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alien-til-i-stage · 3 days

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There’s something interesting in the way of how each of the cast are very similar, yet they have castly different ways to cope with what is happening to them. Each of them has their own way to deal with their trauma and because of this and how they cope, it leads them to vastly different endings and life styles.

More down below

- Starting with Mizi, I believe she coped by living in denial. This might sound strange, considering Mizi lived with owners who loved her. Her owners sheltered her because they cared, leading her to eventually join Anakt Garden out of desire to sing. It’s implied that Mizi did not know what would happen in Alien Stage, which is interesting.

We know everyone else knew. Till, Ivan, and Sua all knew and were prepared to fight for their lives. It’s even said that the kids in Anakt Garden were raised to believe dying in Alien Stage was an honor and that they shouldn’t fear death. Its strange that Mizi didn’t know about this, so I believe that Mizi, either consciously or subconsciously made herself forget about it.

She is still a human, a pet for aliens. Vivinos and Qmeng have confirmed that while Mizi is still the one with the closest relationship to her owners, it will never be anything like a daughter relationship, that she is still a pet to them. I doubt that she was never shown any abuse to any cruelities of their society. She must’ve seen it at some point. Especially when she meets Sua, Sua is right behind her as the two of them are with their owners. All it would take would Mizi turning around to see the abuse Sua is suffering, but she doesn’t.

While I do believe that Mizi wouldn’t have been able to tell whats wrong with Sua at her age, I think this was purposefully done to show that Mizi doesn’t look back around Sua. She’s focused on the beauty in front of her, she doesn’t pay attention to anything else. Perhaps this is to represent how Mizi actually ignores or doesn’t pay attention to anything bad, focusing purely on happiness. She puts the bad away from her mind and plays, having fun.

It’s only until Sua dies, that it gets too much for her, she can no longer subconsciously ignore what is happening and is suddenly being forced to notice everything that is happening. Almost like it’s finally being shoved in her face.

-Sua copes by dissociating herself, seperately her body and mind. We can see this as Sua lies doll like in her glass enclosure. She doesn’t move, her eyes are dead and still, she is just there. I believe this represents how she no longer lives in the moment but rather is somewhere else mentally. She’s there physically, treated as a doll in front of the aliens, like a decoration, but she makes no reactions.

By dissociating herself, she has become the perfect doll. It’s easy for her to live life as a doll if she isn’t even mentally there at all. This fits with everything we’ve seen of her, how she constantly wears a deadpan face and doesn’t move unless she is in Mizi’s presence. Mizi makes her want to live in the moment. She legitimately has fun with Mizi, and it’s likely that when she isn’t around her, she goes right back to being doll like. This would give her another reason to constantly be around Mizi, not wanting to go back to the way she was.

If Mizi were to die, she would permanently go back to dissociating constantly, and she doesn’t want that. She wants to live in the moment, she wants to be with Mizi forever, both mentally and physically. But it is impossible for her if Mizi dies, so she sacrifices herself to keep herself from living without her, falling into her sweet dreams with Mizi forever.

-Till copes a much more violent way. Instead he has outbursts and attacks any aliens or humans making him distressed. We see this commonly in the way he rebels. He doesn’t allow others to walk over him. This can be seen when Ivan steps on Till’s flowers and he attacks Ivan. We see a pattern of when Till gets upset, he attacks and gets violent towards the person who got him upset. We see Ivan using this to his advantage multiple times in order to get a reaction out of him.

We can also see this in the scene above where Till attacks the first alien he can, grabbing something to beat them with. It’s likely that Till wasn’t even thinking, but rather just wanted to hurt something. We know that Till had no chance of winning, but that was most likely something he didn’t care or think about at all. This shows that this action was entirely emotional, a decision made rashly. We also know that when Till is hurt badly, he thinks about Mizi to make him feel better, another coping mechanism for him. However by round 6, he has lost both of his coping mechanisms. He lost Mizi, now only able to think about her being gone, and he is reminded that he is powerless, and he is unable to attack back. He has no way to cope, making him much more suicidal in round 6, because he can’t stand or bear his life currently.

-Ivan makes his own life and trauma bearable by constant masking. We can see this happen often with him. He puts on his mask as a way to survive but to cope, forcing himself to be seperated from what is happening to him. Similar to Sua, his mask keeps him away from his trauma. While he still hurts and he is still very traumatized, the effects of his trauma is lessened because his mask doesn’t break. He pretends his trauma doesn’t exist, he pretends he is the perfect person, and no one would be able to guess otherwise.

However the mask is also a trauma of its own. If he were to ever take off his mask, like in round 6 when he did so in front of all the aliens, he would be able to truly express himself. He does so, even at the cost of Till’s dignity and made Till confused and scared. It’s also said that when Ivan takes off his mask around Till, he becomes childish and immature, showing how the mask has also made him mentally younger. How because he doesn’t cope properly or face life the same way a typical untraumatized person would, he is mentally younger, being described a man child in fact.

-Luka projects onto others to let out his feelings of helplessness and powerlessness. It was stated by Vivinos and Qmeng in a Q and A that Luka mentally abuses the other person on the stage, in this case it would be Mizi, because the stage is the one place he can be in control. He feels helpless and powerless outside of the stage, his entire life dictated by his owner as he is unable to chose his own path. He’s been raised from a very young age controlled by everyone around him, so once he gets the chance to have some form of control or power, he immediately jumps on the chance to get it.

He hurts the other contestant, uncaring of how they feel, because it makes him feel in power. He projects onto the other party his pain and his own feelings as a way to cope. Because of this, this could be another reason why Luka is alone. He chooses to hurt others around him because it makes him feel better, so naturally no one would want to be there for him. He has lost everyone because all he does is hurt them, seen with him and Hyuna. How Hyuna is deeply traumatized by Luka and now she avoids him and refuses to think about him.

-Hyuna, similar to Mizi, copes by running away from her traumas, using sustenaces like alcohol or keeping hersef busy to not think. While I did say above Mizi subconsciously forgets what is traumatizing until it gets too much, Hyuna tries desperately to make herself forget. We see her constantly drinking and partying, and when she isn’t, she is on dangerous missions. It’s most likely that she does this to run away from her own mind, that if she pauses and stops for one second, she will become overburdened and overwhelmed but her trauma.

We see her pause or freeze when she sees an image of Luka, forcing her to remember everything that happened. We see her panic on stage, trying so hard to make her voice louder and sing more to forget whats going on in her mind. This makes her trauma a weakness for her, as when she freezes, they are attacked by guards. Because of how long she has been running, the worse the effect of her trauma is to her.

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queendomkey · 3 days

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imgonnagetyouback

no header we die like men

So, a fun fact about me: I have a physical, burnt CD that I keep songs that play on the idea of "get them back." It is maybe my favorite, favorite double entendre to make.

First of all, I love the stylization of the title? Someone said something about it being a reference to a 1975 song? I actually don't care, I think the all lower case, no spaces presentation of imgonnagetyouback so perfectly encapsulates how she sings it. There's a distinct speed to it, a mischievous side smile to it as well.

Also, god, the vibe of the song is just a little sexy, just a little messy, it's everything I love. The narrator, seeking an ex-flame who ghosted her ( I'm an Aston Martin that you steered straight into a ditch / then ran and hid ) debates his fate.

There's something very... gloat-ish, in it. I can imagine the narrator, two shots deep, grabbing her lover by the jaw, to say, "I could leave you, like a dumb house party, or I might just love you 'till the end."

(Get Him Back - Fiona Apple)

This song tells, I think, a very tight story. The narrator describes a lover who "Knew the price goin' in." who she sees across the bar, after their split. Over the course of her night, she has decided. Even if I'm handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you.

My favorite part, and the most revealing, is the bridge. It's always the bridge! ( I think Swift's songwriting prioritizes the bridge as a moment of revelation, a moment where the "why?" of the song is answered. ) The narrator, in no uncertain terms, sees her lover still wanting her, and sees him as the turn around, the new future. Bygones will be bygone eras, fading into grey.

The narrator thinks that, by getting back with this lover (or by getting back at them) she can "push the reset button, we're becoming something new."

(I'm Gonna Get You Back - Florie)

The bridge's final line also reveals a little bit about how the Narrator sees herself.

Pick your poison babe, I'm poison either way.

The narrator tells her ghosted ex that both options will end badly for him. On one hand, she teases revenge throughout the whole song. Smash your bike / flip you off / curse you out. Or, as a much younger Swift might put it: I wrote a song about you.

On the other hand... There's a tell, there. That she thinks loving her ( pull you into the closet / take you back to my house / be your wife ) is just as poisonous. In a way, maybe the narrator is right. The song's placement directly before The Albatross could be the answer. The narrator sees that trouble will come if he gets back with her, too.

(get him back! - Olivia Rodrigo)

Back on the idea of gloating, though. The song has a bit of Mastermind to it too:

You'll find that you were never not mine.

The narrator feels so totally in control that she will get to decide the fate of this romance. I could take the upper hand. I can tell when someone still wants me. Once you fix your face, I'm goin' in. For a song with such a tight, perfect beat, it works so, so well. I love when the instrumental supports the lyrics.

#ttpdminutes #imgonnagetyouback #taylor swift #the cassandra speaks #web weaving #this was weird for me but this is quite litcherally my favorite play on words so i had had had to

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lycemagee · 2 days

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The Love Interests~

For Luisa are Robin and Sydney the "Main Love Interests", but she still has special feelings for a lot of them.

Robin:

- She would rather die than let him down.

- Childhood friends

- his hugs saved her life

- he was her first love and also the reason she began to change, because when Bailey began to raise the Payment, she was desperate to save him, even if that would destroy her. As long Robin is safe she is fine

- was thinking a lot of times to just run away with him

Sydney:

- studied a lot in the Library and met him there the first time

- she could relate to him a lot and they talked esp. in the Breaks

- he introduced her to the Church and she was interested in it

- the time she was forced to open up for other things than just studying, she teased him a lot

- with the time a feeling and wish for having Dominance and Control over something grew and Sydney was the perfect experiment for it

- with him she showed much more arrogance and superiority than with other

- with the time she corrupted him further and he went down with her

Avery:

- the one who taught her intimacy

- she had a heavy crush on him

- when she got money from him, she would learn more and more about behaviour in the high society to satisfy him

- would do anything to make him happy, because he gave her the feeling of worth

- low-key sees him as a friend

Kylar:

- she protected him, being a helpless soul herself and couldn't stand the unfair behaviour of her classmates

- after that she rarely had any interaction with him, than to smile at him reassuring and wink

- she realised that he was looking at her and she started to flirt with him

- teased him A LOT. Painfully a lot. Would flirt and then suddenly show him the cold shoulder

- she felt a bit powerful towards him and loved it, wanted to see how far she can go until he snaps

Alex:

- business Partner

- just wanted to help out to gain money

- with time she found him funny and was entertained by his actions

- feels safe with him and learned a lot

- but she does not like when he bosses her around

Whitney:

- she hated him

- she complied a lot, because she feared the pain he would cause her

- with time she got more confident and pissed him off and didn't listen to him anymore

- she fought with him whenever she could and protected the others from him

- seeing him vulnerable was a feast for her and she began to provoke him in other ways than just with violence

Great Hawk:

- accidentally while she was on a break from Alex's Farm she went to the moors and got snatched by him

- she liked the gifts from him and was thinking of "training" him to give her more valuable things, so she could sell them

- at some point she loved snuggling in his warm feathers and learned singing from him

- she loves it when he calls her wife with a warm tone in his voice

Eden:

- she met him much much later than the others

- there was a lot going on in her life when she met him

- shortly said he found her with a blank gaze and no will to live in the middle of the woods

- she was apathetic and didn't talk with him at first but complied with everything

- slowly she "woke up" and warmed up to him and likes to take care of him

- she has a lot of nightmares and faints a lot

- she doesn't talk about her past, but he feels the guilt and the trauma she has in her inside

- feels safe with him

#degrees of lewdity #dol #kylar the loner #sydney the faithful #eden the hunter #avery the businessperson #alex the farmhand #robin the orphan #dol robin #dol avery #dol alex #dol eden #dol kylar #dol sydney #dol headcanons

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cetaitlaverite · 3 days

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Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

masterlist is linked here <3

20. All My Life

The sky was grey with the threat of rain. It had been sunny this morning. But it was March and even though spring was close it still wasn’t close enough. Before dinner, Freddie thought, the world would be soaked.

She called for Meatball to hurry up as he wandered around in the grass outside the mess hall, trying to find an adequate spot to relieve himself. It was a habit of his she found endlessly infuriating - how many hours of her life had she racked up by now simply watching Meatball walk around and around and around, searching for the perfect spot just to squat in the grass?

Freddie squinted up into the sky again. It was almost certainly going to rain.

“Meatball, buddy,” Freddie pleaded with him, pulling her sleeves down over her hands. “Hurry up.” It was chilly today, too. In the week since Rosie’s last mission the weather had looked like it was turning; it had been all sunshine and premature warmth ever since. But it was turning back now, it seemed. Rain and a chill in the air. They were right back where they started.

Freddie felt Rosie’s eyes on her before he was anywhere near her. There was a particular weight in his gaze whenever he looked at her which she could always sense. He had a talent for making her feel like the most special person in the world with nothing more than a glance.

She turned to watch him approach, smiling in anticipation of having him close.

“Hi,” she greeted when he was finally near enough to hear her. She reached for him, tugging him towards her the rest of the way, and pushed up on her tiptoes for a kiss he gladly gave her.

He was smiling when they pulled apart. He lifted both hands to brush her hair out of her face, then cupped her cheeks to kiss her again.

“Hi,” he whispered once he was satisfied.

Just because she could, she reached up to kiss him once more. She had to make the most of having him close, she knew. Any day now he’d be returning to the States and she wanted to remember what it had been like to live in the bliss of his nearness.

This kiss was longer, deeper, slower. A kiss which might have been trying to start something had they not been standing right outside the mess hall and waiting for Meatball to go to the toilet.

Flushed and breathless, Freddie pulled back to catch her breath and ran her hands up and down his arms over his leather A-2 jacket. “Hi,” she said again.

Rosie was grinning. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“You’re early to dinner today,” Freddie said, adjusting the fit of his jacket. She loved seeing him in this jacket. It suited him incredibly well. Perhaps the only thing she loved more than seeing Rosie wear it was wearing it herself, with nothing underneath as they spent quality time together in his plane.

Rosie hummed his acceptance of this observation. “Croz said I might find you here.”

Freddie brightened. “You were looking for me?”

Rosie laughed. “I’m always looking for you.”

“Well, you found me,” she sing-songed quietly. Her smile turned coy as she tilted her head.

“Found you even more beautiful than I left you,” Rosie said.

Freddie smiled brighter, quirking a sly brow at him. “Oh? And what are you going to do about it?”

Rosie laughed, using his hands on her waist to tug her closer and press a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Later,” he promised, punctuating the statement with one more long kiss. “I came out here to talk to you about something.”

“You came out here to talk?” Freddie asked with a mock gasp. “So boring,” she teased. “I forget you’re a lawyer at heart.”

Rosie rolled his eyes fondly. “Seriously, Fred, I gotta talk to you.”

Freddie nodded, accepting his seriousness. “Alright,” she conceded. She turned to find Meatball still wandering around in the grass and sighed. “I’d say let’s go to my office but Meatball’s still taking his sweet time, so let’s just stay here. Hopefully it won’t rain before he’s finished.”

Rosie smiled a little bit, following her eyes briefly to the Siberian Husky with his nose to the ground before turning back to her. “Right. I just wanted to talk about the brass upping the end of tour requirements.”

“Oh,” Freddie said, with a somewhat confused smile. “Okay.”

After the two of them had returned to the officers’ club on the evening of Rosie’s twenty-fifth mission, Jack had revealed that the American Air Force brass were upping the requirements for the number of missions which would constitute a full tour. Previously, it had been twenty-five. Now, it was twenty-eight for existing crews and thirty for replacements arriving from this week onwards. Rosie and his Riveters were safe, among the very last to meet the previous requirements, but henceforth the twenty-fifth mission would be cause for no more celebration than any other mission survived.

It was cruel, Freddie thought, to do that to them so late in the game. But at least Rosie was safe. He would be back stateside soon and she would no longer have to worry.

