#soon i swear i will i am writing it down it's like the fourth fic i have to write

[beanghostprincess]

Oh, wow, Usopp! How come Oda lets you have two blonde girlfriends?

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

First: I want to say that I LOVE your writing. Like when I requested something before and I saw you actually did it, I squealed. Reading your fics literally makes me some happy when I'm down.

Second: I was wondering if I could request another poly!Plastics fic with a Janis best friend reader. R was a bad home life (it can be abuse, neglect, detailed, or glossed over. Whatever you're comfortable with) and the girls, plastics and janis, start to notice it (Like R's behavior or clothe change or something). The girls team up and coast R into telling the truth. R ends up living with Janis (or regina if you want) and they all have a big sleepover at the end.

Now I did read your request rules and I know that you don't write abuse relationships and if family also falls under that category that's completely fine. You don't have to write this fic if it makes you uncomfy and if anything you can take the poly!Plastics fic with a Janis best friend reader idea and have a completely different plot.

Hope you have a good day.

Bruises and Cuddles

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly)

|| Warnings; swearing, hinted at abuse, injured reader

|| Summary; reader doesn't have the best home life in the world. As the girls and Janis begin to notice, they take matters into their own hands.

Requests open!

Started; August 31st

Finished; September 9th

slowly getting back into the posting grind 🫡

~~~

You had just walked into school, shoulders slumped and exhaustion etched in your features as you made your way to your locker. Which was right next to Janis', your best friend.

As you approached your locker Janis noticed your state right away with a grimace," you look like shit." Leave it to Janis to compliment you. Right?

Opening your locker, you sighed as you heard her words. It wasn't exactly the reminder you needed, you knew how you looked. You had pulled your hair into a messy bun, tried to cover the bags under your eyes with makeup but you weren't as skilled at that as your girlfriends so parts peaked out. Even your clothes looked sloppy.

"Gee, thanks, Jan." You responded, Janis had been noticing stuff like this from you for the last while now. Since the beginning of grade 10 you'd been coming to school looking like you had just escaped hell. She was starting to get suspicious, wondering about what your home life was really like behind whatever facade your parents put up whenever your friends were over.

"We hanging out later? Damian pirated some movies," Janis gave you a playful nudge as she smirked, pushing her worries to the side for now. Hoping that maybe at the least she could get you out of your house for a while.

You hadn't been listening until she nudged you, getting your attention. You blinked and looked at her," huh- what?"

"Movie night." Janis simplified, a frown on her face as she realized you really weren't doing well. Maybe this wasn't something she could just push aside for now.

"Oh, I can't tonight. Sorry." You replied, its not that you didn't want to. You really, really did. But your mom's been getting on your ass about being out late so often and grounded you over it. Honestly, a stupid reason for getting grounded. But you weren't about to argue with her. You knew better than to do that because of how she reacts whenever you do. Let's just say, she isn't winning the 'mother of the year' award anytime soon.

Janis watched you with studying eyes, a plan forming in the back of her mind. She had to get your girlfriends involved, as much as she wasn't the biggest fans of the plastics. She was sure that having them on her side for whatever this was would be better than going about it alone. "Right."

The bell rang.

"Well, see you when we see you." Janis gave a mock salute ad she walked off to class, you frowned as you watched her leave. Feeling bad for having turned down her offer. For the fourth time in a row that week. You haven't said why, you didn't want her to be concerned or take some reckless action. You knew Janis would try to sneak you out of your house or some shit and didn't need that.

Throughout the week, more instances like that would come up. It would either be one of your girlfriends who found you in an exhausted state, sometimes with a few bruises or Janis would be the one to see it.

One day, Regina had been the one to find you first and had enough of seeing you so beaten up and exhausted. Janis happened to be near by so she rounded her up first, then Gretchen and Karen.

Working together (shockingly) the plastics and Janis pulled you off to the bathroom after making sure no one was in there. They had briefly discussed a game plan beforehand, knowing this was a situation that needed a more gentler approach compared to how they (mostly Regina and Janis) normally handle things

"We gotta talk about.. this." Janis gestured to you with a frown, she didn't know how else to word it without being extremely blunt.

You looked beyond confused.

"But you just gestured to all of me?" Your arms folded across your chest as you glanced at Karen, who was watching you with a sad look. You tried having a silent conversation with her but she didn't pick up on any of your social cues. Maybe not the best one to get information from about whatever this was.

"We're worried you're not getting the right- parental care at home." Gretchen blurted out, Regina gave her a side eye and Gretchen looked at her apologetically. You sighed.

You should have guessed they would notice. It's not like you hid it that well either though. Should you lie? One look at Regina's gaze told you no. It's like she could read exactly what you were thinking. Swallowing thickly, you decided to go with the truth. Your eyes met Gretchen's, being too nervous to look at either Regina or Janis. They could get intense with things like this. And Karen just didn't understand.

"It's my mother." Simple. To the point. Confirmed everything the girls had suspected.

Gretchen's expression softened and she held her arms out to you, you easily went into her hold and relaxed as you felt her arms wrap around you. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Didn't want you guys to worry." Your words were muffled as your face buried into Gretchen's neck, holding her tight.

Regina and Janis shared a look. Almost as if having a silent conversation.

"That's it." Janis said, then both Regina and Janis said at the same time; "You're living with me."

They paused and narrowed their eyes at each other. You looked up at them in slight confusion as you saw them doing a very aggressive and intense game of rock, paper, scissors to decide who you would stay with. You were silently thankful they didn't make you pick.

"Ha! Suck it, bitch!" Janis threw her hands into the air. You assumed Janis won. Regina rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. You could just tell that she wasn't pleased in the slightest. Janis turned to look at you with a smile," You're gonna come live with me. No arguments."

You sighed but nodded, grateful for your friend.

And that's exactly what you did. You moved in with Janis' family, they welcomed you in much to your mom's distaste. She didn't approve of you leaving but your dad helped get you out. He didn't like how his wife treated you, so he gladly helped you leave.

The times after that were good. You were finally getting the proper rest you needed and your bruises healed. Whenever you weren't at Janis', you'd be with your girlfriends. Who always made sure to give you cuddles and comfort.

Despite your past, your future looked good. And you couldn't be happier with how things played out in the end.

~~~

Hoping to get back into my usual flow of writing. I think it sounds kind of close to it? I just haven't written in so long that it might be different and a little rushed. So apologies of it isn't as good as it could have been 🙏

[helloblobbyblobfish]

My writing masterpost

I am reblogging so many things, I had comments about doing a masterposts allowing people to find my writing more easily. Sorry.😓

A bit unsure how to sort the many different things I wrote, the posts will probably be updated not only with new stories but also get re-organized.

SFW FOR SURE

BH6

Big romance 2: abandonned oc x tadashi story. Should At least clean it. My first story. God it is full of faults. T.T

DC comics

The bat and the pencil: A batman x the eraser fanfic where Lenny gave amnesia to bruce. One chapter up on Tumblr. In need of transportation from A03.

Chapter 1

Blooming red: An AU where Jason Todd’s a meta with powers similar to Ivy’s. Chapters can go individually from crack to pure angst.

Jason the wannabe flower-boy: At first, Jason didn’t want to know what his powers were.

Jason the sprout: Jason doesn’t quite grasp his new powers and suffers a traumatic encounter

A plant boy in space: Much later down the line, Dick gets Jason admitted on the JLA.

A snake in the nest: Attempt at Timber. Mixed together with my love with obscure characters to make a story where Danny Temple comes asking Tim for help to keep Kobra in check, and Bernard needs to really learn about his boyfriend’s secret life.

Tron

Life with Tronzler the cat: Sam is out of the grid, and now has a weirdly behaving program as an unwanted guest. Wait, is he acting like a feline?

Linked Universe

E.E.F.K (Edy!Eldritch!Knigk!Four) : Me showing all my weird Four headcannons in one story.

Chapter 1 The fall: Sky and Four fall into a underground labyrinth. Four has a way of lighting up the path, but...

Chapter 2: Incoming! Being Written! Wind and Four talk magic! Fire!Earth! Water! WIND!: Wind is bored and decides to train his magic. Four joins him.

Original work (Mostly hypno-stuff, horror is starting to show up.)

Safety in coils : About a Naga who decides to study humans and becomes sort of an unintentional dad for some kids.

Safety in coils: The diary of the naga as he meet those kids, and especially abused Noah.

Obliviousness is contagious and my dad is a safety hazard: A day in the life of  Noah

Chapter three who needs to be tweaked! Not a priority ion my work list. :( (Edit: that’s done. Should post it soon)

Lovely melody: Inspired by a somnefarious drawing on Twitter, a French teen get a romance with a merman.

The testament of Henry Branson: A young man learned he is one of the heirs to his great-uncle fortune. He and his more direct family go to the deceased’s mansion, and conflicts arises over the heritage. While everyone is out for themselves, strange deaths start to occur. Need to put latter chapters that are already written on Tumblr.

Welcome to Branson Manor! We hope you won’t stay: Meet the players!

Sins of the father: After the reading of the will, the family starts to rip itself apart immediately. Maybe they should notice the disparitions a little more...

Matai : A Salmoan sorcerer build himself a family. (Might go into the hornies later.)

