#or even Eleven it would probably matter more coming from her

[tender-rosiey]

“IT’S LAUGHING?! IT’S ALIVE?!”

— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, and toji hearing the baby’s first laugh (f!reader)

a/n: guess who's back, back again then I will be gone again (probably)

GOJO SATORU:

your husband is, admittedly, a very funny guy.

his humor always manages to get to people one way or another, so even if he doesn’t get a laugh, he certainly gets some sort of reaction.

not with his little angel though, the one person that he would die to see her laugh.

no matter how much tickling or raspberries he blew, it was never a laugh, merely a smile or a very short giggle if he was lucky.

he would come across a ton of videos of babies having hearty laughs and simply wished to be able to get the same reaction out of his daughter.

it is the reason he is currently burying his face in your chest and whining, “I feel like she thinks I am just not that funny.”

“satoru, she is still a baby,” you hum, fingers carding through his hair, “you know that babies have different views about what is actually funny; actually, I saw baby not long ago at a photo of number eleven. it was so cute!”

“but I tried everything! even the unusual!” he huffs, standing up to retell all of his failed attempts, “I tried dropping stuff, quickly stirring a liquid, lightly touching her with a balloon—everything!”

he looks at his daughter with his best puppy eyes, “come on, d/n! isn’t there anything that would you laugh a belly laugh?”

a little idea pops into your head. giggling, you sneak off leaving your daughter trying to comfort her wailing papa the best she can.

d/n is caught up with satoru until you finally come back and she smiles, “mama!”

“hi baby!” you grin before smacking your husband—lightly but not so lightly—with a roll of newspaper.

he yelps, “y/n! why would you do that?!”

but he is cut off by his little girl laughing, and I mean laughing so hard she kind of leans back.

you wait until she is quiet again before smacking him with the roll one more time, and she, once more, starts laughing heartily with small little wheezes and a long breath in the end when she calms down.

your husband, mortified, picks his daughter up, “d/n! you’re not supposed to laugh when papa gets hit! you’re supposed to get sad!”

she starts giggling and kicking her feet, putting her hand lightly on his nose. she tilts her head confused, and satoru thinks he knows what she is waiting for him to say. he shan’t falter!

at least, that’s what he thinks.

d/n takes matter into her own hands and smacks him on the forehead, resulting in him yelping and her going into a laughing fit that lasted a minute or so.

how unfortunate that his most precious takes pleasure in him being hurt.

his head snaps towards you, but he guesses that it makes sense since you also love teasing him so much.

a bunch of devils he says! two cute devils he laments.

GETO SUGURU:

geto is convinced that he was blessed with two angels, her cute little twins from his beautiful wife, you. he is also convinced that they would do no wrong—which is like what wrong can a baby a couple months old do anyway.

he ignores how gojo screams about being bullied by the girls, how that one mean babysitter was yapping about how they most definitely threw their toys at her intentionally, and how miguel syas that the girls always hide his glasses because they love seeing his stressed face.

to geto suguru, his daughters could do no wrong.

aside from that, he also noticed that his daughters love playing with hair, sometimes eating it which makes him scream but oh well.

for the most part, they know to treat their father’s hair gently as they watch you and himself do it.

that’s why he never thought that his darling angels would get their first belly laughs by pulling on his freaking bangs.

each twin holds one of the bangs and with all their baby power, they pull and pull almost like they want to tear it off his head.

and while he adores that his daughter are laughing so much—for the first time too—that they stumble back almost turn red, but he really doesn’t want to bald before heat least reaches his 50 or something.

another problem is that you never interfere unless he straight up screams for your help.

that made him realize how much of a common occurrence it is and he finally decided that he needed to put his foot down.

so he sat his girls down—including you because you’ve tolerated the violation of your husband’s hairline so much—and took a deep breath.

“girls, we need to learn that papa’s hair is fragile and we shouldn’t pull on it so much,” he turns to you with the quirk of an eyebrow. “right, honey?”

you barely hold back your smile before nodding and loyally supporting your husband, “why, of course, my love!”

he rolls his eyes, “so, be good girls and don’t pull on my bangs, please?”

one of the twins, while the other frowns and starts fussing. you lock eyes with your husband, and you both try to telepathically figure how to handle this, until your other twin starts crying.

now, you have two crying babies.

congratulations!

so your husband concedes and kneels in front of them, bravely offering his bangs. almost instantly, they stop crying and start pulling the bangs on their respective sides.

they start laughing and squealing again, and geto starts to think that balding is a small price to pay for his angels’ happiness.

he should probably stop calling them that though.

NANAMI KENTO:

now, in constrant to nanami, his daughter came out all bubbly and smiley, and it had nanami going as soft as a marshmallow.

it also didn’t help that d/n is convinced that her dad is indeed a marshmallow in which that she could only touch him softly.

she would gently pat his cheeks, press clumsy little kisses to his forehead, and squeal in order to cuddle with you or him. she also is extremely empathetic and starts crying whenever she sees someone hurt or genuinely frowning.

that was also the reason why gojo adored her since her crying cut anyone’s session of bullying him short. though, of course, he buys her a ton of toys to make up and comfort her.

he fails to realize that the true way to comfort her is to place in your arms or nanami’s.

like that one time when she bumped her head lightly and started crying profusely, throwing punches at gojo who was supposed to be babysitting her—poor choice but who am I to judge. she screamed and squirmed, demanding she be comforted.

however, none of the toys gojo bought were working.

and the two of you were called into a mission, so he literally is rendered helpless. that is until nanami returns a tad bit early than planned, and satoru couldn’t have been more relieved.

he hurriedly places d/n in kento’s arms, and the little girl takes a few seconds to realize who is holding her now.

she looks up, smiling at her dad. he instantly smiles back, “hey there,” he hums, “did you miss me?”

anyway back to what i was saying: a very sensitive and empathetic baby, right?

so when one day, you have your girl perched on your lap and nanami is going all out with scolding gojo, no one expects your daughter to burst one laughing.

you giggle, looking at her, “d/n, you like seeing papa scold uncle gojo?”

gojo gasps, “what?!”

you usher your husband, “babe, try it again!”

nanami nods with determination and gathers everything gojo ever bothered him with and translates it into a bunch of very child-friendly insults.

with each reproach, gojo deflates and d/n starts laughing more, squealing and wheezing. your husband abandons the crushed gojo and goes to hold d/n in his hands, “you okay there?”

she squeals and reaches for her feet, eyes never leaving her father’s. you coo, “she is so cute!”

“I never imagined my daughter would laugh at the sight of me, out of all people, scolding gojo.”

a very wounded gojo screams, “well I sure did! you family of haters!”

your husband frowns, but before he can talk, d/n cups his face and starts babbling a bunch of nonsense. nonetheless, your husband hangs onto every bit of said nonsense. 

gojo takes that chance to flee to the hills.

meanwhile, you’re holding a camera and recording the lecture(?) your tiny angel is giving your husband.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

your baby is the son of the all-mighty king of curses.

the man who sends terrors throughout the lands, the mere sight of his face is enough to cause someone to pee themselves.

everyone cowers in front of him, except you and more recently his son. on the contrary, in fact, your son can’t help but cackle whenever his dad puts on his “scary” face.

the first time it ever happened was when you were strolling the palace with s/n in your arms.

you know not to enter the throne room whenever sukuna has the villagers over to “hear their complains” as it almost always ended with him slicing one part of their body off.

you figured that it would be okay to at least pass by it since they always had the door closed—that started when you gave birth—but to your surprise, the door was open this time, giving you and your son a front row seat to sukuna degrading his subject.

“you’re wasting my time,” your husband states, and the villagers starts panicking.

“a-apologies my lord, pl-please grant me a-another chance!”

your husband scowls, “and now you’re ordering me around?”

the villager starts crying and kneels to the ground. on the other hand, your son couldn’t have been laughing more. his laugh echoed so loudly in the room that it drew everyone’s attention.

sukuna stares at the baby in your arms and scowls again, “y/n, why is he here?”

your son squeals and starts laughing again, hiding his face in your chest. you light up at his laughter, and sukuna finds himself livid at how the scene makes him feel content—until he notices the villager staring at you as well, what a short-lived happiness.

swiftly, sukuna slashes the villagers into cubes, and your son—who came out of his hiding spot—bursts into a fit of giggles that has you wondering just how much of sukuna’s sadism was passed to your darling son.

while you ponder over that, sukuna quickly makes his way to you, dismissing all the servants and tasking them with taking out the trash.

when your husband is right in front of you, you look up at him with a frown, “my son is laughing at torture, sukuna.”

“he is probably laughing at how pathetic the man looked,” he says as he smirks and pulls you close.

you huff and bounce s/n lightly, “shut up, old man.”

sukuna quirks an eyebrow and leans to be on your eye level. his hand is placed on your head, and he threatens, “you’re insulting your husband?”

s/n gasps lightly before harshly latching on sukuna’s face, fingers digging into his second pair of eyes. sukuna does not give any reaction except standing up to his full height.

your son, however, is relentless and is still hanging onto your husband’s face.

you don’t know how to react. sukuna doesn’t know how to react.

s/n just lets out a series of battle cries.

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

if there is anything that toji is doubtful of is whether his son actually loves him or not.

why you ask? well, the only thing that gets the kid laughing—aside from you laughing or smiling—is literally any inconvenience that happens to him.

he remembers that one time when shiu was over to discuss some business, nothing out of the norm. megumi was on just sat on his high chair beside toji since you were at work.

toji was just sipping on his coffee when he burned his tongue, “gosh damn it!”

shiu was about to make fun of him, but megumi beat him to it as he started laughing heartily, even taking breaths in between to calm down but to no avail.

toji’s eyes widen as he stands up to go to his son, “no way you’re laughing at me getting—what the hell?!”

toji groans after he bumps into the table, glaring at his son who starts laughing all over again. meanwhile, shiu chuckles and teases toji, “I think your son just loves you so much, doesn’t he?”

your husband rises to his feet, quickly carrying megumi and lifting him in the air. he grumbles, “I want my wife back.”

another time was when you guys grocery shopping.

you had most of the list crossed out and the only thing left was the frozen vegetables. easy, right?

so you, your husband, and son quickly made your way to the section—since megumi wanted to go to the park later to play with yuuji.

megumi stays in your arms, while toji goes to grab them. considering how unlucky this man is, the bag slips from his hand and falls flat on his face, and it freaking stays there.

to your darling son, comedy had never reached this peak, so he lets out a guttural laugh.

you want to join in on the laughter, but you noticed that toji is standing still, with the bag on his face.

so you walk to him, gently taking off the bag and teasing him, “you okay, champ? that made quite the noise.”

“don’t even start,” he groans and buries his face in your shoulder, ignoring the wheezing megumi. he then starts complaining, “they keep whining about how he is a quiet and shy kid, but he sure ain’t with me.”

“isn’t that a good thing? It’s important for him to feel free around his dad.”

he turns his head towards you, a frown plastered on his face, “no kid laughs whenever his dad gets ridiculed by life.”

“you told me that you laughed when your dad fell down a flight of stairs,” you deadpan.

“that’s because my dad is an ass; I am not,” he pauses, “for the most part.”

apparently, megumi senses his dad’s distress and starts slowly patting his head, albeit shyly. he lowers his gaze and mumbles, “so’y.”

toji’s eyes widen and he is frozen in place for a moment. your son takes note of that and starts staring him in the eye, waiting for his reaction.

your husband doesn’t take long for a small smile to break out as he lets a small sigh, “’s okay kid,” he hums and pets his head.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @girlnamedutsu

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[wanatasha]

will you marry me?

natasha x fem!reader

you begin to believe Natasha wants to break up when she spends more time away from you—in reality she was working double to buy you a ring

tw: not proofread and written at 12AM, established relationship, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, reader overthinks, love confessions, probably shitty tbh

Your bed as of late has been growing colder. It’s a shared bed, one large enough for two bodies. Well, it was a shared bed. The past month and a half you’ve been occupying the space on your own. Your girlfriend shows up, but it’s always when you’re already asleep. And when she wakes up? Too early.

She also has a habit of not responding to texts or calls at an orderly time. She’s been struggling with telling you about these sudden shifts as well.

Long story short you don’t see her as often anymore, if at all. She’s at her work more than she’s at home, it’s become her life. At first, you were ecstatic, but now? you just wanted to be awake when she comes home to at least greet her, ask her how her day is going, look into her eyes—

You didn’t think anything of her sudden and consistent disappearance act. Each time she told you she was leaving for work, you believed it. Now with where you stand at 6:46pm—cleaning the dishes with music playing in the background—this was the moment you realized.

Your thoughts started out as any other, chipper and useless almost before they spiraled and you began to think about her. You thought about your love for her, how you hope she’s been okay. You thought about why she’s been gone for so long. You thought about how day by day by day she’s slowly been less and less affection with you. She sleeps beside you still, but she’s here when you’re asleep and she leaves before you even stir. She barely responds to texts.

With your heart dropping, you wipe your hands off quickly so you can grab your phone. The messages shared between you are dull, but she’s been answering that she’s safe? Isn’t that enough? Why does it feel like you’re loving this relationship—one sided….

Then it hit you, she’s falling out of love with you.

You cried at the sink for a few minutes before you decided it be best to go to sleep earlier that night. A few dishes were left in the sink when Natasha came home, body sore and throat scratchy she stumbled in. She didn’t even notice as her only focus was getting to the bed, the one you shared, and passing out.

Again she woke up for work, and you woke up to a warm spot beside you again. You cried too. Tears fell like rain when you stepped in the bathroom to get ready for your own job. Throughout the day they would fall at random whenever you remembered her. By the end of the day you were mentally exhausted and you had a killer headache—and that was enough for you. Though despite every bone and muscle in your body begged you to keep the peace, you wanted to confront her. You needed to ask about what changed and how the two of you can fix it—no matter if that means breaking up.

So you got ready to stay up for possibly the worst night of your life. Eleven PM came and left as the numbers 3AM overtook the clock. You sat on the bed, each tick ringing in your mind. It was the sound you focused on until you heard the front door open.

3:41AM and she’s now coming home.

She’s used to her routine by now. Getting home and stumbling straight to bed, but she gets a shock when she comes to your bedroom door and finds you staring her down with tired eyes.

“Why’re you awake?”

You shrug, feeling an overcome of emotions then. Seeing her makes you feel choked up, sadness once again building so strongly within you. To think you’re about to loose her pushes your body into overdrive.

You’ll miss the warmth on the bed beside you, her kisses, the way she was always looking out for you, her smiles, her contact showing up on your phone, her laugh, her presence behind you when you woke up—You almost reconsider asking about what you are, but you full send it instead. It’s better this than to continue living with a ghost in your home.

“Why haven’t you been here,” you start, voice unfortunately very shaky, “It’s been like two months, Natasha and I’ve barely seen your face or heard from you.”

She looks shocked. Slight changes in her also tired expression that let you know of her response. She’s shocked.

“Two months?”

You nod, looking down and picking at your fingers, “can barely say I remember your face anymore.”

“I’ve been wor—“

“Are you trying to break up with me?”

“Okay, woah—what?”

“We’re closing in on month two. If you want to leave do it now, you’ve given me enough time.”

She stands up taller, confusion and offense written all over her face, “I don’t want to break up with you, I’m so confused—“

Your hands come down beside you, “you’re confused,” you laugh, “wow, that’s something. You don’t think that not being home for a month and a half is suspicious? That barely spending any time with me is not suspicious? That not texting or calling me or even caring to talk with me—is not the least bit suspicious?”

You wipe the tears with your right hand, trying to steel your eyes into hers, “Natasha I stay here for countless nights hoping you’d come home early and yet I’m faced with this same dent in the bed instead. I keep hoping things will change. I sit here and watch tv and end up falling asleep. When I wake up, the spot has moved. I try to read, and I get too tired, so I go to sleep and I find you came back that night again too. Why do you—“

Natasha had crossed the room in a few quick steps, hands reaching to bring your face towards hers. She cuts you off with a kiss, and since you’re such a fool for her, you lean into it immediately. Her lips come back, reconnecting and angling her face to kiss deeper. You run a hand through her hair, resting it on the back of her neck and holding her close.

“I love you,” she says as quiet as a whisper against your lips, “I’m so sorry how I’ve been as of late, I genuinely hadn’t realized I’ve been so stuck in a routine. I was so focused on my goal I neglected you.”

“What was your goal?”

She smiles, “to save up for a ring.”

Your eyes flicker around her face as your thumb rubs the skin of her cheek. Her words settle within you and you’re smiling so wide.

“You want to marry me?”

“Yeah,” she smiles wider and leans down to kiss you again, “will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

[solarmorrigan]

Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Eddie doesn’t sleep until the small hours of the morning. Mostly, he spends the night going over and over things in his head, wondering at everything he’d somehow misread.

The way Steve had always stayed after they had sex. The way he’d curled close to Eddie, showering him with soft touches and affection well after he’d technically needed to. The way Steve had started cooking dinner; trying out new, fancy-sounding recipes and trying to make it special, even when it was just the two of them. The way Steve had brought Eddie fucking flowers once, and had met his skeptical look with a shrug, saying that he figured maybe no one had ever bothered to bring Eddie flowers, and “Everyone deserves to get them once in a while.”

(The way Eddie had encouraged Steve to stay, had eaten up every bit of affection and hungered for more, had nudged playfully at Steve’s feet under the table while they ate, had kept those flowers well past death and still has one pressed between the pages of a notebook.)

It had all been there, so plain that even his bandmates had seen it, but Eddie – Eddie hadn’t let himself consider for a moment that it was something he could have. And now, because he’d told himself he couldn’t have something like that, he doesn’t get to.

A self-fulfilling fucking prophesy.

He finally falls asleep, miserable and alone in his bed for the first time in weeks, and wakes to someone banging on the front door.

Full rays of sunlight are streaming through Eddie’s window, and a quick glance at the clock tells him that it’s a lot later in the morning than he’d anticipated Steve showing up to get his things. One of the few complaints Eddie has (had) about sleeping with Steve is his chronic and apparently incurable early-riserism, but it’s past eleven a.m.

It’s late enough, in fact, that Wayne has probably come home and is trying to sleep, so Eddie rolls out of bed to get to the door before the knocking wakes Wayne.

Shedding his own sleepy haze as he jogs for the door, it occurs to Eddie that Steve knows Wayne’s work schedule and that, no matter how pissed he is, he wouldn’t be petty enough to take it out on Wayne.

So then who–

Eddie pulls the door open, interrupting his visitor mid-knock, to reveal the scowling face of Robin Buckley.

–ah.

Well, Eddie can’t say he hadn’t been expecting her, but he’d sort of assumed she would come with Steve attached. He glances out towards the driveway and sees only his van, Wayne’s truck, and Robin’s bike.

“He’s not here,” Robin says, curt and sharp. “I just came to get some of his stuff.”

That, Eddie hadn’t been expecting. He knows he fucked up, he knows Steve is hurt, but so much so that he’s outright avoiding Eddie? Eddie doesn’t think there’s ever been a conflict that Steve hasn’t met head-on, and he hadn’t expected this to be an exception.

All the same, he steps aside to let Robin in, prepared to fetch whatever she needs. He’d spent part of the night wondering whether he should gather Steve’s stuff up to make it easier for him, or if that would make it look like he was eager to have Steve out of his life; he’d eventually decided to just leave everything where it is.

“He said his migraine meds are here. And his spare glasses,” Robin says, and shit, that would explain where Steve is.

“How bad is it?” Eddie asks.

“Bad.” Robin answers shortly.

Eddie nods, gesturing for Robin to follow him back towards the bathroom.

He doesn’t know much about migraines, but he’s been learning. He knows most of Steve’s triggers (prolonged loud noise, heat, no sleep, stress) and he knows how to keep things dark and calm when one hits. He’s sat with Steve through a particularly bad attack, lying in bed with him, holding him carefully, watching tears stream out from beneath closed eyelids (not an emotional response so much as a physical reaction to the overwhelming pain) and feeling like his own eyes might well up, too, for the frustration of how useless he’d felt.