“I been thinking about it a lot,” Rosie said, regarding the increase in requirements.

Freddie nodded. She figured he would be. It was inevitable he’d feel some sort of guilt about it, being one of the last to get away with the twenty-five, but he was lucky and he had to hold onto that - they both did. He was getting to go home. How many men had gone down dreaming of the same thing?

“I, uh,” Rosie went on, “I just got done talking to Colonel Bennett.”

Freddie’s eyebrows furrowed. Now she had no idea where he was going with his. Still, her hands continued smoothing up and down his arms while his continued smoothing up and down her back, the gestures calming both of them.

“I’ve decided to re-up,” Rosie said.

Freddie’s hands froze.

“I talked to the colonel and he’s allowing it,” Rosie continued. He was smiling slightly down at her. “He promoted me to major so I’ll be the new commanding officer for the 350th. Means I can help all the new boys, Fred, and keep ‘em alive. And I’ll be sticking around. We don’t have to say goodbye anymore.”

It was a few moments before Freddie found her voice. When she did it emerged choked, the back of her throat suddenly dry. “I think I’m confused.”

“By which part, honey?” Rosie asked gently. He lifted one of his hands to cup her cheek.

“By all of it,” Freddie replied, shaking her head. Her hands were holding on tight to his arms now, as if it was that grip alone keeping her upright. “You’re a major? And you’re leading?” She frowned. “You mean in air exec?”

“No, honey,” Rosie told her quietly. He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb, ducking his head to better meet her eyes. “I’m re-upping. I’m gonna get back in the plane and finish what I started.”

Freddie shook her head dumbly. “You’re re-upping?” Her voice didn’t sound like it belonged to her. It sounded far away, somehow, like it was coming from where Meatball was still wandering around in the grass.

“Yeah.” He stroked her cheek again, his eyes searching hers for a sign of how she was feeling.

Her eyes evaded him. They were stuck staring at the name patch on his jacket. “You’re going to fly again?”

“Yeah.”

“How many times?”

“Until the job is done.”

Freddie started gnawing on her bottom lip. Her hands were only gripping onto his jacket tighter and tighter. “I don’t understand.”

Rosie sighed. “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once, Fred, so do you just wanna sit with it and -”

“Do I just want to sit with it?” Her hands fell away from him. She took a step back. “No, Rosie, I don’t want to sit with it, I want to wake up from whatever nightmare I’ve fallen into.”

“Fred -”

“I don’t understand, Rosie.” She swallowed hard, a vain attempt to clear the thick lump lodged in the back of her throat. “I don’t understand why you would do this to me.”

“Fred, honey, I’m not -” He sighed in frustration as he tried to explain himself. “I just couldn’t live with myself if I left like this. The war is nowhere close to finished and they’re just gonna keep on sending in replacements, and all of ‘em will get ‘emselves killed. But I’ve got the experience and I’ve got the talent to bring myself back and I can lead them, Fred. It’s - it’s not as bad as you think.”

“It’s exactly as bad as I think,” Freddie disputed him lowly. When he tried to close the distance between them she took several steps back, refusing him the closeness. “You know what your twenty-fifth meant to me. And you go and you give it all up without even consulting me, without telling me you were ever thinking about it? You tell me once you’ve already gone and done it and I’m just expected to live with it?”

“Nothing’s going to change,” Rosie insisted. With every step he took towards her she took another step back until he conceded her the distance, stopping still in his tracks. “Everything will be the exact same as it has been the entire time I’ve been here. I’ll go up and then I’ll come back down and everything will be fine, honey. It’ll be fine.”

“You can’t promise me that!” Freddie argued. “Daniel used to tell me the same thing! He made me all the same promises you do and he didn’t want to break them any more than you do, but he still did!”

“What happened to Daniel isn’t gonna happen to me, Fred.” His voice was pleading with her, now, to stop arguing and to let him explain and to see it from his perspective. But it didn’t matter how he phrased it, Freddie wasn’t going to agree. How could she? He’d taken away the one bit of happiness she thought was promised to her. She’d been holding on so tight to him for so long, terrified every time he went out on a mission, and the instant she loosened her grip, certain she no longer had to worry, was the instant he himself wrenched himself out of her grasp and straight back into harm’s way.

“How could you possibly know that?!” Freddie demanded.

“Because I’m -” Rosie cut himself off and looked away from her.

Freddie knew exactly what he had meant to say. “Because you’re a better pilot than he is?” she asked him quietly.

“No,” Rosie began slowly, calmly, trying to pick his words carefully.

Freddie cut across him. “No, if that’s what you wanted to say then say it.”

Rosie turned his eyes back to her. Now he was looking at her hard. It was clear he was getting frustrated. “Just give yourself some time to think about it, Fred,” he eventually replied. “We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

“No,” Freddie said.

Rosie’s eyebrows furrowed. “No?”

“No,” she reasserted. “I’ve thought about it all I need to think about it. And I think you’re making a mistake.”

“I would regret it for the rest of my life if I went home,” Rosie told her seriously.

“But at least it would be a long life,” Freddie contended. “At least you’d have a life to think back on.”

“I’ll still come back to you the same way I always do.”

“No,” Freddie told him. “You won’t. You might come back here but you won’t come back to me.”

His entire face dropped. Gone was the frustration, replaced by panic. “Wait, Fred -”

“How long have you been thinking about this?” Freddie asked slowly. She had her arms crossed as she considered him. Her face was carefully blank.

Rosie held her gaze but he was clearly struggling to do so. “Since the party.”

“The party to celebrate your twenty-fifth?” Freddie checked.

Rosie nodded.

A week and a day. It had been a week and a day since then. And the first she was hearing of it was once the decision had already been made. He had spoken to Colonel Bennett about it before he had spoken to her.

“Does Pappy know?”

“Not yet.”

Freddie nodded. “Right.” She didn’t make any move to say anything else.

Rosie took a tiny, cautious step towards her. “What are you thinking, honey?”

Freddie scoffed. She turned her eyes on the field where Meatball was chasing flies.

“Fred, please let me in,” Rosie pleaded softly. “What are you thinking?”

Slowly, she turned her eyes back on him. “I’m thinking,” she said, “that we have had sex almost every night since that party. I’m thinking that you let me give myself to you over and over again and not once did you think to talk to me about your plans.”

“Fred -”

“I’m thinking that you didn’t tell me because you knew I’d be upset, and if I was upset you wouldn’t want to go through with it. So you went behind my back and made sure it was all organised before finally working up the courage to tell me. I’m thinking that you’re a coward.”

“Freddie, come on -”

“I gave all of myself to you, Robert Rosenthal. My heart and my body and my soul, when I was well-prepared to never give myself to any man ever again. And you have let me continue giving myself to you knowing that you don’t deserve it. Every step I ever took with you, you’re - you’re throwing it back in my face.” Her hands were shaking with rage. Her heart was pounding with panic. Her cheeks were hot with humiliation.

“You have played with me,” she went on. “Like some sort of fucking toy. Like you just wanted to prove to yourself and to everyone else that you could finally be the one to turn my head and now you’re kicking me in the dirt.”

Rosie closed the gap between them in seconds, his hands grasping at her waist before she leaped out of the way.

“No,” she snapped. “Don’t touch me. I don’t want you anywhere near me. Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, don’t talk about me. This, whatever it was between us, it’s finished. Do you hear me, Rosie? It’s done. Congratulations. I hope getting to jetset around Europe in your metal deathtrap is worth it, because I’ll hate you all my life for this.”

She turned and she ran and Meatball followed. He’d been at her side the moment she’d started to raise her voice.

The two of them ran all the way to the wireless operators’ hut, Meatball hot on Freddie’s heels as she all but collapsed through both doors. She threw herself onto Millie’s bed and sobbed, loud and screaming, into her pillow. Meatball sat whimpering at her feet.

She was in the bathroom when the first of the girls came back. It was Emma, and she stopped short in the doorway as soon as she heard the retching.

“Millie!” Emma called, frantic as she started to push back through the gaggle of wireless ops. “Mils! Or Jem?!”

“Here!” Millie called back, jogging the rest of the way to the door to Emma. “What’s wrong?”

“Fred - she’s - she’s in the toilet and -”

Millie didn’t need any more explanation than that. She pushed past Emma, pushed past everyone else, and found Freddie throwing up in the nearest toilet stall. And with no questions asked she fell to her knees behind Freddie and held her hair back, rubbing her back with her other hand and murmuring that she was there and she would be staying as long as Freddie needed her.

“He’s re-upping,” were the first words out of Freddie’s mouth when she found a reprieve. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and slumped back against the stall’s wall, drenched in sweat.

“He’s re-upping?” Millie repeated.

Freddie nodded, shutting her eyes and breathing heavily through her nose. “Now that the American brass have upped the tour requirements he’s decided he’s the only pilot capable of bombing the Nazis, and they’ve rewarded his stupidity with a promotion. He’s leading them into his own death.”

Millie sighed. “What did you say to him?”

“I called it all off,” Freddie said simply.

“Fred -”

“He’s been having sex with me knowing he was going to do it and not once did he say anything. He told me today after getting it all organised with Colonel Bennett.” Freddie scoffed a low, bitter laugh. “How can he have told me he loves me while knowing he was about to betray me?”

Millie didn’t say anything.

Freddie opened her eyes to gauge her reaction.

If Millie sided with Rosie, Freddie thought her heart might just collapse in on itself. She had lost one love of her life. Then, against all odds, she had found another. And Rosie had promised to protect her and love her and take care of her and in one fell swoop he had not only taken all of it back but ruined the rest of her life. She would not find a third man. She didn’t want to. Every ounce of trust she had left she had given to Rosie and he had flushed it down the toilet.

But Millie didn’t side with Rosie. “Fuck him,” she said.

“Unfortunately, I did,” Freddie replied.

Millie let out a reluctant laugh. “Well, fuck him metaphorically. If he dares to try to talk to you it’ll be the last thing he ever does.”

“I don’t want him to talk to me or to look at me or to even breathe in my general direction,” Freddie asserted. “I don’t want to have to be reminded that he even exists. He can go and fly his missions and he can never come back and it will make absolutely no difference to me. He’s dead to me already.”

Millie looked like she wanted to say something but she decided against it at the last moment. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut. But when Jem appeared in the doorway, wary and cautious, to ask what had happened, Millie explained it all in Freddie’s stead, then rubbed her back as she threw up one more time. And when Jem went into a rage to rival Freddie's, no one stopped her.

#watm #mota #my writing #masters of the air #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction #hbo war #hbo war x oc #rosie rosenthal #robert rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal fanfic #rosie rosenthal fanfiction

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vitamin-zeeth · 3 months

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something about how Hedwig talks almost exclusively about how others impacted her. "The triangulation of a pair of eyes on my face, the latitude and longitude of a hand on my body, these are my only clues to my place in the world." "So many people have touched me on my way to the stage tonight" "Will this person embarrass me?" "He loves me mother, he wants to marry me and get me the hell out of here" "he was too good, his applause nearly drowned out my introduction" "he has maintained a near perfect ignorance if the front of me" "I'm just another john you've gypped, another sucker stiffed" "Now everyone gets to take a stab, they cut me up into parts". viewing yourself through the actions of others etc etc

#something about tommys Wicked Little Town being the first time she hears someone sing about her rather than singing about them #something about how he sees how she sees herself and sings how HE sees her #something about regret and sorrow and trying to give back to someone who has given you so much #something about hedwig hearing and leaving. giving back the wig. taking iff the microphone. walking away from the stage.#something about tommys costume on hedwigs stage. something about the origin of love. something about endings.#god i love this musical. i loveeee toxic flawed imperfect damaged characters and this musical is full of them.#hedwig and the angry inch #hedwig

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hecksupremechips · 2 months

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Rebecca gales has bpd she told me herself

#rebecca gales #the letter #the letter visual novel #listen im new here im not exactly a knowledgeable cookie here about bpd but the more i learn the more im like. inch resting #cuz for starters its like idk if it all applies to me but i find a lot of it very relatable #but when i think about rebecca i think it definitely applies and makes a lot of sense just like the way she feels emotions #shes got so much complex feelings about the people she loves shes very caring and loving #to the point where they feel its too much to handle alsjks like i love how cute she is with isabella when shes worried #she squishes belles face to check for injuries and she pulls isabella into her lap and pets her hair and sings for her #and always gets her food and worries herself into the ground to make sure isabella takes care of herself #and then with ashton hes definitely her favorite person she sees him like a prince charming and remembers everything about their #relationship like her way of showing love is definitely by remembering things and paying attention to how people feel and what they want #and then zach even though they arent as close she still helped him with his movie and she defends him when his movie gets hate #like in such an angry way he tries to brush it off but shes like NO NOBODY GETS TO TALK TO YOU LIKE THAT #and same when luke is shitty to him and tries to steal his camera rebecca lets that guy have it #and with luke even though she does hate him shes the only character who makes him see the good in himself #and she lets him know that hes fully capable of changing and being a good father and person #shes just so loving but at the same time so easily has a split where she cant stand anyone either #she thinks isabella is obnoxiously immature and is jealous as fuck of her and she is very quick to fight with ash #because he just doesnt show his love for her like she does for him and thats just such a problem like #that feeling that youll always love someone way more than anyone will ever love you and it makes her really upset #and like sometimes her feelings just get bitter so quick and at inappropriate times like when shes mad at isabella while shes fucking #in a literal coma because ashton is in love with her and not rebecca and shes just so like wrapped up in her own feelings there that she #completely disregards the entire situation and ashtons grief because she cant think about anything else she just cant help it #so yeah i think its just the way she feels emotions very strongly and switches between them very quickly that makes me think hm maybe #something is going on here 🤨 and i just love it i love her i love how shes just a character whos just like #got all these complicated feelings but shes still loved and gets to slay penis and simply exist as a complex person

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diamondsunbursts-and-marblehalls · 6 months

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The first real conversation Katniss has with Peeta is when he tells her that he wants to die as himself, that he doesn't want the games to change him into something he's not, and that he wants to keep his identity and prove he's more than just a piece in their games because that's the only thing he has left to care about.

The first time we see Lucy Gray she sings a song that basically says that nothing they could take from her was worth keeping. "Can't take my past. Can't take my history... You can't take my charm. You can't take my health."

The capitol has taken everything from them both, but at the same time, they could never take away who they are.

They are both likeable charismatic and funny, with the kindest hearts, and incredibly loyal to the people they care about.

At the same time, everything they do before the games, and during is calculated. Lucy Gray singing a love song and winning the hearts of the capitol. Peeta confesses he's in love with his district partner, therefore cementing her identity as desirable. Both of them know how to sway people with words, how to charm people, and how to manipulate crowds. Neither of them has any problem doing so to keep themselves, and the people they love safe.

Lucy Gray's song The Old Therebefore, about learning how to love and live her life to the fullest before death, a final and calculated stroke in a last-ditch effort to save herself from the arena. This evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for her life alongside Snow.

Snow, watching the 74th and preparing for the 75th Hunger Games sees Lucy Gray in Katniss. A young girl, from the 12th district. Unafraid at the reaping. Selling a false love story, manipulating a boy who loves her in order to get out and supporting the revolution with the mockingjay as her symbol.

He threatens her family to get her to sell that she and Peeta are in love, to prevent the revolution, because obviously, she's pretending. He's had experience with a girl just like her before. He has no doubt that she has the acting ability to sell this story because clearly, she manipulated the first Hunger Games in her favor, the same way Lucy Gray manipulated him.

Watching the interviews for the 75th Hunger Games he realizes-

Katniss is just an impulsive girl, in a Mockingjay dress she didn't know about, made by someone who supports the revolution.

Peeta is a boy who has the ability to move people with just his words. He made Katniss desirable, he was the one who sold the love story, and he was the one to make their romance seem real. Katniss only started the revolution because she would rather risk dying with him than live without him. A concept President Snow was completely unfamiliar with. And it is with all these realizations crashing around him Peeta drops the baby bomb. He knows the baby's not real, and so does Snow. But it evokes enough emotion in the watchers to get them to rise to their feet and plead for the lives of the tributes.

Is it Lucy Gray or Peeta?

By the time Snow realizes he's made a mistake, it's too late.

Peeta is still charming and manipulating the capitol. Katniss is in love.