Chapter 1: Fetu Lanuola  “welcomes” Ace West into his household

THE HORNIES (not necessarily NSFW, just me trying to be sure you don’t get anything trying to be kinky 🙈 . Mostly original, but I started a supernatural fic)

Captions: Plenty of hypnosis-themed little (and slightly bigger) stories. Link towards the tag, or else they would be taking too much place.😮‍💨. Amongst the most notable series or individual captions around, we have:

Special hearing : A hard of hearing teen uses audio subliminals messages to get his revenge on his bullies. one caption for now, working on a second.

The champ : A teen uses a voice-based mind control to take control of the family of a rival after he is kicked off the team for being gay. 3 stories uploaded, I think a fourth is somewhere on my files...

The perfect wedding: A most beautiful and totally normal laos wedding, we swear! Might get a sequel if i have an idea. Someone had asked if there would be a sequel, back when that story was new... A one-shot for now.

The Hello series: Mostly a thing in my head, with only one caption published. A man with powerful brainwashing pheromones goes around turning people to his point of view

Phone haze: A teen discover his brother put a mind-control app on his phone and goes on a rampage. I should be able to find the second caption somewhere in my docs.😐

A Mediterranean date: While waiting for his date, Eracle is accosted by a strange guy

Thank you: A jock tries to interrupt a DnD (actually Call of Ctulhu) session a frat brother is having. Bad plan.

Coming Out Party: written for pride month 2022. A mysterious strange has an effect on the people he meets on the way to a pride parade.

The Full-blown series

A ghost of a memory: Series I really should remember exist. One chapter isn’t a lot. 🙈 A migrant mourning his dead boyfriend learn the boyfriend is kicking around as a ghost, possessing the clients of the hotel they work/used to work at.

The clock : Collab with @mathhypnostories about a boy finding a old watch with hypnotic powers! Four chapters for now!

Sasquatch and candies: Supernatural fic, post-series, Sabriel focus. Sam meets Gabriel, who has survived (again), and is planning on using a strange artifact to make Sam his.

Chapter 1: Gabriel uses a hunt to attract his love. originally a one-shot.

I dream of angel: Waking up after a dream he can’t remember, Sam get himself in a zombie apocalypse. Strange visitors come to the near-by hospital.

Do flesh drones dream of roboticlight toys? (Place-holder name. Basically, hypno/mind-control/brainwash one-shot about sciences that I headcanon as being set in the same-verse)

Shoppy’Slave: A man shops for his first slave.

The leather pet doctor: A new pet needs to be examined to figure out what  kind of animal he is.

[starsinmylatte]

Nightcall

Pairing: Thrawn x afab reader

Rating: Explicit (Very 18+)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: established relationship, edging, praise k!nk, very slight dom/sub undertones, interspecies relationship

Summary: Reader has had a VERY long day, and Thrawn is away from the Chimaera. Or is he?

Author's note: Hi! I'm finally starting to post fics to Tumblr again. I've been away for a bit, but I am very excited to write more. All my stuff is also on AO3 here! Any comments or reblogs are always greatly appreciated (seriously y'all leave the sweetest comments and it makes my day). Have fun reading my first ever attempt at smut and lmk if you'd like to be added to my tags <3

Today had been hell.

Thrawn had departed the Chimaera days ago to handle some business on Coruscant, and, as usual, Konstantine was using his absence as an excuse to be a massive pain in the ass. The Grand Admiral relied on you to help keep order just as much as he relied on Eli Vanto, but he was currently as busy as you were. So, the ever-glamorous job of making sure the Seventh Fleet remained in orbit mainly fell to you.

It was the fifth day Thrawn had been gone, and you were already fantasizing about throwing Konstantine out of the airlock. It would undoubtedly save the remnants of your sanity. He usually wasn’t blatantly insubordinate, but today he seemed to make an exception.

“I simply don’t understand why the Grand Admiral is insisting on holding this formation,” he exclaimed. “We should be chasing the rebels back to their base by now!”

Another headache was definitely coming on. I swear on every star in this kriffing galaxy…..

Your reply was icy and tinged with frustration, “Konstantine, if you wish to question the Grand Admiral’s tactics, you are more than welcome to discuss it with him when he comes back. Until then, we will be following the orders he left us with.”

He momentarily met your piercing stare before realizing any further arguments would be futile.

“Fine. I do believe I’m needed elsewhere,” Konstantine huffed as he departed the bridge.

For the first time in hours, the bridge was blessedly silent. You sank into a chair, rubbing your temples. Kriff, I definitely feel that headache now….

A sudden hand on your shoulder made you jump. You were so distracted that Eli might as well have materialized out of thin air.

“Hard day?” The corners of his mouth twitched as he attempted to stifle his amusement. “I heard you gave Konstantine a well-deserved earful.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Next time, it’s your turn. This is my fourth headache in the past five days.”

“Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? You’ve been working harder than anyone else on the Chimaera for days.” He lowered his voice before adding, “He should be back soon.”

A wave of relief washed over you at the news. You and Thrawn had gone to great lengths to keep your relationship secret from the crew, but Eli was too good of a friend to be kept in the dark. Besides, he would’ve noticed eventually that his two best friends were slightly more than friends.

Eli must’ve noticed the change in your expression, “Oh, you definitely need a break.”

He shoved a datapad in your hands and started pulling you to your feet, ignoring the numerous protests you gave him. “Here, take this to Thrawn’s office, leave it on his desk, and then you’re taking the rest of the day off. No arguments.”

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

Thrawn’s office was its usual freezing temperature. Even though your uniform had layers of thick material, the chill was easily seeping through them. Shivering, you placed the datapad on the large desk in the back of the room.

You turned to leave, but a pang shot through your heart as you looked around the empty room. It was normal for you to barely see Thrawn on the days he was especially busy, but it was always different when you knew he wasn’t on the Chimaera at all. Stars, you missed him when he was gone. Just knowing he was nearby on days you couldn’t see him was so comforting. “Soon” wasn’t a good enough time frame for when he’d return.

A sudden thought crossed your mind; nothing was stopping you from spending the night in Thrawn’s quarters. It wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence for you to sleep here, and it would be comforting. Besides, with your headache, you didn’t exactly feel like walking all the way back across the ship to your room, and his private quarters were conveniently connected to his office.

You began stripping off your uniform as you walked into the room and made your way over to the bed. It was still freezing, but every layer you removed took the worries of the day with it. Soon, everything except your bra and panties sat neatly folded on the bedside table. In this moment, you weren’t an Imperial officer; you were a woman climbing into her lover’s bed for comfort after a long day.

As soon as you slid between the soft, black sheets, you instantly received the comfort you were craving. They smelled exactly like Thrawn, crisp and clean, but with a unique depth cut by the citrusy scent of his favorite tea. You could almost imagine that he was actually there beside you. A contented smile crossed your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

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

You suddenly woke to a light caress on your cheek. In your groggy state, you didn’t fully realize what that touch meant until you leaned into it. You would have probably fallen back asleep were it not for the low, pleased murmur that followed your actions.

“Apologies, ch’eo bat in’a, I did not mean to wake you, but I was not expecting to find you here.”

Your eyes flew open in shock as you sat up and gasped, “Thrawn!”

The low light in the room illuminated the regal form sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. Thrawn’s usually unreadable expression was one of slight amusement mixed with another, softer expression. You couldn’t help but notice his beautiful azure-hued skin and luminous ruby eyes were only complemented by the dimmed light; you couldn’t help but think he was meant to be seen like this. He must’ve been tired from the constant travel, but nothing in his posture or expression gave it away.

You didn’t wait for him to speak again before reaching over to embrace him. Thrawn immediately wrapped his strong arms around your waist and pulled you in tightly. Pressing your face into his chest, you quietly murmured, “I missed you.”

He said nothing, so you assumed he didn’t hear. You both sat contentedly for a few minutes and savored the intimacy before he moved one hand to stroke lazily down your back and the other to run through your hair. As you leaned further into his touch, he grabbed your chin and turned your head so he could press his lips to your ear.

“You are quite endearing when you’re half-asleep. It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

The praise combined with the sensation of his warm breath in your ear finally did you in; a flame began to spark to life in your core. You had missed him, and every single part of you was screaming for you to let him know just how much.

Before you could even move, Thrawn trailed his lips down to kiss your neck, and the flame in your core blossomed. You let out a quiet, breathy moan, and he immediately stopped.

Bringing his lips back to trace the shell of your ear, he rasped, “Oh? It seems you did miss me. How fortunate that I was able to return to you already in my bed.” He paused to lightly trace the outline of your bra before continuing. “And in something so pretty too. A shame that it will soon be discarded.”

You whimpered at his words as his lips renewed their brutal assault on your neck and upper chest. For what seemed like an eternity, Thrawn was content to lavish affection on the spots that provoked the greatest responses from you as his hands held you in place.

“Thrawn, please…. Touch me….” you begged, hoping desperately for him to comply.

He merely let out a dark chuckle as he chided, “Patience, ch’eo ch’itiseb, for every protest that leaves your pretty mouth, I will be sure to make you wait even longer.”

You bit back a moan at his sinful words; his eyes seemed to glow even brighter, and his smile turned feral. The look he gave you in return was simply predatory.

He continued to suck hickies into the sensitive skin at the base of your neck and around your collarbones. His tongue licked a long, torturous line up the column of your neck to kiss the area under your jaw. With every kiss, caress, and touch, the flame in your core spread throughout your entire body. He bit down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and you melted even further into his arms.

“It seems you were able to learn an adequate lesson in patience, so now we may continue. Turn around for me,” he ordered.

