it. “Good.” 

“I heard you were in London?” 

“Visiting a… friend.” Irene is not a gossip, you remind yourself. “I think I might have to stay in this country for a bit and let things cool down over there.” 

She chuckles. “Whose heart have you broken?” She won’t tell Alexia, when Alexia inevitably asks about you, that you are seeing someone. Not that you have confirmed that to her. 

“I’m yet to break it,” you tell her, sighing, “but I know I will, and that is much, much worse.”

“Hey, at least you have two weeks of being endlessly busy to keep your mind off it.”

Children change a lot in two weeks, so Irene then launches into an update on school, clubs, and everything else. She gets the information from Alexia, of course, who writes out a list every time you switch over. No one has ever handed you the piece of paper before, worried that her handwriting will be an unnecessary reminder of the pain she has caused you, but, for some reason, Irene does today.

You are not put off by the swirling Spanish in front of you, instead choosing to study it. You have spent hours in Alexia’s lap as she scrawls out football notes upon football notes, scribbling prompted by footage or, freakishly, her own memory. From the lightness of the indentations of the pen, you figure that Alexia is exhausted. From the half-finished sentences, you decide that she was rushing when she wrote this. 

But, as much as you delight in your brief analysis of the evidence in your palms like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, you can’t ignore just how greatly you have missed the letters that swim between the lines (and the hand from which they were written). 

Irene spares you your dignity by standing from the bench and checking on the children just as your tears begin to fall. 

…

You take one last look in the mirror embedded in the sun visor, ensuring your hair is perfectly in place and your earrings match your cream, sleeveless turtleneck to poise you just between casual and smartly-dressed. A quiet grumble from the backseat draws your attention away from your reflection, though your last glimpse at your concealed eyebags and red-rimmed irises leaves you feeling a little dejected and mourning the days you’d actually get some sleep. (Or wouldn’t, smoking cigarettes on the balcony while talking Alexia’s ear off.) 

“Mama, we go,” decides Elena with a huff, tugging on the buckle of her car seat. 

It’s Nico’s first-ever recital tonight. 

He started playing the piano in September, when his teacher at school had mentioned how he boasted to the children in his class that he was a musician: ‘if I am Catalan because my mami is Catalan, then I am musician because my mami is musician’. You felt guilty. His teacher says he is naturally talented, voice lacking surprise but praiseful nonetheless, and is proud to name Nico his youngest student at tonight’s show. 

The bouquet of daisies you ask Elena to hold makes her look like a miniature carnival float, and she toddles into the venue by your side while you do mental gymnastics between the knowledge that Alexia will be here tonight and the nerves for your son’s performance. It’s nothing complicated, but you worry he will hate it. This is the only thing he does that is a nod towards you; his one deviation from his worship of Alexia. 

“Mami!” squeals the walking flowers as soon as you make it to the half-full hall. You direct your gaze to the three rows your daughter refers to, every seat lined with either professional footballers or family. With a sudden rush of blood to your head, you feel out of your depth.

You’re not sure whether the hazel eyes that find yours help or worsen that. 

“Keep it moving,” you mutter firmly, holding her hand so she does not make a break for it and tumble right over to the cohort of FC Barcelona and Seguras. Not wanting to get too close to them, you take your seat in the penultimate row, knowing Nico will not be able to see you over the grand piano set up on the stage wherever you sit. “You can talk to her later, sweetheart.” 

She is in an obedient mood, most-likely intimidated by the tension in the air. You tell yourself it’s the stress radiating from the line of performers sitting on the front row. Nico stands on his chair, waving first to Alexia and then to you (it’s your turn with them so you are a lot less exciting right now), before he is lightly scolded by his teacher and the first child walks up the steps and onto the stage. 

Five uninspiring children later, Nico is finally led up onto the stage. His teacher sits down on the piano stool and nudges him forwards. He smiles brightly at the room. You reciprocate, encouraging Elena to do the same to keep her engaged with an admittedly boring event. 

“Bona nit a tothom! Jo sóc en Nicolau i tinc quatre anys i ara aniré a tocar ‘Brillia Brillia Estel Petit’.” The audience melts before him. “Mama, that means ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’,” he whispers loudly. 

You send him a thumbs up. He sends you a grin back, before giggling as he climbs onto the piano stool beside his teacher. 

Situated comfortably, feet dangling adorably far away from the pedals, his chubby, little fingers hit the ivory keys once, then twice. 

You pray this goes well. 

It does. 

He plays with two hands, something you hadn’t expected, and Elena holds in her noisy yawn until after he is finished so she must have been invested in the performance. Your own hands sting after you clap with such prideful force that you are the loudest in the room, and the hoots and hollers from Alexia’s territory only make Nico even happier as he bounces down the steps and back to his seat to wait for the others to do their pieces. 

After the recital has finished, you walk down the aisle separating the seats in half to get to Nico, daughter-less courtesy of a squadron of football-playing kidnappers. 

“How was that?” you ask him smugly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “I knew you would be brilliant, even when you were scared you weren’t going to be. Do you know how proud I am of you?” 

“This much?” He holds his hand about thirty centimetres apart. “Mami says this much.” 

When he widens his hands, you gesture something even bigger. 

“‘Immensely’ is the word I would use.” 

“Im-men-lee?” 

“Es que nuestro orgullo llena una casa sin techo. Hasta el cielo.” 

“Up to the sun,” you amend, ignoring the way the voice has made you stiffen. You don’t read too much into her misuse of the collective pronoun. There is no ‘our’ in ‘affair’.

Alexia’s hand hovers by your waist for a moment, muscle memory getting the better of her before she draws it back into her body. Nico gives her a matching hug, telling her how much he has missed her. 

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood. 

“You were amazing, petit,” Alexia says, picking him up with one strong arm and settling him on her hip. You grip the wrapper of the bouquet you are holding. “Did Mama get you a gift?” 

He peers at the daisies in your hand with curiosity. Shaking his head, his confusion deepens as he studies the bouquet you are extending towards him. “They are for Mami? Flowers are for love.” 

“I love you,” you tell him, not trying to make a point but instinctively prickling in the presence of Alexia.

The silence is awkward. 

A few metres away, whilst entertaining the sleepy toddler on her lap, Mapi is excitedly talking to Alba. “Y/n hasn’t killed her yet,” says the defender with glee, one of your admirers. The team respected you before, never questioning their captain’s judgement nor family, but when word got out about the affair amongst the older girls, most of them began to see you as more than Alexia’s wife. A new layer to your character was revealed; you are a strong, independent, and successful woman. Football nerds sometimes forget success comes in more forms than blaugrana kits. “They made such a beautiful couple.” 

“They did.” Alba watches as you talk to your son, your eyes actively avoiding the woman in front of you. “Our mother has sent Alexia over there to invite her to dinner. It killed me to see her sit alone.” 

You are too used to the feeling of eyes on you that you no longer notice the weight of people’s stares, but, if this were not the case, you would know that most of the heads attached to the bodies sitting in Alexia’s rows had been swivelled towards you for majority of the recital. Pity is never a desired emotion to have offered to you, but the Barça girls can’t help but feel that way whenever they see your forehead crinkle in an attempt to understand Catalan, presuming you only speak Spanish as you have more than enough on your plate. (And, as most of the players will admit, your children speak better English than them, so one can only assume that it is your main method of communication.)