He goes up against a kindhearted boy expecting to beat Sejanus again, only to find out that it's Lucy Gray he's fighting; knowing he will never be able to escape their ghosts.

-from a conversation i had with @grandtyphoonpoetry breaking down every character in the hunger games.

#I have so many thoughts about this #they are so powerful with their words #i will never get over how many different kinds of power fueled this revolution #everything came full circle #peeta mellark #lucy gray baird #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow #president snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

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luv4freddie · 5 months

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Fools - T.N

in which the only Hufflepuff friend in the group of slytherins develops a crush on Theodore Nott— something only fools do.

fem!hufflepuff reader, bff Pansy, use of euphemisms and teasing yn for being innocent but sfw, reader is very emotional, jealous theo, 2800 words

"Y/n!!"

After a year, you'd think that people would get used to seeing the same Hufflepuff go over to the Slytherin table, but alas, half the Great Hall turned to watch you approach the table and take a seat next to Pansy.

She sticks her middle finger up behind your back, aiming it at all of the people who are still staring, and they quickly turn away. It was an unlikely friendship, but she was not going to let anyone make you feel bad about it.

"About time you get here," Draco huffs, "I've had to hear Pansy's 'girl talk' while you were sleeping."

You smile sheepishly at him, you had taken your sweet time this morning, hitting snooze a few times before listening to your favorite record and doing more singing than actually getting ready— resulting in you being extra late to breakfast.

"Sorry, Draco."

"Don't apologize yn, he doesn't deserve it."

You can hear the teasing lilt in Theo's voice from across the table, and Draco throws a handful of grapes at him.

"Whatever," Pansy turns her back to them, "did you hear, apparently the Hufflepuff chaser has a crush on you."

Your eyes flit between her face and your hands, and you wonder where she got her information from.

The boys around you seem to perk up at this, and Draco chides Pansy for deeming that piece of information unimportant compared to all her other, much more useless, girl talk this morning.

"Where on Earth did you hear that?" You cut in, not enjoying the way everyone is suddenly interested in your (nonexistent) love life.

"From a very trustworthy source," is all she'll give away, and you cringe.

"Can we change subjects, please?"

Theo narrows his eyes at you, as if he's searching your face for something.

"You don't care about it then? You're not jumping at the chance to ride his broom?"

The Slytherins around you snicker at his euphemism, but you go bright red.

"I- what! Why would you say- no!"

This only makes them laugh harder, but Pansy collects herself enough to place a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Don't worry, we all know our little puff would never."

You slap her hand away, upset at them treating you like a child.

"Well if you guys are only gonna tease me, I'm gonna go back to my own table."

"Y/n, we didn't mean-" Theo starts, but he's still got a smirk on his face, so you ignore him, leaving before he can try and stop you.

You take a seat at your own house table, and the Hufflepuffs around you immediately welcome you into their conversation.

You don't know why it bothered you so much. They were right, you weren't going to be "riding someone's broom" anytime soon, but hearing the way they talked about it— like you were just some silly, innocent baby— really bugged you.

If you were being honest with yourself, you also knew that deep down you've been repressing feelings for Theodore, because you knew enough stories about him to know it would never work. He was a heartthrob, and had no issue finding girls to entertain him at night— to him you were just a little girl. That conversation was just more proof. There's no way he'd be interested in you.

You unintentionally make eye contact with Zacharias Smith when you finally get out of your head, but you immediately look away, turning back to your friends just as Hannah asks about your Christmas plans.

You don't see your Slytherin friends again until Charms class, and Pansy immediately brings up what happened at breakfast.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that. I don't want you to feel bad, that's just how we are."

You give her a tight lipped smile, shrugging your shoulders. You've realized that most of the anger came from the realization that Theo probably saw you as a child, not actually their teasing.

"No biggie, it's forgiven."

She eyes you suspiciously but decides not to question it, instead starting to talk about her next party idea until she gets shushed when Professor Flitwick starts explaining directions.

You use the quiet moment to sneak a look at Theo, who's leaned back in his chair smirking at something Draco said next to him.

Pansy turns to you and you quickly shift your focus, but it appears she's already seen you. She gives you a raised eyebrow, and you play dumb, looking back at the teapot on your desk and trying to give it legs.

"What was that about back there?" Pansy asks as the two of you walk out together.

"I know it took me forever to get those stupid legs," you cringe, hoping to throw her off course.

"No I meant your staring."

You try not to look guilty, just shrugging your shoulders and explaining, "figured the boys might have figured it out faster. Should have known better."

She grins at that, muttering "you really should have." But something tells you she doesn't quite believe your story.

Your thoughts are only confirmed the next day when she invites you over to her dorm and then immediately suggests the two of you take veritaserum to play a game of truth or dare.

You let out a sigh.

"I'm not doing that Pans, just ask me whatever you want to know."

She grins, "you know me so well."

"Unfortunately," you tease, and she slaps your arm but asks her question anyway.

"Do you have a crush on Draco?"

Her face drops into confusion when you start laughing hysterically.

"That's what you thought? Merlin, you had me scared for no reason. No Pans, I absolutely do not have a crush on Draco."

She lets out a small sigh of relief, but you can tell she's a little peeved you laughed at her.

"Well what was I supposed to think? You got all grumpy yesterday when we were teasing you about your love life, and then the staring. It was either that or you're secretly in love with Nott, which, lets be for real."

She leaves it at that, but your cheeks flush pink. Be for real what? Be for real, he'd never want you? Be for real, what universe would the two of you work out? Be for real, he hates you?

The thoughts keep coming one after another, and suddenly your vision is blurred.

"Hey, woah, what's wrong?"

You cursed Pansy for being so observant.

"Nothing, I think my allergies are acting up." You say, but there's sadness in your voice, and there's an inch of snow outside, which isn't exactly pollen friendly.

"Don't lie to me y/n."

"I'm sorry for being so stupid and emotional." You cry, and Pansy rubs your back slowly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being emotional! You don't see us do it much, but a lot of that's got to do with how we were raised. I wish I felt things as deeply as you do."

Your tears seem to slow, and she smiles.

"Now as for stupid, that depends on where that fit came from."

You look up at her in embarrassment, more hot tears threatening to fill your eyes.

"I... what did you mean?" You ask instead.

"Huh?"

"When you said be for real about me secretly being.." you couldn't bring yourself to say it, as if saying the words would make it true and something you could no longer push away and pretend wasn't there.

Realization dawns on Pansy's face, and she immediately wraps you up in a hug.

"Oh yn, it all makes sense now."

You continue to cry, and she looks at you with what you assume is pity in her eyes.

"I know, I'm such a fool! I know it would never happen, I know half of Hogwarts has a crush on him, I know he'd never want a girl like me." All of the things you'd been keeping to yourself and secretly thinking come spilling out of your mouth, and Pansy rubs your back while you continue to cry.

"Hey don't talk like that! Theo doesn't care about those people, and I know he cares about you. Not to mention, "a girl like you"? You're the exact type of girl that Theo needs. He practically never smiles the way he does when you're around. Just calm down okay?"

You nod through your cries, finally settling down as Pansy throws a magazine at you and the two of you lay across her bed.

Unknowingly, you end up falling asleep, tired from the amount of crying you did. Pansy notices but decides not to wake you, heading down to the common room where the guys would be getting back from quidditch practice soon.

When you wake up the room is dark, and a quick looks around reminds you you're in Pansy's room and not your own. You check the bathroom attached to the dorm, and when no one is in there you head down to the common room, assuming that's where she's gone to.

The whole group is sat on leather couches and armchairs when you make it down the stairs, and you rub the sleep out of your eyes as you approach the group.

"There's our assonnata bella," Theodore purrs, and you immediately flush even though you only understand half of his phrase. (sleeping beauty)

"Sorry for falling asleep." You apologize as you take the seat Pansy offered you, coincidentally landing between her and the reason for your crying.

"Stop apologizing so much," Theo whispers in your ear, and you refuse to look at him in fear of him seeing exactly the effect he has on you. Instead you continue to look at Pansy.

"No biggie, you needed it after that." She says, and you nod.

"After what? What happened?" Draco asked, ever the nosy weasel.

Pansy looked at you, obviously waiting for you to answer so she could go along with whatever you say.

You consider lying, but figure there's no point. They all know you're an emotional person, no one would find it unusual.

"I- uh- cried a little bit. Tired me out."

The boys (that you can see) all nod their heads in understanding and decide to switch topics, finally letting you relax.

However, since you'd turned your back to Theo, that now meant when you leaned back to get comfy you leaned directly into his chest, as he had one arm on the back of the couch behind you.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You whisper, shooting back up and speaking only to him in an attempt to not draw attention from the others.

"Don't be silly," he says back, pulling your shoulders so you're back in the relaxed position against him, "you're welcome in my arms any day ragazza dolce." (Sweet girl)

You flush red again, but this time you do look up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"You know I have absolutely no idea what you're saying, right?"

He grins, "that's part of the fun."

"Whatever," you turn back away from him to look at the group, your head resting right over his heart, "as long as you're not calling me a troll."

"I promise I'm not." He says, ruffling your hair before the both of you rejoin the main conversation.

"Zacharias Smith was at our practice today," Draco tells Pansy, and she looks at him in surprise.

"Really? Maybe he was looking for yn. She does sometimes keep me company in the stands."

"Oh he definitely was." Blaise smirks, and you feel Theo tense behind you. "Walked right up to Theo and asked where the pretty little one we're always hanging out with was."

"What?" Pansy shrieks, looking over, although you're unsure if the intentional target was you or the boy behind you. Her eyes momentarily widen at seeing your position before she notices something and smirks.

"Theo," she drawls, "I didn't notice those cuts on your knuckles earlier, is that new?"

Everyone turns to look at Theo, and you sit up in alarm, turning to look at his hand that's laying behind your spot on the couch.

"Theo! What happened? Why didn't you go get this checked out?"

He averts his eyes from your gaze. "Just wasn't thinking about it," he shrugs.

You frown. "How could you not be thinking about it, that looks painful!"

He shrugs again, grimacing when you grab his hand, insisting he let you heal it.

"Just let me go get my wand okay? I left it in Pansy's room."

You get up to leave, and with your back turned you don't see Pansy whisper to Theo and then him get up and follow you.

"I'll just come with." He announces, following you back to your friends room.

You try not to think about the intimacy of being alone with Theo while you tend to his wounds, trying once again to shove all your feelings down far in your heart.

Thankfully none of Pansy's roommates had come back, and Theo sits on her bed while you grab your wand from her nightstand before standing in between his spread legs.

"Give me your hand."

He complies, and you try not to blush at the warmth of his, much bigger, hand resting on your own.

"This is nasty Theo, did you punch a wall or something?" You ask, beginning to heal a few of the cuts. Luckily most of them were clean from where he'd washed them when he showered after practice, but they were scabbed over and his knuckles were blue with beginning to form bruises.

He lets out an amused huff of laughter and you stop your ministrations, looking up at him immediately.

"Tell me you didn't actually punch a wall."

He shrugs, "it was either that or Smith, and I know you don't like when I get into fights."

You feel yourself heat up. He didn't hit someone because of your preference, and the person just happened to be the guy who supposedly has a crush on you.

"Well I'm glad you didn't send my housemate to the hospital wing at least, although I wish you wouldn't have hurt yourself," you sigh, continuing to heal his hands.

Out of nowhere he pulls it away.

"Theo?"

"Look, I-" he cards a hand through his hair, contemplating his next words. "I didn't like it that Smith came looking for you. Especially that he asked me."

You look at him in confusion, "what? Why?"

He looks distraught, but he can't help the crooked smile that etches itself on his face.

"You're damn oblivious, you know that?"

You continue to look at him, no thoughts behind your eyes.

"Uh, I mean I guess? I've been told that a few times, though I'm not sure how it's pertinent to this situation."

Suddenly Theo's hands are on your cheeks, and his face is inches from your own.

"What- what are you doing?"

"I want to kiss you." He states plainly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world— as if the five words didn't have you spiraling out of control.

"Wait- do you want to kiss me because you think I'm like pretty or do you want to kiss me because you like me?"

You'd never even thought he would consider you pretty, but at his words you had to rethink a lot of things you thought you knew.

"I like you, amorina." (Little love)

"Really?" You know you should be celebrating, but you can't help the doubt that creeps into your mind. "You don't think I'm a silly, innocent, little Hufflepuff?"

He grins, "you can be my silly little Hufflepuff. And no I don't care that you're not jumping at the opportunity to go broom hopping."

You can't help but laugh a his phrasing, but you're glad he knew what you meant.

"I like you, amorina, I don't care about anything else, as long as I get you."

You smile, and Theo swears he could die happy if it's the last thing he sees.

"Well in that case, I want you to kiss me too."

He can barely hold back his own smile as he places his lips on yours, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other holds your hip.

He kissed you gently, not at all like what you'd expected, but you feel his adoration flowing out of it, and you can't help but break it to let out a giggle.

"And to think I was crying over you a few hours ago."

He grins, standing up and grabbing your hand to walk back down to the common room together, where your friends were waiting for you to go to dinner.

"No more crying over me okay?"

You nod your head, and he pulls you in for one more kiss before you rejoin the rest of your friends.

#theodore nott #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott oneshot #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys #theodore nott angst #slytherin x hufflepuff #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n

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kxsalt · 2 months

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(Hot Coffee, part one. Part two is here.)

Hot coffee pours from the carafe. The young lady turns back to her customer and hands him the steaming cup. He pauses to look thoughtfully into the brew. Pointing at it, he asks; “Is this vegan?” She stares at him blankly. “Uh, yes. Coffee is vegan.” He nods in approval and wanders over to the condiment bar to pour cream into his cup. The girl watches him with dead eyes, shakes her head, and returns to her work. “Oookay… I can help the next customer!”

The next man in line steps up to the counter. “Small coffee, black, please and thank you.” She’s relieved by his basic manners and comprehensive understanding of how to purchase coffee. Pouring his cup, she looks back at him and meets his eyes. “You look super familiar. Have you been here before?” He leans against the counter as she steals a peek at his toned arms. “No, I haven’t. I might be coming by regularly; I just started some work nearby.” The barista brings the cup to him. “Ah, well, I hope you enjoy your new job!” Handing the man his coffee, they both glance over to see the first customer adding honey into his mug. He looks back at her with a compassionate smile. “Thanks, you too.”

She thinks about him for the rest of her shift, crawling through traffic on her bus ride home, and throughout the evening. I know I’ve seen him before, but where? He didn’t seem to recognize me at all. Finishing her night early, she crawls into bed. The girl opens up her laptop and reaches into her bedside drawer. Pulling out her strongest vibrator, she speaks to it. “It’s been a long day.” Pulling up an old comfort video she presses the buzzing toy firmly against her clit. She exhales deeply and finally starts to relax. Her eyes are fixed on the porn on her laptop. At first, she focuses on the man’s strong arms, gripping the woman by the hips – something that always excited her. But as the video carries on, she finds herself looking at the woman’s face. She looks so excited. Pleasured. Happy.

“You like that, slut?” The girl almost screams, dropping her vibrator between her legs. The man in the video has leaned into the frame. That’s him. From the shop today. That’s him. The woman in the video moans; “Yes! I love it!” He grabs her by the neck. “Do you want to be a good whore?”

She looks into his eyes. “Yes, I do.”

A few days later, the girl clocks out for her break. She spends it like all her other breaks, sitting outside, vaping, and fantasizing about sex or getting hit by a bus, depending on her mood. Today is a bus day. She blows a cloud of vapour into the air which drifts past the entrance to the coffee shop. A customer emerges with his coffee, lights a cigarette, and sits down next to her. The girl barely notices: She’s at the part of her fantasy where she’s in the hospital with a lawyer getting a giant check from the city. He takes a drag of his cigarette and gestures at the cloud in front of the shop.

“That stuff will kill you, you know.”

She jolts from her fantasy and turns to the smoking man. “What? Oh, hi! It’s you again. Um…” She fumbles with her device. “What do you mean? Smoking isn’t any better.”

“What? Really? But it’s vegan.” He retorts in a sing-song voice.

The girl clues in on the joke and they laugh together. She expected to be at a loss for words when she saw him again, but she finds herself oddly comfortable.

“So… I know where I recognize you from…?”