You turned to face the wall as he returned to his previous position at the edge of the bed. He trailed his hands up your waist and around to cup your breasts. Thrawn may have decided that you could have more of his touch, but he still refused to dip his hand under the lacy fabric of your bra. Instead, he teasingly rubbed over the material to brush against your nipples. Your head fell back to rest on his shoulder as you pushed your chest out into his hands, still desperate for more.

“How very, very eager for my touch….” His tone was still infuriatingly collected for how quickly he’d reduced you into a moaning mess, but a slight accent began to mar his words. “Ch’itses’o euhn ei.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Thrawn unfastened and discarded your bra. Finally, he wrapped his hands entirely around your breasts. The sharp contrast between the warmth of his body and the room’s icy air only intensified the pleasure as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers.

You couldn’t help but moan his name again, loudly. Thrawn’s breath hitched before he let out a low, breathy moan, “Bun vn’inen’i. Let me hear you.”

His voice had always been profoundly attractive, but hearing him murmur filthy sentiments into your ear in his native tongue made you absolutely melt. You let out another gasp and rubbed your thighs together, seeking any friction you could find, keenly aware of the desire beginning to pool between them. In your desperate search for friction, you accidentally rubbed your ass back against him and felt his growing erection.

The contact made Thrawn hiss. In one fluid motion, he flipped you around, pushed your back flat against the mattress, and leaned over you.

It was moments like this when you remembered you were in the bed of one of the most powerful men in the galaxy. Thrawn’s ruby eyes glowed with lust as he gazed down at you. His feral smile returned as he studied his prize. “Allow me to show you just how much I missed you.”

He trailed kisses from your breasts down to your inner thighs, nipping at them slightly, then stopping to look up at you as he reached your panties. “These must go,” he murmured against your thigh. Thrawn took the band in his teeth and began to tug the panties off, using his hands to remove them fully.

Finally, you laid before him completely bare, and once again, he paused to appreciate your body. “Simply beautiful,” he cooed.

Thrawn returned to kiss your inner thighs before he spread your legs further. He moved to kneel on the floor at the side of the bed and pulled your hips to the edge. You knew exactly what was coming next. “Oh….”

You barely had time to moan before he swiped an experimental finger through your core. Under any other circumstances, you’d be embarrassed that you were already so wet, but Thrawn lit a fire in you that no one else could. Now it was his turn to let out a low groan at his discovery.

He didn’t waste any more time before moving one of his long fingers to lightly trace around your entrance. The torment of his delicate touch made you rock your hips upwards, desperately begging for more contact. Without warning, he pushed two fingers deep inside you, making your walls clench hard around them. You moaned and begged for more as he began to pump them in and out of your drenched core, causing your legs to shudder in pleasure.

“Look at you, I’ve only just started using my fingers, and you’re already shaking,” Thrawn groaned.

He brought you right up to the peak of pleasure before suddenly withdrawing. You sobbed in protest as he brought his fingers up to your mouth. “Clean them off,” he commanded. Hoping that he’d finish you off if you complied, you obediently took his fingers into your mouth and sucked all your juices off of them.

Thrawn was very pleased. He moved back down between your thighs and sucked another hickey on the delicate skin before returning his attention to your core. He slowly circled your sensitive clit with a finger before licking his way up to suck on it. Once again, he continued his attention until you were at the very edge before withdrawing. Being edged once was hard, but the second time left you an absolute mess.

When Thrawn looked down on you, covered in his marks, eyes glazed over in lust and absolutely begging for completion, he lost the remnants of his control. He leaned back up to murmur, “Ch’eo ch’itiseb, how would you like me?”

“Stars, Thrawn, I don’t care. I just want you inside me now,” you moaned back at him as you reached up to help tug off his remaining clothing. After a few moments, he was also completely bare and leaning over you on the bed again.

With how desperate you felt, any time at all was too long, but your pleas and cries finally turned into more gasps and moans of pleasure as he finally lined his thick cock up with your entrance. The feeling of being so gloriously stretched and filled as he pushed in made your walls clench around him. Thrawn moaned at the sensation and began fucking you at a leisurely pace.

He leaned in to capture your lips in a burning, passionate kiss as his thrusts grew faster and your hips rose to meet them. His hands roamed your body, finding their way to pinch and tug at your nipples. You moaned into his mouth as you grew closer and closer to the high you’d been chasing all night.

Pausing between kisses, Thrawn suddenly grabbed your chin and stared into your eyes with his burning red ones before returning to kiss you hungrily. The unspoken message was clear: you were his. This new intensity, combined with his thrusts that came faster and faster, finally sent you over the edge into a shattering climax. Thrawn’s thrusts grew more and more erratic until he finished soon after you, coating your walls with his seed as he came.

As you both lay there in the afterglow, Thrawn mused, “I may have to find an excuse to be gone more often.”

Tags: @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @mittheresabosen @handbaskethell

[thegirlwhowritesawksh-t]

la douleur de l'amour - georgenotfound x f!reader

author: @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t​ me!

word count: 4.7k +

warnings: hella angst, mentions of blood/scabs/injuries. if there’s any you think that you see, please let me know!

a/n: hi y’all :)) first off, to whoever’s reading this: stay hydrated, smile and laugh! and second: this is my submission for @bozowrites​ writing event! <33 congrats!!

**this is my second fic, and i’m hoping to push more out as i get more comfortable with writing! i’m thinking to maybe make a part two to this but i don't know yet. please let me know what you think! *sending besitos to y’all :))*

Prompt: Why are you crying?

1:15 p.m.

In the corner of a dimly lit studio in front of the barre, (y/n) leans over to her left, counting four beats before resetting and proceeding to stretch over her right side. After months spent choreographing, picking costumes, and endless bandages wrapped around her feet, it has led to the final product: her first piece in her dance company’s annual recital premiering tonight.

All (y/n) could feel was pure energy and pride at what she has created. It’s her baby after all and nothing could ruin the day for her.

Feeling her joints start to loosen up, she runs through a mental list in her head making sure each dancer had their costumes, knew where all the dancers would start and end on stage, as well as remembering her own choreography, seeing as she had an important section to end her piece. After double-checking, (y/n) then begins to travel to the center of the studio, and begins to run over the piece.

Remember the triple pirouette here, before you end with a leap to fourth position. Finishing in the fourth position, she lets out a curse as she accidently stubs her right thumb toe, a small scab already tearing at the edge. Shaking out her pain, she reattempts the move, succeeding with an effortless bow.

“You know, your piece is going to be excellent. Why are you so worried?”, a voice calls out in the quiet studio, with (y/n) yelping and trying to find where the voice came from. Standing against the edge of the doorway stood Liam, her dance partner and best friend. (y/n) begins to chuckle and runs the piece over again.

“Can’t help but make sure it’s perfect. I have drenched all my blood, sweat and tears creating this dance, this- this masterpiece. It is my first, and most certainly not my last choreographing piece at this company. There’s too much riding on this for me.”, she replies.

“Even if so, I’d like to think you’ll be fine. Don’t stress, it’s amazing. Otherwise, how are you feeling?”

“Kind of excited, kind of feeling like I should run away.”, (y/n) replies. Avoiding to answering the question entirely, she begins to run the piece over again. She continues,

“I think regardless, it should be a great night. George is coming to the recital tonight and it’ll be the first time he’ll be seeing this dance.” With George editing and recording videos for the Dream Team, his Twitch channel, and YouTube channels, (y/n)’s barely seen him since the start of the dance season. The only time she’s been able to spend time with him has been going to bed with him - even if it’s been a bit more rare lately - and sometimes, a free day on a weekend with no dance practice or no recording for George.

“So that’s why you are nervous, how cute.”, Liam laughs, with (y/n) leaping over to Liam and swatting their arm lightly.

“He swore that he’d come tonight, and he knows how much time I’ve spent perfecting this. I just can’t imagine tonight going any other way. I made sure to get him a seat right in the front, so he’ll be able to see the whole performance, and me.”, (y/n) smirks. As soon as (y/n) found out she would be choreographing one of the pieces in the recital, she immediately told George her good news. George had told her she deserved it for working her butt off since the start of her being at the dance academy. Making him pinky swear, George swore that he would be there for her first performance with her also starring as a choreographer.

“So focus on that instead of thinking your piece is going to crash and burn! Relax a bit. We only have a bit of time before we start getting ready, so let’s run it over a few more times. And don’t even think about slacking off now, missy, we’ll stretch and go get ready after.” Liam decides, and she nods, thinking it’s probably for the best. Running to her bag, (y/n) sends a quick message to George.

George J: hey, can’t wait to see you tonight! i left your ticket on your nightstand, and remember to dress up slightly, it’s a dance recital after all ;) lub you xo - sent at 1:34 p.m.

Content with her message, she tosses her phone back into her bag, and heads back to run over the piece with Liam once more.

>>>

6:47 p.m.

Sticking the last bobby-pin to her bun, (y/n) glances in the mirror to make sure no mistake is in place. Eyeing her look, she can’t help but smile looking at her dance attire, admiring how her purple leotard and dress matches her eyeshadow. Paired with a dark nude lip, she smirks and turns to check her phone for any messages, hoping that one could be from George.

Out of the nine messages she received, most were from friends and family, wishing her luck on her performance tonight. She replied with a thanks and a heart emoji before finally reading the last message coming from George about two hours ago.