“She’s a very good mother,” Mapi comments with a small nod, sucking a sharp breath in as she begins to sympathise with you even more. Not a day goes by where she witnesses the suffering Alexia’s idiocracy has caused – as Ingrid, her girlfriend, knows very well – and does not fail to scream in frustration about her best friend’s stupid mistakes.

“She’s a very good person.” 

They fall silent as they see your head tilt up, jaw clenching as Alexia begins to speak to you. 

“Can you hear what she’s saying?” whispers Eli to her daughter, equally invested in the conversation. “I knew I should have sent you; Alex is too socially awkward.” 

“Mami, she is talking to her wife,” replies Alba, though she remembers what happened the last time Alexia and you had spoken and the outcome of that. Maybe that commences her increasing agreement with her mother… “I guess you– Are they coming over here?!” 

Even you seem surprised by how your legs carry you towards the Barcelona clan, a step behind Alexia and Nico. Hesitant would be an understatement, but most of them are too preoccupied with congratulating the four-year-old they have come to watch to notice your tight-lipped smile and trembling hands. 

“Hola,” you say shyly. 

Eli pulls you into her strong embrace without missing a beat. “Te he echado de menos, hija.” 

You try very hard not to burst into tears. 

They take you to dinner; a plan you had known about but not envisioned yourself included in. Although it’s your fortnight, Alexia (through the conduit of Alba) had previously arranged to drop Nico and Elena over to yours before midnight. 

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

The restaurant is on the lower level of fine-dining. It’s chic, but it does not make your children feel unwelcome. The table is set for five places, though Alba informs you that the reason for this is because the reservation was made before she broke up with her girlfriend. 

“Mama, what are you going to eat?” asks Nico, slipping back into his old life seamlessly, mixing his English with the Spanish he knows everyone can understand, his legs swinging underneath the table with an enthusiastic energy. He is still too young to pick up on how far apart his parents are sitting, or how you refuse to let your eyes linger on Alexia’s tanned skin, far too much of it shown off by the tank top she sports in the humidity of the busy restaurant. 

You glance around the room, searching for those who have recognised you. Under the weight of at least four curious stares, you motivate yourself to enjoy your meal. 

“Not sure yet, babe,” you answer. “Alba, do you fancy sharing something?”

“Yeah, of course.” The younger Putellas smiles. Alexia knows who has lost the war.

Dinner passes with light conversation centred on very neutral topics. No man’s land is clearly the children, and you had never expected to be so desperate to continue a conversation about school lunches until the other options are how Alexia had an affair with her teammate or that your song with her favourite singer is topping the charts and explicitly about being cheated on. 

Although you and Alexia both watch how many times your wine glasses are refilled, Alba lets loose, as does Eli (probably to ease the stress on her heart that her girls force upon her). Their cheeks redden and Nico begins to yawn, Elena already curled into your side halfway between dreams and reality. 

“Should we head out?” you ask it to the table, but the only functioning person is Alexia, really, and so you close your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact. 

“I should probably get Mama and Alba into a taxi.” 

“If you call one for them, I will call one for us?” Your suggestion is instinctive; an old habit reminiscent of many similar nights, back when there was love and happiness and a relationship that didn’t feel like walking on a floor made of broken glass. “Or did you drive here?” 

“No, but you drove,” comes Alexia’s reminder. Internally, you face-palm. Parking the car before dinner seems like years ago; something feels different now. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I could drive you home. I haven’t had much to drink and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Elena is practically in a coma anyway.” 

You laugh – a softened version of it so as to not rouse the dead weight of your daughter. 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

I don’t care. 

“Mama,” Alba slurs, pulling her mother in close. “The saint has given her sinner a second chance.” 

It may not be as quiet as she thinks it is. Alexia, occupied, is deaf to the comment. You are not.

This is not a second chance. 

This is a lift home. 

The last time all four of you sat in a car together was the day you found out about Alexia’s affair. 

You had suffered then – are still suffering now – but your anger was hot and sharp and new. Fresh wounds. 

Now, though more scabbed-over than healed, those wounds no longer seem to gush blood; you entertain Alexia’s stiff small-talk. 

She asks about the tour, never veering too far off the road of practicality and shared custody. When does it resume? Which has been your favourite show? 

“Wembley is like playing El Clásico in Camp Nou,” she determines, not needing to ask about that because she knows you too well. 

Your memories of the London shows involve a naked Leah Williamson. (If only she knew that!) 

“Yeah, London was great.”

Awkwardness is part of Alexia’s personality; something you are fairly certain you still love. She is shy, though it perhaps comes off as stoicity, and she has never been good at making conversation. You know she hates it, and you know that her eyes, Alexia’s eyes, are gazing at you every time she thinks you are not looking. 

She is weary about the desire darkening her pupils, but she does not do well to hide her hunger nonetheless. 

“Go into the carpark,” you instruct as you approach your building.

Wordlessly, she presses the correct pin into the pin-pad, never having forgotten it. 

She parks the car beside a new-looking Mercedes. It’s not a car for children, and she imagines it reeks of cigarettes – there is no way you have stopped smoking. 

It belongs in the carpark; in your little world of celebrities and male footballers; of money and fame and fortune. (One could argue you lack the latter, what with your current situation.) Alexia’s life has never moulded with yours. 

Perhaps it never will. 

Perhaps she slept with Jenni because they are equals, you think. Because Jenni understands Alexia in a way you cannot. 

“Mami,” cries a quiet voice from the backseat. You stop staring at the grey, concrete walls, snapping back to reality as Alexia shifts to turn her attention to the source of the whimpering. “No quiero que te vayas.” 

“Lela, me tengo que ir.” 

“Pero–” 

“You could always come up to say goodnight to them?” 

It starts off innocently. 

Of course it does. Of course you are nowhere near forgiveness, more likely to forget about the crushing affair before you excuse any of her actions. Sometimes, you wish for amnesia. Sometimes, you refer to the tab open in Safari – ‘is there a drug that makes you forget?’. 

Alexia is granted a tuck-in and a story for each child, glad that their rooms are separate so that her time in her home is prolonged. The walls are familiar, the floor is the same. There are new pictures in new frames, but the old ones have not been removed. If you had ever wished to take photographs of your relationship down, you have never acted on it. 

She realises you must not spend a lot of time here alone. Maybe you cannot bear it. Maybe your life in London is more important to you than she had thought. 

Anyway, for as much as she subtly noses around and draws out the night, she has no intention of overstaying her welcome, sure that she probably did that the minute she stepped inside. 

In fact, she is on her way out, under the assumption that you will not want to speak to her.

“So you’re back to playing?” 

“Sí.” 

A doorway conversation. 

You’re English. You’re very polite. Alexia knows this, tries to not get her hopes up. 

“Does that mean you don’t want a taste of this ‘97?” You hold the bottle up to her, the cork lying on the granite worktop with the incriminating suggestion that you have already had a glass. 

“We play the day after tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.” 

How many times have you said that to her before? The same tone, the same look in your eye; red tinting your lips, one hand on a lighter because you smoke when you’re drunk, even if you refuse to touch the cancer-sticks when you are sober. 