“Shit, really? They still have those wanted posters up? Please don’t call the cops.”

They laugh some more. “I just wanted to say… That I’m a big fan. I think what you do is… cool?”

“Oh, thank you! It takes a lot of vulnerability, so hearing that means a lot.”

“How did you start… you know… making porn?”

“What do you mean? I just started. Life’s short. I wanted to do it. So, I did.”

She nods slowly, stunned by the simplicity of his answer.

“You know, I’m filming right around the corner. If you ever wanted to come by and see the process, you’re more than welcome to. Just so long as it doesn’t ruin the magic for you.”

“Really? Yeah. Yeah, I would love that.”

“Great, here’s my number. Just let me know when you want to come by.”

He stands up and puts out his cigarette.

“By the way, you should quit. It’s bad for your health.”

“Oh please, vaping is the only thing that gets me through the day.”

He walks off to his job. “I wasn’t talking about that!”

She approaches the unassuming apartment door. Hanging from the door handle is a small sign: ‘Filming, don’t knock.’ The girl turns the handle carefully and sneaks inside. All the lights are off, except for the bedroom which is flooded with light. The familiar sounds of sex drift through the apartment. She stealthily approaches the doorway and peers into the bright room.

Three people with various film equipment surround a couple on the bed. She immediately recognizes her new friend kneeling behind a woman. He’s gripping her waist and forcing his cock deep into her. She’s bent over, ass up in the air, with her wrists handcuffed to the bedframe. The woman shrieks in delight with each thrust.

The director sees the young girl at the doorway and slips away to go and talk to her.

“Are you the fluffer?” The director whispers.

“What’s a fluffer?” The girl whispers back.

“Oh, you’re his friend. Never mind. Can you just wait here until the scene is done?”

The woman returns to the improvised set. The girl watches greedily, enjoying her voyeuristic perspective. She feels a combination of fascination and arousal that she’s never felt before. After a few more minutes, the director calls cut and asks the couple to switch positions. The woman on the bed rolls onto her back, her face flushed with ecstasy. The director waves to the actress. “Sorry, we gotta fix your makeup, take five, okay?” The woman releases herself from her handcuffs and scurries off to the bathroom.

“Hey, you made it!” The man sits on the bed, stroking his cock. “Come in, don’t be shy.”

She wanders over to talk to him, giving an awkward wave to the camera crew. Sitting on the bed next to the naked man, they make small talk and he explains a bit of how they work. All the while, he leans back against the bedframe, showing off his muscular body, and stroking himself. She finds himself staring at his thick cock running through his hands.

“Sorry, I just need to stay hard for when we get going again.”

“No problem… That makes sense. Nothing I haven’t seen before!” She jokes and toys with her hair. “Question: what’s a ‘fluffer’?”

“A fluffer is a girl who’s not part of the scene, who helps keep the actor hard during downtime like this. She might have sex or give head.” She catches him glancing at her chest. “…or sometimes just flirt and look cute. Usually, people just do it for fun, but it’s very useful.”

“Aha, okay…” She looks around the room. The crew is entirely ignoring her, scrolling through their phones. Looking into the bathroom she sees the actress still working on fixing her makeup. The girl turns back to the man.

“I don’t want to get in the way, or anything. But… Can I try? Being a fluffer?”

A sweet smile. “That would be really helpful.”

The girl smiles back and lowers her head into his lap. Taking his cock from his hand she strokes it softly, admiring its size. It’s bigger in person. Hungry for him, she wraps her lips around his head. He growls, sending warm waves through her body echoing in her pussy. Her mind goes blank and she slips him into her throat. Wet lips push into the base of his thick, shaved cock. Pride and excitement fill her as he starts to mumble and gasp from her fellatio. Saliva runs onto his balls, which she gently plays with as she deepthroats him. Her pussy drips as his breathing becomes raspy and shallow. I’m deepthroating my favorite porn star, and he loves it. She always knew she was a good cocksucker but getting this reaction from someone so experienced felt incredible.

His hand still softly stroking her hair, she sucks his dick joyfully. Lips wrapped around him, her tongue pushes firmly below his tip, licking upwards to squeeze a little taste of his precum. Still caressing his balls with one hand, the other strokes his shaft. The girl tightens her grip, maximizes her suction, and increases her pace. The man makes another primal noise, and the hand running through her hair finds its grip. Holding onto the back of her head, he pushes her face down again. The girl clamps onto his dick, forcing him to pull hard back up to slide her head up to the top again.

Willing tears roll down her concave cheeks as she holds his cock in his mouth with everything she has. The girl only relents her throat’s hold to let him force his cock deeper. Her shiny eyes meet his unfocused gaze. Her expression is one of complete submission. His expression could easily be mistaken for rage. The man’s other hand reaches down under her dress to find her without panties, and a smooth, bare pussy. She’s wet with her cum, and he grips her bum with the palm of his hand, sliding two fingers into her with ease. The girl’s eyes cross from the feeling of him penetrating her. He bares his teeth and shoves her head down again, and his fingers deep into her pussy.

Sparks fly across her vision and her head swims. A lack of oxygen from her deepthroating of the man’s thick cock, and adrenaline from his touch cause her to come close to fainting. Her pussy only gets wetter at the thought of passing out from getting used by him.

Moments away from darkness, the actress returns from the bathroom and steps over the girl to return to her position. As she reattaches the restraints to her wrists, the director asks them to resume the scene. The fluffer pulls her head off his cock with a pop. She looks up at him, teary-eyed, gasping for breath, and panting for his dick. His eyes are locked deep into hers with a feral glow. Teasing him, she gives him a naughty grin, strings of drool running from her chin to his throbbing cock. “Back to work for you!” Her voice is playful and confident, but her eyes betray a needy disappointment with their interruption.

The girl slowly slides off the bed, standing to face away from him. She looks over her shoulder, down to her exposed bum. His hand still deep between her thighs, gripping her ass, fingers still in her pussy. Not wanting to let go, he doesn’t break eye contact, holding her there. Pushing back just an inch, she fits a little bit more of him inside herself.

“Let’s keep going, we’ve still got a lot to shoot.”

The man gives a disappointed groan and releases the young lady. His fingers slide from her eager slit and he rolls over onto the actress. The girl walks back to the doorway with a sly butt wiggle. The man pushes his cock against the bound woman’s pussy, trying to resume the scene. The actress complains and whines, “Fuck, you’re so hard. Jesus, go slow to start.”

The camera rolls. The man is a professional, and he resumes fucking the actress, with just slightly less enthusiasm than before. Buried deep inside her, he looks up, past the lights, straight into the girl’s eyes. She winks at him and bites her lip.

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prettyflyforawhitelie · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel x Sick!Reader

A/N: Hey guys! I wanted to do some more x reader headcanons just because they’re so fun! I love the idea of the characters caring for you when you’re sick, it’s just so cute. I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Hazbin Hotel x Reader

Warnings: None (if you don't count tooth-rotting fluff)

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

Essentially hides you away in his room: wants more than anything to take care of you, but refuses to expose this “softer” side of him to anyone else. If anybody knew that you were the Radio Demon’s only weakness, not only would that put him in danger, but you as well.

Will prepare any food that your heart desires - his mother brought him up to be an excellent cook! His recommended feel-good food is his mother’s jambalaya, but you absolutely love when he makes etouffee!

If anybody dares to try and disturb your well-needed sleep, he broadcast their screams to remind them just why the hotel has a radio tower…

Will suggest that you take advantage of the bayou-side of his room for the fresh air, but of course will not force you to do anything against your complete comfort.

The best thing that he knows to do is what his mother did to him whenever he was sick: Sit in bed with him and tell him Creole folk tales. They always enamored him, and just the fact that he was allowing you to see this personal side of him made you feel better.

At the end of the day, Alastor would take advantage of the beautiful setting that the dark bayou side of his room provided and conjure up a lovely scene of fireflies, all while softly playing his piano and singing his favorite songs to guide you to sleep (You are the only person he will let hear his singing). While Alastor may seem heartless from afar, you wouldn’t trade this demon for all of the money in the world.

🗝️😈Charlie😈🗝️:

Would definitely notice that you were sick before you did and insisted that you get plenty of bedrest. When you refused, insisting that you were ok, she would monitor you until you finally accepted that you were sick and let her take care of you. She would say, “I’m not saying I told you so, buuuuuut…”

Takes care of you to the point where some tasks of the hotel were neglected, but to be honest, it was a win-win for everyone in the hotel. She was happy that you were being taken care of, and everyone else was happy that they didn’t have to participate in trust exercises.

She would crack open her book of the story of Hell - it always calms her down during an extermination, so hopefully it could calm you down as you try to sleep.

If she absolutely had to leave the hotel to do/get something, she would most definitely buy a little keepsake and bring it back for you.

She would use her love for singing to lull you to sleep, singing sweet lullabies that her mother used to sing to her as a child.

You have to constantly remind her to take care of herself as well, as she will literally remain at your bedside, not caring to eat or sleep, until you get better. She often gets so caught up in caring for others that she forgets to care for herself! You tell her that it would genuinely make you feel better to see her taking care of herself as well.

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Gets more defensive over you than usual, which honestly scares everyone. Nobody wants to so much as speak to you wrong in fear of Vaggie literally attacking them. Having Vaggie around is the definition of scary dog privileges.

She’s honestly extremely dramatic when it comes to you getting sick, which may seem ridiculous, but think about it: she was thrown away by her “family” in heaven, and now you’re the only person that she truly has. You confide in her, you allow her to let her guard down. If she lost you, she doesn’t know how she could even exist. So whether you have a cold or something more serious, she will automatically jump to the worst conclusions and get worried as Hell.

As tough as she seems, Vaggie loves to cuddle. She will literally lay in bed with you all day, not caring if she gets sick as well. You’re the only person that she can be vulnerable with, and if you have to be in bed all day, you better bet she’ll be right there next to you.

Her love language is absolutely telling you about all the things that she would do to defend you. She will go into immense detail about the things that she would do for you, and you will always listen in awe. She has been through so much, and this is the only way that she knows how to express her true love for you.

The last thing she wants is for somebody to feel abandoned in their struggle like she did when she fell from Heaven, especially you. She will make sure that you know how much you are valued and loved, not just by her, but by everyone at the hotel.

When you’re finally ready to get out of bed and start participating in hotel duties again, she monitors you the whole time to make sure that you’re not over-exerting yourself.

🕷️💖Angel Dust💖🕷️:

Is very upset and on edge - Valentino forces him to work everyday, no matter the circumstances, and not being at the hotel to care for you or at least watch over you makes him feel horrible.

Basically forces you to sleep as much as you can, even better if it’s in his room so he can see that you’re okay immediately when he gets home.

Encourages you to cuddle with Fat Nuggets - he’s essentially a cute and cuddly heating pad. (He actually gives Fat Nuggets this adorable pep talk about how he needs to take good care of you while “dad” is at work)

He wholeheartedly believes in the power of comedy, so he essentially treats your bedrest as a stand-up comedy show for him to perform in order to make you laugh. He’ll tell stupid jokes, put together horrible dances, or even just hide in places and scare you in hopes that making you laugh will help you forget how bad you feel.

Loves talking to you after work. You’re essentially the only person that he takes off his hypersexual mask around, and he knows that he can be himself around you, that you would never judge him. So, sometimes he will get home to find you already asleep and get in bed with you, holding you tight, whispering all of the things that he wanted to tell you about today, hoping that at least some of his words wiggle their way into your dreams.

Loves sappy rom com movies and will 100% force you to watch them with him. He claims it’s because the “good vibes” of the romance will make you feel better, but to be honest, he just wants someone to watch his dumb movies with.

♦️🥃Husk🥃♥️:

Will blame himself for your sickness, claiming that he shouldn’t have let you drink so much over the past couple of days (He literally cannot comprehend the idea that people can be sick NOT from being hungover lol).

When you insist that it’s not his fault, he’ll ease up. He’ll use some of his bartending skills to make some sort of juice mocktail for you and will definitely sneak in some vitamin C to heal you faster.

Everyone - specifically Angel - will wonder why the fuck the bar hasn’t been stocked in days (It’s because Husk has been chilling in bed/taking care of you nonstop).

This is the only time that he will completely surrender to the idea of being one big stuffed animal to cuddle with. I mean, he’s warm, soft, and he purrs! What’s more therapeutic than that?

This is also a great time to get uninterrupted talking time with Husk. He’s a great listener, so you’ve always opened up to him, but it took him a while to open up to you too. He had told you that you were one of the only people that he trusted enough to confide in, but always seemed to air on the side of caution when sharing his personal struggles because it always seemed that someone would just pop up at the bar asking for a drink whenever it happened. This was one of the few times that the two of you could be completely open and vulnerable with each other without the risk of outside judgment.

Given the fact that he was such a gambler, Husk has a knack for all sorts of card games. If you get too bored, just give him a deck of cards and the possibilities for entertainment are endless. Want him to teach you how to play poker or rummy? Done. Want him to embarrass himself while he tries to relearn some card tricks that he used to flaunt? Done and done.

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

The second you told him you were sick, he would waste no time in finding one of his many inventions that could help you in some way. He definitely has some complex medical screening device hidden somewhere that he could use… he just has to remember where he put it.

If you complain about being sore, he will insist that you snuggle up next to him. Because he’s a cold-blooded reptile, his body is one big ice pack! On the other end, if you feel yourself coming down with some feverish chills, he has you covered! His bedroom ceiling is essentially one huge heat lamp, so feel free to chill under there, too!

Has assigned himself as your personal nurse and will provide anything that your heart desires. If it for some reason cannot be found within the hotel, he will travel to any ring of Hell necessary to make sure that you are well taken care of. This man is DETERMINED.

You can tell that he’s taking this seriously because he actually neglects his “evil duties” for a couple of days. The airship isn’t even mentioned until you heal (unless, of course, you feel that taking a ride on the airship would make you feel better. Then, of course he will set it up for you!).

Despite literally voicing his complete and utter devotion to your every flight of fancy, this man is still as awkward as ever. He will still struggle to ask you if you want to cuddle, quite literally fluttering around the subject until you bring it up for him.

At the end of the day, though, Sir Pentious is probably the sweetest sinner you could’ve ended up with as your caretaker. He may be awkward, but boy, does he love you!

👹👼Lucifer👼👹:

While you are resting in bed, he will conjure up the most delightful images of anything you request (his favorite, though, is a group of ducklings waddling through a golden lake together 🫶)

Being the King of Hell, he has so many interesting stories to tell you if you’re willing to listen. He will gladly tell you stories as you lay in bed with him, slowly lulling you to sleep. (His daughter clearly got her love of storytelling from him).

He loves that you trust him enough to let him take care of you - he doesn’t often have people around, let alone people that he truly loves. Just your presence in his room truly fills him with so much joy.

He didn’t want to annoy you with his ramblings about his many rubber ducks so he was ecstatic when you asked him to give you a tour of all of them. This man was telling you each and every duck’s name, backstory, etc. and honestly, it was adorable. When he quickly glazed over one of the ducks anxiously, you asked why. He then shyly revealed that it was, in fact, a rubber duck that looked just like you.

His love language is definitely gift-giving. This rubber duck would lead to him showing the many, MANY gifts he has created for you in his free time. He always has a ton of downtime, so making gifts for people is his favorite hobby. These gifts include, but aren’t limited to: various duck items, binded storybooks, music boxes, paintings, etc. This man is TALENTED, to say the least. He just hopes that looking at these will distract you enough from being sick.

Also, his room is by far the comfiest to sleep in while you’re sick… the mood lighting that is naturally provided from his glowing light shows is simply unmatched.

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weasleyreidstyles · 2 months

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on a night like tonight

wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠

prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)

warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption

~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx

The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.

Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.

You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.

The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.

"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"

Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.

"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."

"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.

Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?

And did he really return them?

You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.

You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.

~∞~

It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.

You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.

You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.

"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.

"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.

"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.

"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.

He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.

"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.

He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.

"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.

"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.

"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"

"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.

"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.

"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.

"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.

You've always been my favourite, darling.

The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.

Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.

~∞~

The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.

"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.

"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.

"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.

"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.

"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.

"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.

"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.

"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.