He directs Robin to the medicine cabinet and leaves her there while he heads back to his bedroom for Steve’s glasses. When he comes back, he sees Robin shoving some of Steve’s hair products into her backpack and feels a pang of upset somewhere in his chest. The shampoo had been one of the first pieces of Steve that had found permanent residence at Eddie’s place, sliding in next to his own soap after Steve had spent several mornings in a row complaining about not having his usual shit to shower with.

At the time, it had only made sense for Steve to have some toiletries there, since he stayed over so often. In retrospect, Eddie can see how it could have seemed like permission – and invitation. Welcoming. (And hell – hadn’t it been?)

Eddie hands Robin the glasses, and she tucks them carefully into a side pocket.

“I can’t stay away very long,” Robin says, voice crackling with banked anger, “so if you’re going to try to give me a reason not to come back later and kill you, make it snappy.”

(Make it snappy. Eddie almost wants to laugh, sort of wants to cry; it sounds exactly like the lame kind of turn of phrase Robin would have picked up from Steve.)

For all Eddie prides himself on his ability to improvise, on his extemporaneous speeches and infamous rants, he comes up empty. He’d spent all night wondering how he could have missed it all, why he hadn’t paid more attention, and he doesn’t even have an answer for himself, much less for Robin.

All he can really tell her is, “I didn’t know.”

“Oh, bullshit, you didn’t know!” Robin snaps, and Eddie rushes to quiet her. “Don’t you shush–”

“You can be pissed, just do it quietly,” Eddie hisses. “My uncle is asleep.”

The barest fraction of ire slips from Robin’s expression, and she jerks her head back towards the living area, following behind when Eddie goes.

“We both know Steve,” she says once they’re standing by the half wall that separates the kitchen from the living room, voice lower now but no less intense. “When he loves, he does it loud. Everyone else could see it from miles away, and it was right in your face. There is no way you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t–” Eddie drags a hand down his face in aggravated uncertainty as he tries to articulate. “I didn’t know it was an option!”

Robin’s eyes narrow, arms crossing over her chest as she regards him suspiciously. “You’re gonna have to elaborate on that one, Munson.”

“I mean – I’ve hooked up with people before, and it… didn’t change anything. Sex is just sex, right? Sex with a stranger doesn’t make them less strange, sex with a bar buddy doesn’t magically make you closer, and I thought – with Steve, I just didn’t think it would – I just didn’t think,” Eddie admits. “I never thought he’d want to be more than my friend, I didn’t think he liked relationships, I figured what we had already was more than I could possibly have earned, so I just never even let it be an option. Practically fucking blinded myself, apparently. Just told myself it was ridiculous and… here we are.”

“That’s depressing as hell, first of all,” Robin says, tone still sharp, “but it’s not a good goddamn excuse. What the hell would you have even done differently if you’d thought it was an option?”

“Honestly?” Eddie gives a strained laugh, letting his head fall back and making his confession to the ceiling. “Probably the exact same fucking things, just– on purpose. Sooner. More. I would’ve… known, and I could’ve appreciated it.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and when Eddie finally looks back down, Robin’s eyes are boring into him, startling in their intensity. It feels like she’s flaying him down past the bone, down to whatever the hell is at the core of him.

“Let me make this clear: I am not on your side. I will never be on your side if it comes down to you or Steve,” Robin says slowly, and Eddie only nods, because he knows that already. “Because, you know, I have never seen him happier than when he was with you – or when he thought he was with you, or whatever the fuck happened. But I have also never seen him more upset than he was last night, and I never want to see it again. You fucking crushed him, Eddie. You made him feel like he was stupid for seeing things that weren’t there, you treated everything the two of you did together like it meant nothing, you humiliated him in front of your friends–”

Eddie winces. “I didn’t mean–”

“I know,” Robin cuts in sharply. “If I thought you’d done any of that on purpose, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’d probably already be crossing state lines to avoid murder charges. I know you didn’t mean to, but that’s not a fucking excuse. It still happened.”

“Okay, I know I fucked up. I know,” Eddie grinds out. “But you can’t get on my ass for not acknowledging a relationship I didn’t even know I was in. We never talked about it, okay?”

“It’s not about the relationship!” Robin only just keeps her voice to a hushed yell. “Should Steve have tried to talk to you seriously about it? Put a real label to it? Probably, yeah! But you–” she jabs a finger at him, “you didn’t pay any attention to him. You didn’t think about whether his feelings might change, you didn’t think about why he was acting differently around you, you didn’t think at all, you just took.”

Eddie opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He wants to argue that Steve is an adult who can make his own decisions, who had made his own decision, and he certainly hadn’t started sleeping with Eddie blindly. He wants to say that Steve had known what it meant to fall into bed with him, but he’s starting to understand that maybe he’s the one who hadn’t realized what it meant to fall into bed with Steve.

“You took him for granted, and that’s– that’s the worst part in all of this. Even if you were in some bullshit friends with benefits arrangement, you’re still supposed to be friends, but you just–” Robin pauses, pursing her lips around a frown. “People don’t fight for Steve, you know that? They just– I don’t know why, but they don’t, and it makes me so fucking angry, because he just gives people everything, without even thinking about it. He makes loving people look so easy that they forget that it's not and they take it for granted. They don’t treat it like it’s something special to hold onto. And I didn’t think you would be on the list of people who let him down like that.”

Eddie sort of wishes Robin had just tried to hit him instead. It would hurt less.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to fix this,” he admits. “You can yell at me all you want, and I’ll deserve it, but that’s not going to make it better. It’s not gonna make me suddenly able to un-fuck everything up.”

“I’m yelling at you because I want you to understand exactly what you did,” Robin says. “Because he’s going to forgive you.”

“He’s– what?” Eddie asks brows furrowed.

“We both know he is. Of course he’s going to forgive you. He’s probably already halfway to convincing himself this was all his fault. I’m not saying he won’t be angry and hurt for a while, but– he’ll forgive you, and he’ll want to be your friend again,” Robin says, low and serious. “So, no, you can’t un-fuck up. But make sure you’re worth that forgiveness.”

Eddie isn’t sure what to say to that. He isn’t sure there is anything to say to that. But it seems like Robin is done with him anyway. She hikes her bag higher up on her shoulders and turns for the door.

“Hey,” he finally manages, and Robin turns back to cut an impatient look at him. “I can give you a ride back. If you want. Get the meds back to him faster.”

“I can get back just fine,” Robin says, pulling the door open and tossing one last shot back at him as she leaves. “You were fine dismissing him last night – why start caring now?”

The door bangs shut behind her, robbing Eddie of the chance to argue – and he would have, because he does. He fucking does care about Steve. And if Steve gives him the chance, Eddie is going to fucking prove it.

No one fights for Steve? Fine. Then Eddie’s going to start right now.

Part 4

-

Tags: @bushbees, @y0urnewstepp4r3nt

[heavyhitterheaux]

Best Friend's Boyfriend (NSFW)

Synopsis: You and Jack run in the same circle of friends, and you both have feelings for each other but are scared to admit them. Your best friend knows how much you like him and swears that he doesn't like you back. Instead of helping you to ask Jack out on a date, she starts to date him all in a plan to make you jealous. But you get the last laugh in the end.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Best Friend!Reader

Requested by: an amazing anon 💕

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

A sigh escaped your lips as you took another swig of your drink and looked over to your left and rolled your eyes.

She was all over him.

Again.

Her being your “friend” Skylar.

Him being one of your close friends, Jack.

You and Jack had been friends since you met in middle school at the age of eleven and you didn't meet Skylar until you moved to Atlanta with Jack.

Your entire group of friends decided to spend a week in Denver staying at an expensive top of the line cabin since it had been awhile since you all had seen one another.

Well since they had seen you.

In the back of your mind, you were debating on if you were going to leave and cut your trip short because you weren't quite sure how much more you could take.

Recently, you and Skylar had spent some time together when you confessed to her in confidence that you saw Jack more than a friend, but you weren't quite sure if he felt the same way towards you.

So what did she do?

Go out on a date with him despite your feelings and they had been together for the past two months.

After that occurred, you distanced yourself from the both of them and when Jack would try to invite you somewhere, you steadily declined. He had been missing you and was very excited when you said yes when he asked you to come to Denver.

However, the only reason that you agreed was because you had been told Skylar would not be in attendance. So when you arrived, you immediately wanted to walk back out the door and go home.

Even though she was all over him, Jack looked uninterested, but your thoughts were interrupted by Urban coming to sit next to you. Besides Skylar, he was the only one who knew how you felt about Jack.

Urban had told you time and time again to tell him, but being as shy as you were, you decided against it.

“You okay? If I would’ve known…”

“It's fine, Urby. Don't worry about it. Just have to make the best of it I guess.” You replied while shrugging.

“If it makes you feel any better, Jack is not as interested in her as she thinks he is. Probably won't last too much longer.”

“But it’s the fact that she calls herself my friend and then goes behind my back and….”

Urban immediately cut you off.

“She's not your friend. Friends don't do what she did.”

“I have a feeling that she used me to get to him. Urban, you know I’m quiet and wouldn't harm a fly. She took advantage of that.” You confessed as you poured yourself another glass of some wine that Jack had bought for you since he knew red was your favorite. It was a new brand that you had never tried before.

“I know, but karma's a bitch. She’ll get hers.”

“And it seems as if she doesn't care. She acts like nothing happened between us. How? How can she do that? I told her how I felt and…”

“Tell him how you feel. That's who matters in all this anyway.” Your eyes went wide at Urban's suggestion and you quickly shook your head no.

“I guarantee you that it will go better than you think. He really misses you.”

Before you could have a chance to respond, Jack made his way over to the both of you and picked you up and brought you into a hug.

Urban simply smirked as he looked behind you and Jack to see Skylar rolling her eyes at the scene in front of her.

The one thing that Urban didn't tell you was the fact that Jack liked you as well. Jack thought the feelings weren't reciprocated and when Skylar approached him to ask him out on a date, he figured why not?

Even though he had been around her for a few years because of you two being friends, he didn't notice that something was off until he had spent more time with her when it was just the two of them. He often talked about you, but all Skylar would do is talk down about you and that was one thing he put a stop to immediately.

He didn't know why he kept her around for so long, but quickly made a decision that when this trip was over, he was done with her. He had a feeling that was why you would decline when he asked you to hang out with him. He also noticed how the two of you seemed to have drifted apart within the last year, and not just recently.

However, Urban didn't like her from the moment you introduced her to them.

“I missed you.” Jack said as he whispered in your ear before hugging you tighter and you immediately melted into his arms.

“I missed you too, bubs.”

“I have you for an entire week and I'm definitely taking advantage of it. Did you like the wine I got for you? I know red is your favorite and my mom said that you might like it.”

“It's really good and I'm definitely getting a few bottles when we get back home. Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Always.” Jack said as his hands rested on your waist and he quickly reached up and poked your nose making you laugh.

A minute later Sunni and Cope came through the front door with bags of food since no one had wanted to cook when you all had gotten there and set them on the counter in the kitchen. All of you decided to simply relax the first night and then do different things around Denver for the remainder of the time that you were there.

“Finally! I'm starving!” Exclaimed Urban who was hot on their trail.

You and Jack laughed and it looked like he wanted to tell you something before Skylar had called his name.

One thing you did notice was him sighing when she did it, wondering what that was about.

“Babe! Can you fix my plate and bring it to me!?”

“Sure.” Jack said quietly, but he still had his eyes on you.

“We’ll continue this later.” He said as he leaned down to whisper it and you immediately nodded.

—

“What movie are we watching?” You asked as everyone had gotten their food and made their way back into the living room.

“Y/N! Come and sit by me.” Skylar piped up and said and you looked at her confused. Jack was hoping that you would say yes while Urban stifled a laugh once he saw the look on your face.

“Sorry, Urban already asked me.” You answered without missing a beat and going to sit next to him.

“The Nun!” Cope suggested and you knew for a fact that you would probably have to sleep in Urban's room if everyone agreed on that.

“I’m not watching any scary shit. Next.” Sunni said and Cope rolled his eyes.

“Bad Boys 3! The next one is coming out in a few months.” Jack said as he was scrolling through his phone.

“I still can't believe he slapped Chris Rock.”

“I don't see how anyone finds him funny anyway.” You said remembering all the movies that you had seen him in.

You had fallen asleep during every single one.

“I second that. When it first happened, I thought it was a joke.”

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

Jack glanced over at Skylar who was now downing another wine cooler and he noticed that she hadn't stopped drinking since they had gotten there earlier in the day.

“Uhh Skylar, do you want me to get you some water?” He asked concerned and she quickly turned up her nose at him.

“For what? If I wanted it, I would have gotten it.”

“I was just asking.” Jack replied as he held his hands up in defense and you quickly rolled your eyes.

One thing Skylar could not do was hold her liquor. It would go one of two ways, her crying and throwing up, or her being knocked out for hours. You were hoping it was the latter so you would be able to have Jack to yourself for a while.

—

The movie had finally ended and Skylar having gotten drunk off her ass was now passed out on the couch which you weren't surprised by. However, you were caught off guard when Jack asked you to help take her upstairs.

“Um, sure.”

You weren't quite sure exactly what you were helping with since Jack could easily carry her but said yes anyway.

He told you to go first up the steps as he slung Skylar easily over his shoulder. You couldn't wait to go to sleep yourself in the hopes of tomorrow being a better day for you.

All Jack did was lay her on the bed and once you turned around to leave, he caught your hand.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah? What's wrong?” You asked after growing suddenly concerned.

Jack held your hand for a few minutes before opening his mouth and responding to you.

“I… should have never said yes to going on a date with her when I knew that you were the person that I wanted. I didn't know if you felt the same way so the easiest thing to do was to distract myself.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest before it suddenly felt as if it had dropped down to your stomach.

“It wasn't supposed to be like this and I quickly learned that she only wants me because of what my name is attached to. I don't like her as a person at all. Now I see what Urb was talking about.”

“Jack….”

“Let me finish. You know she's a heavy sleeper and the last thing she is about to do is wake up. I've liked you since I met you but was entirely too scared to say anything.”

“I… I told Skylar how I felt about you and instead of helping me figure out a way to approach you about it, she goes and asks you out for herself. She continues to act like nothing happened as if we're still close but that was…. Friends don't do what she did.”

You felt as if a weight had been lifted off your chest once everything was finally out in the open.

“So that's why you've been avoiding me for two months?” Jack asked as he pinched your cheek.

“I didn't want to, but I felt as if distance was best.”

You said as you shrugged.

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Never do that again.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

You turned to walk away once more when Jack had suddenly stopped you and captured you in a kiss catching you off guard. You eagerly kissed him back and the two of you were in a full blown makeout session when Jack's hand snuck under your shirt. He smiled when he came to the realization that you weren't wearing a bra.

“I need this off of you.” He said as he massaged your left breast and kissed down your neck.

“But… she's right there.”

“So, what's your point babe? I know you want this just as much as I do. But just say the word if you want me to stop.”

Jack was met with silence and he easily got your shirt off in one swift movement as he laughed and kissed the shell of your ear.

“I didn't think so.”

Jack's hand quickly reached into your shorts and began to rub small circles along your clit and he simply smirked noticing how wet you were.

“Mmm, all of that for me, huh?” He asked as he moved his fingers up to his mouth to taste you.

All you could do was eagerly nod as he cupped your face to kiss you once more.

“You taste so good, but I want more. I need you to do something for me, pretty girl.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Go and lay on the bed.”

“I..”

“Keep quiet and don't make a sound because I’ll stop. Lay on the bed and I'm going to fuck you right next to her.”

Your adrenaline was pumping at the thought of getting caught, but the last thing you were going to tell Jack was no. Slipping off your shorts, you did as you were told as you noticed Skylar had rolled to the other side of the bed and let out a loud snore as Jack quickly undressed and began stroking himself while peering down at you making your mouth water.

Jack then climbed on top of you leaving a trail of kisses down your body until he got to your most prized possession and spread your legs apart and he took one long lick making you gasp.

“Shh, stay quiet for me. Look how pretty this pussy is.”

Your hand instantly went over your mouth in an attempt to keep quiet as Jack pleasured you. He then inserted two of his fingers as he sucked on your clit. A moan escaped your mouth for a quick second, but you quickly recovered in the hopes of not waking Skylar up.

“You taste so good, baby. I can't wait until you cum all over my face.”

Not trusting your voice because you knew the second your mouth opened that a moan would escape, you eagerly nodded your head as you started to roll your nipples in between your fingers as Jack continued to give you his undivided attention.

You didn't know how much time had passed, but Jack had made you release all over his face multiple times before you slowly felt him slide into you. The sensation made you gasp and he quickly kissed you to make sure you stayed quiet.

Your arms instantly went around his neck as he began to increase his pace. Jack had taken one of your nipples in his mouth when you felt Skylar move. You know Jack felt it too, but all he did was bite down which he knew was going to lead to you squirming. Once he lifted his head back up, he smirked at you before continuing to pound into you.

“You’re taking me so well, pretty girl.”

“Jack…” That was the first time you had moaned his name all night which quickly gave him an ego boost as it escaped from your lips.

“I’m…..”

“Close? Me too. Come on then, baby. Cum for me, cum all over this dick that's rightfully yours.”

That was all it took as you reached your peak with Jack then releasing all over your chest and stomach.

All that could be heard was heavy breathing as both of you were trying to catch your breath. Jack was still hovering over you and leaned down to kiss you as his fingers started to slowly rub small circles along your clit once more. He quickly heard your whimpers and smirked.

“Hmm, didn't take you for a girl who would fuck her best friend's boyfriend.”

“All she did was keep my spot warm until I could rightfully take my place. Now it's my turn. Lay down and let me ride you.” You said as you leaned up to kiss him.

[julianalvarez9]

CHANGE YOUR MIND / MASON MOUNT

SUMMARY: You never really liked Mason Mount, even before he came to your club. Turns out, he's a very persuasive man, who will do everything he can to change your mind.

PAIRING: mason mount x ten hag!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

WARNINGS: mason is a lovesick fool, use of ten hag as a plot device i'm so sorry

AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's been agesssss since i've posted something, so here's this! (something's that's been sitting in my drafts and i didn't dare finish for almost a month!). would reallyyyy love some feedback!

Your eyes go wide at the sight of him, resting calmly over the cap of his car, hands hiding inside his pockets. Mason looks straight out of a movie; one where the protagonist is waiting for his lover outside of their home. You try to not think about that, or about the warm feeling in your chest, as you angrily make your way towards him.

Once you reach him, you're ready to voice your concerns about his presence in your parents' home. "What are you doing here?".

The urgency in your voice only made the Englishman grin harder, if that was even possible.

He shrugs, clearly not preoccupied about the matter. "Came to see a friend, offer her a ride to work". You roll your eyes, annoyed, because obviously, this is Mason. This is the same insufferable guy you've got to know for months now, ever since he signed for Manchester United.

By looking at the watch on your wrist, and knowing your dad's entire routine, you know you two are running out of time.  "C'mon, Mount, you need to leave!", you urge, and he tilts his head in confusion. "What? Why?," as if his entire life, at least, sport related, wasn't threatened by the man about to walk out the door.

"Did you hit yourself on the way here? Did you happen to forget who I live with?".

He shrugs, again, claiming "I don't mind". A second after, "he actually likes me. More than you do, at least". It's not the first snarky remark he throws your way, but it's still too early for you to pretend he hasn't got a special capacity for getting under your skin.

"I'd like to see if he continues to like you when he sees you talking to his daughter in his front yard".

You're right about that.

Yeah, Mason is your dad's new shiny toy, awarding him with being a constant feature in the starting eleven in every United game, but you doubt he'd be alright with whatever he's trying to do. After all, he never liked any of your past boyfriends, or friends who he -somehow- recognized as undeserving of his little girl, his only daughter. "I think he will," Mason says confidently, "I'm actually a great son-in-law, you know?".