George J: hi darling, i saw the ticket, i am so excited for you! can’t wait for you to take my breath away, as you always do. love you more xo  - sent at 4:48 p.m.

Smiling even wider, (y/n) puts her phone on silent, before walking towards the backstage area, passing dancers along the way. Grabbing their hands and wishing them good luck, she arrives at the destination, nerves buzzing as members of the audience start gathering at their seats. Deciding to take a peek, (y/n) rushes to the curtains, peeking her eyes out towards the front rows, trying to spot the pale boy who danced into her heart. First row, seat G for George, she giggles to herself.

“Trying to find your lover? I’m right here!” Liam asks, with (y/n) turning around.

“As much as I’d love that, I’m no Harry Styles, so I don’t think I’m your type…” (y/n) smirks.

“Hm. Where’s George, I want to see him!”

“I’m looking for him right now, Liam. Give me a second.”, (y/n) laughs as she turns back to the audience. Finding his seat, she subtly frowns seeing as he’s not in his seat yet. He’s probably in the bathroom, or still in line to get to his seat, (y/n) tries to explain to herself.

“He’s not here yet, I think he’s in the bathroom or something. But give him time, he’ll be here.” (y/n) mutters as Liam frowns at her.

“He better show up, it’s your night, (y/n).”, they grumble. They start to say more however-

“Places, everyone! Take your places! We’re starting at seven sharp!” the stage manager yells out. He continues,

“We start in five minutes!” Rushing to get off the stage, she sees dancers brush past another wishing them luck. As the ballet dancers start to move into their places for the intro piece, she then walks over to Liam, helping them set up the microphone as they begin to breathe slowly.

“Hey, you got this. It’s just reading off of cue cards and announcing pieces. And then you’ll be set for my piece. You’re going to do great, Liam.”, (y/n) tries to motivate, with Liam smiling shyly at her.

“And your piece is going to kick ass, (y/n). It’s perfection. Just wait until George sees you dance. I’m a hundred percent sure he’s going to fall for you even more.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see…” (y/n) laughs. Liam clears their throat a bit before raising the microphone to their lips. (y/n) proceeds to head to the viewing room, where a broadcast of the show would play for other dancers to watch and support their fellow castmates.

Taking a deep breath, Liam starts to speak as (y/n)’s nerves start to palpitate.

“Hello, how are you this evening? And welcome to the 67th Annual Recital for the London Dance Academy! I am your emcee, Liam Barrings, and let me introduce you to the first dance of the night created by Sam Hastings. Here is Invictus!”

>>>

8:51 p.m.

An hour later, seven dances, and many whispered good jobs, it is finally time for (y/n) to step on stage and premiere her masterpiece. Slowly tip-toeing to her first position on stage, she glances at her castmates, thanking them silently in her mind for them to trust her to bring her visions to life. Before the curtains open, she turns to Liam on her right, kneeling down and grabbing her thighs, and they smile back at her.

“Ready for it?”, they smirk. Thinking to herself, she nods and turns back to the front of the curtains waiting for the music to begin. Remember the triple pirouette after Liam grabs you. And try to look like you’re in pain from loving him. It is exquisite pain, right (y/n)? Liam is toxic, yet you still love them. Make it believable. And finally, breathe.

Another emcee, Josh begins to speak.

“And now, I present to you (y/n - y/ln)’s dance. This is her first piece with her own choreography with the London Dance Academy, and tonight, we are the very first group of people to watch her story come to life. Please let me introduce you to (y/n) and her piece, La Douleur Exquise!” the audience claps softly, before the curtains open its wings to reveal the creation.

The background, a stark white, yet the lights casts hues of soft lilacs, with streaks of dark reds splattering across the dancers’ bodies. With a small pause, music begins to sing out of the speakers. Liam and (y/n) begin the piece with a small duet. Following closely behind, a quad of dancers mimicking their moves with childlike innocence.

Liam turns to (y/n), conveying an I love you through their linked hands and they abruptly pull her to their arms, as she looks at them with confusion in her eyes and pulling away. Gliding towards the middle, the quad walks slowly to (y/n), enveloping her with open arms, before having a dance section with (y/n) in the middle as Liam looks on, hellbent on grasping (y/n) once more. Every other beat, (y/n) turns to Liam, feeling lost as if they were missing from her.

As the quad looks away, having their own small solos, (y/n) slips away from the group only to leap back into Liam’s arms with her hands grasping their face as Liam slowly grips her waist. Looking at her with renewed interest, his face morphs into fury as one of the dancers pass by her, softly guiding his fingers from her shoulder down to her inner wrist. An angry duet starts, with Liam and (y/n) clashing against each other, as if saying they hate but love each other at the same time.

(y/n) leaps into Liam’s arms, before slowly sliding herself off him as the quad of dancers, follow closely behind, lifting (y/n) to her feet. Everyone proceeds to move as one, with the quad dancing in the center, whereas Liam paces their way to (y/n), lifting her into the air once again, before they land in a small leap. Conversing with their bodies, Liam guides (y/n)’s hands to their heart, slightly pulling her along. Finally coming to the end of the dance, (y/n) runs to the center of the stage, facing the audience.

Grabbing her left arm is Liam, pulling her to their side, and the quad of dancers are pulling her on her right. The war between the two goes back and forth in a tug-of-war before (y/n) seemingly gives up and slams herself to the ground, as the music fades into silence. The audience erupts into booming claps and cheers, and (y/n) feels herself being pulled up from the ground by Liam as a light blush covers her skin. Glancing up at the audience, she tries to smile despite the stage lights burning into her. I did it, I managed to make a story, my story come to life. Hearing the audience continuing to clap, realization sets in and she finds her eyes wandering over to the front row, seat G for George. Seat empty, her smile falters and her eyes become glassy. Some would think because of her success with her piece. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad, maybe it was a little bit of both.

>>>

9:23 p.m.

He’s here, he has to be. He’s probably peeing or waiting for me in the front with flowers, or in the dressing room. He has to be here, I know it, (y/n) mutters to herself, hellbent on her beliefs that George is here. Yet the bitter taste of rejection starts to seep into her bones. Shaking her head a bit and attempting to put on the brightest smile, she starts to rush back to the dressing room, a sinking feeling residing in her stomach with each looming step.

Facing the dressing room door, (y/n) can’t help but hope that maybe George is standing there with a bouquet of flowers and kisses reserved for her. Slowly opening the door, her hopes slip through with her mouth curling as she stares at only her reflection in the mirror. He swore that he’d be here. He swore that he would be here for my first performance, (y/n) softly whispers to herself, tears threatening to fall. Gasping, she finally lets herself breathe as she repeats to herself again and again that he wasn’t here.

A soft knock on the door interrupts her thoughts, causing (y/n) to quickly wipe her tears before foolishly yelling out,

“George?”, as the door opens to reveal Liam and the Director himself, Nicholas Anderson.

“(y/n)? It’s us. Where’s George?” Liam asks, a frown settling into his brows.

“Oh, he’s just in the bathroom, he hasn’t been feeling good.” She lies, feeling bile itch her throat. A little white lie shouldn’t hurt anyone, (y/n) thought.

“Hello, (y/n). You looked wonderful out there! Your dance was easily one of the highlights of the night, I couldn’t stop replaying the duet between you and Liam in my head. Your dance truly captured the aspects of a toxic relationship not from one side but from both of point of views. It truly showed exquisite pain, knowing that you would always go back to Liam, but would Liam be there for you?” Nicholas explains, his words smacking (y/n) at full force. Is- is George there for me?, (y/n) thinks to herself. Nicholas continues on,

“I think you are a great addition to our Academy, and tonight truly proved how ready you are to become a full-time member. So how about it? Next season, we’ll be adding you to the roster of choreographers.” Eyes wide, (y/n) nods furiously with a yes and hugs Liam. Nicholas smiles and exits the room, leaving behind two excited dancers jumping around.

“You did it! Now we have to celebrate! Club night, I don’t care. We are going to get plastered! Bring George!” Liam laughs. At the mention of George, her stomach turns as she then realizes George wasn’t here. What sounded like good news turns to rot as she starts thinking of George.

“Let me check my phone, it has been a while in the bathroom, huh?” (y/n) tries to joke, trying hard to not let her voice waver and letting her brain scramble to come up with another small lie. Reaching through her phone, she reads over the texts once again sent from family and friends, finding the conversation between her and George. No new messages, her heart sinks as she slowly starts to open up the rest of her notifications, scrolling to most likely find the purple box that would always stay permanently stuck on her home screen. With bright white letters glaring at her, her heart begins to ebb away feeling a familiar sense of loneliness.

1h, 53 min ago: MINECRAFT MANHUNT W/ THE DREAM TEAM

Relying on her emotions, she turns to face Liam, hoping that her excitement of her promotion would overcome the feeling of abandonment of the man she loved. Plastering a sad smile through watery eyes, she forces out,

“George isn’t feeling well, he’s got an upset stomach. I think it’s the stomach flu going around.” If you can convey pain through dance, you can lie through this as well, (y/n) thought. She continues,

“I don’t know if I should be going out since he’s sick.” (y/n) mutters.

“So we go without him! It’s your celebration, his loss.” Liam rolls their eyes. His loss, my loss - seems like the same.

“I- I don’t know, Liam… I’d want to celebrate with him as well.”