#hogmarch challenge #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #fluff

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leaderwonim · 3 months

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✴︎ THE MONSTER’s GONE, HE’S ON THE RUN, AND YOUR BOYFRIEND’s HERE.

pairing. lee heeseung x fem!reader

genre. established relationship, zombie apocalypse au, ANGST, fluff then and there, high sch!au (they’re seniors), mentions of dying and being bitten

synopsis. when it comes down to it, will lee heeseung protect you like he had promised in the beginning of your relationship?

author’s note. This one is a long one and I lwk felt my heart being ripped apart as I finished the ending 🙁 the scene where he sings to her is based off of the scene from “Beautiful Boy” where Nick’s father sings to him. I kind of envisioned Y/n and Heeseung as Cheongsan and On-jo so do whatever you want with this information!

Lee Heeseung was the perfect boyfriend. He was athletic, tall, and most importantly of all, loving. He wasn’t afraid to show you how much he cared about your relationship.

Being the captain of the hockey team came with a lot of perks. For one, no one was able to yell at him for always giving oogly eyes at you during practice, and no one dared say a word when Heeseung would stop in the middle of his laps to talk to you.

“It’s pretty cold, isn’t it?” Ha Kyungmi, the girlfriend of your cousin and Heeseung’s friend, Sunghoon, perched herself right next to you in the stands.

“Heeseung gave me his jersey.”

Kyungmi smirks, letting her hands feel the material of the jersey you have on. “You lucky bitch!” She says, making you giggle. “Heeseung’s never lent someone his jersey before, that’s how you know he’s serious.”

“That’s good to know,” your eyes look back into the ice, seeing your boyfriend and Sunghoon competing to see who was the fastest.

“You hear that breakout that’s been happening in Busan?” Kyungmi digs in her sweater pockets, pulling out her phone. “It’s reaching Seoul. My mom told me about it yesterday.”

You read over the article that Kyungmi shows you on her phone, something about a deadly outbreak that’s been contaminating the people of Korea. It had started in Busan, and it was making its way to Seoul now.

“Hey!” The voice of your boyfriend makes you snap out of your daze. Heeseung makes his way towards you along with Sunghoon, pulling off their skates as they tossed it against the wall.

“You look pretty,” Heeseung leans in to give your cheek a sloppy kiss, one that has Sunghoon pretending to gag at. “What are you gagging at Hoon? As if that’s not you and your girlfriend all the time.”

Sunghoon raises his hand in mock surrender, interlocking his hand with Kyungmi. “It’s weird seeing you kiss my cousin dude!” He says. “We’re gonna go to the cafeteria if you guys want to meet us there later.”

You glance at your phone, realizing there was only 15 minutes of lunch left.

“Sure, we’ll meet you there man.” Heeseung gives Sunghoon a pat on the back before intertwining his hand with yours, pulling you closer to him despite already being in close proximity.”

“Were you cold?” He asks, concerned bambi eyes making you bite your lip.

“No I wasn’t Seungie.” You lean your head on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing your fingers as the two of you stayed in silence for a bit. “We should probably meet with Sunghoon and Kyungmi before lunch ends.”

“Yeah.” The two of you stand up, making your way out of the ice rink. Thankfully for your growling stomach, your school’s cafeteria was only a few meters away.

“There they are!” Kyungmi waves the two of you over, “I told you buying 2 extra sandwiches was a good idea!”

“Okay okay, sorry baby.” Sunghoon says. “Took you guys forever.”

“It was 5 minutes Hoon,” Heeseung rolls his eyes, thanking Kyungmi as she passed you two your sandwiches. “I really don’t want to go to Ms. Jung’s class. She’ll be the death of me.”

Suddenly, there’s a scream, one that is so horrid that it makes your boyfriend drop the glass cup of orange juice he was holding.

“What’s happening?!” Heeseung says, standing up immediately. He wraps his arm around your waist, eyes widening when he sees students panicking all around.

“Quick, Mr. Jeon’s class is nearby!” Sunghoon pulls the three of you towards a classroom. Inside was about 10 other students, whom of which looked like they were on high alert.

“Yah,” one of the guys said, suddenly standing up. You recognize him as Yoo Hanbin, one of your classmates from biology during your tenth year. “Are you guys bitten? Show us your neck and arms.”

“Bitten?” Heeseung scoffs, pulling you closer to him.

“They don’t know what’s happening Hanbin.” One of his friends says calmly. “They’re probably just scared like us. Close the door, hurry.”

Hanbin snarls, but he obliges. He ushers the four of you in, closing the door in a rush. He then places the teacher’s large wooden desk against it with the help of the other students.

“What’s going on?” Kyungmi asks, flinching when a sudden bang comes from the door.

“Quick! Move more desks!” Despite not knowing what the hell was happening, you helped Hanbin and the others place all the desks against Mr. Jeon’s room.

“There’s an apocalypse,” Hanbin’s friend answers after you all catch your breath. “Haruto.” He introduces himself after.

“Apocalypse?” Heeseung’s grip on your hand is suddenly tighter. “What? You mean like a zombie apocalypse Haruto?”

“I didn’t believe it either,” Hanbin slides his body down against the wall tiredly, lifting up his sleeves to show you his arm. “At first.”

It was bloody and looked like it hurt badly.

“I was in the piano room when it happened. Seolhee’s cries were all I could hear before I heard them. Their growls.” Hanbin shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “I tried saving her—but I couldn’t. One of them tried to bite me before I slashed them across the face with the piano chair. I ran so fast that I fell on the way to Mr. Jeon’s room, that’s where the cut came from.”

You can’t help but send the poor boy a look of pity, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden information.

“Is this about the outbreak?” Kyungmi suddenly speaks up. “The one we read about, remember Y/N? Is it the one from Busan causing all of this?”

Haruto solemnly nods, and that’s enough for you to let out a small cry.

Heeseung wraps his arms around you, letting you bury your head into his chest. “Sh, it’s alright.”

But it wasn’t.

You and Heeseung huddle up together against one of the corners of the room alongside Kyungmi and Sunghoon, trying to generate as much heat as possible.

With the whole city in ruins by now, you knew electricity would be gone soon, you just hoped it would be gone in the morning instead of night.

“We’re almost out of water.” Haruto says, getting up suddenly. One of the girls, who you recognize as Ryujin gets up with him.

If you weren’t stuck in a zombie apocalypse, you would’ve gushed over how much they complimented one another. Ryujin was the star tennis player who looked like she hated everybody, but the way she looks at Haruto showed that she more than tolerated him.

“You seriously aren’t thinking..?” Ryujin pulls Haruto back by his arm. “You can’t go by yourself to get water!”

“I’ll go with him.”

For all the years you’ve known Sunghoon, he’s never been as brave as he was now. You could tell Kyungmi was scared out of her mind, grabbing onto his hand as her lips quivered.

“It’s too dangerous! We’ll live without water for now!”

“Don’t be ridiculous baby,” Sunghoon gives her a comforting glance. “Me and Haruto will go, we’ll come back soon.”

“If he’s going, I’m going too.” The emotions Ha Kyungmi felt earlier now transferred to you. You shake your head, not letting Lee Heeseung’s hand fall from yours. “Y/N, please. Sunghoon’s my best friend, I have to.”

But I’m your girlfriend, you wanted to say.

As much as it hurt you, you knew you had to let Heeseung go. The risks were high, but you knew the rest of your classmates were thirsty to death and needed water as soon as possible. You couldn’t be selfish and beg your boyfriend to stay in front of all of them.

“Be safe.” You say, standing up to cup Heeseung’s face. “Please. Protect yourself first.”

He nods, wiping away the tears that escaped your eyes.

“Promise me, Heeseung.” You whisper.

“I promise.”

You let go of Heeseung reluctantly, watching as him, Sunghoon, and Haruto all slowly push aside the desks, opening the door as slowly as possible.

The growls were less prominent than they were a few hours earlier. You didn’t even want to look through the window to see how many zombies were downstairs at your school’s entrance.

As soon as they’re gone, a boy comes and sits himself right next to Kyungmi and you, giving a small smile.

“You okay Kyung?”

You find it weird how close he’s being with Kyungmi, and even weirder that he waited till Sunghoon had left.

“I’m fine Eunwoo,” Kyungmi replies, slouching against the wall. “Are you okay?”

You turn your head back around, not wanting to eavesdrop on your friend. You prayed and prayed that Heeseung would be kept safe when he was going to get water. You knew where the boys were going—Mrs Ahn’s room. She was the only teacher who kept giant packs of water bottles in her class for students who were thirsty. You hoped Mrs. Ahn was still alive.

“They’re going to Mrs. Ahn, aren’t they?” Ryujin asks, sitting herself next to you.

“They are.” You turn to make eye contact with her, surprised to see a purple bruise near her eye. “What happened to you?”

“Zombies.” She grins, although she knows it’s no time for jokes. “I only made a fuss earlier because Haruto was the one who saved me. Despite being quiet, he really knows how to fight off zombies.”

“Hey,” you get closer to her, almost whispering now. “What do you know about Eunwoo over there?”

Ryujin raises her eyebrows, placing her sight on Eunwoo who was talking to Kyungmi up close. “Has had a crush on Ha Kyungmi for over a year now. I see them sometimes.”

Your eyebrows furrow, not expecting such a response. Before you could say anything back, Heeseung and Haruto quickly rush into the room, slamming the desks back onto the door.

“Seungie?” You and Ryujin rush over to help them. They had 2 packs of waters in their hands, letting it drop on the ground along with their knees as they tried to catch their breath.

“I—I—” Heeseung seems choked up, his eyes teary and red. “I tried to help him—I really did.”

Your jaw practically drops knowing full well what Heeseung was implying. Park Sunghoon was nowhere to be found, not behind him, not behind Haruto.

“They came so quickly, we panicked and we just ran and I—” Haruto is unable to finish his sentence when you let out a scream, your body scumming to the floor.

“My cousin’s dead?” You sob out, clutching onto Heeseung’s bloody blazer when he comes down to hug you.

“I can’t believe it,” Kyungmi’s mouth goes dry and she turns over to hug Eunwoo, who rubs her back comfortingly.

You’re too distraught to even question why she was in another guy’s arms right after your cousin, her own boyfriend, just died.

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung repeats over and over again, letting you cry into his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” you sniffle. “Tell me he died a quick death. Tell me it wasn’t painful for him Hee.”

“He fell out the window,” Heeseung says, a few tears escape his eyes. “They backed us up into a wall and Sunghoon fell out an open window. We heard a loud slam and when we looked, he was already dead.”

You sob even louder, making Heeseung’s hold on you tighten.

When you finally catch your breath and pull away, you notice how Heeseung has scratches all over his face.

“Oh Seung,” you say, tracing your fingers over them. “It must really hurt.”

“It feels fine when I’m with you.”

The both of you lean against the cushion that’s propped against the bookshelf in Mr. Jeon’s room, your head laying against Heeseung’s shoulder as you both hold each other’s hands tightly. You felt like Heeseung would disappear if your grip loosened.

“Your lip,” Heeseung suddenly says, letting his index finger touch your lips, which were chapped and bleeding.

“It’s fine,” you brush him off, but he shakes his head, reaching into his pocket for something.

“Here, I have your chapstick.” He pulls out your strawberry flavored chapstick, the one that you always bought before the apocalypse had happened.

“Where’d you get this?” You breathe out.

“I always keep a spare one in my pockets because I know you,” Heeseung smiles down at his lap. “I knew it would come in handy.”

Your eyes softened at his words, one hand coming to hold his chin as you lean in to give him a long kiss.

“Thank you Seungie,” you say as you pulled away. “For everything.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You suddenly jolt up from your sleep, face covered in cold sweat.

“Hey, hey, everything’s okay.” Heeseung whispers to you.

You take in your surroundings, making out Hanbin and Haruto’s figures guarding the doors and the rest of the students in the class asleep.

You had your head on Heeseung’s lap, your body sprawled along the cold tiled floor of Mr. Jeon’s class.

“How long have I been out?” You ask groggily, trying to squint at the dark clock on the wall.

“Just two hours.” Heeseung sighs. “The growling stopped for a bit. It’s eleven now. You should sleep more.”

You shake your head, disagreeing. “No Seung, you should sleep. I could watch over for a bit with Hanbin and Haruto.”

Heeseung bites his lip, almost as if he was really debating whether or not he should be sleeping right now.

“Seung, please. You need your energy.”

Heeseung agrees hesitantly, letting you switch places so now his head was on your lap.

“Goodnight Hee.” You say, placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

He smiles back at you, closing his eyes as he let sleep consume him.

Your eyes search around the room, focusing on Kyungmi and Eunwoo sleeping on one another.

Before you were too distraught to care about them two, but now that everything was calm, you really took in the situation.

Ryujin’s words rang in your ear like a mantra. Eunwoo liked Kyungmi for over a year now.

Does that mean.. ?

No, it couldn’t. You knew Ha Kyungmi. She was a sweet girl to you for the most part, she wouldn’t do that to your cousin.

Would she?

“They’re here.” You hear Hanbin whispering. His voice was filled with dread and fear, and your worst suspicions were true.

The zombies had reached your classroom.

“EVERYBODY! UP!” Haruto yells, clumsily turning on the small light that was still working in the room. “WE HAVE TO MOVE! QUICK!”

Heeseung wakes up with a grunt, his arms automatically reaching for your waist as if it was a natural reflex.

“They’re here?” He asks, squinting a bit at the bright light.

“Yes, let’s wake the others.”

You two start tapping your classmates awake.

“There’s a window we can climb out of.” Hanbin points at the window that was half covered by the cushion you and Heeseung had laid on earlier. “It’s not a big drop so we’ll survive it. It’s our only escape.”

Your classmates all start talking at once, some unsure of Hanbin’s plan.

“We don’t have much time!” Ryujin exclaims. “Quick! Climb out!”

A few of your classmates help each other get out of the window carefully, cheering silently when it works successfully.

“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold them off.” Haruto says, the desks being pushed out by the bangs of the zombies on the door.

“Kyungmi! Let’s go!” Eunwoo grabs the girl’s hand, pulling her towards the window.

“Eunwoo—but—Y/N?!” She turns to face you, who was currently helping the boys hold the door against the zombies. “Y/N!”

“Just go Kyungmi!” You yell, watching as Eunwoo helps her get out first.

“We’re going to have to let go and make a swift run for it,” Hanbin says to the three of you. “A broken arm or leg will be better than dying at the hands of these creatures.”

Haruto closes his eyes, nodding slowly at his friend’s words. “On a count of three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

The four of you let go, the zombies automatically piling into the room as soon as you do.

Haruto and Hanbin are quick, climbing out and jumping onto the ground in a swift second.

“Cmon Heeseung! Y/N!”

Heeseung climbs out first, foot barely making it out the window before one of the zombies have got you.

“Y/N!” He screams, hands gripping onto the window as he tries to reach for you.

“Heeseung! It’s not worth it!” Kyungmi shouts, “they’ve already got her, she’s gonna die anyway, it’s not worth it.”

Heeseung’s vision goes red at this. “I don’t fucking care Kyungmi! Unlike you, I actually love my girlfriend to death and would do anything for her!”

His words have her cowering in embarrassment, Eunwoo wrapping a protective arm around her.

“Yah you fucker!” Eunwoo yells. “You want to be with your girlfriend so badly? Then die!”

He and Kyungmi run off to find shelter, the only two who were left were Hanbin and Haruto.

They were silently begging Heeseung to drop it with their eyes, telling them that it wasn’t worth it.

“Cmon Heeseung man,” Haruto says croakily. “You’ll die.”

“Then I’ll die with her.” Heeseung whispers. He watches as one of the zombies bite you, making you scream out in pain.

The zombies all make their way to another classroom when they realize you’re the only one, and since you’ve already been bitten, you were no longer desirable to them.

Despite knowing he would most likely die if he did it, Heeseung climbs back into the room, pulling you into his arms as he did many times before.

“Hey, hey.” He chokes up as he pulls you closer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s—okay.” You reassure him, eyes slowly turning red as your twitching hands come up to touch his jaw. “Will you sing to me Heeseung?”

You had always joked before that Heeseung would become a famous singer in the future, his beautiful voice entrancing you whenever he’d sing or hum a song.

“Of course.” He gulps, eyes becoming blurry from the tears as each second pasts.