You swear it is too early in the morning to have rolled your eyes the number of times you have in his presence, during the past three minutes. You ask, hopeful that the sly remark works to get him off your back. "Has being this cocky actually helped you, in some way?".

When his smile falters, you grin. It's probably the first time he doesn't have something, anything, to hit back, and you consider it a win for your side. "It did," he answers truthfully a beat after, and now his smile is bigger than ever. "Look, you're smiling at me".

You try, hard, to stop your cheeks from going red, but the way you can't really hold his stare any longer is a win for him. He basks in this feeling, knowing himself to be able to make you nervous must be a good sign, right?

At least, he hopes so.

"Okay, stop fucking around or you'll be late," you warn, coming close enough to him to push him off the hood of his car, and towards the driver's door. You try to ignore the way your fingers burn after touching him, deciding not to acknowledge the warning signs that something had changed in the past few weeks. You don’t despise him nearly as much, but you’re not keen on the idea of him knowing about it. Yet.

Mason opens the door of his car, and gets in. You nervously watch back, to the entrance door, after seeing what time it is. 9:13 AM. Your father will be out the door, any second now.

You hope that, the next time you look to the street, the car will be gone, and any trace of the Englishman vanished, like a dream. But instead, when you turn again, the tinted window of his car is down, and he's looking mischievously at you. "Already caring for me? that's new, Ten Hag".

"Go away, Mount".

Hearing the door open, just a few seconds after seeing Mason's car disappear from your street, makes your blood turn cold. The piercing question from your father doesn't make things better. "What are you doing over there?". There’s nothing you could possibly say that will convince your father, and saying the truth isn’t a possibility right now; so, instead, you defuse the question. "Nothing, nothing. Are you ready to leave now?".

The way to Trafford Training Centre is quiet. Your father isn't one to talk much normally, but the silence squishes you until you feel like you're holding your breath. He knows, you're sure, and you’re gonna make Mason pay for it. 

That’s it, if you reach the training ground alive.

"You know, I think Mason is a good kid".

The affirmation is nowhere what you had expected your father to say, so you can’t hide the furrowed brows and defensive tone that comes along with it. "We're in first name base already? Wow, that's new".

The car stops in the red light, and your dad takes the time to turn his head in your direction. He sees your fixed gaze ahead, brows still furrowed, and his head tilts in confusion. "And he's trying really hard to get in your good graces".

"That's not true".

A beat.

"I saw him this morning".

After that, you're left waiting; either, for the disapproving voice in his tone, the yelling, or the pointing out reasons why you shouldn’t be this close to a player, much less someone like him. But instead, he’s silent. And somehow, the silence is scarier.

The air feels thick, and it’s scarily similar to how it feels when a storm is brewing. Hot, too heavy, and like the entire sky is about to fall apart. And a few minutes after, with the car finally parked, and the training center standing tall just a few meters ahead, Erik begins to talk.

“I don’t have a problem with it. Whatever it is”. In other circumstances, you’d laugh at the way he signaled with his hand when saying it, almost like dismissing the entire ordeal, as if he still, so many years after introducing other boyfriends in the past few years -not one that’s worth mentioning, though-, refused to acknowledge that his little girl is not so little anymore.

“I know I always said it’s not a good idea. And I still don’t think it is,” he remarks, but holds a finger up before you can’t argue against what he’s saying, “but, as I said, he’s a good kid. And, most importantly, he’s aware that if he breaks your heart, he won’t play anymore, so-”.

The horror in your eyes must be evident, because he starts laughing before you can tell him off because of his antics. “Dad!”.

“So, you can go out with him. Just don't break his heart, yeah?” You can’t even respond because he gets off the car then, taking his things with him before closing the car door. Yes, you come in together, but since you insist on keeping family business out of the club, Erik begins making his way in alone.  “Could really use my star player having a great season".

In the distance, you can see Mason; he’s smiling widely, with a coffee cup in his hand, and standing just by the door. He opens it, to let your dad in, and you shake your head in feign disapproval.  “Right, Mount?,” Erik calls, alluding to his previous statement; the one he can’t possibly have heard, given how far he was when he said the words. Between the three of you, you’re not the only one that knows that it’s a test, so Mason answers accordingly.

“Yes, sir, of course”.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

After sandwiches, Nancy turns to El. “Could you look for Barb again?”

El sets her mouth and nods. She glances at Steve, who also nods and moves to set up the living room again.

Eddie follows him in and picks up the blindfold. Steve doesn’t try to hide his smirk. “You’ve got questions, I’m guessing?”

Eddie shrugs, leans against the couch. Watches the fabric as he pulls it through his fingers. Right hand, left hand. Right, left. “Mostly thinking I was wrong about you. Even more than I initially thought.”

Steve smiles. “We never got to have this conversation in the future, but I do know what your bandana means.” He stops for a second, watches Eddie’s hands. Right, left. “I’m offering… not an olive branch, per se, but…”

“An invitation?” Right, left.

“Exactly.” He shrugs. “If there’s anything you want to know…” he trails off, lets it hang in the air.

Eddie smiles. “Just one thing.” He holds it up in his left hand. “Who d’you use it on?”

Steve grins and turns away, looking for the remote. “Myself.” His smile falls. “Or- I did. You heard about the Russians, right?”

Eddie steps up beside him. Offers him the blindfold. “Yeah. Makes sense.”

Steve shrugs. “I’d say if I could go back in time, but…” he gestures around with a grin, letting it widen when Eddie chuckles. “Turns out going back in time does nothing for the memories I already have.”

Eddie frowns. “Kinda fucked up, isn’t it? Your body reverted back to its sixteen-year-old self, but your brain is still twenty.”

“I mean, imagine me coming to school one day looking like this, and the next I come in with scars, looking half a decade older. People would talk.”

Eddie hums. “You’re probably right. Still, it can’t be easy, having those mental reminders with none of the physical.”

Steve grins at him. “Did you miss the part where I don’t have concussions?”

Eddie snorts. “Fair enough. Still, I bet the scars looked badass.”

“Very metal,” Steve agrees. “Y’know, if you’d survived? We woulda had matching scars.” He trails a hand down his side. “The bats ripped us both open. Woulda gotten me if you, Robin and Nance hadn’t gotten there when you did. You took on a bat with nothing but an oar from a rowboat.” He turns to look at Eddie. “You told me once, how you’re a coward. How you run.” He shakes his head, looks away. “You didn’t. Not when it mattered. And you won’t this time.”

“Maybe this time we’ll have matching not-scars,” Eddie says, then points at Steve. “And no concussions.”

“And no concussions,” Steve parrots, laughing. “If we have to deal with the Russians again, though? I’m definitely doing something different.”

“We,” Eddie murmurs, shrugging when Steve looks at him. “We’ll do something different. You think any of these kids are gonna leave you alone after this? You think Eleven will leave you alone?”

“I hope not,” Steve answers honestly. “And you? You’re staying?”

Eddie shrugs again. “You said I didn’t run when it mattered. Who’s to say this doesn’t matter just as much? I’m not running.”

Steve smiles softly at him. “You’re a good man, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie levels him with a look. “I sell weed, Steve.”

Steve snorts. “I’m well aware, dude, I’ve bought from you before. If all goes well, I’m planning on buying another.”

Eddie laughs. “Hell, man, if it all goes well, I’ll give it to you, free of charge.”

Steve winks. “I’ll hold you to it,” he says, then leaves Eddie to process while he goes to get El.

Of course wherever El goes, Mike’s not far behind, which means he, Dustin and Lucas follow, and of course Nancy follows, and since everyone else is already in there, Jonathan and Robin follow too, so they all end up crammed in the living room again, with bated breaths and tightly-held hands, as El settles in front of the TV and puts the blindfold on.

Finally, she speaks. “I see her. She is alive.”

Nancy slumps into the couch and lets out a breath.

Then El speaks again. “She does not have very long.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

[jolapeno]

xi. hold her, and tell her everything's gonna be fine

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eleven of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: sad!reader, talks of jobloss, comforting!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love ✨ wordcount: 3.3k. an: i know, when will jo stop changing the banner, but I love this so much and feel it encompasses everything for these two.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

I have one last thing to research and then I’m all yours.

have you eaten

There is a piece of fruit in my hand, as I research.

you said you were gonna order

In my defence, I’m not super hungry.

if I was there id hide your notebook and make you eat tamales my mama taught me to make

Make me, ay?

oh baby normally i would be so down to talk dirty with you and make you blush but only when youve eaten

I really want this job, baby.

i know but i really want you to not be ill

Because you really really really like me?

i heard that in your voice and yes because I really like you

In the last few days, the two of you have managed to complete three crosswords. Something he’s impressed with and you’re disappointed in.

“So, another one—I’m still unsure what this even means.”

Laughing, he hears you crunch another piece of fruit—thankful to hear you eating. “What’s the clue, baby?”

He’ll never tire of it, hearing you call him that. A sweet sound, all wrapped in kindness—floating down the phone line all the way to his ear.

“‘Not a company man’, six letters,” he says, fingers rolling the bridge of his nose.

“Hermit,” you say, calm, casual. “Or, you know, me if I don’t get the job.”

“Baby,” he warns, pen scratching the paper as you try to laugh.

Then you asked to change the conversation. Something he was more than happy to oblige, capping the pen, shoving the book away, leaning on the counter as you tell him about a new recipe you like. Talking fast, busy—almost far too energetic, but he knows why.

It’s all because of today.

The interview—the things he’s heard you jump through hoops for—arriving sooner than he could have relaxed you for.

You’d practised elements of your presentation and called him more than you usually would. Something he liked, enjoyed. The feeling of being needed. That his opinion mattered. It all weaving within him, stitching the parts of him that had weakened since the goodbye, since the drive home—alone and without you.

After a quick text in the morning, Javi had known not to expect to hear from you for a while. Likely not even immediately post your interview, probably needing a coffee—a breather.

If he lived there, where you were, you’d likely need him. Meet him outside, coffee in hand to give to you, a comforting hug, your breath on his neck as you let the tension out.

But he wasn’t there.

And he had thought he might have heard from you an hour later.

let me know how it’s gone baby

Javi tries not to be needy.

A battle he finds easy to lose when it comes to you. Digging his phone out the back pocket of his jeans periodically, ignoring the animals nuzzling their noses at him for food as he checks his battery, texts, calls…

Then the hour bled into two. Your interview was two-hundred and thirty-nine minutes ago, to be precise.

By now, he’s expected to have heard something, anything.

you still want me to call tonight

He tries not to worry. Even as his tasks dwindled, the sun beating down, his stomach growling and sweat building in parts of him that he should shower off.

But a part of him thinks if he goes inside, it’ll layer on top of him: the loneliness. The thing he feels, but pretends isn’t there.

Because normally, he’d have heard from you at lunch—if not more frequently throughout your day. The silence expected, very out of character. Which turns some cogs in him that twist and tighten, forcing his throat to burn and his stomach to flutter with a nervousness he can’t explain, except that:

Javi wants you.

Not just in the sense that he wants to run his fingers up and down your side, to crush his lips over yours, to bury himself inside of you as he feels himself falling, freely, and happily. But more that he wants to wake next to you, see you smile and laugh amongst the field, show you the water’s edge—feel some contentment there rather than boiling anger at the boats.

You could wear your jacket as the weather cools, and spread your warmth from the photo strip to the rest of the ranch.

youre doing that thing where you make me worry, baby

Eventually, after much internal fighting, he heads in and showers.

Hands washing the day as he hopes the water will take away his worries too. Pressing his palm flat to the tiles, he allows the water to beat down on him—eyes occasionally glancing to the phone on the windowsill, willing it to light up.

He suspects it’s why he stays in a bit longer.

Allows the soap suds to have long since vanished down the plug hole, letting the water begin to go cold as he uses all of the water up.

It’s only when he’s dried off, thrown some comfier clothes on—sunk into his usual chair, does he rotate the phone in his hand. His fingers slid along the underside of his chin, eyes fixated on a photo of him and his parents—their faces beaming, smiling, his hands in theirs.

even got me using punctuation and everything

Please, he whispers.

To no one. Not his Pop in the next room, some show bleeding into the air. Just to himself, as he works the spot on his forehead.

You don’t text him back, but you do call bang on time.

He’s spent the last half an hour pretending he wasn’t loitering, while his pop pretended he wasn’t coming in to make drinks to check on him. Giving him that look, the one Javi had seen so often when he’d first come back from Cali.

All concern, all deep lines embedded with worries as he ticks, tick, ticked.

This was different. Something in his gut telling him that you weren’t okay, a need inside of him to get to you—pack a bag, head to the airport and hope there was a flight or something.

He only hadn’t because a part of him, small—but loud—hummed that it could be him. He could be the reason, the cause. It all too good to be true. His fingers pressing keys to read back his texts, see if he can find the cause—the moment it all began to spoil and undo.

The last hour of investigation led him to nothing. Irritation threading into his muscles until he heard the phone ring—loud, punching holes with its noise into his unravelling.

Smirking, he wipes his hands on his jeans, cocking his head around the doorway—checking for the flickering television and no lurking pop, before he unhooks the ringing phone from its place.

“Took you long enough, was about to ring you and ruin—”

“J—Javi?”

Sniffle. A sob. The beginnings of you splitting in two.

That’s what he hears—clear as anything. It cuts straight through his attempt at teasing and slices through him as though the sound was laced with the edge of a knife.

It’s instant, barely explainable, the way his stomach falls to his feet. His smile vanishes, stolen and robbed, as another sob expands in the space of your two’s silence, making his throat dry, and the phone crunches a little under his grip.

“Baby. Talk to me, what’s happened?”

You swallow, all thick, as though it's a struggle. “I��� I—I didn’t g-get the job-b.”

Slowly, his eyes close. Hearing you cry again, louder, less restrained and more freely, them rolling and rolling from you like a wave. The depth of it travels freely down the phone, in the same way, he usually craves when it’s your voice, noise, or presence.

“I’m… cariño, I’m so—”

“—I’m s-sorry, Javi. I’m so sorry…”

Frowning, he slides the fingers down his nose as you continue to apologise—them merging with your hiccups and tears.

“Cariño, wait. Stop.”

And you do. Your sniffles all of a sudden ceasing, more restrained—practically swallowing another one back. Trying to keep it on your tongue, rather than let it escape.

“Why are you apologising to me?”

You’re quiet for a moment, a second. Then you seem to let out a strange noise, before clearing your throat. “The job… I… we’d have been seeing each other more, and I’ve ruined it—I ruined-d it all.”

Frowning, he opens his mouth. Confusion there, all evident and brimming. Because he hasn’t got a fucking clue what you’re talking about. His brain runs, dashing through the notes it’s been making, the snippets here and there you’d spill about your day and your work.

“It was-s in Houston. I’d have been able t-to move. We’d have been c-closer.”

And then it lands.

The realisation. What it would have meant.

It appears in front of him before it slams straight into him. Forced his head to drop, sight lowering to a mark on the wall as his chest tightens. His eyes fixated, unable to tear his eye from the stain on the off-yellow wall—one likely made from him sitting on a stool or chair, maybe even his knee when he’s stretched, when minutes have quickly tumbled into an hour.

Even if he’s reeling, your ramblings have continued. They’re all in various pitches, spluttered and painted in painful cries and strangled sniffs.

“—I—I didn’t want to tell you at first, in case we didn’t, you know, get on.” You continue, some words slamming into the next as you try to level out your cries. “Then I didn’t want to tell you in case you got excited, and I fucked it up—and I did, didn’t I? I fucked it up. And now we won’t live closer, and—“

“Baby—“

But you’re tumbling, rolling right off the emotional cliff you’d been on the edge of. Thick, horrid sobs that shake his foundation and dart cracks through all of him continue to travel from you.

And it hurts. Makes him feel both horrid and weak—helpless. Unsure what he can say, do.

So he offers, “They’ll be other jobs.”

And as soon as it unfurls from his tongue, he wants to drag it back. Swallow each syllable, and letter, and never let you hear them again.

Because he’s sure you cry harder, louder. Even if it appears like you pull the phone away so he can’t hear how deep they go.

And you keep trying to spill out his name, a sentence here and there, trying to form as he pushes the phone against his ear, palm flattening against the wall—balling his fingers up—

“There won’t be…”

Sighing, he lets you take a breath. “Baby, of course, there will be. You’re good, I can tell, alright? And you’re brilliant and just cause those fuckin’ idiots can’t see—“

“I quit, Javi.”

The words he’d been about to say, fizz out on his tongue, die, fade. And it seems to only make you cry harder. His mind trying to catch up, to follow on with what is happening as you explain, in broken sobs, how your entire life seems to crumble apart all around you.

“I… I couldn’t take it. The reason, the explanation. How they gave it to the new guy, the one who doesn’t even know how Houston operates—and I just saw red, Javi. And I quit. Me? I… I just packed my desk up, left….”

He bites the inside of his cheek, listening as you take a breath—it sounds so much like defeat has replaced your sorrow.

“Then I just wandered. A box under my arm… and… I wanted to reply, but I didn’t know where to start. Like, ‘I miss you so much, but by the way, I didn’t get that promotion, and I snapped because they treat me like shit, so I quit. That my best friend is so excited because they’re paying for her to move this month for her new job, and my lease on my apartment is coming up’ and…”

“And what?”

It’s your turn to sigh, it more shaky and still embezzled with sniffles—fluttering down to his ear. “And…” you pause, his pulse suddenly quickening, waiting, mouth opening and then closing. “And, the person who would make me feel better isn’t even in the same State as me—because, I know this sounds crazy, but as soon as I heard why I didn’t get that job, all I wanted… well, all I wanted was you.”

Me?

His lips curl, sliding up into his cheek. His eyes look up, dancing around the marks on the wall as he straightens his spine, and swallows back whatever lump had been forming.

“I just…” you continue, “wanted to be back in that hotel room. Curled up in your arms.”

“You….” Clearing his throat, he tries again. “You know how we could solve that? You could come here—clear your head… just for a minute. Get all the hugs you want.”

You let out a noise, low, shifting it from it to a breath in record time. “Well, I wouldn’t be much fun. I’d just spend it in your bed.”

“That doesn’t sound all that bad, baby.”

“Sleeping and crying, do it for you, charmer?”

He grins, before rolling his lips. “Not if it’s not from how good I make you feel, no. But. I just—want you to have options.”

You go silent, far too quiet for his liking, until he hears the sound of movement, shuffling. His ears honing in, trying to work out what it is you’re doing, could be doing.

“What am I actually gonna do, Javi?”

Fuck. It suddenly dawning on him how unequipped he is for this. For comfort—for being there for another person. He barely looked after himself before, never mind since he came home. He hasn’t got a fucking clue what to say to even begin to make someone feel better, never mind someone who means as much to him as you.

“I… I quit my job. Without even finding another one—that’s… that’s crazy, insane—I don’t do these things and-and—“

Rolling his head on his neck, he ran a hand over his face. Trying to buy a second or two, digging deep for an answer—something comforting that would help.

“You, baby, are gonna get some sleep, and tomorrow we’re gonna sort it.”

He hears you swallow. Loud, followed shortly after by a sigh.

“We?”

You say it quietly, full of disbelief.

Because only you still wouldn’t realise how deep he is in with you. If he could, if he could risk hijacking the moment to explain, he’d tell you how worried he’s been, how he’s been obsessively checking and clicking, to the point he’s pretty sure he’s taken some life of his phone battery for it.

Swallowing, he bites his lip, nodding to himself. “It’s you and me, ain’t it, cariño? You’re not… you don’t have to figure this out alone, is all I mean.”

It’s soft—the way you reply, okay. Delicate. He’s hopeful it’s accompanied by a smile, one with a nose scrunch.

“Javi?”

“Yeah, baby.”