“Was this a gift?” she asks, drawn into your magnetic field like a flimsy paper clip; thin, worn metal trying to piece the pages of her life back together. “Or have you been making ridiculous purchases again?” 

“I can assure you that it is not ‘ridiculous’.” You moan in delight as you take a sip from a glass you subsequently hand over to her. “Gosh, that is divine, and you are simply going to dissolve when you taste it.” 

Dissolve she does, but one can attribute that to the company. 

The contents of the bottle dwindles quickly, paired with a vulnerable retelling of her ACL recovery (sans suicidal thoughts and huge, huge regret about the affair – she doesn’t want to bring that up, seeing as you are clearly trying to forget about it), and the warm breeze of the Barcelona nighttime. The salty air from the mediterranean mingles with cigarette smoke, though Alexia softly says that you really should stop. 

You hesitate on your next puff, but you inhale it all the same. “I like my wine smokey.” 

She opens the next bottle for you. 

The wine glasses are soon discarded, pouring becoming shaky and difficult. 

“They sleep all the way through the night here,” observes Alexia, surprised that no little hands have knocked on the glass door leading to the balcony. The last time you had reached for the wine, you’d moved closer to her. You have not yet returned to your original seat on the other side of the rattan sofa. 

You raise your eyebrows, under the impression that they were both sleep trained. “They don’t at yours?” 

“Elena keeps trying to sleep in bed with me.” 

“Maybe she likes you more,” you suggest with a light, alcohol-infused laugh. “She must have been upset to find her place filled by your friend.” 

“No,” murmurs Alexia, “it has never been filled. Though I don’t think you can say the same.” 

You swallow the stickiness of the wine running down your throat.

“Not in our bed. My bed.” You fight yourself. “Our bed.” 

“In Highgate?” 

“Anywhere,” you breathe. 

“It’s been months,” croaks Alexia, your hand pressed against her stomach as you slowly lean into the feeling only she can give you. “Months.” 

You kiss her. Time folds in on itself, and you are transported back to when every touch was electric; when nothing was tainted. The pain of the past months, the heartbreak, momentarily fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in Alexia’s warmth.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, afraid that this moment might slip away too soon. The taste of wine lingers on your lips, and she craves the softness of them – she has been craving them since July.

“Well, now it has only been seconds,” you whisper as you pull away. 

With a sense of urgency, she chases your mouth once more, strong arms pulling you on top of her, manipulating your body against her with no hint of uncertainty. 

Alexia knows you well.

Her touch lacks curiosity and exploration. Her hands are experienced and confident in their movements, and she has hoisted you up and brought you to your bedroom without needing to have been told that this is what you want. 

“Is this what you want?” she asks anyway. 

“Please.” 

And she really doesn’t make you beg. 

Your hands roam her body with a primal hunger, instinctive touches to the most sensitive parts of her, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her back is tense, muscles flexing as she pushes your clothes off your skin, her own following their path soon after. 

Parted legs and soft moans. 

She slots herself between your thighs. 

Her tongue is determined, fierce. Sloppier because she is drunk, but, then again, so are you. 

Your fingers repay the favour. 

“More,” you request just as she pulls away. 

“Is it in the same place?” 

You nod, panting.

There is a playful glint in Alexia’s eyes as she finds the strap just where she left it. As she secures it in place, you wipe the sweat from your brow, forcing your mind into the dirtiest of thoughts to ward off the building regret.

The room is dimly lit, and the air heavy with desire. Your heartbeat pulses in the silence, the thrum of the organ drums that guide Alexia’s slow, deliberate steps back towards the bed, kneeling atop the scrunched sheets. 

She positions herself between your legs once more, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating against your skin. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck, sending shivers of anticipation shuddering down your spine. 

With trembling hands, you reach out, nails digging into tanned, taut skin. You pull her closer to you, urging her to take whatever she wants. 

You want her to have you. You want her to make it hurt less. 

As Alexia presses inside, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body. You cry out, the sound igniting a blazing inferno within her that grows hotter the moment you ask her to move. Feverishly, her hands move over your chest, finding purchase on your breasts with a dormant possessiveness as her hips begin to drive the strap in deeper. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, encompassed by someone so divine that you begin to separate yourself from all things wrong with this situation. The headboard thuds against the bedroom wall as she pounds her thrusts into a rhythm, and you shut your eyes as you quietly ask her to kiss you.

Tears cascade down your cheeks, but you do not know to whom they belong. Her tongue smothers your moans, and her hips begin to snap into yours more urgently, with more desperation. The pressure builds inside of you, and you feel as though you might explode. 

You feel as though this is the end, and you are glad that here is where your misery terminates. 

You’re glad, you’re really glad. 

Your back arches, your chests pressing together, large hands holding you close to her. 

And then it all comes crashing down. 

Everything. 

You wipe your eyes once the orgasmic bliss subsides, seizing your wine haze as the tide goes out and destroying the blindfold that had deprived you of seeing things straight. Right now, with the pleasant ache between your legs, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it, but you know you will. You haven’t forgiven her; you’re not sure that it is possible. 

“You can shower, but you can’t stay here.” 

…

Nico knows that he is special. He is lucky, and he is loved, and he gets to go to a very nice school that Mateo (his ‘cousin’) claims is fancy. 

He likes his teacher. She reminds him of someone he once knew – you have suggested the nursery helpers back when he lived in London. He is not sure if you are right, but he doesn’t remember what London was like so he tries not to think too hard about it. 

Nico’s friends, like Pau who is sitting beside him, all think it is really cool that he can speak English. Pau says she hears his mother on the radio sometimes, but Nico hasn’t yet grasped the concept of fame past the annoying camera flashes and big, sold-out stadiums. He dislikes fame as he knows it, anyway, because the cameras hurt his eyes and the stadiums are so loud that he has to wear ear-defenders that squeeze his skull a bit too much. 

“My mum is from Bilbao. My dad is from Barcelona,” states Paula as she swipes a crayon over the sheet of paper her drawing is on. Green wax slowly stains the white to form ‘grass’. Everyone is drawing their family today, although Nico hasn’t yet started, waiting for his teacher to circle their table so that he can ask for another piece of paper. “And this,” Paula carries on, squiggling brown hair onto a smaller version of the stick-figure father, “is Ander, my big brother.” 

“Who is that?” Nico asks, pointing at the fifth figure on the page, guessing that the fourth and Pau-sized person is, in fact, Pau. 

“My sister! She’s called Nerea, and she plays basketball.” Pau promptly makes an orange circle the size of Nerea’s head, which floats in the air between her and her sister. “My mum says Nere is going to be a lesbian, but I don’t know what that means.” 

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to garner the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.” 

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that. 

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?” 

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.” 

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.” 

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.” 

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with. 

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue. 

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares. 

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all. 

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her. 

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that. 

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.” 

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together tot el temps. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.” 

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already attracted the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia is usually inviting him to training with her. Since Elena has yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, his mother misses him when it is not her turn. 

You benevolently give your permission if you have no prior plans. It is upsetting that the only hindrance to extra time spent together is the little boy who once worshipped Alexia Putellas like a god. 