“The monster’s gone, he’s on the run, and your boyfriend’s here.” Heeseung’s lips tremble, unable to hold in his emotions any longer. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl.”

He holds you in his arms despite your twitching body, knowing any second you would turn into one of them. He watches as the light from your eyes disappear, and your skin turns green and veiny.

Lee Heeseung doesn’t cry a lot. He believed that crying wasn’t going to fix anything.

But as he watched the Y/N he loved disappear from his arms despite being physically there, he sobs and sobs. Despite knowing it won’t do anything, he pulls your body onto his, hands on the back of your head as he begs the world to silently bring you back.

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munariplans · 12 days

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forty, love | part 3 | natasha romanoff

part 3 of forty, love | read part 2

synopsis: nothing's changed, or everything's changed, really, in the years away from you. natasha doesn't know which is better.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 5k words

a/n: the final part to this very wonderful series. i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it. as always, thank you for your support.

masterlist

working up the courage to approach you after the match felt like having to work up the courage to approach you at graduation, except this time, she was being pushed around by a swarm of other reporters, cameramen, and the fans, all trying to get a glimpse of the winner of the grand slam. it was no longer the college’s favourite tennis player that she was seeing, no, it was almost as if she was looking at a completely different person.

you were grinning from ear to ear, unbothered by the fans coming in swarms and happily signing each ball, each cap, each shirt that was passed your way. natasha assumed when you were in the position that you were in, paying fan service to the fans was the least you could do. the crowd was singing your name, and natasha was getting drowned out by people who were much taller, much bigger, and louder than her.

but then, by a stroke or luck, or mere fate, your eyes were roaming the crowd again, as if looking for someone. you were smiling and laughing with everyone around you, but your eyes betrayed the intention behind your search. somehow, this time, you caught natasha’s gaze in the crowd, among the many fans towering over her, among the cameras obscuring over her head obscuring your view. your smile faltered in the slightest bit, and natasha’s heart dropped.

it was going to be like a repeat of graduation. it was going to be you, telling her no, not to come any closer again, and forcing her to retreat. it was you refusing to take her back, even then, even now. she took one step back, almost stepping the foot of a photographer behind her, when you suddenly pulled your manager in by the collar, and whispered something to him. she saw his eyes shift to her as well, and he nodded, walking towards her while you returned your attention to the people around you. natasha found herself being escorted to your dressing room.

you only came in half an hour afterwards, when natasha had finished biting the last of her fingernails, and paced around the room about a hundred times by then. but when the door unlocked and you stepped in, it felt like natasha’s breath was knocked out of her lungs again.

“hi,” you started, giving her a small smile. you were carrying the trophy natasha watched you receive with joy earlier. but then, you set the trophy down behind you, not even giving it a second thought when you returned your attention to the woman before you. you had decided natasha was more important in that moment.

it was awkward at first; speaking after years of no contact. “hi.”

“you came.”

she wanted to say of course, i watch every single match of yours, but instead, she uttered, “yeah, my company sent me. i was covering the finals.”

you chuckled, nodding. you took the seat across from her, trailing your eyes up and down natasha. you thought she still looked like the woman you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. natasha caught you casually glancing at her fingers, and at the absence of a ring on the fourth one, you were ashamed that she had seen your expression brightening.

you cleared your throat, desperate to change the subject. “you did what you always wanted to do. i always told you journalism was much more fun than chemical engineering.”

natasha couldn’t control the laughter that bubbled at her throat, remembering all the times she complained to you of how much she hated her degree, no matter how good she was at it. she always had a fondness for covering stories instead. you had been supportive of her pursuing her dreams, but she had wanted to be practical. you were proud that she was finally doing it then. “yeah, i tried my hand at a smaller firm after college, then i got this opportunity and…”

“...and you’re amazing at it. like i knew you always would be.”

she blushed brightly, fingers digging into the couch she was sitting on. then, she sat up. “but you! look at you…winning a grand slam, finally.”

it was your turn to get a little shy, sneaking a look back at the trophy, the shining Tiffany silver, and shrugging. “i won a grand slam.”

“congratulations.”

you thanked her, replying with, “it’s been a long time coming. i think…and i’m sure you know, you knew, that it’s all i ever wanted ever since i started playing. and now…it feels a bit surreal.”

“you deserved it more than anyone.”

there was no smugness, or arrogance, in your expression. it was one of quiet relief. natasha thought you still looked so beautiful when you sighed, nodding towards her in happiness.

then came the reason for why you had invited her to your dressing room. “i was very happy to see you. i thought i’d seen you, from way down in the court and you were in the hospitality suite, but i thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. and then you came to see me after the win, and i knew it…it hit me like a ton of bricks.”

natasha’s lips were already quivering, watching you nervously profess to her of the reality that she too, had been experiencing, since seeing you again. “i was very happy to see you too.”

the glint in your eyes twinkled, knee bouncing in excitement as you heard her words. you had doubted if natasha was happy, or even willing to say yes, when you had asked your manager to ask her if she wanted to see you after. you were half-expecting her to say no, or to leave after a brief congratulations with you, but she stayed. the both of you stayed, in that dressing room for hours after, catching up and laughing and talking like the years had never passed. you forgot that natasha was once your best friend before she became the love of your life.

and at the end of the day, when your team had to inevitably ask you to leave the room so they too, could pack up and return to celebrate, you were yearning not to have the time with natasha come to an end. you asked her if she had work to do, or any other players to interview or cover for, but when she said no, and looked back at you in hopes for something more, you decided to risk the chance.

“would you…want to go get dinner with me then?” you asked, fingers gripping the ends of your racket bag strap, drumming in anticipation.

the look of surprise on her face caught you off-guard for a moment. “y-you don’t have plans? to celebrate?”

she watched you sheepishly admit, “to be honest, no. i didn’t expect to actually win the slam and…and i usually celebrate by myself, alone in my hotel room. which i know is pretty lame, and boring, but i just like to–”

“–to take it all in.”

“you remember,” you grinned, and at natasha’s laugh, it grew even wider. you had missed hearing that laugh so much.

she nodded, affirming you, “i remember. and i would really like to, getting dinner with you.”

–

you asked natasha if it was okay, for old time’s sake, that the both of you visited a diner a little outside of town. a little afraid that she would be upset that you weren’t taking her for an upscale restaurant, or high-end steak place, considering your status and the occasion then, but she said yes. she found that your preference for the little things never really changed, including your love for the nostalgia of celebrating the way the both of you celebrated in your years in college.

with a fry in your mouth, you watched as natasha let out an uneasy chuckle halfway through dinner. then, she joked, “i guess you only stopped your losing streak after you left me, huh? maybe i was what was weighing you down for so long, stopping you from winning a grand slam earlier.”

“you weren’t.” natasha was a little taken aback at the seriousness, and the hint of vexation, of your tone. your expression too, had gone solemn.

“i–i mean–”

“–you weren’t the cause of my losing streak, natasha. and you definitely were the reason for my winning of a grand slam so early in my career. i want you to know that.” you were all i thought about before, during, and after my matches. you were all i ever thought about.

she nodded, indicating that she understood. the atmosphere had gotten awkward again, no thanks to natasha’s self-deprecation. but you let down your own guard a bit, and offered her a taste of your drink.

inevitably, you also asked, “how’s steve? did you and him make it? are you guys still together now?”

it was natasha’s turn to laugh, quite incredulously this time, to your face. your eyebrows raised, she let out another snort before she managed to calm herself down. “n-no! steve and i…we were never a thing. and we would never be, because…”

“...because?” you continued, but then natasha did a gesture, a flick of her wrist downwards, and her eyebrows telling you what it was suggestively, and it hit you. oh. oh.

the fit of giggles and chuckles that left the both of you at the same time was infectious, as both you natasha leaned forwards with how hard you were laughing. her hair shrouding a little of her face, she was still incredibly breathtaking even as she was snorting and laughing her heart out with you. you almost hadn’t wanted the moment to end, pure joy indescribable in both your faces.

the both of you talked, and talked even more, into the night. it was like the years had never passed, like nothing had ever changed. at dessert, she even spotted another couple ordering a milkshake, and plucked up the courage to ask you, “can we share a milkshake too?”

your eyes travelled to the couple, and the memories of how the both of you would head to the diner for your weekly cheat meal and share a milkshake after when you won matches all returning to you then. it was a bittersweet memory that you enjoyed very much with natasha.

she always liked the flavour with chocolate ribbons, and you loved vanilla. in the past, you would argue over the flavour that you would order, the other never backing down on their insistence for the superior flavour.

natasha, noticing your silence, and longing gaze at the couple, suddenly cleared her throat nervously. maybe it was too much, maybe she was being too much. “it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want to. you’re probably on a strict diet now, and it’s probably weird, to share a milkshake with someone who’s like a stranger, and–”

you returned your gaze to her, smiling. “–we can share a milkshake.”

you flagged the waitress down, and natasha’s heart skipped a beat when you told her that you wished to order a milkshake with chocolate ribbons without so much as a thought for your own preferred flavour. she remembers as well as you did of your little fights.

when the milkshake arrived, you even grabbed the little bottle of sprinkles by the table, and let it pour all over the top of the whipped cream, just like how natasha liked it. you remembered everything.

she caught herself from reaching over to kiss you, many times, as the both of you inserted straws into the drink and began sipping the sweet treat.

you could tell natasha was longing for something more, still. she guessed she hadn’t realised how much she had really missed you; of course she did, she always did, but seeing you in the flesh again, spending the night and catching up with you, it felt like she was taken back to a happier, simpler time. natasha never realised just how much she had lost, being apart from you.

however, on the other hand, you were scared, and doubtful, of the woman before you. had natasha really changed, or grown up, you weren’t sure. for all you knew the reason she was making you so happy, and was being so kind, in the moment, was all because you had won the grand slam. if you hadn’t, things would have been completely different. you couldn’t be more wrong.

natasha never cared about the grand slam, or the trophy you carried in, or even your career at all. all she wanted to see was you, and all she wanted was you. she just missed you.

you let natasha finish the shake, and when she did, you joked this time, “have you gotten enough insider scoop for your coverage of the US Open, then, ms. romanoff?”

you gestured towards the clip-on name tag natasha still had on her breast pocket, grinning at the title of senior reporter. it fit her so well. but that smile quickly disappeared, when instead of laughing along with you, natasha suddenly looked down, pushing the milkshake away dejectedly. a hurt look flashed onto her face, before she tried hiding it under the guise of looking away at something else.

“you think i said yes to dinner with you so i could get information for my firm?”

damage control. damage control, now, the sirens in your head immediately rang, as you sat up straighter, panicked at hearing her voice crack. “n-no, no. of course not. i was kidding, i didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“i’m not using you, if you think that’s what this is.”

“of course, i didn’t…” you choked on your words, “...that wasn’t in my mind at all. i trust you, natasha.”

it was a relief to hear, of course, but the sting was still there. however, in your desperation, and perhaps regret, still, you reached out your hand, holding hers, and natasha physically melted into your touch. “please, please believe me. it was a joke, which i realise now is a badly made one. i never meant for it to sound like you were using me, because…because i really enjoyed tonight. i really, really wanted to hang out with you, and this is the best way i thought we could celebrate my grand slam. i’m sorry.”

after all this time, natasha thought, she somehow still had you wrapped around her finger. she rubbed her thumb over yours, and nodded. “i understand. apology accepted.”

afterwards, you offered natasha a deal; free VIP passes to any future matches she wished to watch you in, in exchange for her forgiveness of the crudeness of your words. she found it adorable that you were still so apologetic, and touched when she got reminded that this was precisely the person she fell so hard for.

–

natasha appeared for almost every single match that you played when she had pockets of breaks away from work. wherever you were on the court, you could look up to find her there; smiling encouragingly and cheering you on regardless of the scores. even when there were so few spectators that she was only one of a handful, and even when it was a match that drew in the thousands.

you often hung out after, and outside, the matches, natasha following you around the country when she secured a promotion that allowed her the flexibility to work remotely, and became, as one could call it as accurately as they could, best friends. you talked to her about your woes and struggles of your schedule, and she noticed that you loved it when she talked about her journalism too. she was there for you as much as you were there for her through it all this time.

still, natasha always wishes there could be something more. it could have been pure selfishness on her part, or dissatisfaction from something unfinished, but was it so wrong to want to keep you all to herself? often, when she toured around with you for your matches, she would catch the occasional pining gaze of others upon you, wanting to experience what it was like to have a champion for a partner, and it would fuel her blood boiling at people who she barely even knew. other times, when there were celebrities, or public figures, who flirted with her in interviews, and she was in your presence, it almost made her even more upset when you would only look briefly in her direction, almost trying to gauge her response, before looking away again. was it so wrong for you to want her again?

this time, she was there to love you and support you through your losses. though you were no longer the irrational, insecure, and doubtful youth player that you were in your college days, a loss was a loss and it would still hit a professional player as hard as it would a rookie when it came to feeling like you could have done better. when your confidence was shaken, natasha would be there to hug you after your matches, whispering words of encouragement and telling you that you did your best out there. you hugged her back just as tight. when you received an unfair result, natasha was there to shit talk the umpire just as much as you were, allowing you to crack a grin and eventually end up laughing along with her on the poor person that was destined to give you the poor score. and finally, when you tell her that she could skip the next match if she wanted because you feared the result, she told you that she wasn’t going anywhere, and she would be just as happy to see you as she would be in any other match.

eventually, natasha proposed that the two of you forget about tennis altogether when you were alone and outside of the tennis courts. ice cream hangouts became simply talking about the flavour of the month instead of the impending match the following day, picking her up after her shifts at work became a nice solace for enjoying the music on the radio instead of talking about strategies that you could have used in matches earlier in the day, and movie nights became a time for you to rest your laurels for a bit, and lean your weight against natasha, to take away your stress and sorrows for the week instead of thinking about tennis the whole time. natasha would never know it was the respite you had so badly craved ever since you started playing professionally, and the closest thing to a work-life-balance you had between tennis and the woman you loved.

in those moments, natasha refused to talk about anything, or touch anything remotely close to tennis, when she was with you. she had reminded you that she was there to hang out with her friend outside the court, not the professional tennis player, and while it took you some time to dissociate your identity from all that you knew, which was tennis, you began to learn to like the person you were outside of the sport as well, all thanks to her.

and eventually, natasha noticed, you finally allowing yourself to look at anyone else in the face after losing matches, ready to confront and thank the crowd for their support, still. you seeking her for comfort after certain hard matches, instead of her coming to you, you letting someone else in to the world that you had carved a path for all by yourself, all those years ago. and with a support system like natasha, it was hard to lose many matches, not when you found confidence independent of your results and began climbing up the ladder to become one of the top tennis players of all time.

maybe the both of you had just grown older, maybe you both matured out of your college ways, or maybe something was different now; the way you would look at each other across the room and know, just know, what the other was thinking, what the other wanted. maybe something really had changed, when you would catch each other’s smiles and finish each other’s sentences. maybe natasha had changed, and so had you.

it was after a gruelling day in the office, natasha remembered, she wasn’t so sure of the date, but she had been of the time. she hadn’t asked you to, and she certainly told you to just go home after your match, since you would be tired and drained from the day, but you waited, in your car, until nearly 2 in the morning to pick her up and get her home safe. she had come out in a hurry, apologising for keeping you waiting and being so mentally exhausted from work herself. but you had gotten out of the car, and, taking her stuff away from her to load it into the back, you had come back for her afterwards, pulling her in for a tight, comforting hug before she could even open the car door. natasha immediately felt all of the stress and worries for the day melt away into the ground then, almost whimpering with how comforted she felt being in your arms. she felt like she could cry.

“it’s okay. you did great today.” you said, smiling down at her.

“how would you know?” she muttered into your sweater, letting you rock her back and forth for a minute, “you were busy being amazing at tennis.”

“i asked my manager to record you on the news while i played. watched it after. incredible how you could look so cool even when you’re delivering the news.” you got what you wanted when you heard her chuckle, finally letting go after making sure she knew she was off duty, and with you now.

your tennis rackets and equipment were still in the back of the car, and natasha got reminded just of the day you had before you even came to pick her up. “how was it? the match?”

you kept your answer brief, already driving into the parking lot of the diner the both of you first went after your grand slam win. natasha was craving for a milkshake after a long day. “i won.”