“And I get that, but at least go out with us. You always have tomorrow with him, or later tonight. Do it for tonight, do it because you’re going to be a choreographer next season! At least do it for me and the group. We’ve worked our ass all season and we made your vision come true.” Liam explains. Contemplating with herself, (y/n) resolves with a soft smile and mutters an okay. Pumping their fist in the air, Liam excuses themselves to notify the others of the good news and plans.

Once again facing the mirror, (y/n) repeats with determination to celebrate her night. It’s her night to celebrate with loved ones, even if the one she loved the most isn’t there beside her. So much trying to take your breath away when you weren’t even here, George. Taking a breath, she forces out a shaky laugh and tries to smile. Let’s go celebrate, (y/n).

>>>

1:39 a.m.

Slightly stumbling out of the taxi, (y/n) manages to slowly walk her way up to his doorsteps, phone still showing that George was still streaming. Pausing her hand on the doorknob, she resolves to try to wait until morning to confront him, not trusting herself completely to be okay in front of him. Opening the door softly, she walk in, attempting to not make a sound. With small steps, she closes and locks the door before setting her bags down. That can be cleaned tomorrow, (y/n) thought. Rubbing her eyes, she decides to make herself tea before she goes to bed, most likely not with George until he finishes his stream.

While making her tea, (y/n) thinks of everything that she has worked for in the last few months. Endless changes to her dance, countless small injuries, whether it be a jammed toe/finger, scrapes of blood scattered around her feet from dragging her feet too hard across the floor, everything. Why is it that with her triumph, she is beyond proud yet the idea of George not being there to witness her moment shatters that accomplishment? Mulling it over, she doesn’t notice George bustling down the stairs, finished with his successful 5 hour stream with Dream and Sapnap. Spotting (y/n) making her tea, he slowly approaches her and wraps his arms around her waist, landing a soft kiss to her shoulders.

“Why are you home late, Darling? It’s nearly almost two in the morning.”, George chuckles, as (y/n) freezes in his arms. Softly shaking her head, she tries to side-step out of his arms and brings her tea to the opposite side of the room, wrapping an arm around herself. Clearly, he didn’t remember, (y/n) slowly starts to think and repeat to herself.

“Why do you think I was out, George?” she softly asks, taking a sip of tea to calm her nerves. I guess we’re just going to have to hash it out now.

“I don’t know, but did you see the stream? I beat Dream at the last second and he was this close to defeating the Ender Dragon!”, George starts to explain while laughing, with (y/n) taking a harsh breath in. Pinching in-between her brows, she snaps,

“No, George, I didn’t see the stream because I went out to celebrate.”, she mutters, tears slowly starting to escape.

“(y/n)? Is there something wrong? Why are you crying?“ Turning around, (y/n) tries to look anywhere but him. She settles on looking at the clock, watching as time went by, and her nerves increasing with each second. George starts to say more-

“I needed you tonight. Do you remember what tonight was? To my career? To me?”, (y/n) cuts him off. Standing there without a thought, dread slowly seeps in as George realizes that he missed her performance. He starts to stutter,

“Darling, I- “

“No! No. You do not get to apologize. I needed you and where were you? Sitting on your ass playing Minecraft with Dream and Sapnap! I get that your career is very reliant on you being consistent with your uploads, but you couldn’t have taken a night off? For me? I- ”

“(y/n), it’s not like that at- “

“Don’t- just don’t try to explain or come up with excuses. I just don’t want to hear it George. I spent months working on this, exhausted yet still pushing myself for the damn Academy. You swore that you would be there. I left you the ticket on your nightstand, you even texted me saying that you were excited to come! So imagine me standing on stage, looking at the front row, seat G, and where the hell were you? Not there, George. You were not there. I looked like a fool waiting for you to see me perform and dance. Do you remember Nicholas Anderson?”, (y/n) tries to ask calmly. George only stare at her with defeated eyes as he shakes his head no. Cursing, she heaves out a breath before continuing,

“He’s the director of the Academy, George. He’s offered me a position to be a permanent member and choreographer for the London Dance Academy. So please, let me ask again: where were you? I had to lie to Liam and say that you had an upset stomach and that you couldn’t come out! So, Liam invited me to celebrate with the dancers, to celebrate tonight’s success.”

“(y/n)- (y/n), we can celebrate now. I know- I truly know I messed up, but I can fix it, we can celebrate right now!” George stumbles out, walking towards her to grab her hands. Stepping back, she glares at George, appalled that he truly thinks he could resolve this. Shaking her head harshly, she bites out,

“I don’t want to celebrate with you. I’ve already celebrated with loved ones.” Rolling his eyes, George tries to reason with (y/n).

“Okay, I get it. I’m the bad guy in this scenario. But I’m trying to make this right. I am so sorry, darling, but I want to make it up to you, you know I am sorry.”

“You know, I never ask you to cancel a stream or get off of the stream. I always try to understand for the life of me why the streams have to be long, but I try. I always watch your streams and interact with your fans for your sake. I’ve had to explain countless reasons as to why you never show up to my performances, or why you can’t go out with me with the other dancers. And I am okay with it, don’t get me wrong. I know how much Twitch and YouTube and the Dream Team means to you. But you mean everything to me as well. So forgive me if I wanted to be a little selfish and ask you to support me in one of the biggest performances of my life.”

“I can go to the next one, (y/n). It’s not like it’s the last performance.” George snaps.

“You don’t get it, do you?”, she asks, wiping furiously at her tears, trying to not stutter through her words.

“What is there to get? Clearly I’m trying my hardest to make it up to you.”, he replies.

“I love you. I’m so much in love with you, it hurts. But you don’t get it. I have been there for everything in your career. Your first hundred subscribers, your first million subscribers, when you won the MCC back to back, everything. This was- is the important night of my life, and you didn’t show up. You stuck with Dream and Sapnap and decided to stream instead. This night was important for my career, and you knew! I told you months and weeks in advance. I wanted you to take charge and clear your schedule for today and- and sit in the damn seat that I chose because G stood for George. It was for you.” She sobs out, chest shaking as she tries to collect the words tumbling out of her mouth. With eyes flashing in annoyance, George tries to speak over her tears,

“(y/n)- “

“I created this dance for you! For me and- and for us. Because we believed in each other and had the support for each other. Clearly, it was one-sided and tonight proved that.”

“(y/n), listen to me- ”, George stops himself. Watching (y/n) fall apart, he takes a shaky breath and tries to walk closer to (y/n). However, (y/n) takes more steps back, leaving a distance of hostility and guilt between the two lovers.

“I love you. I love you with all of my heart. And… and I know you love me. But I needed you. Do you even need me?” she asks, the thick silence covering the air.

“Yes! How- how could you even say that, (y/n)?“ George replies just as quick as she finished asking. Looking at him for the first time tonight, she lets out a sob. With cheeks red, hands tugging at his hair, and George frantically looking at her, (y/n) can’t help but cry a little more.

“Because tonight proved otherwise. I wanted a night of you to myself to watch me be pretty and dance, and you didn’t even give up one night for me.”, she says, tugging at her sweater. Looking up, she further goes on to say,

“How stupid would it be if I were to ask to choose between me or the Dream Team? Or- Or your career?”, barking out a bitter laugh as George stares with guilt. As silence meets her ears, (y/n) slowly starts to sober up, eyes slightly widening with shock.

“George…”

“I’d find a way to make it work, I’ve been making it work for us since the beginning!” George snaps.

“George, you know I would never ask that, because I personally think it’s a selfish question. But if I decided to ask seriously, right now. What’s your answer?”

“And I’m telling you, I am making both work. Please believe me, (y/n).”, George says quietly, grasping at whatever opportunities there are left to resolve this potentially fatal matter.

“I can’t tell anymore.”, her voice cracking as fresh tears pool down her cheeks.

“I don’t think I can stay here for a while. At least until I’ve had some time to think.”, she manages to force out.

“(y/n), you can’t be serious. No, we are fixing this now!” George tries to say with an unwavering voice, eyes slowly becoming glassy.

“I can’t look at you George without wanting to cry, and- and scream- yet tell you I love you, even if you don’t deserve my love, especially right now. I need to go- I’m going to go. I’ll be back in a while.”, (y/n) says, choking on her words. Walking backwards, she turns to the door, with George following her and watching her pick up her dance bags. Lying on the ground was a bouquet of flowers, crumpled amongst her heart. Choosing not to pick up the bouquet, she mumbles out,

“I’ll call you when I’m ready.” Pausing, (y/n) looks up at George for the final time tonight, willing herself to not run back to him, despite how much the desire is growing to do so.

“I love you, George.”, opening the door, George yells out,

“I love- “, the door cutting through his confession, acting as a wall between the two. George tries to reach the door knob, ready to run after the love of his life. Yet… he’s frozen on the spot, with tears finally trickling down his cheeks, and pushing deep breaths out to steady his shaking heart.

Why are you crying, George?

[babybatscreationsv2]

if you’re taking prompts;

so; tony is the devil. Or hades? Although hades isn’t technically “evil” so idk. And peter’s very literally made a deal with the devil. Only he couldn’t keep up with his end of the deal and now his soul he belongs to tony. aND THEN, tony kinda likes pities him and it turns into a beauty and the beast sorta thing where tony has his undead servants make feasts n all that sorta stuff so peter feels comfortable. And then they fall in love. And then they screw 😌

Thank you for this because I've been looking for an excuse to write a Hades and Persephone story. This ended up so tender and romantic that you can't call it smut. These beeches be making love. Also this ended up full fic sized so here's the details.