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper. 

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half. 

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s. 

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?” 

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.” 

“But now you are ripped down the middle.” 

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One of his legs is on your side, the other on Alexia’s. 

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.” 

Alexia does, though, when his teacher talks to her that afternoon. 

…

“I slept with Alexia,” you confess quietly, comforted by the sound-proofing of Anya’s home-studio. She asked for help with her album; your success might be contagious, she insists. “Last week, when Nico had that recital.” You clutch your mug protectively, as if she will strip you of the right to drink your tea to punish you for your crime. 

Anya is unsure what you would like her to say. You search her face for anger, but do not find it. 

“If Gio were here, she’d probably slap you.” 

You snort, almost spilling hot liquid all over yourself. “You two are like my mothers, and you’re the nicer one by far.” 

“God, you are such an idiot.” 

“And a slag.” She waits for your next admission with excitement. “I also slept with Leah Williamson.” 

“Do you think you and Alexia are just destined for polyamory?” Her amusement is quite pleasant, but one thing wasn’t dulled by the wine that night and you have been dying to tell someone about it.

Your knee bounces up and down as you gear up for it, having thought it through 

“I think we are destined for each other.” 

Song-writing be damned, Anya fully removes her headphones, placing the equipment beside her keyboard before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “You are in love with Alexia again,” comes her accusation, with no real malice behind it. 

“I never stopped being in love with Alexia. She just made it a lot harder to love her.” 

Is that an understatement? 

“Hey,” you say with sudden energy, sitting upright and grasping at your phone, tea wobbling over the lip of the mug and running down your wrist. “Should we go to Bali in August?” 

…

You avoid both of your footballers right until the World Cup camps roll around. 

Leah doesn’t get to go, subjected to the ACL curse. Alexia’s call-up is not necessarily unexpected, but you do find yourself wondering how many more betrayals her friendship with Mapi León can handle. (Mapi is on her last straw, but she knows her friend really needed the win after her hellish year. The Champion’s League was never going to sate Alexia’s hunger to be the best at football – possibly an overcompensation for her terrible relationship skills.)

Your children, this time, are delivered to the park by their very own mother. Alexia beats Leah in this sense, because she has a valid excuse to see you without confessing feelings you do not want to hear. 

“I have something for you,” she says just after she has finished her goodbyes, pressing a small box into your hands. Her voice is filled with nerves and you are intrigued, hating yourself for being so. “Don’t open it until you get back home.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. I’m sorry, they seem to say. “Alright, have fun in Bali, and don’t forget that I legally have custody but I am not going to go to court to battle you for it as long as you put them in Spain kits for Spain matches.” 

She could, if she wanted to be difficult, have you send Nico and Elena to New Zealand during her weeks. It would be very unreasonable, but the contract your lawyers drew up still stands. 

“They were delivered yesterday. I think it’s going to be a struggle to convince them to put on the worst kit ever.” You still don’t forgive Alexia for cheating on you, but there has come a point where acceptance replaces the animosity. Nico’s teacher has been the catalyst in this step forward. The developmental pamphlets she had thrust in your faces were enough for the two of you to come to a mutual agreement of increased civility (that maybe, maybe was only made possible by the fact that you have very recent memories of each other’s orgasms). “But, yes, I agree to your terms. Don’t forget that his favourite player is Alessia Russo, however.” 

“He is in a phase where I am ‘uncool’! It’ll pass.” 

“If you say so, Alexia.” 

“Anyway,” she carries on, rolling her eyes. “Open it when you get home.” She… presses a kiss to your cheek? “I’m so sorry, mi amor.” 

You blink back your surprise, but she is gone before you can reply. 

The small, neatly-wrapped box sits in the palm of your hand, the corners edging off your skin and sticking out as you stare at it. Nico and Elena continue their (unsupervised) playing, but you manage to call out a warning for ‘five more minutes and then we’ve got to pack’ while you examine Alexia’s gift.

Is this how Pandora felt? 

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

Alexia, before now, hasn’t actively pursued your forgiveness. She has given you the time and the space you had broken-heartedly requested, nodding as you communicated your wishes to her through someone else, never before able to confront the face that tore up your life before your eyes. 

There was a time when all you ever wanted to do was talk to her, but she tried to forget about that when she realised the extent at which you went to avoid an interaction. When she had understood your desperation to be left alone fully, she began to breathe. The step backwards gave her room to examine just how royally she had fucked it all. 

She now feels a bit more capable of tackling the clean-up, working with a much clearer mind. Everyone is relieved that she hasn’t killed herself, or, at least, that she is keeping those thoughts at bay. 

You realise that she has bought you a ring, and regardless of whether you wear it or not, she wants to tell you that she is sorry.

...

IT'S NOT OVER YET! THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SECOND HALF

[alonetimelover]

Iga just lost 🥲 😭can you write something about that with harry? Xx

pairing: Harry Styles x tennis player!reader (she, her)

summary: YN lost at Wimbledon but Harry is still proud of her.

word count: 0,9k

a/n: had a few heart attacks while watching the match, not gonna lie. here is something that i wished i got after losing a match. i hope you like it, and thank you for requesting!

masterlist (with more of the tennis player!reader) ask, request

“So how does it feel to defeat the No. 1 player at the moment?”

Even though YN was already on her way to the changing room, she could still hear the interviewer. Defeat. Losing. Bad match. Problems. Mental blockade. Those were the sentences she heard during the past two minutes. Her face was stoic, as always. No one could know what was happening under the mask she had put on during the match. No emotions showing (which of course bothered some of the tennis enthusiasts). But just a few more steps and she would be able to let it all out, alone. 

After closing the door and settling down her equipment, YN sat down on one of the benches and cried. It had been a long time since she felt this beaten and powerless. Nothing worked. And the more she tried to repair it, just like she had practiced, the more mistakes appeared. 

“Get it together,” she sobbed under her breath, wiping off the tears. But they didn’t stop coming. Her face was once again covered in salty rivers.

In all her sobbing and sniffing, she didn’t hear the knocks and then opening of the doors. Only when someone sat down next to her and began embracing her, she was like back to reality. It didn’t take much to recognise the person disrupting her. His smell and the way he wanted to hold her was self explanatory. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” he welcomed her, squeezing her tightly to his chest. 

YN didn’t trust her voice, in the answer she hugged Harry’s waist and put her head over his heart. The beating of it, usually able to calm her down. 

“Shhh.” He tried. “It’s all right. You’re not alone.”

“I’m sorry.” Her usually delicate voice, now even more quiet and fragile. 

“What are you sorry for, my love, hmm?”

She took a deep, shaky breath in. “Losing. I know it’s one of the few times you see my play live. And- and we’re also in London, which you love. And-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Stop it. Stop.” Harry interrupted her immediately with a very serious tone. “None of it. Can you please look at me?”

“I don’t think I want to. I’m ashamed.” 

Harry’s heart was breaking. Watching the whole match he saw how she was struggling with even her best moves. He watched her come back from losing in the second set and prolonging her time on the Wembley court. He couldn’t have been more proud. She overcame so much during this match. Yet, the outcome, he knew, wasn’t what she wanted to achieve.

“Please, YN.”