“Can you… can you stay on the phone with me?”

Pulling a stool over, he sits himself down on it. The ache in his chest widened, a lump in his throat forming. “Sure, baby. You want me to talk about anything in particular?”

“Not sure…”

“What would you do if I was there?”

He swears he hears you smirk.

“I would cook you almond saffron chicken.”

Shifting on the stool, he adjusts the phone in his hand. “Yeah? How come?”

“It’s the first dish Aish taught me to make, and I think you’d like it. And, I’m quite hungry, I… I didn’t really feel up to food before. But maybe, y’know, if I came to see you, had the chance to cook, maybe over a long weekend?”

Smirking, he lets out a content breath. “I like the sound of it already…”

“Because of me cooking in your kitchen?”

Laughing, he rolls his lips. “No, because it would mean you were here, cariño.

Morning baby, hope the cows aren’t trying to eat your shirt.

morning hermosa why are you up so early

Well, I thought of having a lie in but decided to grab a coffee, print off some CVs and not look as desperate as I feel.

if it makes you feel better im pretty sure my pop would hire you in a heartbeat

Bet I’d look real good in dungarees.

fuck baby

Could even wear your shirt, tie it so it’s a crop.

youre killing me

I’ll leave you with that, I have a list of places to beg to give me a chance.

wouldnt need to beg me

Stop, baby. Save it for later.

He’d barely dried himself off before your text came through.

Javi had found that the one upside to you being unemployed was the amount of time you had to reply or call—something he wasn’t complaining about in the slightest.

In a way (a small, acceptable way), it felt like a taste of what it would be like if the two of you lived closer. If there weren’t towns, cities and states between the two of you. If you lived close by, or better yet, on the ranch with him.

Across the last few days, while you’d seemed upbeat through text—just as you were when the two of you were in Houston—he quickly realised how much of a mask that was when he had you on the phone.

If not for the fact that when you ended the call, you seemed more yourself than when it started, Javi would have already begged someone from a ranch or two over to help, and book a flight out to surprise you.

“Hello, charmer.”

Grinning, he runs his hand over his chin. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Well, I have good news.”

“What’s that then?”

“Remember when I said I had to meet with someone in Houston, from imports? Well, apparently, they’ve been trying to get hold of me at work—one of the few nice people there let me know, even passed my details on.”

It begins—right in his stomach. A nervousness, a bubble—it rising and rising, sliding into his heart as it makes it beat just that much quicker.

“He wants to meet with me… apparently, I impressed him?”

“That’s—fuck, that’s amazing, baby.”

Javi can almost hear your grin as you laugh—can even picture you hiding your face in your hand at his happiness.

“Yeah,” you say, more in a sigh than anything else. “It’s obviously just an interview—maybe even a chat, but it’s something.”

Tracing the back of the phone with his finger, he runs his fingers up his neck, up his chin—

Pulse thumping in his neck. “I could… Could always drive up, see you after?”

“Oh… um?”

Oh? He thinks. The noise suddenly on repeat. It’s all he can hear—that little surprised noise rips from your throat and punctures his ear. His own fingers scratching at his cheek.

And then you clear your throat, and he grits his jaw. “Well, if you wanted, once I’ve had my meeting with him, I was going to ask if I could come to Laredo, see the ranch… and you?”

Just as quickly as it came, the earlier shame from your ‘oh’ vanishes. It bursts, erupts into a thousand pieces of nothing as the edges of his lips begin to curl up.

“For a second, didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

You don’t laugh, don’t ridicule his confession, and if you were here, he’d imagine you’d have tilted your head in that way you do.

“Javi, of course, I want to see you. I…” you take a long pause as though battling with yourself. “Baby, I’ve been trying to find my way back to you since the moment I left you. There’s nothing I want more than to see you. I promise.”

His shoulders descend from his ears, a smile spreading across his face so large—he’s not sure anything could take it. Something inside of him shifted, sliding back together.

“So, do you mind if I come to see you on your ranch? Bother your animals, let me admire your fence work?”

If he hadn’t been sure before, he’s sure now he would have kissed you. Grip you by your cheeks and crash his mouth to yours, stealing that question mark from the air and using his lips to remind you that with him, you never need it.

But, since he can’t, he finds words. One’s that are more eloquent than ‘fuck, yes’, but are close in family to it.

Because, of course, he wants to see you. He never wanted to let you go in the first place.

an: we have next weeks and then an epilogue, and LNT 'main story' will be done. honestly, thank you for all the love as we've gone on this journey. i never expected this for one second, and i'm so emotional right now at how well loved/supported this story has been. i'm gonna miss it, so much.

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Seventeen

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing too warning worthy, just some really creepy vibes at the end. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.5k

A/N : happy fic-friday!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE | CHAPTER TEN | CHAPTER ELEVEN | CHAPTER TWELVE | CHAPTER THIRTEEN | CHAPTER FOURTEEN | CHAPTER FIFTEEN | CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MASTER LIST

Chapter Seventeen

You sat in silence, too paralysed by fear to think rationally. There were things you knew you should be doing, like looking out of the window and trying to figure out where you were and, perhaps more importantly, where you were going. But, really, what did it matter? You’d always known that it would come down to this, that you’d end up his prisoner and, now, you knew for certain that no one was going to save you.

Your eyes drifted to the rear window, not looking at him, not even acknowledging his existence. 

The streets of New York all looked the same at night; all bright lights and crowds of people. The only thing you could tell was that you didn’t seem to be leaving the city. Somehow that made things worse, knowing that you were still so close to Billy but you might as well have been a million miles away. 

And, suddenly, despite your situation, Billy was all you could think about. He was probably at Josie’s by now, he’d probably realised that you were gone and that he’d never see you again. He was probably so angry.

“You’ll soon get tired of giving me the silent treatment,” he stated with a confidence that made you sick to your stomach, “but I’m not going to rush you. I have patience and we have the rest of forever.”

Forcing a breath, you tried everything you could to keep a blank face and not give into the scared helplessness that was filling you. Your gaze remained focused on the window and the streets you’d been so excited to explore only a few weeks ago. 

A sense of claustrophobia took hold the moment the limo turned into an underground parking structure, darkness filling the car and making you feel more trapped than ever. Then the car stopped.

You didn’t move, didn’t even tear your eyes away from the window.

Until he reached for you.

His cold hand on yours caused you to flinch and pull away, only to find fingers tightly gripping your good wrist.

“You’re going to behave for me,” he told you, the slightest hint of annoyance seeping into his tone.

“Or what?”

You weren’t sure what came over you in that moment but you were just as surprised by your sudden snap as he was.

“Do I have to remind you what will happen to your family?” He asked, leaning closer, gripping tighter. “Or maybe I should remind you what I’m capable of...”

“You don’t scare me anymore, Mr Drake,” you answered back, his name spat from your mouth like venom despite knowing you were only making things worse. 

“Please, you should call me Justin since you’re going to be my wife,” he offered with a smile that made you feel ill. “And you should be scared of what could happen if you try to refuse me again.”

“Am I supposed to care what happens to my parents after they sold me to you?”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, a sound that caused the dread in your stomach to continue to build.

“And what about Irene? You still care about her, right?”

The sound of your sister’s name on his lips was almost enough to cause your heart to stop. It was a lie, it had to be. She’d been gone for years, no one knew where she was or how to find her.

“You’re lying.” You decided to call his bluff.

He let go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. A moment later you felt bile rise in the back of your throat at the picture he showed you. It had been years since you’d seen her, but there was no mistaking that it was your older sister. The sickening feeling only continued to increase as he started to swipe through pictures; pictures of a family, of two young children and a telltale bump on her belly.

“If you’d prefer I could take what’s owed me from her instead, along with your nephews and your unborn niece.” He put the phone away, no longer needing it to threaten you. He’d made his point.

“You’re a monster.”

He laughed again.

“Oh, darling, you have no idea.” He leaned to open the door and then gave a wave of his hand, indicating that he wanted you to move. “It’s up to you whether we do this the easy way or the hard way.”

For a few seconds you remained completely still, defiant.

Then you moved.

What choice did you have? You knew he could bend you to his will if he wanted to, you knew he could hurt you and those closest to you. More than that, you knew that you were completely alone. No one was going to look for you. No one was coming to your rescue.

“Good choice,” you heard him mutter as he followed you out of the limo.

You bristled at the touch of his hand against your lower back, guiding you towards the elevator but you moved regardless, knowing better than to think you could outrun a vampire in the gloomy parking lot.

The elevator doors slid shut, trapping you with him and his driver, watching as he swiped a key card for the penthouse floor. Your heart lurched along with the elevator and, despite wanting to remain steely and unphased by the situation, you found yourself pulling your arms across your chest.

It was only then that you realised your suitcase was nowhere to be seen. Try as you might, you couldn’t remember what had happened to it. It had been with you when you left Josie’s but then you’d walked into Krista and -

And after that, everything was hazy.

“Where are my things?” You asked. “I had a suitcase.”

“Gone. You don’t need it,” he answered.

Your chest tightened, squeezing out a breath. Your eyes fixed forward, unblinking, not wanting to show him how upset you were. You weren’t bothered about your things, about your purse or phone, but your heart was breaking over the stuffed beagle that meant so much to you, the last little piece of Billy that you had.

“I want it,” you demanded defiantly. 

“Why?” He asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Because it’s mine. If you want me to stay here and not cause problems, then you need to find it.” You glared at him as he spoke, as if there was really anything you could do to hurt him. 

He seemed disinterested but shrugged before giving his driver a glance. The man nodded, understanding his orders without a word even passing between them. Though, by now, you knew it was probably too late. You’d probably never see Bill the Beagle again.

As he led you into the penthouse suite, his driver disappeared back into the elevator, but you weren’t so naive as to think that you were alone with him. He’d have his goons somewhere near, in case he needed them. If you wanted to even think about trying to get away from him again, you were going to have to bide your time.

Your stomach dropped when you were led into a bedroom. You lingered in the doorway, leaving as much space between you and him as you could and, of course, he noticed.

“There’s no need to be shy,” he told you, barely holding back a smirk.

“I’m not being shy,” you answered back. 

His gaze darkened.

“I can’t say that I like this new attitude you seem to have developed. I can see now why William Russo had to resort to physical means to keep you in line,” he stated, gesturing at your broken arm.

“You don’t know anything about Billy,” you snapped through gritted teeth.

“Oh, Billy is it?” He asked, looking at you like he could look right through you, like he could tell every little thought in your head, and he didn’t like what he saw. “Got close to him, did you?”

You felt your cheeks start to burn while your hands clenched to fists at your side, and he noticed it all.

“More than that?” He asked, though he didn’t need to hear an answer. “You’re lucky I’m not a jealous man, otherwise I might have taken it out on poor dear Billy. But, then, why should I be jealous of a vampire who likes to play with his food?” 

“You know nothing about it or him.”

“Oh, I know plenty,” he answered back. “Enough to know that he’ll have a new girl in his employ, bleeding for him by the end of the week and probably in his bed just as quick, just like he replaced your friend Krista...”

You shook your head, insolent, even though some part of you wondered if he was right. Perhaps Lissa had already put out an advertisement for your replacement.

But you weren’t given time to linger on the thought. He closed the distance between you, his cold fingers grasping your chin, turning your head one way and then the other as he inspected your neck.

“Did he bite you?” He asked and you stayed silent, so he resorted to threats. “Do I have to strip you and check for myself?”

The threat was enough to break you. “No. He didn’t bite me.”

“Good. Now get changed out of those clothes, so we can have supper and discuss our future together.” A wave of his hand led your gaze to an outfit that had been set out for you on the bed.

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

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Billy asked as if he thought Karen might have some magic answer to explain everything that was going on.

She’d explained about Madani, about the questions the Homeland agent had about Billy, as well as the warning that she’d offered outside the hospital. But she only knew what you had shared with her and the little that Madani had been willing to say, and it wasn’t a lot. 

And it certainly wasn’t enough for Billy.

“I don’t know, I guess because she didn’t believe it, she didn’t think it was worth worrying you with it,” Karen offered, lifting her glass and taking a slow drink.

Billy and Frank had asked around, hoping someone had seen you while Karen called Madani, but the most they got was from a drunk who thought you might have gotten into a limousine with friends. By the time they sat to wait for the Homeland agent, Billy was crawling out of his skin.

“And you’re sure she didn’t believe it?” He asked, again trying to get an answer that he knew Karen couldn’t possibly know.

“Well, she saw Krista, didn’t she?” Frank offered. “Hard to think you killed someone who’s still walkin’ around.”

“But, what if -” he started and stopped as Karen dared to reach across the table, placing a hand on his arm.

“Billy, she didn’t leave because she thought you’d done something wrong,” she offered.

“No, she left because I’m like... this...”

Frank bristled at his side but didn’t say anything, though Karen could tell just how much effort it took for him to bite his tongue. She’d seen them have that argument before, and she’d been the one left to console Frank afterwards.

“We’ll find her, Billy,” Karen tried again, pulling back her hand.

��I just -” he started but stopped the moment he noticed a woman in a suit approaching them, eyeing him with very obvious suspicion.

Karen’s eyes followed Billy’s, and she quickly stood up.

“Agent Madani.”

“Ms Page,” she greeted Karen before uncomfortably eyeing Billy and Frank.

“Something’s happened and we need your help,” Karen tried to explain, waving a hand, trying to get Madani to sit. 

Between the three of them, they explained what had happened as far as they knew, up to the point where they found your suitcase on the sidewalk. An uncomfortable silence fell while Madani took it all in.

“How can you be sure she didn’t just abandon it?” Madani asked, glancing at the case.

“She wouldn’t do that,” Billy answered, his hand resting on the stuffed beagle. “Why would she leave her phone and purse?”

Madani looked at him for a few moments, saying nothing.

“And how do I know that any of this is true?” She finally asked. “How do I know that this isn’t some elaborate ruse? How do I know she isn’t dead somewhere and all of this is to stop me from asking questions later on?”

“I didn’t kill her. I haven’t killed anyone. I -” Billy started to snap.

“Bill,” Frank warned, silencing him.

“You’ve got a badge, right?” Karen asked. “The store across the street has got a security camera pointed at the street, you can take a look at the last hour and see if we’re telling the truth or not.”

Frank struggled to fight back a grin, nudging Karen with his elbow, impressed with her. Madani on the other hand, seemed a little less enthusiastic. 

“It’s not that simple, I’d need a warrant, and -”

“We don’t have time -” Karen started.

“Fuck this,” Billy muttered, getting to his feet.

Frank followed suit. “What’re you doin’, Bill?” 

“I’m going to get the security footage myself,” he answered.

“Hey, if you think I’m going to sit back while you commit a crime -” Madani was on her feet a second later.

“The more time we waste, the harder it’s going to be to find her,” Billy snapped. “And I’m not going to lose her. You can either help or you can stay out of my way, but I’m warning you, Agent Madani, I’m not someone you want as an enemy.”

Without another word, he started towards the door, Madani and Frank following after while Karen opted to hang back with your suitcase.

Billy made his way across the street, not caring if he was followed; he was determined to find out what happened, with or without help. With the way he was feeling, he’d tear the store owner apart if he even tried to get in his way. And Frank seemed to realise that. It was why he didn’t let Billy get more than a few feet ahead of him.

And Madani followed because she was almost hoping that he’d do something to prove her right about him.

“How we doin’ this then?” Frank asked just outside the little corner store, stopping Billy in his tracks. 

“That’s up to Agent Madani,” Billy answered, glaring at the Homeland agent.

For a few seconds she looked at the two vampires, hating that she was being put on the spot but realising that there was nothing that she could do to stop them from looking at the footage one way or another.

“Fine, wait here,” she answered, as she moved to step past Billy.

“What? If you think I’m -” Billy was silenced by Frank’s hand on his shoulder.

Madani waited for a beat before entering the store alone.

The bell over the door chimed, signalling her arrival to the young guy behind the counter who looked up from his phone for a split-second before dropping his gaze again. Madani strode towards the counter, reaching into her jacket for her badge and ID. For a few seconds she didn’t say anything, instead she listened to the faint sounds coming from the assistant's phone.

‘If vampire’s keep taking all the wealth and making it so honest, hard working humans can’t find a decent job that pays a decent wage -”

She cleared her throat, having heard all she needed to. Anti-vampire sentiment was still widespread and there were plenty of online commentators willing to try to make a quick buck from it, and in this situation, it was something she could use to her advantage.

“Agent Madani, Homeland Security,” she stated. The kid looked ready to shit himself at the sight of her badge. “I’m going to need to see the CCTV footage from the front of the store for the last couple of hours.”

“I -” for a moment he struggled to find the words, “- I think I’d need to ask my boss.”

“Is he here right now?”

“No, he lives in Jersey...”

Madani let out a sigh, letting the kid see her frustration.

“Listen, I’ll level with you, I’m tracking a dangerous vampire,” she told him and saw a flicker of anger on his face. “I think they’ve hurt a lot of people, a lot of young women about your age...”

“Fucking bloodsuckers,” he muttered.

“If I could see that footage, I might be able to catch him and, if I do...” she shrugged, “well, there’d be nothing to stop you from posting the whole thing online. I hear you can make a lot of money with stuff like this.”

Madani could practically see dollar signs lighting up behind his eyes. At any other time it might have bothered her just how easily influenced the kid was, but time was of the essence and she needed to know if Russo was lying to her. 

“Yeah, okay,” the kid relented, “it’s in the back here.” 

He gave a quick glance around the store, making sure it was still empty before showing her into the backroom. The set up was hardly state of the art, but it was easy enough to use - in fact, she’d used several similar systems in the past, so it didn’t take her long to scrub through the video and find the exact moment that you left Josie’s. The picture quality wasn’t brilliant and the poor lighting on the street didn’t help, but you were easy enough to spot with your suitcase.

Madani watched as someone deliberately stepped into your path before taking you by the arm and leading you towards a waiting limousine. She managed to get half of the licence plate of the limo and snapped a quick photo of the blurry figure with her phone while the kid’s back was turned, then she stood.

“Is it on there?” He asked.

“No,” she answered, forcing another sigh, “looks like the bastard managed to slip by just out of range of the camera.”

His disappointment was palpable.

“But that isn’t to say that he won’t come back,” Madani offered, “so it’d be best if you didn’t mention this to anyone, otherwise you might spook him and... well, I wouldn’t want to see you charged with obstruction after you’ve been so helpful.” 

He nodded and she didn’t waste any time in making her excuses to get out of there.

Billy was pacing by the time she stepped back outside, both men seemed to be engaged in a heated debate about something, and it looked as though Russo was on the losing end of it.

“All I’m sayin’ is -”

“What did you find out?” Billy asked, ignoring Frank and quickly refocusing all of his attention on Madani.

“I’m not sure,” Madani stated, pulling out her phone, “she left the bar and someone met her outside before leading her to a limousine. There wasn’t a struggle but... something didn’t seem right...”

“You think someone was compellin’ her?” Frank asked.

“Maybe. I can’t be sure. I got a partial plate and I’m going to call in some favours to run it, see if I can figure out who owns the limo and where it went,” Madani explained before holding up her phone to the men, showing the blurry image she’d captured. “But, while we wait, we should try to figure out who this is.”

“Fuck,” Billy grit out almost instantly.

“Goddamnit,” Frank let out a second later.

“Well, that was quicker than expected. Care to fill me in?” Madani asked.

“I knew I should’ve killed her,” Billy muttered, forcing an uneven breath, struggling to stay in control of himself.

“It’s Krista Dumont, alive and well, and still pissin’ everyone off,” Frank answered, though his gaze stayed on Billy. “You went lookin’ for her, right, Bill? Know where she might be now?”

“Yeah, I know where she lives,” Billy answered, his attention quickly turning to Madani. “You wanted to know what happened to my previous employees, right? Well, you’re about to find out.”

Without another word, he started moving back towards where he’d left his car. Frank and Madani quickly followed after, the latter on her phone calling in those favours to try and track down the limo.