Eat the Fruit

Summary: When Peter's lover dies in an accident, he offers his soul to the God of the Underworld to save him, but when he is unable to fulfill his end of the deal he finds himself in the Underworld. Now Peter is left tending to the pomegranate grove where the only balm for his loneliness is Hades (aka Tony), a god with a prickly edge.

Rating: Explicit

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" The soul sobbed with gratitude. They bowed low again and again. One of Tony's soldiers came to lead her away so the line could continue.

You must love him to offer your soul to me this way.

Please, you are lord of the dead. If anyone has this power, it's you.

I am not cruel, Peter. I will restore your lover's soul. In return, you must stay with him in life until he dies a natural death.

I promise.

So be it.

----------

The agony of heartbreak still echoed in his mind. His mind replayed the moment as Harry told him goodbye and turned away, closing the door as he went. He wished he could try again. Despite how he had pleaded with Harry not to leave, had promised him whatever he wished, he felt that maybe there was something he could have done. Harry did not love him anymore. He left him.

And so Peter fainted... and he awoke in a vast orchard.

He sat up in the grass and looked around at the low trees each baring heavy red fruit. Pomegranates. They looked beautiful, delicious. Peter stood and brushed himself off. He looked around feeling unsure how he had gotten here. Then he remembered and a sob escaped him. Not only had he lost the love of his life, he had broken his deal with Hades. This beautiful grove must have been a part of the Underworld.

"So soon," said a voice. Peter turned to catch sight of a man. He was handsome, a bit older than Peter, with wrinkles around his eyes, yet those eyes shined with livelihood. When he last saw Hades it had been a shadow of his true form, something massive and hulking and terrible. He seemed almost kind now. He had been kind enough to him then.

"Please, Lord Hades, send me back. Let me try again."

The god plucked a fruit from a tree and examined it. "Sorry, kid. That was a one time offer. No take backs." He looked Peter over, then he placed the pomegranate in his hands. He walked past him and Peter followed along, afraid to be left alone in such a place.

"Please. I'll give you anything. Lord Hades-"

The god huffed and turned on the spot. He held up a finger. "First of all, there's no need to call me that. Hades is more of a title and I'm over it. Call me Tony."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Tony. Now, listen up because I've got a short temper." Tony looked him in the eye. His hand held Peter's chin. "You will never leave the Underworld. Do you understand? Your soul belongs to me. You belong to me. This is where you will stay. Forever."

"Forever," Peter repeated. Not a question, but a realization. He had given everything for Harry. Everything.

The god took hold of his arm and turned him to look across the orchard. "Do you see the river there? You are never to attempt to cross it. If you try, its current will drag you under and you will drown in its waters until I see fit to retrieve you. The river Styx will not allow a soul to leave so easily."

Tony patted his shoulder. "Got it?"

Peter nodded. "I get it. Don't cross the river." It sure didn't sound fun to drown in a river until this oddly blase god decided to have mercy on him. "What happens now?"

Tony shrugged. "Tend the orchard or something. What do I care?"

Peter looked at him like he had grown a second head, which maybe he did have two heads, this probably wasn't his true form. "You let me sell my soul to you so I could just hang out?"

Tony's face shifted and Peter shrank back. His sudden anger was sharp and cold like a dagger made of ice. He encroached on Peter's space and with a clenched jaw he tried not to back away further. "Listen up, kid. You made the deal you wanted to make. You wanted to sacrifice yourself for what your heart desired and I gave you the opportunity. Life isn't the fairy tale you thought it was. Now, tend the trees and keep out of my hair."

Peter watched him go. He stared off in the direction that he went a while longer. Then cold began to seep into his bones. He sat down under a pomegranate tree. He wrapped his arms around his legs. Then he cried, wet tears staining the clothes he had died in. It could have been a lifetime that he cried, but when he finally got up he was numb.

Harry was gone and his life was over, but there was no going back. Peter turned in a circle, looking at the orchard. It was beautiful. If he had to spend the rest of eternity here it certainly wasn't the worst place to be. Sometimes when a breeze kicked up, he thought he heard screaming off in the direction he had decided to call south. There were certainly worse places to be even in the Underworld.

Peter walked to the edge of the pomegranate grove. Several feet from the edge, the ground began to slope down until it reached the edge of the Styx. A boat floated along the water. A man with a scraggly goatee and messy, curly, hair rowed along while a woman with red rimmed eyes sat in the seat. When she looked up, she looked right through him as if he were glass. A chill went through him. Once the feeling passed, he tried to wave at her, but she didn't respond. Was she in shock? Did she know yet that she was dead? Where was she being taken, he wondered. He hoped it was somewhere nice like his pomegranate grove and not the place where the screaming came from.

He kept walking, following the tree line, never passing the trees on the very edge. The orchard was vast, but not endless. On one side was the river Styx. On the next, the river Lethe. Or he assumed it was as the mist that came off of it made his head feel hazy. When he reached the third side is when the screaming grew louder. He walked faster until it grew distant again.

The fourth edge of the orchard stretched on into a garden. Peter stopped himself at the edge of the trees. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to leave the orchard or not. He hadn't been explicitly told not to. So he did.

He followed along low hedges and passed through clusters of hydrangea. Then the ground began to change from grass and plant life to cold gray stone. Peter looked back at the garden and the orchard beyond it. Was this allowed? He couldn't tend the trees without any tools. He'd need baskets if he were to collect the fruit and if they got sick he'd need medicines. He wasn't sure what else one could possibly do for trees. Perhaps Tony could tell him.

He found the god in question sitting a top a throne of slate. He looked far larger than he had before, but he still took the same form. He seemed bored, or perhaps indifferent was the word, as souls lined up at his feet. One soul grovelled on his knees.

"Please, my lord. I am meant for Elysium. I was a good man in life. An excellent one. I always gave to charity, I swear!"

Hades, for that's what he was a top this throne, waved his hand. "That does not make you special nor important by any means. You are not exceptional by any measure. To the fields with you." He snapped his fingers and two souls, each with hollow, black eyes and wrists wrapped in cuffs of slate, came forward and dragged the pleading soul away.

Another stepped forward and their plea was the same. They wished for Elysium and Hades waved them off.

"Won't you even listen to their stories?" Peter asked.

The god looked down at him. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I wasn't sure exactly what I was meant to do."

"The trees will tell you when they need," he said, but Peter noticed that he did not wave him away as he did the pleading soul so he assumed he was allowed to stay.

The next soul pleaded not for Elysium, but for their lover. They begged to be reunited with them in Asphodel.

"It is not my job to see that lovers unite. If you are soul mates you will find one another," Tony said with a terribly bored voice.

"Please, my lord. I has been a hundred years-"

"Be grateful I do not drop you in the River Lethe before you are returned!" he snapped. "Be gone with you."

"You are too harsh," Peter said as the soul was dragged away

Tony glared down at him. "You don't have to listen to the same nonsense for eternity."

"You are a god. You should be grateful for that."

"You should be grateful I don't sick my hound on you," Tony growled. "Now go."

Peter hesitated, not wishing to be alone again, but the look on Tony's face was far from kind. With a deep frown, Peter turned and walked back to the orchard.

The trees weren't much for company. Peter walked through the boughs, lonely and with too much time to reflect. He thought about the life he had lost and all of the things he had given up. He thought about Harry. Did he regret leaving him now that he was dead? Did he miss him? He wondered if Harry would go to his funeral and if he would ever bring flowers. After a long while of wandering, he couldn't take it any longer. He made his way back to the place where the grass died and became stone.

There were no souls there now, only a massive dog which sat at the foot of the throne. It opened one big eye as Peter came near. When he didn't stop it raised its head only for Peter to realize that it had not one, but three. A growl rumbled in its throat.

"Sorry to bother you, big guy. I was just looking for the other big guy." Peter reached out a hand inviting the dog to smell it. It lowered its heads suspiciously. Then it sniffed.

"It's okay. I'm not up to any mischief, I promise. I was just lonely. You look like you might be lonely, too."

Peter smiled as the dog allowed him to pet his hairy nose. It watched him curiously as he came closer so he could scratch behind his ears.

"You're sweet aren't you?" Peter cooed. "Sweet boy."

"Peter?" Tony's voice called. He turned his head to see him coming up the path. "I wouldn't bother him if I were you."

"He seems to like me," Peter shrugged. "I was just looking for some company."

Tony stopped and looked at them both. He tucked his hands behind his back, watching silently while Peter pet the happy dog. His giant tail wagged into the gray dirt.

"You were lonely?" Tony finally asked.

"Trees aren't the best company as it turns out. I'm not used to be alone. Harry and I..." Peter took a breath. Just mentioning his name made his chest burn. "Well, we were always together."

"I see..." Tony stared off toward the orchard. "Come and see me tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. It doesn't always get dark here, but night will fall in a few hours. Come back here then, but not before."

Peter looked at the man, but he didn't seem likely to divulge what he was up to. "Alright... I will see you then."

He gave the dog, Cerberus, one last pet. Then he turned away and walked back to the orchard.

As promised the sky above began to darken. Peter watched it with fascination for a moment. There were no stars in the Underworld. The sky was a deep navy, almost black. Yet, Peter could see perfectly fine. He walked back through the trees to where the ground became stone and there he found a grand table set with candles and silver platters.