“that’s great!” she exclaimed, and you nodded, thinking that no matter how great it felt to win, somehow, the feeling of being able to see natasha after a long day felt even better.

the both of you ate in the car after, natasha laughing about a stupid thing your coach had told you during training, and you listening intently as she told you about a new unfolding story she was covering. it was safe, and familiar, and everything you had wanted after a match.

it was the way that natasha wiped a crumb off your cheek, eyes glistening with something you always knew was more than friendship, fingers soft against your skin. the realisation that you had always known, but never dared to admit, all came rushing back. it was now or never. you never wanted her to be apart from you ever again.

“natasha.”

she was busy finding the sprinkles in her shake. “mmm?”

“do you think we’ve changed?”

she paused for a moment, looking up at the dashboard, before letting out a nervous snort. “what makes you say that? what a serious topic for tonight.”

“because i’ve changed. i think i’ve changed, a lot.” you angled your body to face her fully, inviting her to do the same. she sensed the shift in emotion in your tone, and finally turned to look at you. your stance mirrored that of the one you had displayed so many times in the past, when you were apologising to her after a bad fight the both of you would have.

you continued. “i’m not…that kid anymore. that angry, hotheaded, smug, and insecure kid you knew back in college. i-i think i’ve changed, i’ve grown, and i don’t ever want to go back to what i was back then.”

“i know,” natasha probed, “i know you’ve changed. i’ve seen it in person.”

you nodded, biting the corner of your lip, and natasha sighed. “and i’ve changed too. i’m not someone…who projects her desires, her insecurities of losing, onto someone else anymore. i’ve found peace with myself, and the time apart from you…it’s really helped me find myself and what i wanted for my future. winning clearly doesn’t matter to me anymore, and though it is nice, i think being able to enjoy and live in the moment, with people i cherish and love, that’s what’s more important.”

“i’ve changed because of you.” the both of you managed to say at the same time, sending shocked looks to each other at least, before natasha laughed nervously and you grinned with your heart pumping in your chest.

she motioned for you to speak first, seeing as you had something so earnest on the tip of your tongue. “i was going to say…i’ve changed, and everything’s changed, but i don’t think i have loved you any less, over the years. my love for you, it is the one thing that’s remained the same.”

natasha knew and didn’t know what was happening, both at the same time, until you reached over the console, and held her shaking hand. “i still love you, i always have, over the years, until now. and i know you might call me stupid, or even rash, for trying to repair something that we clearly thought was broken back in college, but…but i think we can make it work, this time. i think we can try again, and have the love we always dreamed of back then, now, as adults.”

at her stunned silence, you persisted, “i’m not saying you have to say yes now, or for us to get back together now, but i want you to think about it. really think about it, because i am certain that you are the one i have always loved, and you are the one i want to spend the rest of my life loving. so–”

“–yes.”

it was your turn to stare at her in shock. “...yes?”

then, natasha had tears down her eyes again, this time filled with joy and relief, as she threw herself over the console, and into your arms. “yes, yes, you idiot! yes i’ll get back together with you, yes i want to love you for the rest of my life as much as you want to love me.”

she felt you chuckle in relief through her arms, bringing her in for a kiss right after.

–

“do you think you want kids? soon?” the topic had come up before, and while the both of you had discussed it briefly, it had never come to any real conclusion. natasha, naked and vulnerable and laying in your arms then, years after your confession outside the diner in your car, asked again.

you were still catching your breath beside her, the activities of the night after such a win tiring you out more quickly after the activities in the day. “i want whatever you want.”

“well…” natasha drew circles on the bare skin of your back, “...i want them. pretty soon. i think we should start a family.”

she felt your smile against her own skin, nodding in agreement. “sure.”

“sometimes i see the kids that show up at your matches, up in their parents arms and wearing your caps to cheer you on, or even the ball girls and boys eagerly rushing in and out to help you during the matches, and i can’t help but want them then and there. even now, i can’t help but want them right now, with us, in this moment.”

you leaned over to kiss her sensually, cradling her face in your hands, before returning, “my love, are you saying you have baby fever during my matches? and not a lovesick, guttural, lusting feeling for your fiancee that is playing–”

“–oh shut up!” she groaned, throwing a pillow at your face, “you’re the one that brought that stupid trophy to bed before you even thought about bringing me on it!”

she pointed towards the trophy at the end of the room, that natasha had almost kicked in frustration when she came in after her shower, sported in a brand new lingerie set just for you, and caught you hugging it and trying to fall asleep. you had to remind her that doing so would have broken your heart, and definitely your proposal to get married with her.

she felt herself being rolled over then, out of sight of the trophy, as you nipped on her skin and apologised until she gave in again. she always gave in when it came to you. “sorry. got jealous that my very beautiful, very sexy fiancee is busy looking at how cute the kids that support my matches are, instead of me. totally my fault.”

the glare natasha shot at you was met with another kiss that made her melt, but you weren’t free just yet. she rolled you back to straddle you, hands pushing against your shoulders to say, “i still want the kids.”

“my god, woman,” you sat up, pulling her down with you, “you just fucked my brains out, and we have a wedding to attend tomorrow. let me marry you first tomorrow, and we’ll have the kids after, okay? one thing at a time.”

it was getting pretty late, as she reluctantly grumbled her agreement. she was already breaking rules by sleeping with you the night before her own wedding; but how could she not? when her bride looked as gorgeous as the one she was snuggled up with, natasha didn’t mind breaking a few rules.

“fine, but if you dare bring that godforsaken trophy tomorrow, baby…”

that sprang your eyes open, lulling you out of the sleep you had been succumbing to. “come on, it’s wimbledon, i won wimbledon! don’t you think people deserve to see a wimbledon trophy in the flesh once in their lives?!”

“but not at our wedding!”

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe #tennis player! reader #challengers #forty love #natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

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diremoone · 5 months

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quiet kisses | r. sukuna

prompt 2 — “I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe.”

requested by @yuujispinkhair :: Heyyy babe, your Christmas prompt post is so cute 💗💗 If you feel inspired, can you please write a little something for Sukuna + prompt 2 or prompt 7 (whichever you prefer)? 💗💗

a/n: AHHHH thank you so much for sending this in Winter! 🤩 I can’t tell you how much I nearly exploded seeing your request in my inbox! I went with prompt 2 because that’s the one my brain started working for the fastest. I hope you like it and I did your request justice :3

w — alcohol mention, fluff, everyone is 20+ in this fic, modern AU, mentions of prompt 7 heehee, softie! sukuna, sukuna cooks at the end lmao but it’s not related to the chef! sukuna fic

[ Christmas Prompt List ]

[ Christmas Event Masterlist ]

Nobara putting on this Christmas party was anything but unexpected. She was a party girl at heart, but nothing like what you’d see at a frat house or a club. No, she was the party master (or so she likes to call herself). And you kinda had to agree. Her parties weren’t over the top, but they definitely were anything but boring.

This time was no different: catering, along pizza and wine delivery, along with some of the more higher-rated Christmas movies playing on the TV with English Christmas music playing on the background, just loud enough that it wasn’t obnoxious.

You knew your boyfriend had to agree, even if he hated attending social events and parties.

What an introvert, you muse to yourself. You wonder how many people realize that as much as Sukuna seems like it, he doesn’t actually like parties. Nor anyone but himself and you at said parties.

You and Sukuna are off to the side against the bar that separates the kitchen and living area, deep in your own little world of each other. You’re leaning on him, his big arm wrapped around your shoulders comfortably.

You nudge him. “This isn’t so bad. See!”

Sukuna scoffs. “That’s what you said when you forced me into that Santa costume last year.”

“But you had some fun, didn’t you?”

“In the suit? No. Terrorizing children in it? Absolutely.”

You slap his chest. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. You grumble. “You idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he remarks with a grin.

Suddenly, like magic, the party suddenly gets loud. Jingle Bells comes on the playlist set up, and everyone has begun to sing as loud as they possibly can. Sukuna grumbles and plugs one ear with a finger, rolling his eyes. He keeps on ear open, and you know it’s just to listen to you as you attempt to sing your way through the giggles.

When the song ends, everyone cheers. Sukuna unplugs his one ear and sighs, taking another sip of the hot chocolate you’ve made for him. They all quiet down, giggling and giddy from the sudden excitement of the old but catchy tune.

But why is everyone now looking at his and your direction?

And then everyone starts chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You and Sukuna look up at the same time, seeing a mistletoe being hung over your heads by a fishing rod, but none other than the Party Master herself. Nobara grins sadistically with an evil glint in her eye.

Sukuna cusses and downs the rest of his drink before saying, “I think that’s our cue to leave. Nice party, Kugisaki.”

You attempt to down the rest of yours before he grabs your hand with his bigger one and leads you out the front door, almost stumbling over your own two feet.

Behind you, everyone complains about Sukuna being a “party pooper” and leaving. Before you two leave, he turns back to them and gives them the finger.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t the only couple here. Maybe Geto and Gojo should finally shack up,” Sukuna says with an evil grin. The two men next to each other go redder than tomatoes in record time. Sukuna isn’t done though, looking at his little brother. “And maybe you and Fushiguro should finally get a room, too, baby brother.”

The chaos from your boyfriend’s words gives you the chance to leave without trouble, the two unspoken couples now being the main attention of Kugisaki’s evil fishing rod-mistletoe.

Maybe they’ll be together come New Years, you think happily.

Sukuna drives you both home. One hand on the wheel, the other intertwined sweetly with yours. But by the time you get home, you’re halfway asleep in the car, hot cocoa being the perpetrator of your tiredness. You attempt to blink and wake up, but Sukuna’s gruff, “Stay put.” halts you as he turns the car off, keeping his keys in one hand.

You have no idea what he’s doing until he opens your door and slides his arms under your back and legs. You squeal and giggle as he effortlessly picks you up from your seat.

“Goddamn, you got the giggles tonight,” he mutters.

Like he’s done it a thousand times (he’s at least done it a couple dozen), Sukuna unlocks the front door with you in his arms with pure ease. He carries you over the threshold like a husband would his bride and doesn’t set you down. He hoists you up, readjusting your position closer to his chest. And then you see the cunning look in his eyes.

“Sukuna, what are you— mmph!”

He dips his head and captures your lips with his. He’s warm, so warm and comforting. You feel so safe and loved in his hold and damn do you love him. Your arms naturally tighten their hold around his neck as you two kiss in your home.

When Sukuna pulls away, he chuckles. You’re slightly breathless from the sudden kiss, but grinning nonetheless.

“You couldn’t do that at the party?” you inquire curiously.

“I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe,” he replies honestly. “Especially at a party in front of people. Not my thing to make such an intimate spectacle of ourselves.”

Your heart flutters and overflows with love at his desire to keep his affection solely for your eyes to see. Sukuna has never been one to kiss or do intimate things in public beyond hand holding or wrapping his arm around your shoulders. For him, he considers that to be sacred; any acts of love he prefers to be behind closed doors, kept between the two of you and not in front of people to be fawned over or talked about.

“You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” you say. “I’m so lucky. I really got the best man ever, didn’t I? Thanks, Universe.”

Your boyfriend’s cheeks tint red. A rare sight.

“Fuck. No, I’m the lucky one.” Sukuna gives you a fat smooch on the lips, the adds, “But I don’t have the universe to thank. I got you all by myself.”

You toss your head back and laugh at his indirect proclamation of arrogance. Or maybe it was just unshakable confidence, who knows?

Sukuna sets you down on the couch and asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

You think for a moment before replying, “Didn’t you say wanted to make some penne vodka the other day? That sounds good.”

“Penne alla vodka,” he corrects you with a stern eye.

You toss your hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.”

But as Sukuna gets to work on the dish, you can’t help but stare at him as he works. He could be a master chef like Gordon Ramsey, if not better. But you’re kinda glad he’s not, not if you get to see him in your kitchen every night.

Yeah, you’d trade any party and PDA for his quiet kisses and love at home any day.

taglist:

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna fic #sukuna ryomen #sukuna jjk #jjk fluff #jjk oneshot #Christmas Event 2023 🍪

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ma1dita · 1 month

Text

love me dry

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.5k

summary: (post-TLT) The one where he meets you at his mother’s house, though both of you didn’t expect the other to be there. A glimpse into May Castellan’s perfect day (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: sorry for the hiatus! been on the study grind and didn’t even notice, but i’ve been working on this for a bit! macbeth references (comment if you catch them/or ask and i’ll yap) and slight suggestive stuff under the cut—but anyways let’s just say the prophecy by taylor swift came out at the right time.

(posted 4/19/24, semi-edited)

—

The drive to Westport has become almost an afterthought in these past few years— in the way you unconsciously reach for your favorite hoodie on the way out the door or tuck in your chair before you leave a table, almost automatic but ingrained with a touch of care. With letters to May Castellan occupying your passenger seat instead of the boy who wrote them, you’d make the drive multiple times but stop short just before the property line. It took months of parking at the bottom of the hill and just watching the sun set on the little house, so clearly being able to imagine a smaller version of him running around and wreaking havoc.

Little Luke, with bandaged knees and feet that move as fast as his motor mouth, amber eyes glinting like windchimes in the summer breeze. His mom must’ve watched him play by himself through the bay window before calling him home when the clouds covered the horizon, wispy tendrils stretching over the rain gutter like how lovers hold hands. It must’ve reminded her a lot of his father, leaving nothing but the open air in his wake. Still, all of this was familiar to you too—despite having never stepped foot in the white house.

But knowing Luke meant knowing his home like it was a part of you.

The old hatchback’s engine gently rumbled against the quiet of the property each time you visited, and May would wait for you to come near— waiting for you to be ready to walk into a mausoleum of the boy you both once knew. You were familiar to her too, even as a blurry figure hunched over the steering wheel. She’s seen your face in the small glimpses between the shattering earth of her reality and the hazy foresight she lets herself succumb to remember what her son looks like. In every vision of him since he’s left, you’ve been there; and something about that quells the pain and anguish that it brings to her body when she sees it. But May Castellan is ever an observant woman, gift of prophecy aside. A mother always knows.

It also turns out that she makes excellent conversation over a plate of slightly singed chocolate chip cookies.

—

Luke Castellan is years older than the version of him that last sat at this kitchen table. He doesn’t know if he’s any wiser for it—wondering if he’s made a mistake in coming back here after all this time as he watches his mom hustle around the kitchen that’s suspiciously sparkling clean. A silver spoon clinks against the glass pitcher that May stirs mixed berry Kool-Aid in, his favorite, he remembers, and it makes him squint against the light that filters through the gauzy curtains of the windowpane above the sink. Luke could’ve sworn that there used to be badly patched rips in the fabric, but he attributes it to the dark corner of his memory he still hides away like a secret. Sitting there and taking it all in, he wonders what it would’ve been like to actually grow up here—to stay, for once.

But that’s something he doesn’t have the privilege of knowing. When his mom turns to hand him a glass with her shaking hands, wrinkles and laugh lines are mapped across the expanse of her face. He’ll never know how they got there. The wooden chair creaks under him, groaning under the weight that he carries and Luke once again feels uncomfortable in a place he once called home.

“Knew you’d come back. A mother always knows,” May mutters, voice disembodied like she’s floating just out of reach. Her hands clasped over his, rubbing her thumbs over the veins as if she’s checking his pulse (or the possibility of him being an apparition) and the crack in her smile mirrors his. But this isn’t the home he remembers—his frontal lobe was underdeveloped back then and the only plan it could form was the one to get him the hell out of Westport, there’s something different in the details. Tiny things, like the patio swing chain reattached to its post, a mended table leg, and ceramic tiles on the countertop unbroken and smooth. This is a home and a mother he once longed for as a kid, along with the feeling of comfort and safety you can only attribute to a place like this. Calculating eyes scan the perimeter of the kitchen, but no one knows he’s made the trip to Westport, not even his own crew. Surely nothing could mess this up for him, not here. This was his last step before his quest for redemption eats away at his physical body, and then it will all be out of his hands.

There’s not much left for me here, he thinks— there’s not much of me left here, either.

Then Luke hears you before he sees you—the sound of you humming under your breath mixed with the jingle of keys turning in the front door. With bags of groceries leaving marks on your arms and a soft smile he hasn’t seen you wear in ages, for once you look lighter again. For a moment, the thought crosses his mind that this must be what you look like when he’s not around. Nonetheless, he breathes easier when you’re near. Of course, you’re here, and the irony grips him by the neck almost as if to make it known why his home feels like home again.