Reluctantly, YN looked up. Her puffy, shiny eyes staring right back at his loving ones. 

“I am so proud of you.” Harry’s hand was stroking her cheek, drying it from tears. “Everything you’ve accomplished this year is extraordinary. The person and player you’ve become is worth hours of anybody's free time to listen to and appreciate. The path you are on, all the obstacles you’ve left behind, conquered. What happened today is a part of that path. Losing is a human thing, It's part of your career. The greatest tennis players lost some tournaments. Yeah?”

YN nodded her head, now seemingly less shaken up. 

“I am proud of you. What you did today was extraordinary. No, don’t look at me like that. I’m telling the truth,” he scolded her, making her look at him by putting two fingers under her chin and directing her face towards his. “You’ve reached the quarterfinals at one of the most respected tournaments in the World. It’s huge. You're a three time Roland Garros champion, an US Open champion as well. You are the No. 1 tennis player in the world. But you know who you also are?”

YN, now looking at Harry with a hopeful and much less disappointed look, shook her head. His pep-talks would always help her. It was different from the one’s she had with her psychologist. But both were effective in their own way. Harry’s let her believe in herself, knowing no matter what there was that one person proud of her, cheering her up. Psychologist’s, on the other hand, helped her work on the emotions she had before, during and after matches, and acknowledged them at the end.

“A human. You’re the most gentle and loving human I’ve ever met. You feel your ups and downs ten times stronger than anyone else. And you care for others, sometimes more than you care for yourself. I am proud of you and nothing will change that. No match, no trophy, no point. No matter what, I am proud and I love you.” 

The way those tears were falling down her cheeks and onto Harry’s lap, was not ideal but preferred to the ones from half an hour ago. 

“I love you, Harry. I don’t know what I would do without your support. I really don’t.”

“Oh, you would’ve a queue of guys waiting for your attention,” he joked, finally earning a laugh from YN. Sound, he could never get tired of. 

“Stop it!”

“Just telling the truth.”

Harry pecked her lips, and once more hugged her body to his. Her heartbeat finally steadied just like the breath. The warmth of her skin, even though not ideal, brought her comfort. Oh, how she wished they were just laying down in their bed. 

“I really am proud of you, YN.”

“I love you.”

She wasn’t cured of the disappointment she had felt since getting off court. But she was assured that there really was someone for her, against the world, against her own judgmental mind. 

Harry was there. 

[highonmarvel]

Hi there! May i please request a mob!steve x reader where the reader used to be with him but when she found about his mob life she left him so like the HR he decided to ruin her life and one day he just shows up in her now downgraded apartment and manipulates and gaslights her into coming back to him, and she just goes back because she’s just in a vulnerable place

Feel free to add your own spin to it btw love your work soo much! Especially the biker!bucky 🤗

oh, i like this! and thank you so much for the love! i hope you enjoy. and i apologise for taking over a month to get back to you, shit’s been wild for me. okay, here we go:

Easy Luxury

Steve Rogers: You find out how your suspiciously wealthy boyfriend makes his money, and have to start over without it.

content warnings here!

It was never manipulation, it was a deep understanding that enabled him to know what you needed before you even opened your mouth, a symptom of being the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy next door type. Naturally, he knows what’s best for you, you’d never have to question him. And you didn’t.

Steve was suspiciously wealthy for such a humble and down-to-Earth guy, but you didn’t question it; his expensive car, his shiny watch, his high rise penthouse, his seemingly endless cash, you didn’t read too much into it, you just enjoyed his presence, and his luxury didn’t hurt either; anything you wanted, and things you didn’t, Steve gave to you, and you accepted gratefully. He even insisted you live closer to him until he didn’t have so many people coming in and out of his apartment for something he never quite explained, and then you could move in with him. You live in a nice ass building a block down from him, making for easy visits, curtesy Steve.

You sigh as you place your bag down in the lift on the way up to the top floor, excited to surprise Steve. You had head to see your parents for what was supposed to be two weeks, but after just one you’d had enough, and you missed Steve.

You excitedly bounce on your toes as you pick your bag up again, the elevator numbers just a few ticks from the top. With a wide grin, you stare straight ahead as the the doors open, and that smile immediately drops.

Right in the middle of your living room, Steve is ripping the teeth out of a guy tied to a chair. Even the back of his shirt is bloodied, and there’s so much blood on the floor you have to assume there have been many other people in this man’s position in the time you’ve been away.

“You fucking rat,” he grunts as he pries the man’s mouth open again and sticks an adjustable wrench into the back of his cheek. It clasps onto one of his wisdom teeth and Steve pries it out, and you can tell he’s satisfied despite his back facing you. The man lets out a bloodcurdling scream and Steve tosses the tooth onto a pile of at least five others.

“Workin’ for the Starks, huh?”

The Starks are a well known mob family in New York, and if they’re Steve’s rivals then…

You gasp out loud.

Steve whips around, and his face, though covered almost entirely in crimson, goes pale.

“Baby! You’re back early.”

You finger flies to the close button for the doors, pressing furiously as if that’s gonna make it happen faster. Steve races towards you, calling your name as you anxiously push the button at lightning speed. At the very last split second, just before Steve can stick his hand between the doors, they shut, and the lift begins to descend. You hear Steve’s frustrated “Fuck!” and banging above you as your stomach sinks with the elevator.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, what can you do? Steve had convinced you to quit your job, you pretty much lived exclusively off of him, but you can’t possibly stay with him, yet you’re rendering yourself homeless if you leave.

Once you get to the ground floor, you race out the door, leaving your bag behind and ignoring a concerned look from the doorman as you dart out. You phone buzzes in your pocket, and you know it’s Steve. You ignore the vibrating phone call and run towards your apartment. You’re sure you have some money cobbled together from Christmas cards over the years. No way in hell you can pack your things, and you know you’ll have to get rid of your phone, but you need at least a little bit of cash.

You’re sure you’re on the verge of dying from a lack of oxygen as you make it to your apartment and slam the door behind you, locking it, too, though you doubt that’ll keep him out.

You’re furiously rummaging through drawers when a gentle rap at the door makes your soul damn near leap out of your body.

“Honey?” Steve calls, voice calm as ever, as if he didn’t just commit such unspeakable violence, and who knows what fucking else he’s done that you’ve never seen? And how did he get here so quick? Is he still covered in blood and spit and flesh and evidence from his torture?

You try to tune him out as you look for the last of the envelopes to add to your small pile, but you can’t ignore his gentle voice trying to coax you into a state of relaxation he would soothe you into when your anxiety became too much to bare.

“Sweetheart, let’s talk about this.”

“Go away!” you manage to shriek through hyperventilation.

“Don’t do something stupid,” he warns, voice low in a way you’ve never heard him use before, and if you were terrified before, you were on the verge of a heart attack now.

With a few envelopes and no way to escape, you run to the window and peer down; you’re three floors up with some soft patches of grass beneath you. You don’t have time to even calculate it, surely adrenaline will get you through the pain if you’re severely hurt. You’re working up the nerve, and just as Steve busts the door in, yelling your name, you jump, luckily landing on your feet, but falling soon after, and briefly wondering if you’ve dislocated your knee as you scramble to stand and start running.