"Peter, glad you could join me," Tony greeted. The look on his face was almost a smile.

"What is all this?"

"You said you were lonely so I thought we could share a meal together. If you'd like."

Peter smiled. "Of course! That sounds great."

Tony looked relived. He pulled out a chair for him. "I don't know what you like, but I had nearly everything I could think of prepared."

Peter sat down, offering his thanks as Tony pushed his seat up. He sat down on Peter's right. He flinched as Tony's dead soldiers melted from the shadows and began to serve him from the many plates and platters. When his plate and cup were full, they took a step back waiting to serve him again.

"This all looks amazing. I thought you couldn't eat the food in the Underworld."

Tony picked up his glass, the only thing in front of him. "If it is grown here, then it is true. Eating food grown in the Underworld can have undesired effects." He stared into his wine. Then he looked up and gave Peter a smile. "Eat," he said.

Every bite was divine. Sitting together with Tony helped chase the loneliness away. They talked about Peter's happy memories in life, his time in college, holidays with his Aunt May, being Uncle Peter to Gwen's twins. Harry wasn't there for most of the good parts. Peter couldn't help but find that strange. Harry had felt like such a big part of his life, but had he? Maybe the Underworld was making him forgetful.

After dinner, they stood together and watched the light return. Tony's odd little soldiers cleared everything away.

"Thank you, Peter," Tony said. He gave him a smile. Peter admired the way it made his eyes shine.

"No, thank you. That was a lovely dinner. I'm feeling a lot better, too."

"I'm glad." He paused for a moment and they stood simply looking at each other as the sky changed above them. "You're welcome to return here whenever you please."

Peter's smile widened. "Are you saying you enjoyed my company as well?"

Tony shrugged. "It's wasn't the worst dinner I've been to."

Peter rolled his eyes as he walked away. He returned to the orchard where the boughs were heavy with fruit. He spent hours, maybe days, picking the fruit and collecting it into baskets that he couldn't recalling seeing before. There was a pail and some tools as well.

He stuck to picking fruit for now. That is until his arms grew tired from reaching and legs grew tried from carrying him. He left the orchard to return to the throne. There was Hades, sat atop, looking terribly bored as he dealt with the unending line of souls.

"Please, Lord Hades-"

"Shoo," the god wave the soul away and they were dragged off. Peter went and took a seat, cross legged on the ground beside him. Tony spared him a glance.

"Come to watch the show?"

"I like being with you."

Tony stiffened, but said nothing in answer. Another soul stepped forward. A sort of gray tone clouded not only their skin, but their clothes as well. Peter wondered why he wasn't the same way. Was it because he Tony's soul, belonging to the orchard, while this soul belonged somewhere else? The souls from the Fields were all a bit gray.

"Please, Lord Hades, it has been one hundred and fifty years since my death. I wish to be united with my daughter. I walk the Fields endlessly and never find her," the soul pleaded.

Tony sighed. "Fine," he said. Peter blinked, sitting more upright. "When you return to the Fields, your daughter will await you at the gate."

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" The soul sobbed wjth gratitude. They bowed low again and again. One of Tony's soldiers came to lead her away so the line could continue.

"That was kind of you," Peter said.

Tony huffed in response, but he continued this way. Whenever a soul made, what seemed to Peter, a reasonable request Tony honored it. Souls were united with family, friends, and lovers so long as they walked the fields together. And when it was done, Tony walked with Peter back to the orchard.

They walked beneath the trees, the smell of pomegranate in the air.

"What changed your mind about the souls?"

Tony stood and examined one of the trees. He ignored Peter's question. "They seem happy with you here," he said.

"You were right. They do tell me what they need."

Tony smiled. "Of course I was." He turned and took Peter's hand. His heart fluttered. They kept walking until the Styx came into view. They watched the river pass by in silence. Then after a long while Tony said, "I have to go." Then he disappeared.

Peter turned in a circle, but the god was truly gone. He smiled to himself and turned back to watch the river pass. Tony left him feeling warm. He missed his company already, but he was glad to have had it in the first place.

He went back to his trees, tending them with a smile. Time as usual, without measure other than a weariness in his legs from standing. Then the trees began to ask for water.

It made sense. It never seemed to rain in the Underworld. Certainly trees would need water. He had a pail he could collect it in, but where would he get it from? The only water source nearby was the Styx. He looked around for Tony, but the god was not nearby. So he took it upon himself to get the water.

Peter carried his pail down to the riverside. He placed his feet carefully to keep from slipping into the water. Then he leaned out and scooped some water up with the pail. He set the full pail up on the bank, but its weight unbalanced him. His feet slid in the rocks and he was pulled under the water's surface.

While the Styx looked steady and calm, there was a current beneath its surface. It claimed him easy, dragging him under and pulling him far far away from the orchard. Peter tried to swim up, sometimes his hands breached the surface, but never his head. His lungs burned with lack of air, then with water. Then he was drowning. Drowning without dying.

There was never any telling how much time passed in the Underworld. But finally, finally... he was pulled from the river.

He vomited what felt like gallons of water, coughing the rest from his lungs. The pain faded quickly. Peter laid on his back and blinked wet eyes at the man standing over him. He was a shadow, blocking out the light above.

"Tony?" he rasped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall in. The trees needed water and I slipped."

Tony knelt beside him. "I know. I saw the water pail by the river." He scooped Peter up and pulled him to his chest. Instantly, he was dry. "You're safe now."

"Thank you." Peter's body shook in fear and relief. "That was horrible."

Tony pet his hair and held him close. "Come and get me next time the trees need water. I will call the rain to water them."

Tony helped him stand. With slow steps they walked back together to the orchard. Tony seemed far more quiet than usual. Peter couldn't place just what was wrong. He'd been warned not to try to cross the river. Was he not allowed to go near it at all? Or did Tony think he had tried to leave. Why would it bother him so much if he did?

They passed under the first branches of the orchard. Without thinking, Peter plucked the first pomegranate he saw. He stopped and admired the round, red, fruit in his hands. Tony stopped and turned, looking back at him.

"I've never tasted one of these." Peter laughed softly. "All this time picking them and caring for them, but I never eat them."

"If you eat the fruit in the Underworld, you can never leave," Tony reminded him.

"You wouldn't let me leave anyway."

"Maybe I would." There was a vulnerable honesty there in his eyes. He was right, wasn't he? This time he was right. Harry had never loved him. He had been young and foolish and naive. Tony didn't just show him desire and adoration in the way that Harry had, no. From Tony he received respect, admiration, trust. Because Tony loved him, truly.

"You thought, even if it was only for a moment, that I had tried to cross the river. Were you relieved when you realized it was an accident?" Peter looked at his face. He said nothing, gave nothing away with his expression.

Peter looked at the fruit in his hand. He dug his thumbs into the skin and pulled it apart. It bled pink onto his skin. Tony watched him in silence, seeming to hold his breath. Peter examined his face searching for one last reassure that he was truly wanted. Then he brought the fruit to his lips and bit into its seeds.

It was perfectly sweet. The taste of it coated his tongue. Juice dripped down his chin. When he swallowed, it was heavy in his stomach. He dropped the fruit and looked at the god.

His gaze was adoring, worshipful.

"Allow me a taste," Tony said. He reached for him, pulling him in. Their lips met and Peter moaned at a taste that was far sweeter than the fruit.

His hands held Tony's face, staining his cheeks pink. Strong hands held his back, guiding him to press in closer until they were flush. Peter moaned as a tongue slipped over his own, exploring and claiming his mouth. He felt high on him, willing and receptive to any of Tony's desires.

They stopped, only for a moment, and gazed at each other's faces. Then Tony took him and laid him back in the soft grass beneath the trees.

Tony stripped away his clothes. Each article was removed with gentle care and hot kisses pressed to his newly exposed skin. Every inch of him felt sensitive to the softness of his lips and the scratch of his beard. When he was naked, Tony returned above him to kiss his lips again. Peter let his hands roam over his chest and found that his clothes were gone, revealing a muscular and scarred chest. Tony caught his hand, holding it above his heart.

"Do you mind?" he said. His eyes shined.

Peter shook his head. "You're beautiful, Tony," he said. Tony caught his mouth in a kiss that was ripe with need.

Peter spread his legs apart and Tony settled between them. His kiss were soft and tender as he pushed slowly inside him. His mouth captured the high pitch whined that escaped Peter's lips. Slowly he was filled until Tony was fully inside him. His hands clung to Tony's shoulders and he stared up into gleaming brown eyes.

He dragged his fingers over his skin to cup his face in both hands. "I love you," Peter whispered.

Tony's smile was joyous. "I love you, Peter."

Peter gasped, head falling back into the grass as Tony moved inside him. The friction felt so intense that he could form words but that didn't stop him from whining and babbling. Tony kissed his lips, his bared neck, his chest. His lips sucked his nipples, tongue flicking and teasing over them. Peter's nails dug into Tony's shoulders. All he could do was hold on as his cock dragged over his prostate and Tony fucked him fast and deep. Frantic, like he was starving. When his mouth returned to Peter's, he held him tight, kissing his lips as if they dripped ambrosia. He refused to let, kissing him deeply and desperately until he could hold on no longer. His nails cut scratches into Tony's back as his body ached and shivered beneath him. His cum splattered, sticky and warm on his skin.

He panted hard, looking up at Tony again with nothing but adoration and love. He held Tony's beautiful face.