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

You were finally left alone to change, though you spent at least five minutes searching the room, looking for anything that might help you escape. As much as you’d felt resigned to this eventuality, just being around him again had panic and dread gnawing at your insides. You had to get away.

The first thing you did was check the windows, despite already knowing that you were too high up to even consider it an option. In fact, the penthouse suite was so high up that the people on the street below seemed like ants.

Next thing you checked was the room’s phone by lifting it to your ear. No dial tone. No cord connecting it to the wall. If you could get a cord from one of the other phones in the suite, you might be able to call for help. You filled away the thought for later. 

Then you checked the drawers and the wardrobe, feeling sick to your stomach when you found several outfits that were obviously for you. They looked like the sort of clothes your mother would have picked for you and not at all like the outfits you’d enjoyed wearing over the last six months. Even the dress he’d laid out on the bed for you felt uncomfortably conservative - though you supposed you should be glad he wanted you to dress that way.

Shaking your head you tried to force the thought away and concentrate on finding things that might be helpful. 

Wooden hangers could perhaps be turned into weapons but... well, that was a line you didn’t want to think about crossing until you really had to.

“Dinner is here,” you heard his voice from behind the door. “Unless you want me to come in there and dress you myself, I suggest you hurry up.” 

As much as you wanted to be stubborn, as much as you wanted to cause him as much trouble as possible, the sorry fact of the matter was that you were scared. And you had every reason to be scared. So, you gave up your search and quickly changed into the clothes that he had left for you and stepped out into the suite.

The main room was lit by lamps, creating a romantic glow that made you feel sick.

Instead of looking at him and the table, you glanced around the room, taking note of where the phone was and how close the door was. But your host seemed to realise what you were doing.

“Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair at the table.

You made a point of walking around him and taking a different seat.

“You’re starting to test my patience,” he remarked, taking his own seat. 

“Already?” You remarked off-handedly, reminding him of the comment he’d made not two hours ago in the limo.

“Did Billy Russo let you talk back like this?”

“He never gave me a reason to,” you answered without hesitation, despite knowing it wasn’t strictly true.

He gave a grunt of irritation before uncovering your food. You looked down at the plate, your lips curling at the sight; tuna steak and salad. While he started to eat, you simply stared down at the plate. Even though you knew you’d never see him again, let alone bleed for him, the thought of eating anything from his list of prohibited foods. It took Justin Drake  a minute to realise that you weren’t eating, and then came the frustrated sigh.

“Are you going to fight me on everything?” He asked.

“I don’t eat tuna.”

“Since when?”

“Since I decided I don’t like it.”

“Then eat the salad,” he snapped.

You took small consolation in the fact that you were already getting to him, showing him that you were going to be far more trouble than you were worth but, again, you knew better than to push too far too soon. He could hurt you. He would hurt you if he felt like it. 

Reluctantly, you began to pick at the salad with your fork, silently wondering if you’d be able to sneak any of the cutlery away from the table.

You ate in silence, neither speaking until you were both done. He’d poured you a glass of wine, but it had been left mostly untouched and, thankfully, he hadn’t thought to order dessert.

“Tomorrow we’ll be travelling home,” he informed you. “The wedding is being arranged as we speak and, by this time next week, you’ll be my wife, so you should rid yourself of any childish notions of escaping or denying me.”

“I won’t marry you.”

“Yes you will.”

“Why? Why any of this? Why me?” You asked, anger quickly starting to bubble over. “I’ll never stop fighting you, I’ll never be yours. How is any of this worth it to you?”

He just laughed at that, sitting back in his chair and lifting his wine glass to his lips, taking a slow drink before even thinking to answer you.

“Because it’s fate.”

“What?” Had you heard him correctly? Had he called it fate?

“It was never about the money - that was just to keep your parents in line - it’s always been about you, my sweet girl.” He continued to smile as your skin started to crawl. “I knew I had to have you the first time I set eyes on you.”

Your stomach continued to churn and tie itself in knots as you thought how long ago that must have been.

“Why?” You dared to ask even though you were terrified of how he might answer.

“You look just like your great-great-great-grandmother.” He paused as if he was expecting you to say something but the shock had rendered you silent. “She was like you, she refused me what should have been mine, and she paid the price.”

It felt like your blood had turned to ice in your veins, not sure exactly what he was telling you, but not wanting to ask for clarification either. You remained silent, wondering how long he’d been tormenting your family like this and if you were the first to find yourself in this situation with him. 

“I always regretted it, once she was gone I mean. I should have handled things differently, but I was young back then, barely past my first century...” he sounded almost wistful, like he was recounting a fond memory. “But then I found you. And I won’t make the same mistake twice. You will bend to my will. You will be my wife in every sense of the word and, when you’ve finally accepted your place at my side, I will give you the greatest gift imaginable.”

You didn’t have to ask to know what he was implying.

“No,” your head shook. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“My sweet girl, what makes you think you have a choice?”

End Note : ... I'm not even sorry about ending it like that, I'm having too much fun getting things ready for the final confrontation. I think that there's probably only two more chapters left of this one now (depending on how carried away I get with the next part), so I hope you all enjoy what I've got planned. Also I'm sorry I picked that name for the bad guy...

As ever, thank you so much for reading/liking/reblogging/screaming at me in the comments! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim

@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl @rachlovesactors @robertthehoover @ladyblacky

@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana @strwbrrynd @cheshirecat484 @jvanilly

@ashy-kit @jazzclubprincess @arwensloanebarnes

[muffinlance]

Prompt: Azula joins Zuko on his Avatar hunt instead of Iroh. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I'm certain to be entertained by whatever follows.

Ozai and Ursa were already dead by the time Iroh arrived home. He stepped from his ship into the palanquin, and rode past the places of their execution, holding the urn of his son’s ashes. 

He had no time to entrust them to the Fire Sages before his father summoned him. He brought them along, because this was an easier thing than setting them down. And perhaps Lu Ten’s grandfather would like to see him once more, outside of the family shrine. Iroh would have given anything—

He placed the urn on the floor next to him. It did not kneel when he did. Fire Lord Azulon surveyed him from behind the flames.

“Rise, my son. It is good to have you home.”

They did not speak of Lu Ten. His father had always been a man to look to the flames of the future, rather than the ashes of the past.

* * *

They hanged Ursa, as befitted her attempted crime, and her past station.

They burned Ozai, as befitted his. A child of Agni should always return to the flames.

The children of the traitors had been stricken from the family line. Had been placed in the capital prison; bait for the trap. Azulon was keeping close eye on those who expressed concern for the offspring of regicides. Ozai had expected support for his position; it would be Iroh’s second task to sift through the court, and discard the chaff. 

His first task was a more practical resowing. Azulon had already selected a handful of candidates: women of suitable birth and known loyalties. The wedding date had been set, pending selection of the bride.

“Thank you, father,” Iroh said. 

Lu Ten held his silence.

* * * 

Azula had never liked the servants who’d fussed at her hair and clothes, who’d pulled and tugged until she was perfect, like perfect was a thing outside of her for others to bestow. She only had to look at Zuko to know how far tailored robes and well-oiled hair could take one.

She couldn’t see Zuzu from her cell. Her robes were too cold against the stone and every tug to wrap them tighter just made them worse, she could see it in the guards’ faces, the way they’d stared when she’d first arrived and looked a few days after and now they barely even saw. No one would talk to her, no matter her demands. They didn’t even stop their own conversations anymore; just slid in her food and kept walking and batted away her fires and it was cold here.

There were things crawling in her hair that her nails couldn’t dig out. Sometimes she thought she heard Zuzu yelling, but she couldn’t be sure. And it would have been undignified to yell back. She was a princess. She was fifth in line for the dragon throne. 

Fourth, now that Lu Ten was dead.

Third, because father was, too. 

He’d yelled and then he’d screamed and it hadn’t done anything but make the crowd jeer. Fire Lord Azulon had been silent. Poised. In control. She was his namesake and she would be too. 

She was nine.

* * *

Zuko yelled until his throat burned. The guards didn’t care, they didn’t listen to him, which was nothing new. He shouted and shouted and his own ears hurt. Maybe that’s why he never heard Azula calling back.

Grandfather had made them watch when he’d killed father and, and—

If grandfather had Azula killed, he would have made Zuko watch that, too. Azula was probably just better at being a prisoner than he was. Maybe the guards even talked to her.

He was eleven.

* * *

Iroh’s new wife was a third his age. A flower just coming to bloom. She looked like his first wife; Azulon knew his preferences. She was young enough to be Lu Ten’s sister. She smiled and laughed each day with the other court wives, and came to his room with lists of possible dissenters to discuss in their marital bed. It was not the pillow talk he was used to, but it was charming, in its way. She liked to lay on her stomach and kick her feet above her as they traced the web of treachery with his dead brother at its center. She was here to have his children—a task at which she worked with admirable diligence—and to be the acting Fire Lady. She had not had to struggle and flaunt herself for his affections; she had been picked from a line-up, her expectations realistic, her motives aligned with his. It was the least romantic relationship Iroh had ever been part of. It was… refreshing.

On the day the palace doctor confirmed their newly budded line of succession, the Fire Lord called them both in for congratulations. And for pruning.

* * *

Zuko had turned twelve, but had not realized it. Azula had turned ten. She’d counted the days.

Iroh had not been able to visit them in prison; only to inquire as to their treatment. Individual cells, regular meals of reasonable quality, no abuses. He’d moved his own people into position to ensure the last. 

Azulon had moved them back, after a delay for his soft-hearted son’s conscience. They could not waste loyal men on cuckoo-vipers. And Iroh could not waste his father’s good will. Not when it would be needed in the future, for the most important request.

* * * 

“And your wife agrees to this?” asked the Fire Lord, behind his flames. 

Iroh’s wife had not been directly addressed, and so did not reply. She sat in polite and perfect seiza, her head raised, as befitted the woman currently running her half of the court. Azulon had never seen fit to replace his own wife, after all.

“She does,” Iroh spoke for her. “We have spoken on the issue at length, and believe it best. Our family is small, and cannot afford to be smaller. The children are young; too young to have been in their parents’ confidences. With proper guidance—”

“And how would they place in the line of succession?” Azulon asked. “How would they chafe, how would they plot, with a decade’s experience over your eldest?”

Lu Ten’s own connections at court had been built while his cousins were still in diapers. But he was no longer Iroh’s eldest.

“We believe—”

“No,” his father interrupted again. “I will not allow their adoption. Not by you, where they could smother your own babe in the cradle, and certainly not by someone I trust less.”

Which was everyone, since the night his daughter-in-law had served him tea sent by his son.

“Father,” Iroh began, and his wife shifted her elbow just so, the only indication that she wished to dig it into his ribcage. “They are young, and innocent. They are my beloved nephew and niece. Your grandchildren. We cannot in good conscience—”

‘Good conscience’ had never factored into his father’s policies. Iroh had… begun to realize that, of late. His wife let out a small sigh, deliberately audible only to the man next to her. She had cautioned very strongly against a—how had she put it?—a feelings-based approach to this situation. Feelings rarely factored into her own decisions. She had been hand-selected by his father, after all. 

His wife went into a half-bow, her head lowered. “May I speak, my lord?” 

The flames crackled. The shadow of his father inclined its head, just slightly. 

“To kill the children is wise, and I admit, would set my mind at ease for my own child’s sake. But my husband feels strongly on this matter, and so I support him, for his happiness is my own. May I suggest a compromise? To place them outside the court, where they cannot build influence, nor harm your son’s heirs. A position from which you can judge their characters and value to the nation as they grow.”

“You suggest banishment,” the Fire Lord said.

“Not unstructured, of course. To leave them roaming freely would invite those that would take them in. Perhaps a military commission? As they are commoners, they should begin from a rank befitting their station, of course. Let them prove their worth on their own merit.”

Iroh could not see through the flames, but he knew his wife’s small smile was reflected on his father’s face. 

“A naval position,” the Fire Lord said. “On a ship that does not frequently make port. The frontlines would be the best place for them to prove themselves, wouldn’t you agree?”

Iroh closed his eyes.

“Father,” he said. “Please,” and he could feel his wife willing him to stop talking. The Fire Lord had already agreed to spare their lives. A banishment could be undone, so long as he and the children both outlived the man before them. “I… thank you for your wisdom in this ruling. But perhaps, if they complete some feat worthy of our line, they could be allowed to return?”

The flames were hot against his face. His new wife was still and silent against his side. His father… his father laughed, a low exhalation, the wheeze of a humorless old man.

“Let them bring me the Avatar,” Fire Lord Azulon said, “and I will welcome them home with honor.”

* * *

Zuko didn’t know why they’d pulled him from his cell or scrubbed him down or taken his old clothes. They’d been dirty but they could have been cleaned. His new clothes were scratchy, and too big, and they looked like a common soldier’s, and… and—

And they’d shaved his hair. 

* * * 

It had gotten rid of the bugs, Azula admitted, in the privacy of her own mind. Still. She memorized the faces of the woman who’d held her down and the man who’d shorn her. For future reference.

They hadn’t bothered sizing her new outfit for a child. Azula noted the quartermaster’s face, as well.

* * *

They were put on a ship. It was the first time they’d seen each other in nearly a year.

Zuzu looked at her head, and wisely said nothing.

She raised an eyebrow at his, and graciously granted him the same.

It was hard to tell them apart. They had their mother’s face. And their father’s.

* * *

Their captain’s name was Zhao. He invited them to dinner in his private quarters, once the Fire Nation was behind them. Zuko fidgeted. Azula didn’t.

The captain spoke on how much potential he saw in them, under a commander who saw their true value. 

Together, they could go far. Very far, indeed.

Azula smiled and said all the things she thought father would have said. Zuko scowled. 

Zhao brushed over their arms with his own while reaching for things. He served them more when they said they were already full. He squeezed their shoulders when he brought them back to their rooms, which were next to his, even though the rest of the lower crewmen slept together in the same big cabin. Zuko scowled harder. 

Azula was invited back. Zuko wasn’t.

* * *

Zhao was… Zhao wasn’t a good person.

“I know that, dum-dum. But do you want to stay banished forever?” 

“Uncle said—”

“Uncle’s going to change his mind, when he has his own heir and a spare. We’re threats, Zuzu. And Zhao knows father’s old friends. He’s one of the smart ones.”

The dumb ones had already been executed. 

“I… I think he wants to—to tie himself to the royal line.”

“Eww,” she said. “I’m ten. If he wants to get engaged, I’ll just break it when we’ve got the throne. It will be too late for him to retract his support, then.”

They’d barely left port before Zhao had made his first move. He didn’t seem like a man who waited. 

Azula was ten, but Zuko was twelve. Being twelve was almost thirteen, which was almost a teenager, which was almost an adult, and adults understood things that ten year olds didn’t.

They had to get off this ship. They had to go home.

Zuko had to find the Avatar.

* * *

(This ficlet is now posted on AO3.)

[aggro-my-beloved]

《 ♡ Soulmate September Schedule ♡ 》

hello lovely fandom, @aggro-my-beloved here! i’m over the moon to announce that for the entire month of september i will be posting soulmate au centered fics featuring your favorite redacted pairings! some are canon, some are not…but all the works listed below are ones i’m proud to share. the plots and pairings will be listed below the cut. please interact by replying or reblogging this post, and let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of the following fics once they are

posted <3 (p.s. pls don’t let this flop)

all the following prompts are based on this post from my main blog, @buck-nialled

⑨.②.②④ ⇒ “Long In The Tooth” (LaskoxDear)

[lasko’s been eighteen for six years now, and frankly, he’s becoming sick of playing a juvenile. what makes his endeavor for a soulmate even more bewildering? they’re one of his students.]

❾.❹.❷❹ ⇒ “Trash Polka” (AsherxBabe)

[babe is tired of wearing hoodies in summer, and leggings in the spring. but their soulmate seems too caught up in his career to mind leaving little notes and drawings on their skin, rather than meeting up for a legitimate conversation. babe takes matters into their own hands, which soon won’t be covered by a mod-podge of their soulmate’s scribbles. at least, one can hope.]

⑨.⑥.②④ ⇒ “The Grey Area” (GuyxHoney)

[what’s more depressing than witnessing an amusement park in black and white? realizing it may be the last time you visit one, is probably what guy would answer, as he dangles upside down on Wonderworld’s “Surge” coaster. the pretty stranger next to him isn’t the worst company, though.]

❾.❽.❷❹ ⇒ “A Great Disservice” (DavidxAngel)

[david serves a dangerous line of work. and angel? they cat sit. still, both come home with cuts and scratches for the same reason.]

⑨.①⓪.②④ ⇒ “Rumination” (DamienxHuxley)

[a re-imagined dialogue to the elemental bois confessing their feelings.]

❾.❶❷.❷❹ ⇒ “Resigned/Sullen” (DavidxAsher)

[neither david nor asher have spoken post-inversion about the turmoil they experienced in the arena. not the scars that wouldn’t heal, not what caused them, and certainly not who kept asher from bleeding out on the ground.]

⑨.①④.②④ ⇒ “Pulsation” (Foolsverse!MiloxSweetheart)

[milo enjoys feeling his soulmate’s heart thump faster when he’s present. but only when he’s present.]

❾.❶❻.❷❹ ⇒ “Like and Unlike” (Davidxfem!Angel)

[angel thinks she’s finally found a cure for her crippling social anxiety at Dahlia’s local gym. but she cannot tell if david, the ill-tempered coach, will be the one to make or break her progress.]

⑨.①⑧.②④ ⇒ “Parting Song” (QuinnxDarlin’)

[when you’re standing next to who you think is your soulmate, as you watch the real one whither away in a shitty steel department chair—how do you respond?]

❾.❷⓪.❷❹ ⇒ “Battered and Bruised” (Samx Darlin’)

[so long as he doesn’t tell them, sam can keep up his act of healing darlin’ without suspicion. it’s magic, after all…]

⑨.②②.②④ ⇒ “Twin, Where Have You Been?” (MiloxSweetheart)

[“well, sweetheart. one of us is gonna have to change.” in which milo and his soulmate will forever be that couple.]

❾.❷❹.❷❹ ⇒ “Midnight Oil” (AaronxSmartass)

[the matchmaker test is the one exam nobody can study for. only fate will tell a person who they truly belong with. still, aaron attempts to pull an all nighter with his overly-charming classmate in an attempt to cheat the system.]

⑨.②⑥.②④ ⇒ “All Roads Lead To…” (DavidxDarlin’)

[david’s twelve years young and still leashed in red, wondering when he’ll meet the one on the other side of it, or if he even wants to. darlin’ is eleven years in, a hopeless romantic, and crossing the California state line when they notice their red string now has a little slack.]

❾.❷❽.❷❹ ⇒ “Change Your Tune” (GeordixCutie)

[cutie’s soulmate is the number one target on their shit list. because who on god’s green earth gets the tetris theme stuck in their head on a daily basis? well, they’re about to meet him...]

⑨.③⓪.②④ ⇒ “As If You’ll Live Forever” (ElliotxSunshine)

[the one thing more ironic than sunshine’s soulmate being a dreamwalker is how tired they’ve become of sleeping.]

[ravenrune]

A little Luis x F!reader thing I've been working on for the past few days. I enjoy writing the reader meeting a character for the first time, so here is one for Luis. I went for she/her pronouns this time. I'm sorry I didn't go for gender-neutral. I will again next time! <3

No warnings. Fanfic. Not beta-read. Around 900 words.

The first step

Under any other circumstances, Luis loved to attend parties. The wedding he was at right now, however, had killed his joy very early on. Luis barely knew the couple and didn’t understand why they’d invited him. Politeness, he figured. He used to work with the man, and they had kept in touch after he’d left Umbrella, but to call them friends would be a massive overstatement. Vague acquaintances seemed much more fitting.

Except for this time, anyway.