Steve shouts your name from the window but you don’t even look back, just running to God knows where. You’re sure you’ve run full speed for more than half an hour when, by such luck, you stumble across a really cheap looking motel. Just as you throw some cash to the guy to give you a key, you feel around in your pockets for your phone, panicked, and for the first time in your life, you’re glad to have lost it. He can’t find you now, at least not by tracking, you hope. Though you might have expected to be plagued by insomnia due to your stress, you pass right the fuck out as soon as your head touches the crusty pillow on the room’s stained mattress.

***

The sun isn’t out when you snap your eyes open, it couldn’t have been more than six hours since you ran away, then, but there’s no sign of Steve, and you let out the biggest breath of relief there ever could be. You head to the bathroom to shower and think of your next move, but it’s so filthy you wonder if you’re only making yourself dirtier by stepping in. You’re sweaty, and your body is physically tired from the sprinting. You flop onto the floor as you try to consider your next move. You’ve got an old friend living in Queens! You haven’t spoken to her in years, literally since high school, but since then she had practically been living on her own and raising herself and her sister, you can’t imagine she’s moved since then.

You have to walk a ways before you manage to get to an area you can hail a cab, and that takes a little more effort than you would have liked to exert. By some grace you manage to remember the address, and as you pull up, the house looks pretty much the same as all those years ago, giving you a glimmer of hope.

You drag yourself to the front door and manage to knock despite your weak body.

The door opens after a few moments to reveal the red hair you haven’t seen in forever, yet still, she looks virtually the same.

“Natasha!” you say as you collapse into her arms.

“Oh my God!” she cries, but she catches you with ease, “What are you doing here? What happened?”

You can barely speak, but she seems to somewhat understand as she leads to you to her living room and gently sets you down on the couch. Her blonde sister comes running into the room, eyes wide and panicked.

“Yelena!” Natasha calls, and hurriedly says words in Russian you could never understand. Yelena leaves and returns with a cup of water, which you gratefully accept, not realising just how thirsty you actually were. You gulp down the water like a dying fish and Yelena immediately leaves to get you another.

Sitting down and not on the verge of dehydration, you can speak, but your voice is still hoarse.

“I’m sorry for dropping in like this—”

“Don’t ever apologise for coming to me,” she cuts you off sternly, nearly angrily, like she’s irritated you thought you could ever bother her. She was this way in high school, but still, you haven’t spoken in years and years, and you feel bad for that. You know she can help you, or she’ll try to do everything in her power to do so, but you can’t let her get involved in mob business… like you were, unknowingly.

“I’m just in a rough spot,” you say, nodding thanks to Yelena as you take the second cup of water and down it even quicker than you did the first one. She sits down next to you, concerned, as Natasha is seated across from you on the opposite couch, leaning forward, forearms on her thighs as she listens attentively, “Don’t have a job or a place, or anyone else I can go to. I’ve got a bit of money, can you help me find a cheap place?”

“Just stay with us,” Yelena says, sitting up straight.

“Yeah,” Natasha agrees, “It’s clear there’s a lot going on, please, don’t be alone right now. You can stay here, I can help you get a job.”

Even after all this time, she treats you so beautifully, but you can’t let her get wrapped up in this; if Steve finds you, he might hurt Nat and Yelena, and you’d never be able to live with that (and maybe you won’t have to if he kills you too).

“No!” you say, a little louder than needed, causing the pair to give you strange looks, “Please,” you say, speaking softer now, “If you want to help me, can I just use your shower and you help me get a place? I know you know a lot of people.”

You can tell she wants to protest, but Nat only presses her lips into a thin line and exhales through her nostrils, nodding before standing up.

“Okay,” she concedes, “Yelena will get you some fresh clothes and I’ll make some calls.”

“Thank you,” you say, with more sincerity than you ever have in your life. Yelena helps you up, and you want to protest, but realise you’re a lot weaker than you thought, and you can’t tell if it’s mental or physical exhaustion.

You have to sit down in the shower, rinsing the stickiness off of you and watching it float in the few centimetres of water before being whisked down the drain.

You’re steadier on your feet once you’re clean and dressed, and you pop into the kitchen just as Nat hangs up her phone.

“Okay, I’ve got somewhere $95 a month, but it’s not great.”

You shake your head, “It’s perfect, thank you.” You counted around $650 in your cash, but if you get a job you can make it work.

“But you’re not leaving before you eat.”

Eating breakfast with Nat and Yelena takes the weight of the world off your shoulders, the three of you laughing about events from a decade ago with the same vigour you did when they first happened. But you can’t shake the feeling you have to leave, quick.

You’re nearly done helping the pair clean up when Nat comes up to you.

“Hey, what’s your number? We should stay in touch, even if just for a few months, just so I know you’re okay.”

“I lost my phone,” you sigh.

“I’m drop in every once in a while then, okay? And you can’t fight me on this. I’m honestly really worried about you,” she throws her dish rag over a chair and walks up to you, holding your shoulders as she looks into your eyes, “But I’m so glad you came. I’m always here for you. So is Yelena.”

You look to the doorway Yelena’s leaning against and she gives you a smile, but it’s a little sad.

“Thank you, Nat. I love you, so much. And I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“These things happen, it’s fine. I’m just glad you’re in one piece. Looks like you had a hell of a night.”

You laugh shakily and nod, “I did. I’m surprised I didn’t dislocate a knee.”

“Oh my God… okay, conversation for another time, let’s just get you into your place. Do you have anything we need to take?”

You literally have no earthly possession with you at this point besides the envelopes, which you tuck into the inner pockets of Nat’s biker jacket she’s lending you. You refused to take any clothes other than one other pair of pants and a t-shirt, but Yelena promised she’d wash your others and bring them back, though you’re not even sure you want them anymore.

“I’ll be back with them tomorrow,” she says as she closes the door, leaving you alone in a flat you’re sure has mould.

There’s only a couch, a mattress, and a clock you’re not sure if displays the correct time, which is more than you were expecting. You flop down onto the slightly dirty couch and run your hands over your face. Now fed, hydrated, and somewhat rested, you can’t think of anything else to distract you from thoughts of Steve…

Okay, you’ll try to find a job tomorrow, for today, there’s nothing more you can do but try to sleep, even though it’s not even midday yet.

***

As promised, Yelena drops off your clothes the next morning, with the tears poorly sewn up, but you thank her for the effort and encourage her to leave the building before you do, in case Steve is watching, but you don’t cite that reason.

Half an hour later, you stride out, taking a walk down the dodgy streets, and luckily, you come across a bakery with an “URGENTLY HIRING” sign in the window. Your little streaks of luck would mean much more if it wasn’t overshadowed by everything else, and your luck ends when you’re half way into the interview.

“What?!” you gasp, trying to lean over to get a better look at the computer screen the interviewer (who’s just some teenager, probably a temp) is trying to shield from you.

“Ma’am, you have a charge for robbery, we can’t hire you.”

You exit in a daze, nearly numb at the realisation Steve would go this far. Why not just kill you? If he was worried you’d go to the police (the thought had never even crossed your mind until this moment), he’d just fucking kill you, or kidnap and torture you, he wouldn’t just leave you to rot out in the real world, that’s too risky.