“Yeah hon, I’ll have to call you back,” you laugh into your headphones before tapping them with one free finger to end the call. In a split second, your eyes meet. Staggering back at the sight of him sitting at the table and the absolute grin on May’s face, you decide to continue into the space ahead and start putting the groceries away like nothing is out of sorts.

“I see you have a visitor, Miss May. Is he staying long?”

Luke sips at his glass, juice extra tart just how he likes it. His lips pucker at the taste it leaves in his mouth and when he opens his mouth there’s a hint of blue. You try not to look too long.

“For the night,” he answers, even if you weren’t talking to him, but it makes May so vibrant with the notion of him not running again that she instantly hops to her feet and rushes to make the bed in his old room. “I won’t be in your way,” he swallows. You gravitate towards him like a moth to a flame, but move around his chair without touching him—further proving that Luke is, in fact, an obstacle you must overcome. He’s a stranger in his own home and you’ve found yourself at ease in it. You wonder if any of that will make a difference in the long run.

“She’s…”

“More peaceful. I’ve been practicing with my dad, so I do what I can to ease her fits but I’m not exactly equipped to lift a curse from Hades,” you mutter through a bitten lip. Luke stares at you but it feels nostalgic, like someone on the outside looking in. Well, shit. He’s been leading demigods to their deaths every summer and you’ve been trying to cure his mentally ill mother in the time you don’t spend trying to stop him.

“I don’t think I even remember the last time she made sense while talking to me,” he laughs hollowly. You purse your lips and shrug, “I visit her every two weeks. She still has her triggers, and she gets confused but she’s not in pain. Your letters helped.”

“Is that why you came here then?”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” you joke feebly. It falls flat and yet he still smiles, even when you say, “They weren’t for me.”

“They were about you. All of them were.”

You know that too. May makes you read them to her before bedtime as you stroke her hair and send her off to Hypnos. You’ve relived your relationship with Luke a million little times, and he’s written about you and all of your yesterdays like it was the only glimpse of Elysium he’d ever reach. In those letters, you get to remember the good parts of being in love—laughing in the empty amphitheater, holding hands under the dining table, sneaking kisses in the strawberry fields.

You used to understand each other so well: every dream, every feeling. But there is nothing you understand about the man sitting across from you now. The both of you sit at the kitchen table and there is nothing more to say.

Luke doesn’t have to stay. While you were at the supermarket, he spent an hour trying to explain to his mother that he needed her blessing to swim in the River Styx. Through nuances and veiled simplicity in the words he weaved to convince her, there wasn’t much opposition in her half-empty, half-prophetic mind. May always knew that Luke loved to swim when she took him to the beach, and that was that.

There was nothing more to say.

—

He knows it’s too good to be true when moments later May’s screams carry through the halls of the little house, down the stairway you’re currently clambering up to reach her. By the time his boots reach the second landing, he finds the two women he loves most in a huddle against the linen closet, his mother’s glowing green eyes and empty groans rattling him to the bone. If he were any smaller, he’d be shaking. Even now he doesn’t know what to do— feet frozen as he watches you brush her curls away from her face and lull her to solace.

“Can’t find Luke’s sheets—he needs the Toy Story ones…” May mutters as she rocks on her heels, “My boy needs to be home…He’s meant to be home!” Her fingernails are cutting into your wrists and then she silences with a wave of your hand.

“He’s home, Miss May. He’s right there,” you whisper. When your eyes look at Luke, you watch him crumble—the cracks in his fortitude tumbling like fallen rocks at the sight of the two of you and then you see him. The boy you met at 14 who was angry at the world for making him run away from his mother and the hands of fate until it crept up to snuff him out for the sake of a prophecy foretold by deities who will never understand what it’s like to be human. But there are no second chances, and there is nowhere left to run. “He’s here for you. I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”

“I see it, the two of you together. The worst will be over soon, and then it’ll all make sense,” she says breathily, licking her lips and straightening herself like nothing happened. Even after you send her off to prepare a basket for the beach, Luke doesn’t move when his mother pats his arm and walks around his body and towards the stairs. Neither of you speak until your fingers touch his jaw lightly, and Luke doesn’t know if you’re trying to help him or inspect him. He tilts down to look at you anyway.

“She thinks we’re still together.”

He blinks. Somehow that’s the most shocking thing he’s heard today. Fate is most definitely cruel and fucked up because he never expected it to be like this—once upon a time he hoped he could take you home to meet his mother when everything was said and done; no shackles from Titans or pressure from the gods. It was supposed to be different.

“The letters probably didn’t help as much as you thought they would then,” he mumbles, calloused hands guiding your hands over to his swiftly beating heart. You scoff, “Neither does bringing up my boyfriend. She thinks it’s you.” He’d believe anyone who’d say they watched you yank his heart out of his chest with that statement, everything bloody in your hands. It’s still yours, even if you don’t want it.

“Kit?”

You shake your head and shrug, “That was forever ago. But he treats me well.”

Luke wants to ask more but by the tension in your shoulders, he knows not to push. He’s not entitled to know anything more than what you give him. It’s not his place anymore. So his brow furrows at your next suggestion.

“Just pretend, Luke. For the day, so your mom doesn’t get agitated. I’m not asking for much here.”

It’s a terrible, terrible idea—even you know that. But you both have always been good pretenders. Liars, a voice corrects in the back of your mind. You reason that it’s for May and insist upon that fact, even if the heartbroken girl you left at Camp Half-Blood is raging at you from deep inside the recesses of your mind that you hide her in. What’s one day with him compared to the many you’ve gone without? You don’t need to know the rest of why he’s here, or what more he’s going to do— and you don’t ask.

Not knowing has always hurt less.

—

You’ve forgotten how good Luke is at playing the part of a good boyfriend. He offers to drive to the beach, carries the picnic basket and blanket for you all to sit on, and listens intently when May asks about your college classes. There’s no discomfort in the way he holds your hand as you walk in the sand or dusts your feet off before laying them across his lap. It’s easy to laugh at his bad jokes, it’s easy to act like the boyfriend you describe is anything like him (even if he’s the complete opposite), and it’s too damn easy to fall into the familiar rhythm that is you and Luke. The three of you lay down as the spring breeze covers you from the rest of reality, hiding away from the truth of a broken woman and two ex-lovers. By late afternoon, you find yourself enjoying it, and it’s cruel how the guilt isn’t rolling off you in waves, instead longing for him to follow you anywhere.

He meets you by the shoreline with both of you waist-deep in the water. May’s collecting seashells but she turns to look at you two every so often like she’s framing this memory in her fragile mind. Without saying it out loud, the both of you hope it will hold.

“She always talks about you, you know? Even without trying,” you mutter as saltwater pours from your fingers to the valleys made by the veins in his forearms. It’s like initiating touch without the consequences of actually doing it, and he immerses himself in the feeling as it spills over him, feet rocking against the tide.

“I do too. Can’t help it.”

When the sea ripples once more pushing you against the wall of his body, you end up holding on, and he doesn’t let go. You both smell like salt and sunshine, pressed together and nothing has made more sense. The silence goes on for a beat too long—he whispers, “You still talk about me? Your boyfriend must hate that.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk about you? For anyone to get to know me, they have to know you.”

Your shirt is stuck to your skin in the surf and Luke’s hands brush over the waistline of your underwear, daring to reacquaint himself with your touch and spur a reaction from you. You may be the best actress he’s ever known but anything is better than watching you be complacent with the false niceties of the day.

“There isn’t much worth knowing.”

“I’d never say that, Luke,” jaw tensing, you let out a breath when his hands encircle your hips, hidden in plain sight in the deep of the ocean. He chuckles and the sound tickles your brain to remind you it's the type of laugh he spits out when he’s hiding his anger, “There’s a lot we’re both not saying.” Your name slips past his lips, sneaking past your defenses and hitting you head-on like a bullet.

“Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why are you helping his mother, why aren’t you actively fighting and turning him in, why are you letting him hold you if he’s only going to leave again—there are too many questions and only one clear answer.

“Because it’s out of our hands, isn’t it, Luke? You love your mother but you wouldn’t have come here unless it’s too late. Annie told me you went to see her in San Francisco.”

He was never here to make amends or save face. There was no version of him that was going to ask you to run away with him because he knows you deserve more than always running from fate. He’d do it all over again as long as you got this— the life you’re living with your college degree, your boyfriend, and your happy family— and Luke has no place in that.

A dry laugh bubbles from his throat, sticking like seafoam when he says, “You hate San Francisco.”

You wouldn’t have come.

—

By the time you get home for dinner, your skin is sensitive and tingly from the heat of the sun. May’s tracing circles into the back of your hand as she leads you up the patio steps. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that makes you sway against the doorway.

“Too much time having fun,” she mumbles, patting your cheek, “Take a cold shower dear. Join us when you’re ready?” Luke’s eyes follow you all the way up the stairs and then again, he’s left to his own devices.

Most of the said shower was spent thinking about what your friends would say about you for playing house with the enemy. The guilt felt like ice along your spine, paralyzing you for wanting to be selfish, to choose what makes you happy even if it fucks the rest of the world. But looking in the mirror afterward was scarier—you recognized the girl that stared back at you as someone you thought you’d never see again. A version you left behind years ago, with her head held high and so sure of herself with your Luke by your side.

Surely, there’s no harm in indulging in this vice for the rest of the night. Not when you haven’t felt this relaxed in years.

Dinner is being served by the time you make your way back downstairs. It’s a simple dish you taught Luke how to make back at camp when you raided the kitchens at midnight. Nothing special, reminding you of your own home—but the fact that he remembered makes your smile widen as you take a seat and promise to wash the dishes. Luke chuckles the type that makes his eyes crinkle in mirth once he watches you dig into your meal, knees brushing under the table like old times.

Everything feels easier after that.

“Today was the best day,” his mother mutters as you tuck the covers under her chin. May kisses both of your cheeks before she shuts her eyes and you gently fold the letter she chose tonight back into her nightstand for safekeeping. This time, you read her the story of your first kiss with Luke sitting at the foot of her bed in the dim light of her room. It’s less scary here than he remembers, but maybe it’s because this time there’s no screaming and him running to hide in the closet. Your voice is much more pleasant than those suppressed memories, immersing you all in a more pleasant one— the both of you in the amphitheater kissing on the stage with his hands in your belt loops. Luke could recite every word on that page if it meant he could go back in time, not with Backbiter but with you, just to live through that moment again. I think I’m falling in love with her, is how the letter ended but by then he already knew. Writing it down to tell his mother always made it real.

This, you, right here—everything is real.

He’s silent even as he watches you smoke through the cracked window of his childhood bedroom, and you’re surprised when he steals a puff. His hands are shaking under the moonlight and suddenly it’s clear that he’s scared. Everyone feels fear, but in all the years that you’ve known him, Luke Castellan has never let you see it.

“Those things will kill you one day,” you mumble, watching him lean against the windowpane. It’s what he used to always tell you so that you’d quit, but old habits die screaming. It’s another vice you refuse to let go of.

“Wanted to try something new before I…” his voice drops off.

Lose myself.

Lose you.

Luke coughs as the smoke enters his lungs, a momentary rush hitting him brought by the nicotine. Your hands go to cup his jaw as you set your forehead against his, a silent plea for him to just be honest if there’s truly nothing left to lose.

“I’m out of time, trouble. It’s out of my hands.”

Shuddering at the feeling of him tracing every ridge of your spine, you think the way he says your nickname sounds like the way he used to say I love you. It’s raining outside now, the harsh pitter-patter of wet drops drowning out the sound of your voice, “What can I do? Is there anything left for me to do?” When his head shakes, your noses brush, and your breaths intermingle, almost magnetic. Perhaps the rain is getting in from the open window and you feel it hitting your cheek until you see the shine of his eyes.

“You think I did this because of you. I know you do, but you need to know I did all of this for you, trouble. I choose you and me. Every time,” Luke gasps, intertwining his fingers with yours, the both of you pushing and pulling in this embrace like the moon with the tide.

“Luke…”

You’re pressing yourself against him, face hidden in his shirt as your brain catches up to your heart, hasty breaths and every atom of your being screaming to be held together by him and then you’re on him, through tears and clenched fists tumbling towards the tiny twin bed. The only way he likens himself to his father is his yearning to be a true traveler, but what he knows best out of anything in this entire world is you. He knew this body once too— every birthmark, scar, and dimple. Who else has had the privilege to navigate the ridges of your spine, to know the pressure of your kiss? A tattoo peeks out to say hello at your hip bone. There are new stories and new marks, there are parts of you unknown to him now. Luke thinks that must be what hurts most about each time he leaves you.

But then why does this feel so good?

Warm palms caress your waist, nudging your shirt up in the hopes that this will be enough compensation for all his misdoings—the tears you’ve cried, the anger you’ve felt, the things you had to do and will have to do because of him. Luke is someone who’s gotten comfortable with manipulating time, but time has manipulated him and all of his plans for the both of you. Sleepy setback bedroom eyes meet his own that glow in the gentle light of the lamp on the nightstand. Maybe if you pretend again his childhood bedroom can turn into the star-speckled darkness of cabin 12. You can just lay down and tuck underneath his arms waiting for him to fall asleep. But he stays up this time, making you hiss at the feeling of his lips against your neck.

“We can’t… Angelface,” you say breathily, still leaning into the trail he marks across the valley of your collarbone, “We’re not together anymore.”

A kiss is placed on your pulsepoint, knocking against the cord of your necklace.

“We shouldn’t… I have a boyfriend.”

Another kiss rests against the warmth of your forehead.

“We’re on opposite sides of a war… You’re my enemy.”

Finally, his lips meet yours, for a moment as if to test the waters.

“Not tonight,” he says, and there is no other option but to agree. There is a lifetime to make up for in a night, and fuck it—they’ll crucify you anyway. You were never meant to be a hero, that’s what he always wanted. You just wanted him. Your head hits the pillow and he looms over you until you’re pulling him in for more than what’s necessary to accept an apology.

There’s nothing left to lose.

—

Before your mind can wake up dreading the consequences of last night, your socked feet take you to the kitchen to clean up the mess you’ve both left behind. The old floorboards creak underfoot and there’s a method in the way you’re washing the dishes, hot water and soap starting to seep through your shirt sleeve but you choose not to notice. Scrubbing at the dirt and grime left behind on the porcelain until your fingers start to prune, a lump forms in your throat before you can stop it. Maybe if you scrub hard enough at the glass that Luke drank out of last night it can eventually be clean. But it’s taking you longer than you thought, jaw tensing and fingers turning white at how hard you’re holding on. May appears behind you, guiding your hands away from the scalding water, and though you resist— the glass drops into the sink and shatters with a loud crack.

“Damn spot wouldn’t get out,” you sniff, turning away to look out the window and think of anything but him, but he’s everywhere even when he’s not here, so much so that it suffocates you. Guilt lines every shaking breath you take until lavender eyes meet amber at the sensation of her clasping your red and raw palms with a dishtowel.

You see him in her too.

“His fate is greater than the cards he’s been dealt with. You know that.”

It’s the clearest and most sensible May’s spoken in days. Perhaps when it comes to Luke, she’ll always know better. Eyes darting elsewhere to fight the tears that brim at your lash line, you look down at your swollen hands, palm up towards the heavens almost imploring, “Why couldn’t it be me?”

The question’s direction is unclear and you don’t expect to get an answer, turning away to grab some ice from the freezer and she remains standing there—staring at the windowsill at a compass that’s now found its home next to the faded picture of a man who’s left more times than there are reasons to stay. Just like his father, she thinks, a small smile quirking at the side of her lip where a scar would meet her son’s. Clicking it open delicately like how she used to hold his hand, there’s a photo of you and Luke resting against the cover ripped away from a memory frozen in time.

“It is you,” May says quietly, though you’ve already left the room.

A mother always knows, after all.

—

“Aphrodite,” I pleaded to the moon-drenched night sky. “Tell me; if love is meant to heal, then why does it destroy those who choose it?” From somewhere beyond the clouds, I heard the Goddess laugh. And I knew. -Nikita Gill

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan fanfic #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians

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