Initially, Luis had looked forward to the wedding. Not because he cared much about the wedding couple, but because he always wanted to meet new people. This wedding, however, was boring with a capital B. It seemed as if everyone present was in a relationship and didn’t feel like interacting with strangers.

Luis himself had come alone. He’d tried to get a friend to join him, but nobody had been interested. Luis didn’t have any women in his life that he was romantically involved with, so he hadn’t been able to score a date, either. Didn’t matter much, though, because normally, he was pretty good at keeping himself, and strangers, entertained.

Bored and annoyed, he got up from the table, seemingly invisible to the people around him. He’d go out for a smoke, have another drink, and maybe then it would finally feel appropriate to leave. He didn’t think he’d ever be home before eleven after a party, but he really wasn’t feeling it this time.

“Ai, ai, ai,” he muttered, stepping out into the rain. He was pretty sure the weather forecast had promised clear skies, but apparently they’d been wrong again. “How hard can it be to predict the weather?”

“Surprisingly difficult, actually,” came a female voice from behind him. “Want to stay under my umbrella?”

Luis turned around and saw a woman standing there. Relatively young. Nice dress. It was too dark to see the colour of her eyes or hair. She was holding a big umbrella and gestured to him to come over.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Luis flashed her a big smile and stood next to her. “You mind if I light one up?” He held up his pack of cigarettes.

She shrugged. “Nah, go ahead.”

Luis lit his cigarette and placed the pack and the lighter back in his pocket. “Why are you outside? It’s a bit cold, no?”

“Cold doesn’t bother me much,” she replied. “It’s a bit too… crowded inside.”

Luis glanced at her. She had nice features, but he still couldn’t tell what colour her eyes or her hair were. “Is it too crowded, or is it just too boring?” He asked, only half joking.

She laughed and looked around to ensure nobody was close enough to hear her. “It really is very boring,” she groaned. “I kinda regret coming here. I could’ve stayed home and watched a movie. Would’ve cost me less money, too.”

“Yeah… I don’t even know why I was invited,” Luis muttered. “They don’t seem that interested in their guests.”

“Money, probably. They just want gifts. Isn’t that why people get married in the first place?”

Luis nearly choked on some smoke. “People get married for money? Where’s the romance in that, amiga?”

“Romance is dead,” she stated matter-of-factly, “everything is just a financial transaction nowadays.”

Wow. Luis wasn’t sure about what to say. How could someone think that way? He wondered if perhaps something had happened in her past, that someone had hurt her badly enough to turn her away from romantic interactions.

It was hard to imagine, and the thought made him feel a bit sad. His first instinct was to see this as a challenge. A challenge to try and conquer her heart. Then again, he also knew very well that that could end badly. He may consider himself quite the ladies’ man, but he wasn’t in it to hurt people. He didn’t hop from woman to man to woman just to satisfy his needs and move on. Not anymore, anyway. Not like when he was younger.

Luis had gotten so lost in thought, his cigarette started to burn his finger. “Agh!” He threw the thing on the ground and stomped it out. “That hurt!”

“Not the smartest thing I’ve ever seen,” she joked. “Do you need a plaster?”

Luis smiled. “Nah,” he muttered. “I just gotta pay attention.”

He liked hearing her laugh, he thought to himself. He wouldn’t mind hearing it more often.

“You eh… you got a name, amiga?” He asked.

“Y/N,” she replied.

“Good name. I’m Luis Serra.” He extended his hand, which she shook. “Encantado.”

“Same… I think?” She smirked. “How about we go back inside and get something to drink? I’m sick of the rain.”

Going inside for a drink. That seemed like a very nice first step for Luis. “Yeah, why not. I’ll buy you one.”

“Eh?” She frowned at him. “Drinks are free tonight.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Luis laughed. “Well, I’m sure that after tonight you’ll want nothing more than for me to take you out and buy you one elsewhere!”

“I doubt it,” she muttered while folding her umbrella. “But hey… surprise me, I guess.”

Now that was definitely a challenge, and Luis wasn’t the type to say no to one.

[dckweed]

here's part two of jake and babygirl, i'm actually really really in love with them and it may or may not be because i constantly have baby fever. anyway, im thinking about making this a fun lil series that you guys can send in any prompts or requests for that come to mind ! silly, angsty, fluffy whatever doesn't matter, just figured that since this started off as a request that i could continue on its life that way as well..

i want to be completely honest with you guys, for the past two months now i have been in eating disorder treatment 3 hours a day 6 days a week..as of this week, ive been stepped down to 3 hours a day 4 days a week and will be completely stepping down from treatment by the end of the month..this has taken up alot of time, and alot of attention and typically by the time my day is over i am completely spent and mentally drained and haven't been putting much effort into you guys, but as part of my treatment i am going to start posting at least twice a week (if not every day) as a way of self care, because fic writing is genuinely a form of self care for me.

thank you for being patient with me, and please feel free to send in asks!

warnings: pregnancy! jake being completely soft for his babygirl but also being completely angered by her situation..morning sickness mentions, food aversion mentions, just floofy fluffness okay? use of y/n once, but other than that is just babygirl as usual. not super long but i love it. part one

'STAY WITH ME, PLEASE..' jake 'hangman' seresin

A week into your vacation Jake had convinced you to go to an obstetrician after learning that you hadn't seen one yet, concerned for your health and the health of the little thing in your womb, whom he was already attached to, even if it wasn't his. It was there that you learned that you were almost eleven weeks along, Jake sat in the room with you, holding your hand as the ultrasound tech dims the lights. He squeezes it as she squirts more warm jelly on your tummy than you thought necessary and digs the wand in at an uncomfortable angle, moving it and the gel around your skin. You were just barely showing signs of a baby bump, and you were shocked to find out just how big the baby actually was by this point.

"How is it already that big?" Jake asks exactly what you were thinking, making the tech chuckle. He was in complete awe, there was really a tiny little being inside of you, you were growing a life form and there was nothing more beautiful than that to him in that moment.

"They grow so much faster than you realize," The woman says, a pleasant smile on her face as she stares at the screen, typing a few things in with her free hand, Jake noted from his position that they were measurements. "Would you like to know the sex?"

"Yes!" He blurts out before you could even process the question, you stare at him eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why he was so eager and amazed by something that he hadn't helped create. You thought it was wonderful though that your best friend was wanting to be so involved and caring despite your situation.

"Well, dad, you're having a little girl.." She says, catching you off guard by the mention of Jake being the dad and by the fact that you were having a daughter. Jake squeezed your hand, and even in the darkness of the room you could have sworn that he was a little teary eyed.

"Isn't that amazing, babygirl?" He asks, looking over at you. Your eyes are glued to the screen, not bothering to correct the woman on Jake not being the father, it was a difficult situation to explain and you weren't quite sure you were up for it today. Tears form in your eyes as you think about the little girl growing in your womb, who would never know her daddy. You had to admit that that was probably a good thing, he didn't deserve either of you if his initial reaction was to just leave and never come back.

You knew Jake felt the same way too, you didn't even have to ask.

"This all feels like such a fever dream.." You say softly, your head leaned against the window of his truck as he drives through the streets, away from the obstetricians office. You had a print out photo of your baby in your hand, staring down at it as you rubbed your stomach absentmindedly, your mind running in circles.

"Why's that?" Jake asks, glancing over at you for a mere second, not wanting to take his eyes off of the road for too long.

You look at him, wondering if he realizes just how fucked up the situation is. "Jake, I am pregnant..my boyfriend, the father of my baby left me because he swore i was a whore and that you were actually the father, and that was before i even knew for sure that i was pregnant.." You say, word vomit spewing from your mouth before your brain could even process what was happening. "I've just found out that i'm having a little girl who's not going to have her daddy in her life, and honestly good riddance but..but..oh my god Jake what am I going to do? This wasn't part of the plan..my daddy is going to be so disappointed in me..oh my god my mama would be so fucking upset..."

You hadn't even realized that you were crying, or that you were starting to panic, the weight of the situation fully sinking in on you. "Oh my god Jake, she's never gonna meet my mama..oh my god.." Jake doesn't know what to do, but he knows he can't let you keep crying like this. He pull's over into a parking lot, right at the beach and near a bunch of shops, pulling his truck to a stop in the first empty spot he saw. There are tears streaming down your face at this point as the thoughts of your father and your dead mother run around in your head, he had never seen you like this before but he knew that it was probably just the hormones.

"Hey," He says, his voice soft and sweet, his warm body encompassing yours as he slides across the front seat towards you, having lifted the center console up. He unclips your seatbelt and pulls you towards him, holding your head against his chest, your ear pressed right where his heart is. He had done this with you a thousand times before, the sound of his heartbeat had always brought you back to earth when you would have moments like this. "you're okay, i got you babygirl, i always got you.." He whispers, his lips moving in your hair as he presses a soft, comforting kiss to the crown of your head. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wondered if he knew that these were the things that made you feel like he loved you in more ways than he let on, the things that gave you the smallest glimmer of hope.

You close your eyes, listening to his heartbeat and the slight rumble in his chest as he whispered things to you, slowly but surely calming you down. After a while you let out a shaky breath, your eyes opening to see the people milling about the small shopping center. "Where are we?" You ask, voice thick from the crying. Your head hurt and your eyes were heavy, you wanted to go back to his apartment and sleep, preferably in his arms, like you used to when you guys were younger.

"We're not too far from home," He says. Home..You liked the way that sounded coming from his mouth, it was always nice to hear it. "Do you want to get out and walk around? Go sit on the beach." You shake your head, sniffling softly. He kisses the top of your head once more, rubs your shoulder with his large hand. "Okay babygirl, let's go home..you look like you need some rest." He wasn't wrong, between the morning sickness that had been plaguing you in recent days, and the stress of everything, you hadn't been getting enough rest.

You manage to stay awake for the rest of the ride back, letting the gentle breeze through the open window soothe you. Jake doesn't say a word, but you see a look on his face, his eyebrows furrowed like he was thinking really hard about something. "Jake?" You ask, turning to face him, wondering what was on his mind.

"Stay." He says, looking over at you as he pulls up to his apartment building, the truck rolling to a stop. "..I..You should be here with me, you should've been with me from the beginning, but I was too chickenshit to man up and ask." You're shocked, and start to open your mouth, wanting to stop him. "Let me finish, damn it!"

"I haven't gone a day without talkng to you or thinking about you since the day I met you, and it's not just because you were my best friend, because you always will be that, no matter what, it's because i've been in fucking love with you since day one. And maybe i'm dumb because it's taken me so long to realize it, because everyone i've ever dated knew it but dammit i know it now, and have for a long time.." He rambles, you're unsure of what to make of this, your brain still processing that you were hearing him correctly. "I..know that this isn't the ideal situation, and i know that that little girl isn't my blood, but dammit i don't care because i already think of her as my kid, and i have since i found out..I can't let you walk away, not without knowing how i feel..I want to be with you through this, and through everything else in life so i can take care of you the way that you deserve, because Y/N, nobody else in this world is ever going to love you like i do.." You feel yours well with tears and subconsciously you pinch yourself, hoping to god that you weren't dreaming. "So stay with me, please.."

"Oh, Jake.." You whisper, tears spilling once more from your eyes. You can't make any other words come out of your mouth so you just nod your head and you watch his body sag with relief before you unbuckle your seatbelt and rush forward into his already waiting arms. He squeezes you tight and presses a long kiss to the top of your head as you hiccup.

"Hey, no more tears, babygirl, okay?" He whispers, leaning your head back as he brushes the tears away with his thumb, you lean into the embrace, a smile gracing your lips as your arms go around the back of his neck.

"They're happy tears, i promise.." You say, leaning forward to press your lips against his. You had though about this moment so many times in your life, and none of your wildest dreams had every prepared your for the real thing. Jake kissed you like a man starved, his hand on the back of your head, fingers scrunching up in your hair as he presses you as hard against him as he can. You groan at the possessiveness of it, pulling back after a moment to catch your breath. You can't help but let out a chuckle, leaning your forehead against his. "You picked one hell of a time to finally fucking say it, Seresin."

"Hey! You could've said it first too you know!" He says and you can't help but laugh, relishing in the way he smiles at you.

Jake & Babygirl taglist: @bellaireland1981 @sky0401 @memoriesat30 @bat-luna-cat @memeorydotcom @mayhemmanaged

[horangboosadan]

HOME | CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

synopsis: a lazy morning in the life you share with choi seungcheol.

pairing: choi seungcheol x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, gn!reader, intentional lowercase

wc: 754

boo talks: i wrote this late on tuesday (when it was still coups birthday) so think of this as a late happy birthday and my little intro to possibly doing more than just smaus (tho probably heavy on the smaus still - they're a lot of fun).

main masterlist

love is weird. it’s complicated. it’s simple. it’s hard. it’s easy. it’s everything and nothing. all the feelings and at the same time none of them.

falling in love with choi seungcheol was easy. his laugh. his smile. his passion. it’s easy to fall in love with someone who does nothing but bring others joy, who does nothing but show exactly who he is to those around him, making sure they know he cares.

being in love with choi seungcheol was hard. the constant pounding of your heart whenever he was around. the constant amount of sweat you produced. the constant feeling deep in your stomach that you could never be certain was what everyone called butterflies, or if it was wasps―because no matter how tingly the feeling was, it hurt.

confessing to choi seungcheol was simple. despite the clammy hands, the constant biting of your lips, and the fact that it felt like your heart would simply combust, it was simple. three words that rolled of your tongue easier than you had ever anticipated. three words that felt like they lightened the load you’d had on your shoulders ever since you first realised your feelings. three words that meant everything: ‘i like you’.

dating choi seungcheol is complicated. keeping a relationship secret is always complicated, but even more so when one half of that relationship is a kpop idol. whilst the sneaking around will always bring a bit of adrenaline to any relationship, at some point it gets exhausting. not to be able to tell the world you love someone, not to be able to hold their hand whenever you like, not to be able to show them the affection they deserve at every waking moment.

but you both manage.

especially on days like today. where you don’t have work and you can lie in bed wrapped around each other for as long as you like, with the very exception of a dog that needs to be walked. thankfully, kkuma knows her owner needs his sleep when he can, or at least, needs the opportunity to not have to get up the moment he wakes.

you know he’s awake when you feel the loose arm around your waist tighten its grip, pulling you close. you don’t turn around, don’t alert him to the fact that you’re awake. you don’t react when you feel his lips against your neck, a soft peck because you know he can’t help himself. the hand around your waist caresses the skin there, rubbing soft circles that has you melt into his embrace.

the smile on your face gives you away.

“so you are awake,” he whispers.

you nod as you turn around. he kisses you the moment he can. a chaste one that lingers. “sleep well?” you ask, knowing he didn’t fall asleep until hours after you went to bed, knowing he didn't fall asleep until long after you.

“always do with you in my arms.”

“cheesy,” you say. “are you sure? i noticed you got up at some point.”

seungcheol shakes his head. “thought you were asleep?” he sighs as his head falls back to hit the pillow. “but yeah. i slept well, just maybe not a lot.”

“better than nothing, i guess.” you find his hand underneath the duvet and intertwine your fingers. “at least you can sleep today. as long as you like.”

“what time is it?”

“eleven.”

“i have to walk kkuma.”

“i’ll do it.” you smile at the expression he sends you. “but you have to actually try to sleep in the meantime.”

“will you come back here and lie with me?”

you press a kiss to his lips. “of course.”

“okay.” he closes his eyes, but the arm around your waist doesn’t let go. “don’t be gone too long.”

“i won’t.”

you don’t untangle yourself from him until you hear his breathing change. it’s always weird to notice how tired he is whenever you have mornings like this, to know that if his sleeping self wasn’t acutely aware of movement from you, he probably would’ve slept away the day.

and you would gladly let him.

you take kkuma out for an hour. seungcheol is still asleep when you get back, but maybe lighter than you thought as the moment you climb back into bed, his arms open and pull you close. his lips find your neck and he presses against it, but never once does he open his eyes.

or, not until kkuma decides to say hi to her dad with kisses.

boo talks (again)

thank you so much for reading!

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Sombra y Fuego

A/n: I wrote this months ago but got stuck in writer's block for it, so you're getting everything I wrote until I got stuck. The tags are a hot mess because I never figured out a ship for R, there's more than one option I suppose?

Summary: R's family were family friends of the Putellas family, R grew up with them, goes over to help establish Manchester United WFC whilst studying there, over the years befriends some Dutchies and Ona when she arrives too.

///

Growing up, you were always five years behind a family friend, who eventually you called one of your sisters, whilst you were two years behind her younger sister, Alba. You followed Alexia’s footsteps and shared her passion for football from the time you could walk (and run after her and Alba). Her family played basketball, but yours weren’t interested in sports, instead working between Spain and England, leaving you to play catch-up. You were always playing catch-up.

You were ten turning eleven when Alexia was making her senior debut with Espanyol at sixteen.

You were eleven turning twelve when she played at Levante, then twelve turning thirteen when she moved back to Barcelona.

Your family worked between Spain and England, leaving you to sometimes stay with other family members, or on some occasions, with the Putellas family themselves. On those occasions, they’d attend Alexia’s Barcelona matches, and you’d go with them, or they’d sometimes watch your football practices and games too. 

You saw Alexia less as you got older, her time taken up by football, but you couldn’t help but admire her. You didn’t expect her to attend one of your matches, or find out about the nickname you’d been given for how you played.

In short, you were Sombra, the Spanish word for shadow/shade. Your sneakiness on the field with the addition of a lot of nutmegging had led to that nickname, with the addition of a classic, Fuego, due to the fire in your eyes when a teammate or yourself were taken down by an opponent. 

After the match, you glanced over at the small crowd of people who had watched, usually consisting of your teammates' family members, but since you didn’t expect anyone to attend the match to see you, you stumbled over your feet to run over to her with the rest of her family. Alexia hadn’t expected you to all but tackle her into a hug, but she grinned, holding you close as you buried your face in her collar.

Sombra stuck as you got older, moving up the youth team you played with until rumours began to whisper within your family in Spain, and another women’s football club in Manchester.

Your choice to head to England to study and play wasn’t one that anyone expected, but having the opportunity to help set up Manchester United in its first year next year was one you were greatly interested in. It didn’t help matters of how your Spanish family was becoming Eli, Alexia and Alba more than anything, leaving them behind left an ache in your heart, but you wanted to do it for your career.

You always had a foot in each country, especially since being called up to the Spain Women’s national under 20’s team, so you stayed connected to Spain, even with you moving to England to help United get into the WSL.

///

Manchester was nowhere near as warm as Spain. You should have taken more of Alexia and Alba’s hoodies and sweatshirts. You should probably buy a blanket too. But nothing would compare to the warmth of your sisters’ hugs, even as they hugged you goodbye at the airport.

Your phone ringing with a video call shattered the silence, stirring you from where you had curled up on your couch, watching the dark Manchester streets from the window.

“Hola, mi pequeña sombra,” Alexia smiled as you appeared on the video call, chuckling as she saw you were wearing more layers than she’d seen you wear in Spain that time of year. Your heart ached as you chatted away with her before the hour ahead time zone had you both going to bed. You both had pre-season training coming up, but you also had your studies to account for.

It didn’t take you a massive amount of time to bond with your teammates. Luckily the initiation song had been avoided, or forgotten, either way, you weren’t going to bring it up. Manchester was cold, but your clothes smelt like your sisters, they smelt like Spain, and you had learnt Spanish recipes so you could cook some, even having some teammates over one night when you realised how lonely you felt.

Between your studies and training, you’d text, call or video chat with some of your Spanish teammates from the national team, along with your weekly video chats with the only people left in Spain that you considered family. The ones who had basically raised you after all. Even when Alexia was busy, she still replied to you and kept an eye on your matches, just like you kept an eye on hers with Barcelona.

The 2018/19 season ended for you with United being promoted into the Women’s Super League, whilst for Alexia, Barcelona had got to the finals of the UWCL, but lost to Lyon, she renewed her contract and ended the season as Barcelona’s top goalscorer. 