You sadly make your way back to your flat, and who’s there when you open the door?

Steve stands with a crisp blue shirt in the centre of the room, and what can you do about it.

You fall to your knees and sob, face in your hands as you try to take in your fate. What did he want with you? You want to say you swear you’ll never tell anyone, that you haven’t told anyone, but you can’t speak through your gasping sobs.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, slowly making his way over to you, like he’s worried he’ll scare you off, “It’s okay, don’t worry, I’d never hurt you, baby, you weren’t supposed to see that, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I didn’t want to hurt you, ever, but I have.”

He sighs, and you manage to look back up at him, a somber coat over his blue eyes.

“And look at you,” he gently raises your arm to trace a finger over scrapes and scratches you guess are from darting through narrow alleyways and through thick bushes, “Baby, and look at his,” he gestures around him to the damp flat, and you sniffle, “You can’t stay here, come back, I’ll take care of you, like I always have.”

“Th- the arrest—”

“I had to do that, baby, I’m sorry. I just had to. If you were with me that never would have happened, see? And it can all go away. Honey, I’m offering you the world, all you have to do is come with me.”

With teary eyes you look around. You can’t live here too long or you’ll get some kind of mould poisoning, you can’t get a job, you can’t endanger Nat and Yelena…

“Okay,” you sigh, defeated, and just as Steve starts to smile, there’s a knock at the door. Natasha calls your name and you tense up, Steve looks down at you with his head cocked to the side.

“I think you better answer that, sweetheart. Tell her you’re not gonna be here anymore.”

He pulls you to your feet and you gulp as you lean your head against the door.

“Yeah?” you answer.

“Let me in.”

If Steve sees Nat, he’ll know who to look for if you try anything like this again. But he’s sitting patiently on the couch, and he nods towards the door, beckoning you to open it. You take a deep breath and crack it open a bit.

“Hey, what’s up?” you think you say, but you can barely hear your words over the pounding of your heart.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, and you shoot a glance behind you, which you immediately regret when Nat bounces on her toes to get a look.

“Yeah,” you block her vision and bring her attention back to you, still trying to keep the door as close to closed as possible, “I… I have to go…”

“What?” she asks, “You just got here, what’s changed?”

“Things have worked out, it’s all good now, don’t worry—”

You freeze as you feel Steve behind you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you and Nat. You shut your eyes, willing this to be a trick of light or a hallucination due to stress, it can be anything but real.

“Hi. Steve Rogers,” he extends his hand, and Nat tentatively takes it, in only a way you know — to everyone else, she wouldn’t seem cautious, but you saw the clench in her right knee that gives away her switch to defence.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

Fuck, Nat, why did you say your name!?

“Nice to meet you. Don’t worry about her, she’s in good hands with me.”

She nods.

“Steve, could you go get my clothes for me? I think they’re in the bathroom or the bedroom, they’re the only two other rooms.”

He nods and turns away. Once he’s out of sight, Nat’s expression turns panicked as she scans your face, noticing tears welling. She doesn’t say it, but you can tell she’s pleading “Come with me.” You shake your head and quickly wipe away the tears before they fall, just as you hear Steve’s approaching footsteps again.

You shut the door just as he exits the bedroom with your neatly folded clothes from your recent run.

“Natasha washed these, I assume? Or was it Yelena?”

⍟

[taglist; @cjand10]

[stargazedwinchester]

And You Are? | Dean

Summary: You enjoy a night at the bar with your friend, who is certain someone’s trying to flirt with you.

Based on this request here! Thank you! :)

Y/F/N: Your friends name

Y/D/N: Your dogs name

Word count: 1,161

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

It's not unusual for you to go out with your friends once in a while. The occasion this time is because you've holed yourself up in your house for 'far too long' according to Y/F/N, who has basically forced you out of the house for some fresh air.

Leading up to the bar, you could tell it was a dingy, cheap place just from how rowdy the men are, and the sound of glasses smashing and people cheering. What's up with that?

"You wanna sit at the bar?" Your friend says, scanning the whole place for somewhere to sit. "If it's best, yeah, it's quite full," You say. The place was packed full of sweaty boisterous bodies, you make your way over to the bar, finding a single stool to sit on. Your friend stood next to you. The both of you ordered your drinks and eventually someone moved, so your friend sat opposite you.

"Hey," She says, nodding at something behind you. "There's a guy, 6 o'clock, has really keen eyes," She says, and you turn around, scanning the room for said 'guy'. "Honestly, I wouldn't even know who you're talking about. There's that many people in here it's almost impossible. Plus, Y/F/N, I am blind." You chuckle, and she facepalms. She reaches down and pets Y/D/N. "Sorry, Y/N. I forget." A smile creeps on your face as you take another drink.

"No, but seriously, this guy is checking you out. If you don't want him, I'll have him." She laughs, showing him a quick smile before taking a sip. You take one last search around, feeling the contact like there are eyes burning right through the back of your skull. "Oh my God, he's coming over." She panics, darting her eyes from you to the handsome 6 foot something guy making his way over. She picks up her drink and downs the rest of it, waving for another round to be sent over.

"Hey, ladies, can I buy either of you a drink?" A deep voice appears from the heavy sounds of the bar. He looks down at you, showing you a warm, friendly smile. His hair short and dark, wearing a dark green unbuttoned over-shirt and a light blue/grey t-shirt underneath paired with some black jeans. His eyes are dreamy, a lovely shade of shiny green, speckles of sunny hazel compliments his dark exterior. Whether his appearance matches his personality, you're almost eager to find out.

"We're fine, thanks. Y/F/N has just ordered a couple more," You start, pointing to the empty glasses in front of you. He holds a glass half full of what seems to be beer, which wouldn't be to your surprise. "There's no harm in ordering more!" Y/F/N laughs, accepting the round of drinks from the bartender, sliding yours across to you. "Here, Y/N. That ones yours." She says, taking a sip of hers. "Oh, Y/N, right? It's nice to meet you, I'm Dean." He holds his hand out, and you grant him a pleasant smile, shuffling in your seat. "Nice to meet you, Dean."

He awkwardly moves his hand away, placing it back in his pocket. "It's nice to meet you too, Y/F/N. I hope I'm not intruding..." He trails, hoping to hear 'no' as an answer. "No, Dean, don't worry about it. We're only out for a couple of drinks then heading back home. She forced me out of my own house." You chuckle, and Y/F/N rolls her eyes. "She's refusing to leave her bed, so I've had to practically drag her by the ears to get her here."

Dean laughs, bringing his drink to his lips. "To be honest, it's not a great place here. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to get out and go someplace else?" He suggests, and you snort. "There's no way in Hell I'm leaving this place with some guy I've met 5 minutes ago, I'll pass." You say, waving your hand at him. Dean holds his hand to his heart, scrunching his shirt. "Some guy? Most ladies are dying to take me home after 5 minutes!" He jokes, and it doesn't fly too well with you.

"Okay, wow, and now he's assuming." You feel a smile creep up, unable to keep it under wraps. "Hate to say it, but I'm not like other girls," You state, silently laughing to yourself.

"I can tell you are," He says, and you tilt your head. "What?"