Heading back over to Spain after the season with United ended, you flew into your family’s arms, hugging them tightly as if you hadn’t seen Alexia at national camps during the season, or you video called Alba and Eli a lot. Alba teased you about wanting some of her clothes back as you stuck your tongue out, ignoring the fact that the shirt you were wearing had definitely been Alexia’s at one point in the process.

“Who are you texting so much?” Alba grumbled, her eyes lighting up for a second before you nudged her away, knowing what she was going to ask.

“One of the new transfers to United, Dutch player Jackie Groenen. She had questions about Manchester.” You explained, putting your phone down as Alexia opened her mouth to shut Alba up.

“So, no girlfriend?” Alba clicked her tongue, smirking as you rolled your eyes, debating whether throwing a piece of bread at her was worth it as you glanced at the bread basket.

“Between football and my studies? You seriously think I have time?” You deadpanned, turning to face Alexia as she asked about your studies, thus changing the topic, which you appreciated.

“When is your flight?” Alexia enquired as the two of you paused from chasing each other around playing 1v1 with a football.

“Uhh, early morning flight to Gatwick, Jackie is flying in a little earlier but she asked some of Arsenal’s Dutch players to pick us up, we’ll hang out there before heading up to Manchester or something, I don’t know… I don’t even speak Dutch.” You admitted, frowning as you heard Alexia chuckle.

“All of Alba’s teasing about not finding an English girlfriend and you might find a Dutch one instead…” Alexia began to tease before smirking, “Or a Spanish one, you’re quite close with some of our national teammates too…”

You rolled your eyes to try nutmeg Alexia at her teasing, but she immediately blocked it.

“Nice try, Sombra.”

Your heart sank as you realised what Alexia had called you, going from the childhood nickname of 'my little shadow', to what everyone else called you, shadow. It shouldn’t have affected you, but it did for some reason.

Your jersey even had Sombra on the back of it as part of the nickname from your youth football days, but in your heart, Alexia calling you her little shadow meant more than anyone knew. You were basically an honorary Putellas in everything but name, biology and legality.

You hated saying goodbye to your family every time you headed back to Manchester, seeing the teary eyes and sad smiles as you hugged each of them tightly, you walked through the airport with tears down your face that you didn’t let fall until you were past security and sat in the duty free area, sipping your coffee. Scrolling through your phone, you sent heart emojis to the family group chat, opening the one that Jackie had made for when you and her would be arriving at Gatwick and meeting her national teammates at Arsenal.

The two and a bit hour plane ride was uneventful as you arrived back in England, collecting your luggage after going through passport control and moving on to try to find Jackie or one of her national teammates.

Tugging your suitcase, a squeak left your lips as you all but walked into someone in front of you, catching yourself and your suitcase quickly as they stumbled back, leaning against the vending machine.

“Shit! I’m sorry- wait, you’re-” You were cut off as you pulled your suitcase closer to you, the outflux of people leaving the arrivals distracting you as the person laughed.

“Jill, Jill Roord. Beth and Daan have Jackie, I came to find you. Viv and Lisa are sorting out the parking.” Jill explained, smiling as your eyes widened at the number of Arsenal players who had turned up at the airport.

“So, you flew from Barcelona?” Jill enquired, leading to the two of you to chat about Spain, and Jill grinning as you offered to give her a tour of where you were from next time you both had free time.

“Wow, Jill’s grinning as much as Jackie!” A comment from one of the Arsenal girls left the players who understood Dutch to chatter away, whilst you stood wide-eyed, glancing between Beth and Lisa for help.

Slipping your suitcase into the back of Beth’s car, Daan slipped into the passenger seat whilst you climbed in the back, joined by Jill whilst Jackie went with Viv and Lisa.

“Welcome to London!” Beth joked as she turned the car engine on to drive.

Later that night, social media lit up with photos of you hanging out with Jackie and the Arsenal Dutch players, your caption on your photo being in Dutch and Spanish, after having asked Jill for some help with translating into Dutch. The texts you received from Alba teasing you were left ignored in favour of a goodnight message, teasingly sending ‘welterusten’ before resting your head on one of the cushions on Daan and Beth’s couch.

After spending a few days in London with Jackie’s national teammates, the two of you ended up taking a train up to Manchester, sprinting through the train station when the two of you had to change trains on the way in.

Jackie had taken the three plus hour train journey as an opportunity to continue helping you learn Dutch, with you replying sometimes in Spanish just to keep her on her toes. The two of you also sat together whilst United travelled to Norway to play against Vålerenga and Sandefjord days later during the preseason.

United’s season started with losing the Manchester Derby against City, but none of you expected a global pandemic to cut the season short, with Jackie quarantining the Netherlands with her parents, and you stuck in Manchester, on your own. Your socialising decreased to video calls with teammates who were quarantined together, staff and your family in Spain. 

That was until July, when word of another Spaniard signing for United caught your attention. Ona was coming to United, and your apartment had an extra bedroom.

Living with another Spaniard was chaotic, but you loved it compared to living alone. The two of you living together had brightened up your cold apartment, plus Ivana would come over a lot from where she lived nearby.

The chaos even led to you going out and getting a tattoo, yet you had kept it a surprise from Ona, dragging a visiting Jill along whilst you were getting it done. That place being the side of your ribs, venturing further down your side a little. Jill had chosen to get something small done on her arm for the memories. 

However, since the tattoo had healed, you’d somehow managed to avoid showing anyone but Jill and Ona, not mentioning anything to your sisters, besides the fact you had been wanting one.

Ona hadn’t seen it on purpose, but the two of you shared a bathroom and the shower had a glass panel (instead of an annoying curtain that would cling to you once it got wet), so when she walked in on you, you didn’t react, only covering yourself as you tried to get the shampoo out of your hair.

It was only after you were showered and dressed that Ona approached you as you sat on the couch on her phone, waiting. “You got a tattoo!”

“Yeah, I went with Jill, when she came to visit!”

“You went with Jill?” Ona pouted before her face melted into a grin.

“No, do not, I already get shit from Alba about not having a girlfriend, and Alexia thinks I’ll end up with a Dutch or Spanish girlfriend, so I don’t need you teasing me too!” You pointed at Ona, who’s teasing grin turned into her sticking her tongue out at you.

“So, you and Jill?”

“She actually asked if we were dating.” You admitted, looking up at the ceiling momentarily before Ona’s wide eyed look turned into snickering that had you flicking a cushion at her. The two of you burst out into laughter as she threw a cushion back at you, and thus a cushion fight began.

///

The next national camp coming up left both you and Ona rushing with excitement to fly out back to Spain, ready to tackle international duty and see your national teammates again. You and Ona would be rooming together due to the timing of the flight compared to when your other teammates would be arriving.

This meant that Alexia was not expecting you to tackle her into a hug at breakfast that morning after you and Ona arrived during the night due to delays.

None of your teammates expected you and Ona to be nodding off during breakfast either, your head resting on Alexia’s shoulder as she talked to Jenni, and Leila watching to make sure Ona’s face didn’t land in her breakfast as she leaned on you.

“Mi pequeña sombra, are you awake?” Alexia whispered, not wanting to move and shake you from your slumber, but the girls were getting ready to head to training. Your sister smiled as you curled further into her before looking up at her through half awake eyes, your arm wrapping around Ona as she shifted slightly to eat something.

“We have to go to training. The sleepy ones too.” Jenni chuckled, raising an eyebrow as you reached for Leila's coffee and drank it when Leila was too busy on her phone.

“Mm, okay, vamos!” You declared, eating a spoonful of Alexia’s breakfast before you got up, nudging Ona to come with as the two of you went to get ready to head to training. Missing Leila’s confusion at her empty coffee cup, Alexia rolled her eyes at you eating her breakfast then running away.

A yawn left your lips as training took a pause for a water break, you were heading over to the others before stopping, tugging your jersey up to mop at your forehead. Someone choking caught your attention, looking over to whoever had been choking as Ona walked over, holding out your water bottle to you with a grin.

“What’s that face for?” You enquired, raising the water bottle to your mouth as Ona wiggled her eyebrows.

“Your tattoo healed really well.” Ona pointed out as your jersey crumpled up messily from how you’d tugged it up.

“You have a tattoo!” Patri exclaimed, running over followed by Leila and Jenni who were both intrigued by the conversation. Your gaze turned to the one person who had started choking when you’d pulled your jersey up, your face falling at your sister’s expression.

“She went with Jill Roord, you know, from Arsenal!” Ona added with a grin before you sprayed her with water from your water bottle, hurrying away before training resumed.

Training ended with a blast of water hitting you in the neck and back, soaking your jersey. Grimacing at the wetness, you tugged the jersey off over your head and flung it over your shoulder.

Whistles from some of the girls had you rolling your eyes, instead debating whether you could still cover the part of your tattoo peeking out of your sports bra when a hand reached out, gently pulling you towards the bench.

Following the hand up to the person’s face, you didn’t fight as Alexia sat you down on the bench, staring at the field for a moment before she looked at you.

“You didn’t tell me you went to get one. Or you got one there.” Alexia began, raising an eyebrow as you chewed your lip, folding up the soggy jersey to give your hands something to do.

“I like it, it’s easy to hide, and, well, it’s a bit hard to show the whole thing without flashing someone. Ona only saw when she walked in on me in the shower, and Jill didn’t say anything, if she did see anything when I was getting it done.” Your face began to burn at the memories, not seeing how Alexia’s face steeled up for a moment, processing that two people had seen her baby sister at least partially naked.

“You and Jill?” was all Alexia asked as you let out a huff, turning and burying your face in Alexia’s shoulder, her body unstiffening as you snuggled into her.

“Ona…” You grumbled into your sister’s shoulder, blaming your housemate for this conversation you were now having with Alexia.

“You and Ona?” Alexia raised an eyebrow, about to argue that the two of you shared a room at camp when you deadpanned.

“Oh my god, we live together- separate bedrooms, unless someone puts a horror movie on. We’re not dating! And, Jill, she might be leaving Arsenal and the WSL. It wouldn’t work out. Not like she’d like me like that anyway…” Your voice fell quieter as you stirred in your sister’s arms to meet her eyes.

“Roord would be an idiot not to, but you and Ona-”

“Ay dios mio! You said once that I was close with some of our national teammates and you thought I would get a girlfriend then, but Alba is the one that dates our teammates!” You whined, grumbling at the memory whilst Alexia smirked.

“But you and Ona have been quite cosy, mi pequeña sombra…” Alexia chuckled as you let out a whine.

“Stop! We’re literally housemates!”

///

“So, can I see it?” Ona enquired as you walked out of the bathroom wrapped in your towel, grabbing your clothes you’d somehow forgotten.

“You already saw it.” You deadpanned, holding the towel a little tighter as Ona sat up on her bed.

“When it was healing, I saw it then.” Ona argued, pouting as you walked back to the bathroom.

“You should have seen Alexia’s face when I mentioned you saw me naked in the shower, it was scary.” You stated before shutting the door, hearing Ona’s voice rise an octave at the mention of her pissing off your sister.

Her phone chimed minutes later with a snapchat from you, showing the healed tattoo with the rest of you hidden by a towel. “You’re welcome.” was all that was texted, whilst you waited for replies from Alexia, Alba, who had found out about the tattoo somehow, and Jill, who you had asked if she wanted to call when the two of you had a free moment.

///

You were talking with your teammates after dinner when your phone began to chime, ignoring the inquisitive looks you were getting as you smiled and answered.

“Hoi, ik heb een minuut nodig, mijn vrienden zijn luid. Heb ik dat goed gezegd?” you ignored the confusion from your use of Dutch, Alexia raising an eyebrow at you in confusion. Ona was about to open her mouth, realising who was on the phone, but you stuck your tongue out at her, winking to your sister before you left the room to head upstairs and away from eavesdroppers.

“Sorry, I just got out of there. The Dutch really threw them off but no doubt I’m going to get teased later. Hoe gaat het?”

The end of camp meant heading back to Manchester for you and Ona, your arms locked around Alexia as the time to leave approached. Alexia swayed the two of you slightly, holding you as you buried your face in her neck, absorbing all the comfort you could get.

“Nobody gives hugs like you do.” You whispered, kissing your sister on the cheek as you stepped back, blinking away tears. Alexia chuckled slightly, kissing your forehead as she spotted Ona lingering and waiting.

“Not even Ona, or Jill?”

Your nose crinkled up, “Those hugs are different, you’re my sister,” sticking your tongue out, you chuckled as Alexia nudged you away, telling you to get in the van before you missed your flight and ended up annoying her more.

“Can we get tattoos next time-”

“Ay dios, don’t get more tattoos without telling me!” Alexia warned, pointing at you before waving as you got into the van, sitting with Ona before the staff drove the two of you to the airport.

///

Your birthday coming up was something you weren’t entirely sure whether to look forward to, until you became aware of a certain plan, since Jenni accidentally mentioned it when you were video calling her and Alexia, seeing the panic on Alexia’s face confirmed it as you raised an eyebrow, “Two birthdays?”

“You celebrate in Manchester with your team-” Alexia began before Jenni cut in with some teasing.

“Maybe some Arsenal players too-”

“Jenni, no! So you celebrate in Manchester with your team, then during the offseason, we’re taking you to Ibiza to party.” Alexia explained, adding that Ona and Jackie knew of this plan, whilst you chewed your lip.

“I promised Jill I’d show her Barcelona.”

“Bring her!” Jenni interjected before Alexia could answer, watching as you shrugged and nodded at the idea, her face stiffening until you looked at her.

“Does it help that I have another tattoo booked, but I’m telling you this time?” Biting your lip, you laughed at Jenni’s excitement whilst Alexia let out a groan.

“You’re worse than Alba!”

///

Pulling the duvet over your head, you kept your eyes closed as you tried to steal a few more minutes of sleep before your alarm went off to signify you needed to get up. Ona’s door opening down the hallway caught your attention as footsteps walked towards your room.

Laying still, you listened as your bedroom door opened, and Ona launched herself onto your bed.

“Felicidades!” Ona shouted, grinning as she landed on top of your duvet cover and you.

“Buenos días…” you grumbled back, slightly winded from Ona launching herself like a flying squirrel at you. Rolling under your duvet, you flipped the positions, Ona buried underneath you and the duvet before you kissed her forehead and ran, sprinting into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Your phone began to chime as you spotted the video call, smiling at the name on the screen as you sat down to eat breakfast, Ona flicking you on the head as she walked by, retaliation for stealing the bathroom first, you assumed.

You grinned as you pressed accept, covering your mouth as you ate another mouthful of your breakfast, gaining a laugh from Alba, who moved her phone to show Eli there too, chatting away with them as you ate your breakfast, then bantering with Ona when she contributed to the conversation also.

Both Alexia and Jill had texted, asking when you were free to video call today, leaving you bubbling with excitement as Ona smirked, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“You know, I think Alexia would have a heart attack with all the fan theories that me, you and Jill are dating.” You pointed out after hanging up the video call, smirking as Ona put down her coffee to laugh.

“We need La Reina alive, Sombra!”

“True, but I like teasing her a little.” You admitted, sipping on your drink as Ona raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“Let’s just say Ibiza is going to be really fun.”

///

Arriving at training, you weren’t prepared for the amount of hugs you were all but tackled into, or how much Ona laughed each time someone started a chorus of ‘happy birthday’ before she joined in. 

Training kept going, the birthday choruses calming down as everyone focussing on the drills, scrimmages and then the rondo that you actually asked for, everyone thought it was weird but it reminded you of when you were younger and you would chase after the ball as Alexia and her friends passed it to each other.

Sitting in the locker room after training, Ona walked over and shoved your phone in your face, revealing that you had an incoming video call.

“Feliz cumpleaños, mi pequeña sombra.” Alexia cheered as you answered, laughing as she ended up having to turn the phone to reveal her Barcelona teammates in the background, also wishing you a happy birthday.

You grinned, thanking them before getting into a longer conversation with your sister, who couldn’t see from the camera angle that you had caught Ona by the wrist, gently pulling her into shot, and the seat next to you, smiling as Alexia spotted Ona next to you before you explained the plans for tonight in Manchester.

///

Crashing on the couch after getting in from the night out that your United teammates had arranged, you let out a groan as Ona landed on you, headbutting you in the chin in the process.

About to open your mouth and complain, you were cut off as your phone began to ring, reaching over sleepily to hit the answer button, humming as you heard Jill’s voice, answering her questions quietly before you began to nod off with a smile on your face, only really processing one thing.

Arsenal were coming up from London to play against United, meaning that you would get to see Jill again.

///

You spent the rest of the season being chaotic with Ona and Jill whenever either of you had a match near each other, or impulsively taking a train to London when there was a break. But soon the season was coming to an end, with Jill’s announcement she was leaving Arsenal for Wolfsburg coming up, whilst Ona would be going into her second season at United, and you would be going into your fourth season.

However, you were not just chaotic with Ona and Jill during the season, as Alexia would find out once you started trending on Twitter, immediately confusing her as she assumed it was a club thing, instead finding that a fan had photographed you attending a pole dancing class in Barcelona.

“Hey, what’s with that look-” you spotted it as soon as Alexia got back from training, you were sitting on the couch with Alba watching some random movie, but you sat up properly when you saw the look on your oldest sister’s face.

“Pole dancing?”

“What- oh, yeah, not worth it. It was funny watching Alba try though… Wait, is it? It reached twitter, and somehow you’re not even in the shot, it looks like I went on my own!” You retorted, going from looking at twitter on Alexia’s phone to turning to glare at Alba, who grinned cheekily.

“You went to a pole dancing class? And took our baby sister with you?” Alexia turned to Alba with a frown.

“I’m your baby sister too-”

“Why did my baby sisters go to a pole dancing class?” Alexia cut Alba off, waiting for an answer from either of you.

“The tickets were a gift-”

“Pretty sure it was a gag gift you got given.” You deadpanned, letting out a squeal as Alba lunged to tickle you, you both tumbling from the couch to rolling around Alexia’s feet, laughing. Alexia let out a sigh, watching the two of you on the floor for a moment before finally giving up as you looked up at her, letting out another squeal as she joined in on the tickling.

///

“Where are you going?” 

“To pick Jill up from the airport. I’m showing her Barcelona before we all jet off to Ibiza. Ona is heading home to Vilassar de Mar first. Is everyone else sorted for heading to Ibiza?” You replied, picking up the keys as Alexia walked over from where she had been packing her suitcase in her room.

“You and Jill?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You stuck your tongue out, dodging the couch cushion that was thrown at you as you ducked out of Alexia’s place.

///

Giving Jill a tour of Barcelona, you sneakily stood back to take photos of her enjoying herself, until she hooked her arm around yours, making sure that you were in the photos with her.

“Are you looking forward to a break in Ibiza?” You enquired, the two of you sat outside on the patio of a little cafe, having drinks.

“I’m meeting a few of my national teammates who play for Wolfsburg there too, so it will be nice to see everyone.” Jill explained, smiling whilst you took a sip of your drink.

“I’m going to miss you, and how you’d lay on the pitch like a starfish!” You teased, grinning as Jill began to laugh.

“I’m going to miss you too.”

///

Heading to Ibiza, you were buzzing with energy at seeing so many people you hadn’t seen whilst playing in England all together in one place, plus Ona and Jill would be there too, and that was the perfect opportunity to have some chaos during the trip...

/// translations (hopefully)

sombra - shadow/shade

mi pequeña sombra - my little shadow

“Hoi, ik heb een minuut nodig, mijn vrienden zijn luid. Heb ik dat goed gezegd?” - Hi, I need a minute, my friends are loud. Did I say that right?

Hoe gaat het? - how are you?

Felicidades - congratuations (?)