"I said I can tell you are." He speaks louder, moving closer to your ear. You get a whiff of his cologne, woodsy, musky and sexy. Your eyes lit up as if something inside you has awoken, you've never smelt anything like it. Now you have to know who this man is and what he's about.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

After a small while of talking, Y/F/N found a different guy she could keep her eyes on and left both you and Dean alone. "To be honest, I'm done. Now Y/F/N has disappeared I feel like I don't have to force these drinks down me," You laugh, "You wanna go sit outside?" You ask Dean, and he nods "Yeah, let's go." He says, he shuffles out of the way to make room for you to get off of the stool. You pull out your cane and take Y/D/N leash, and Dean looks shocked. "Y/N, sorry for not noticing, but you're blind?" He questions, a confused look on his face. "Yeah, you didn't see?"

"Honestly? No, I didn't." He says, and you fold your cane back up. "Well, good, cause that means I can do this," You say, gently placing your hand in his. "Lead the way."

You head outside onto a bench out by the doorway, and you both sit down.

“I cannot believe you kept so quiet about this,” he starts, looking at you with a warm grin. His sudden interest in still wanting to get to know you really makes you wonder if he’s actually worth spending your time with. Dean seems like a really lovely guy, even with all the micro-flirting that’s been happening all night. Not that you’d complain, though, it’s nice to have recognition from such a charming, handsome man.

“I felt like it wasn’t something to mention,” you nod, “plus, I thought Y/D/N hi-vis vest was enough.” You laugh, and Dean nods. “That’s true, I guess I just had my eyes set on someone else.” He rasps, taking the last swig of his drink, before setting the glass on the patio floor. You grew tired, the night getting darker and longer made you crave your own comfort in your own home. Dean isn’t keeping you, yet he gets the hint. The conversation slowly grew quiet, as you both sat and and enjoyed each others company for a while longer.

“You know, I’d thought I’d change and be a gentleman for tonight, but screw it. You wanna come home with me?” He asks, seriousness in his voice.

“Thank God, I thought you’d never ask.”

[writingoddess1125]

More Sanji and Sunaki, please, especially showing her to the strawhats 🫶🏽 keep up the amazing work and hope you are doing well

I gotcha sweetie!

A Girl To Love ❤️

Sanji × Reader + Baby Sunaki

Headcanon

Support me on Ko-Fi!

Fun Fact! Oda picked Sanji name because it represents '3 o'clock { San Ji}' Aka Snack time! And Sunaki is a play on Sunakku aka Snack/Bitesize! So both their names are food based. 3'oclock Snack!

• You didn't realize it- but the day that you had introduced Sanji and Sunaki.

• And created two new monsters

• Sanji paraded around Sunaki everywhere. He showed his crew mates who were all swooned by the baby-

• As for Sunaki- She was getting spoiled rotten.. Most of the crew had extreme soft spots for kids so of course everytime she goes with her father she would come back with toys, clothes, sweets to the roof. You were sure Nami was the one responsible for clothes since they seemed to be a bit expensive- You didn't know her well but she didn't seem to be the type yo spend money so freely, but it seemed children were an exception.

• Sunaki seemed to adore Zoro the most however much to Sanji's irritation. The toddler often giggling for the swordsman to pick her up and he'd just carry her around or take a nap while holding her- Often some toy to keep her occupied.

• Zoro however curve the habit of sleeping while holding Sunaki. He had taken a nap and Sunaki the ever curious toddler she was reached her hand out at something shiny and grabbed one of the earrings of Zoros and yanked-

• The scream from the swordsman could be heard from across the village..

• Sanji laughed his ass off for 3 days straight- while Zoro had to get 2 stitches in his ear to keep the third ear hole and his famed earring.

• The whole crew had taken a liking to her and you as well. Inviting you to their ship to spend time with them all or offering to babysit so you could get some rest. Which you did take up since it had been over 2 years since you got a decent night's rest-

• While you and Sanji were still discussing the situation of your guys relationship you two did workout a decent Co-Parenting agreement. While Sanji and his crew were here you two would trade off daily if not just spend days together. But in the future when he did have to leave, he would visit regularly and when Sunaki turned 5 would spend 6 months with you and 6 months on the ship with Sanji till a better agreement could be arranged.

• But for now this was fine. Especially since it ment you got help on the days you worked. Today being one of those days.

• You had to go to work so you offered if Sanji wanted to watch her for the day which he jumped at. You giving him the diaper bag and some pre-made snacks from the local market.

• He looks at the cheap foods and raises a brow. "What is this?" He questions.

• "Well she's really picky, she would rather not eat all day if she doesn't like it. I've tried several recipes that most babies like and even went out. She will only eat 6 different things and milk" You admit and see Sanji clearly not impressed.

• "We will see about that- I won't have a picky or wasteful daughter" He stressed before heading into the ship. You smiling to yourself as you walked to work. This was going to be a disaster..

• 12 hours later you return to the crew eating like kings, Seemingly random assortments of things and laughing about Sanji- Walking into the kitchens were you saw the blonde looking drained of energy.

• It was by far the most brutal critics that Sanji had ever dealt with. Sitting in a half destroyed kitchen staring at his daughter in a high chair finally eating. Feeding her spoonfuls of whatever he had made.

• "How did it go?" You mused, Sanji sighing heavily with a unlit cigarette in his mouth.

• "14 dishes- It took 14 fucking dishes to figure it out... she's a God damn texture person-" He pointed out as you looked to see what he was feeding her.

• "Texture person?" You question and see to your surprise he was feeding her fried rice

• "Is that?-" Sanji nodded. "Curry fried rice and she had some diced up chicken earlier with garlic that she ate" He still looked tired but smiled with some pride.

• "She has an aversion to certain textures in foods, so taste isnt the issue but mouth feel. Truthfully her palette is more similar to an adult then a toddlers anyway- She just doesn't like mushy foods- All the snacks you gave me had one thing in common. They had something crunchy- She doesn't like tomatoes, cucumbers and probably anything seedy like that. I had to change shirts when I gave her Natto-" He deadpanned and sighed, Sunaki fussing for another bite which he happily gave her.

• You couldn't help but be impressed by this. He had spent all day figuring out his daughter's palette so she could eat a wider variety of foods.

• "You did really good Sanji" You praise. Earning a wide grin from him- before Sunaki gave another loud cry and opened her mouth to get more of the fried rice.

• "Alright Alright-" Sanji laughed as he continued to feed her, Clearly just filled with joy as he smiled at his little girl.

• He finally found the girl he was truly in love with from the bottom of his heart. Just who knew it would be his daughter.

Bonus!

• Zoro sends pictures and letters to Zeff of Sunaki. The old man cries a bit when he learns of the child and feels a flush of emotions.

• Will eventually meet the child and is just as in love with her as Sanji.

• Sanji sees first hand the difference a grandchild makes in even the crankiest of old men. How Zeff smiles, cookes special treats for Sunaki and even gives his chefs hat to wear while visiting.

• "When did you get so nice Old Man!?" Sanji screams as he watches the old pirate feed his daughter candy.

• "WHEN YOU BROUGHT ME SOMETHING TO BE NICE ABOUT! Now go clean the grills! I want to spend time with my granddaughter"