Buenos días - good morning

Feliz cumpleaños - happy birthday

[emblazons]

—woke up from literal sleep to write down the thoughts that clicked for me after I made this post about the Mike/Hopper hug last night, so. Here's the expansion of all of that lmao.

people always talk about the way Mike looked conflicted when El kisses him in S3, on top of the way he seemed fine with them breaking up until she initiated the relationship again (because of the absence of Hopper). I think this is 100% true, and it’s also the start of Mike’s spiral about protecting her we see through S4.

Mike’s “care” in lieu of "love" for El (and lack of ability to tell her he loves he romantically) is directly correlated to Hopper telling him to BE CAREFUL re: El right before he died. Almost as though Mike didn’t even have space to think of El as a true romantic partner— he was too busy trying to hold up the end of her missing “dad," and why he didn't know what to do when she started talking about how she didn't belong (because he's fourteen and not capable of filling the shoes of her father lmao).

the reason why Mike said “I was worried too much about El” is because he was—he was worried in a way suited for a father, not a boyfriend (thank you @emily-tumbles-on for that tag lol).

It’s also why he was so willing to let El go back to Owens—it’s a trusted (-ish) adult figure who could help El in a way his 14 year old self could not. It’s also why he immediately seems okay with letting her go once she says she wants to + throwing away her letter, right up until he realizes where El went is dangerous again, which meant he has to restart the protector-in-Hop’s place worry (which he doesn’t want, but feels powerless to step away from in his paladin-oath-responsibility mind).

When Mike & Will get into it at Rink O Mania over Will not telling Mike what was going on, Will interprets it as romantic attachment when it’s really giving “worried parent” not boyfriend.

That entire “you should have told me” also DIRECTLY REFLECTS the way Mike sees Will as his actual partner and equal no matter the time or distance (like in S2)—and expects him to help shoulder leadership responsibilities the way romantic/life partners would by helping him look after his charge (El).

The whole painting is confusing af for Mike because he does not see El as his partner or lover, but his responsibility in Hop’s absence—and Will, in his projection, is conflating his romantic love for Mike into the familial one between Mike & El. That's also why Mike feels so insecure about not being responsible enough (!!!) and why he looks dejected the way a parent would when you tell them you want do something they used to think was fun before having a kid when Will says “we could just play DnD and Nintendo for the rest of our lives.”

The van scene takes on a whole new meaning when you think about how the second Will made it about El, it forced Mike into a mental conundrum because he felt loved as himself at first…only to have it thrown back in with this wildly inappropriate parental responsibility he has for El because of Hop’s loss. (I watched the van scene again with this in mind and...lmao. Mike's expressions make absolute sense once you keep this conflation / confusion in mind)!

Yet another reason Mike and Jonathan need to have another conversation is because both of them have been suffering from a severe parentification—Jonathan for Will, and Mike for Eleven.

Hopper returning leaves space for both of them to move back into age-appropriate selfishness/relationships (aka think about their own wants and needs with Nancy and Will for a change) because Joyce doesn’t need Jonathan to fill the “man of the house” space, Will is going to “come of age” and have Mike, and El is gonna have her dad.

....all that to say these (and probably a million more things) become WAY clearer when you realize Mike is carrying the burden of Hopper's absence not as a boyfriend, but as 14 year old boy filling a parent space...which makes me really glad Hop didn't really die in S3 all of a sudden lmao. And also...Duffers. FREE MIKE WHEELER 2025

[asherthehimbo]

Listen to my music, listen to your heart

previous | eleven : dinner | m. list | next

notes: warnings, physical abuse, unrealistic academic pressure, cheating acusations, depressive thoughts, disassociating, wounds, whipping(?), grief, the loss of a grandparent, more things probably

wordcount: 3.7 k + 4 screenshots

Staring up at your (not yours anymore, you have to remind yourself) ceiling, you can't help but think of the contrast the plain dark gray ceiling has when held in context to that of your siblings' rooms. Felix's room has a colorful solar system painted over the black base, little specks of white that glow in the dark acting like stars. You vaguely remember painting it with Channie when you were 17 and Felix was 13, days spent carefully stenciling every planet, splattering each other with paint, nights laughing at the days events- You who had recently discovered your soulbond with Channie at the time trying to stop yourself from falling deeper- but failing whenever Channie would look at you with those bright eyes, smile on his face and dimples on full display as if he knew it was your weakness.

Olivia’s ceiling a beautiful baby blue with light clouds painted on it and chains decorated with charms that look like rain and thunder dangling from the ceiling, you remember starting to paint it when you were 18, right before you left for college- you also remember the fact that that was the last time Olivia had actually spoken to you - it was 4 years ago and your heart breaks every day that timespan becomes longer.

Rachel's room, pastel pink as it's always been, ever since she was 15- you painted hers too, you think that was the last time she had acted civil with you, but that's okay. She’s happy now - and that's all you could wish for.

Yet it bothers you, your childhood reflecting the bleak ceiling while your siblings lived a vibrant life, grew up with parents that loved them- everything you had went to them. You even gave up the other half of your soul so that Rachel could live her life, so that Felix could find his other half, so that Olivia could continue to gaze at the clouds.

No matter the regrets you hold, you’d do it all over again, sacrifice yourself for their happiness- for what are you if not a protector? What is your worth to this family if you can not offer yourself up for their joy? For what is the value of a star if it's daytime? What is your value if you can not give them light in the darkness?

You turn your head to look at Soobin asleep next to you, you should probably wake the boy up, people will be arriving in an hour- but Soobin just looks so peaceful.

Your mind drifts to what it would be like waking next to Channie instead, Chan’s puffy lips formed in that cute pout he always has when he's asleep, his hair messy- one hand resting on his exposed stomach as the other cuddling whatever he could find, Chan always slept like that, curling in on himself yet still finding a way to fit you - his Bubbles- into his hold.

Soobin was completely different to Chan, maybe that's why he was the perfect candidate to distract you - but looking at the slightly shorter man asleep, on his side holding the blanket- you think there isn't a place for you here- with Soobin.

You think Soobin knows it too, and your heart breaks because you have this sinking feeling this is the last time. Soobin waking up, looking at you with a wobbly smile and eyes holding back tears solidifies your suspicions, but neither of you bring it up. An agreement started and ended the same way- silently, secretly, with love and tears.

A knock on the door startles you both, as your eyes flick away from one another “Hyung’s? Mom said I needed to come wake you! Rachel just went to pick up Olivia, dads gonna be home in half an hour and the guests are arriving in an hour” Felix’s voice follows the knock. “We’re up lix!” You shout back gently at your younger brother. “Oh! And Fifi is playing with Seungmin and mom in the backyard!” Felix shouts back before you hear him shuffling down the stairs. Leaving you and Soobin to sit on the bed in silence.

The silence in the room is deafening as you two get dressed, after showering and cleaning up it’s about time that Rachel and Olivia should be home and you do not know if you want to break the silence with Soobin, or go down and greet the sister who cowers away from you. Soobin makes that decision for you- he had always been able to read your thoughts.

“You need to do something that makes you happy” Soobin speaks while nodding his head slightly, he's in thought as if it's the answer to a question he’s been pondering for a while, although you can't even begin to comprehend what the question could be. “Excuse me?” you ask softly in an attempt to sound as confused as you feel.

“You should do something that makes you happy [Name], even something small- spend more time with your brother, more time with Chan, find a hobby that is yours and not one your father has chosen out for you. The rage you hold for your father’s actions that contrasts the guilt you feel of hating him is making you numb. You have to admit it yourself, you seem to not have the emotional strength to care for those you love at this point, you’re exhausted [Name], professor Teamin sees it, I see it, Keeho see’s it; and I’m pretty sure Felix is realizing it. You’re burning yourself out” Soobin says softly, he looks at you with those big eyes of his, and you can see the sincerity behind them.

“Even stars have the ability to burn out [Name], but they go out on their own conditions, on their own time- do not dim your own light for those who do not appreciate you. Do not go out before you’ve completed yourself. Find your happiness.” Soobin confirms his words with a sense of finality- as if this is something he’s been waiting to say for a while.

You look down as you place rings on your fingers, you caress the gold one -engraved with a little sun- thats placed on your ring finger- vaguely remembering the fact that it was a gift from Chan- a matching charm he gave you when you went off to college for your first year and he was in his last year of highschool. A promise to stay connected. “And if my happiness takes me away from you?” you ask as tears try to form in your eyes, you force them away. Your voice is trembling, vulnerable in a way Soobin has never heard from you.

“I’ve always known I wasn't your happiness [Name], that much is obvious- your happiness lies somewhere else, with another. I've made peace with that, I'm content with the sense of relief I was able to offer but we both know this, us, was not meant to last. Relief is short lived, and you need to come to terms with the fact that this is a risk you should take.”

It hurts Soobin to let you go, wounds his heart in a way only love can, but he knows that a star cannot be trapped- it is supposed to roam free until its last light. Soobin lets you go because he knows the sense of relief he provides you could never compare to the utter joy in your eye’s with simply just the mention of the other half of your soul.

Soobin knows that in your eyes he can't hold a candle to the admiration you have for Chan- but he’s not angry at that. You can't mix yellow and red then expect purple. You can’t mix Soobin and yourself, then expect forever.

“ I love you, you know that right?” You look at Soobin, he nods his head, a soft smile on his lips ``I know, but you're in love with him and that’s okay.” You open your mouth, about to respond, to tell him that it’s not okay, that you fucked up, that you hurt him and that you hate yourself for it, but the voices downstairs stop you from doing so. “Seem’s your dad and sisters got back at the same time, I guess we should go down.” Soobin supplies and he walks to the door before you, he knows you wouldn't walk first, knows that you need to be pushed.

Knows that if it were up to you, you wouldn't do anything, but Soobin will be damned if he doesn't see you happy and he has a feeling that tonight things are going to change, hopefully for the better. He knows you need to talk to someone who understands, someone you look up too- and luckily enough that person will be here tonight.

You follow Soobin down the stairs, although you’re much less enthusiastic than him, your shoulders are slumped, current posture making you seem much smaller and less secure of yourself. To be fair right now you're not that sure of yourself but still, your father won't accept bad posture.

Once you and Soobin reach the bottom of the stairs you’re met with Rachel “Dad wants you to greet him, he’s in his study” she tells you, her head nodding to the room that's always instilled fear in you. Soobin gives you a wary look but you nod your head down the hall to where the door to the backyard is situated. “Go sit with Felix and Min, I'll be there in a moment” You try to give him a reassuring smile, you know he doesn't fall for it, but he obeys nonetheless. Walking away to the backyard after one last nod.

You turn, about to enter your fathers study that is a little more down the hall, entrance under the stairs, parallel to the living room, before you can take a step Rachel grabs your arm, forcing you to look down at your younger sister. “Listen, I don't know what you have going on with that boytoy of yours, but you better not hurt Chan” she looks at you, her eyes filled with determination, your stomach twists in a odd way as you tilt your head in confusion, you try to defend yourself “Rachel what are you talking about? I would never dream of-”

“I don’t care what you would dream of, I care about Chan, the guy who's been a better older brother to us than you were.” she starts, and damn her words hurt. “I know I wasn't supposed to know he’s your soulmate, but I do and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt him. You bring that guy here for a reason I can't fathom, because you know Chan’s gonna be here tonight. You may have been a deadbeat older brother to us but dont you dare be a deadbeat soulmate to the one person who’s supposed to always be by your side, frankly he doesn’t deserve you-” she’s right, Chan deserves so much better, he deserves a soulmate who could actually be there for him, who could openly express their love, He deserves to love someone who wouldn't put him in danger. “ - I mean you parading your little boyfriend around is practically cheating.” She finishes her sentence as she looks at you in what seems to be disappointment? Resentment? You can't tell.

Something in you snaps, you can understand everything else she said, despite all that you've sacrificed she doesn't know, your siblings don't know why you were almost never there for them and that's fine, if they see you as a deadbeat older brother you don't care, as long as they're safe, but accusing you of cheating? That's low, even for Rachel. She knows it, she knows , she remembers and you hate her for using that against you. The one memory you both share that she knows impacts you to this day.

“Rachel I honestly stopped caring what you think of me-” you didn't, you yearn for her acceptance still, “- but accusing me of cheating is evil and you know it. Me and Channie aren't together, Soobin isnt my boyfriend, So don’t you dare accuse me of cheating when you barely remember what happened that night. You only dream broken shards of that fragile memory, I am the one that has to hold the fragile glass, carry it with me. So insult me all you want but do NOT hold that broken shard against my neck.” You look at Rachel with anger, and she hates it- you never look at her like that, sure she took it a bit far this time, but you always let it slide- why do you choose now of all times to talk back?

“I was simply telling you what I see [Name], no need to start a fight over it, not with Olivia in the house- I don't want her first memory of you being home after so long to be of a fight” Rachel says as if you’re the one in the wrong here. “Firstly, I’m your older brother, it's [Name]-oppa or Oppa-nim, put respect on the fact that I basically raised you when mom couldn't. Secondly, I’m not starting a fight Rachel, you are and don't you dare try and use Olivia against me to justify the situation you started.” You tell her before storming to your fathers study, you're angry, you almost swing the door open- but muscle memory warns you not to.

There's a difference in the way your muscles tense when you're angry, and when you're scared- you feel the shift the moment your hand reaches the handle of the door, you knock, three times in perfect order before you open the door and step inside. Your father is sitting at his study, his eyes are fixed on the papers at his desk, he motions you closer with his hand, not lifting his head to make eye contact.

You walk forward and take in the picture before you. It may have been years since you've been in this room, but you could not escape the memories it brought even if you tried, too many nightmares had been born here, too many dreams had been destroyed for you to not remember it. The room looks exactly the same, only one difference stares at you. On your fathers desk is a picture, in the picture a big man, with silver hair is standing at what seems to be a bar. He has a large, welcoming smile on his face. It's a picture of your paternal grandfather, the only man who gave you solace when you were younger, the man who took you in after the incident you and Rachel had just talked about. You don't notice that your father is now staring at you, you’re too busy staring at the man you've lost long ago- you almost forgot what he looked like.

Your father slams the picture closed, hard. You snap your eyes up to him, “Father” you greet and he nods his head, “You brought them? The students you tutor?” he asks, “Yes, they are currently outside with mother” you respond. “Good” he pauses, “you brought the dog?” he looks at you expectantly. Your father never liked Fifi, you suppose it's because Fifi had never liked him. “Yes, although Fifi is not as young as he was when you first met him father, he’s much more well behaved” You supply. The first time your father met your dog, Fifi was only a few months old but already big in size, he had snarled at your father and probably would have attacked him had you not stopped your dog. “I would expect so, the chemistry contest?”

******abuse warning*****

“I got first place with a 98/100 father” you answer him and you know he’s not going to be happy, “You got two questions wrong?” He raises a brow. “Is the door locked?” he asks as he bends down, opening a drawer in his desk. “Yes father” you look at him, hoping that maybe this time he’ll let it go. “And you know the rule” he states as he stands up, you sigh as you take of your shirt and answer him, “For every mark lost, a scar is the cost” you reply, your voice is devoid of emotion and you think you’re starting to disassociate, you try not to- he doesnt like it when you do that.

“That's correct” Your father walks from his place behind the desk and you see the stick in his hand. It's a weapon he’s had since you were 10, almost like a miniature whip of sorts, it hurts like hell but you're glad he’s chosen this instead of the other alternative, instead of the one that has steel teeth at the ends. You turn your back to him, standing upright- this is the only time your father would allow you to turn your back to him. Purely so that he can admire his work and punish you again.

With every hit to your skin you clench your teeth, if you make a sound, if you falter or fall down the punishment will only be worse, this will all be over soon, you just need to focus on something. Focus, don't go away, don't dissociate, don't falter. You need to focus, you feel yourself slipping away, it's too late.

*****scene over*****

You didn't focus.

By the time you come too you're already sitting at the dinner table, Soobin sitting on your left and Seungmin on your right, you can feel Fifi sitting in between your legs below the table which makes sense. He always did know when you weren't fully there, and refused to leave your side when it happened.

You look around you, realizing everyone had already arrived, your mother and Rachel are conversing with Ms. Bahng to the left, your mother sitting at the one heads of the table, next to Rachel sat Olivia who was animatedly conversing with Hannah who sat opposite her, Lucas would chime in every now and then but he was mostly quiet, you missed Lucas he was a sweet boy.

Beside him, and opposite to you sat Chan, he wasn't looking at you, rather his gaze flicking from Soobin down to his plate, he seemed mad? Sad? some mixture of emotions you couldn’t quite read. Beside Chan sat Yunho, Yunho who despite holding conversation with the fathers at the right end of the table, seemed to be eyeing you worriedly.

Felix sat in between Sengmin and Olivia, talking to both of them with the warmest smile on his face. You felt.. out of place so to speak, seemingly the only one at the table not speaking a word, and the rest of dinner, not that there had been much left seeing as when you focused back in everyone was finishing up, went the same. After all the dishes had been cleared, and a playful fight between you mother, Ms,. Mikealson and Ms. Bahng on who would do the dishes, you follow Yunho outside to the porch, Fifi not far behind you.

You suppose its tradition, after every family dinner you and Yunho would sit here, on the porch gazing out as your little siblings and friends would play, the both of you, the eldest, never joining them. While the picture now is eerily similar to that of your last dinner, you know a lot has changed, Seungmin and Soobin joining the younger ones in the backyard, Jongho not being here, Yunho who's staring at you, because he knows.

Somehow Yunho has always known, you suppose it’s because of the similarities you share. “So Soobin?” his voice is calm as he asks, he’s relaxed into his chair, eyes focused solely on you. You give him a hum of acknowledgement before responding “He told me to do what makes me happy”

“And will you?” he asks, “I don’t know, I don’t even know what makes me happy anymore” You sigh in defeat turning to face your old friend. Despite the fondness you have for Yunho, a certain part of you will always be jealous that he got the love story you didn't. “I think you do, you might not realize it but there are certain things that clearly make you happy, certain people. “

You groan in annoyance, not wanting to have the same conversation of denial over and over, “Not this again, Yunho listen I- “

“No you listen [Name], we may not talk much, but I know you, heck a few months ago I was you. My dad might not be as controlling as yours but I know the feeling. What I saw in there tonight was you completely out of it, the only sign of life would be the way your lips would quirk up at Chan’s voice. When we walked out here the way your eyes followed him, the way your eyes are softening now watching him sit on the swing and look at the stars. You can’t keep denying it, not to me. Not to the person who was always there when you would light up at the slightest bit of attention from him. You can’t deny the way your shoulders would relax and smile would become less strained in the presence of him, Felix and your mother. These little moments of happiness that's helped you survive are keeping you from living. You can’t hide it from me because before I got with Mingi it was me. You need to grasp the thing that makes you want to live.” Yunho cuts you off and he doesn't leave room for you to argue as he stands up and walks further into the yard to join the others.

Tears sting in your eyes but you refuse to let them fall as you stare at Chan, he stares right back. You give him a smile, albeit bittersweet, but a real one, and a tiny wave. His face lights up and he waves back enthusiastically, allowing you to catch sight of the silver band on his ring finger, one that represents his connection to the moon. One that represents his connection to you.

The moon may not be able to live without the sun, but the sun will forever spend its time chasing after the moon. Maybe it’s time you follow the advice of those around you. Maybe it’s time you live.

home page | stray kids masterlist | Soulbound masterlist

Taglist: [9/30][open]: @foxilsdenn @conwunder @heyogg @zzstar @xavi-in-kpopland @idkwhatto-namethis @glitchyaiko @ashersdeadinside @kaisworlds

name in orange/bold means tumblr wont let me tag you

notes: chat do NAWT hold me accountable for how ass my writing is I'm out of practice, also thank Kai for sitting with me when I wrote the begining of this chapter WEEKS ago🙏🏻 ALSO PLS PLS PLS TELL ME WHAT U THINK IN THE COMMENTS OR IN MY INBOX PLEASE I NEED FEEDBACK!!

copyright | 2024 | @asherthehimbo