"Cum in me, please," Peter begged.

"Anything you want is yours," Tony pledged.

He moved him again, cock deep inside, body screaming with sensitivity. A tear rolled down Peter's cheek and he whimpered painfully, but he was euphoric. Tony kissed away his tears. Peter tasted the salt on his lips. Then Tony moaned, holding him tight. Peter covered his face in kisses. He felt him cum, making him sticky and wet inside.

Tony's cheeks were red and his smile was bright. Peter couldn't help but smile, too, and pulled him down into a deep unending kiss.

[manndo]

let me hear you [javier peña x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: javier peña x female!reader 

warning[s]: 18+ only due to swearing, sexual situations/references -- aka mentions of face fucking, marking/biting/claiming kink, mentions of piv sex, hints of sub!javi (idk what happened, but it happened!!); flashback; sprinkling of fluff; angst (no happy ending. . .for now??); one use of y/n cause it couldn’t be helped

word count: 3.0k

prompt[s]: inspired by this post from @pedropascalito​

summary: javier just wanted — no he needed — to hear your voice.

author’s notes: alright, here we go — first javier peña fic! this honestly got really out of hand?? i had seen @pedropascalito​’s post come up on my dashboard, and i got inspired to write this. however, this was supposed to be like, maybe 500 hundred words?? but like, apparently i can’t write drabbles and so here were are, 3,000 words later. yeaaa, so that is how that went down, lol. i do want to make note that this is also my first time at writing something semi-sexual — there isn’t any actual smut, but it is talked about/heavily implied. so again, if you aren’t 18+, please do not read/interact with this. also, if i missed tagging any warnings, please let me know. i am trying to make sure i tag all the warnings, but like i said, first time writing something with ~spice~ so i could have missed something. so please, let me know! :) as usual, all mistakes are my own. comments/likes/reblogs are loved and appreciated. enjoy lovelies! ☺️

It was his fucking fault.

Sure, he could blame it on the job, on Pablo fucking Escobar, but it wasn’t any of those things. It was him. It was always him.

“Come on,” he muttered as the first ring sounded through the receiver. Then a second, then a third. “Pick up the phone,” he begged softly after the fourth. “Please.” But, then there was a fifth ring and the tell tale click of your answering machine message about to begin. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath and pulled the phone away from his ear, ready to slam it back down on the receiver. But, he stopped himself and quickly brought the phone back to his ear.

“Hey, Y/N here! Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. But, if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!”

---- ☆ ☆ ----

“Hey, I got you something,” Javier said as he entered your apartment, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“A present? For me?” you asked, turning on your heel to face him. A smirk broke out over your face. “Something we can both enjoy?”

Javier chuckled softly and shook his head, taking a step toward you. “You are insatiable, princess,” he muttered as he reached out, brushing an errant strand of hair from your forehead.

You hummed. “I wonder where I get that from,” you said, your eyes wide and innocent as you reached out, forefinger and middle finger pressing against the bottom button of his tucked in red shirt.

Javier looked down at your hand as your fingers slowly walked their way up his chest, before coming to a halt at the third button from the top (the first two buttons were, as usually with Javier, already undone). With practiced ease, your fingers deftly worked open the button before the brushing against the exposed skin. Involuntarily, he shivered at the ghost of your touch, but it was gone before it started, your fingers now working on the next button. Before you could get to the second one, Javier reached out his free hand and wrapped it around your wrist, stopping your movements. You raised your eyebrow. “Maybe next time, princess,” he promised with a wink before letting go of your wrist. You didn’t continue your movements, and Javier took that as a sign to pull the bag he had been hiding from behind his back. He held it out between the two of you. You eyed it for a moment before taking it from him, and opening it. You furrowed your brow before reaching in and pulling out the box.

“An answering machine?” you asked, puzzled as you let the bag fall to the floor and held the box in your hands.

Javier hummed and shrugged his shoulder. “I noticed that you didn’t have one.”

“What gave it away?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your voice, glancing back at him.

Javier rolled his eyes. “You need one, princess.”

“Do I? I have been doing perfectly fine without it for the past few months, Javi,” you explained, flipping the box over. He watched your eyes scan the back of the box.

Javier sighed, and rested his hands on his hips. “Hermosa,” he started, his voice low and serious. “What if someone can’t get a hold of you, hm? What then?”

“They call back, that’s what.”

Javier let out a small, irritated growl, and you looked up from the box to him. Slowly, you raised your eyebrow as you gave him a questioning look. Javier huffed, tightening his hands on his hips, but said nothing. He watched as your questioning gaze began to study him, head titling ever so slightly as your beautiful eyes carefully took him in. And, with every second that passed, every inch of him that you gazed upon, it seemed as if you were figuring out the real reason Javier had bought you an answering machine in the first place. That he wanted — no needed — to be able to leave you messages. That he needed you to know he had called, and that you’d call him back once you got his message. To let him know you were home. To let him know you were safe. Because, there were times, times when he called and the phone would just ring and ring and ring, and fuck. Those were the times his heart would pound in his chest, and his mind would fill with all these terrible fucking scenarios of what could have happened. It was his own nightmare filled by his own experiences, the job he had dedicated his life to, and this. This answering machine; it wouldn’t elevate all those thoughts, Javier knew that, knew that it wouldn’t make them all magically disappear. But, there would be some temporary comfort from his aberrant mind.

“Alright, Javi,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. Javier watched as you took a step toward him, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’ll keep it. But, you,” you said, taking the box in your hand and pressing it against the middle of his chest. Javier’s hand immediately came up to cover yours, holding it and the box in place. “Are helping me set it up.”

Javier smiled as he brushed his thumb over the back of your hand. “Yes, ma’am.”

It hadn’t taken long to set up the machine itself. However, the recording was a different story.

The first time you tried to record yourself, Javier had interrupted you with a playful smack to your ass that had caught you completely off guard, causing you to yelp in the middle of your sentence. You had scolded him for his behavior, telling him to keep his hands to himself. With a smirk, he promised, but you didn’t believe him as you erased the recording and started again. And, you had every right not to believe him — because a moment later, he reached out, running his fingers up the side of your ribcage.

“Javi!” you squeed, side bending as you squirmed to get away from him before he could attack again. However, he was quicker, and was able to get one last swipe at your sides before you got fully out of his reach. He let out a small laugh, a grin pulling at his lips as you huffed, a few strands of your hair blowing with your breath, and placed your hands on your hips. “What did I tell you?” you asked, glaring down at him.

“Sorry, must have forgotten,” he mumbled, acting nonchalantly as he raised his beer bottle to his lips and took a swig, but his dark eyes were dancing with mischief.

You narrowed your eyes. “Forgotten my ass, you little shit,” you mumbled, stepping back to where you had been standing before. “Hands to yourself, Peña. You hear me?”

He stood up from the couch. “Alright, alright. Hands to myself,” he repeated and you eyed him for a moment. Javier could tell you were still skeptical that he would do something. “Promise,” he said before he breezed by you, heading toward the kitchen to grab another beer. Javier could feel your eyes on his back as he dropped the bottle in the trash and opened to the fridge to swipe a fresh one. When he turned around to head back in the living room, you were still eying him wearily, but you had already deleted the previous recording. You started recording again, your eyes finally leaving his to look down at the machine. A wicked grin spread across his face. In four quick strides, he was standing next to you and before you could give him a warning glare, Javier had leaned down and sunk his teeth into your bare shoulder blade (he silently thanked God you had chosen to wear a tank top that day).

You had, after all, said hands only.

“Javier,” you groaned, and for a brief moment, Javier had expected you to pull away, irritated by his actions. But, you didn’t pull away, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see you grasping at the corners of the end table, knuckles turning white. He mentally grinned, and bit down a little harder before worrying the skin between his teeth, and electing a whimper from your lips that went straight to his cock.

Javier knew you fucking loved this — the biting, the marking, the claiming. You had never said anything out right, but oh, Javier knew; he knew it by the way he found you admiring the marks he’d made the night before in the mirror, your hands gently running over the bruises. He knew by the mewling, the whimpers, the groans of pleasure you made. Or, his absolute favorite, the way your pussy clenched deliciously around his cock if he was buried inside of you.

Javier gave one last pinch of the skin between his teeth before pulling away. He grinned at the abused skin, could see the indentation of his teeth and imagined the beautiful colors it would turn within the hour. The thought sent another spike of arousal straight to his cock. You whipped your head around to face him, and though you were glaring at him, it didn’t matter. He could see the arousal in your face; the way your pupils were dilated, the way your lips were parted ever so slightly, the hitch in your breath. The grin on Javier’s face grew. “You only said hands, princess,” he said, holding his hands up, the unopened beer bottle still in one hand as he took a step back before letting himself fall back on to the couch.

“Peña,” you growled, voice low, warning, but Javier could hear it. That tinge of arousal. “I’m warning you.”

Javier chuckled, low and deep in his throat. He locked eyes with you, and leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees. “Warning me?” he asked, keeping his tone light as he looked away from you, and grabbing the bottle opener he’d left on the coffee table. “Warning me about what, princess?” He swiftly popped the bottle top off, and dropped the little metal top and opener back on the table. Javier leaned into the couch, resting one arm over the back of it as he looked at you, that grin still pulling at his lips. He took a long, slow swig of beer. He kept his eyes on you as he pulled the bottle away from his lips, waiting for you to say something. However, you were completely silent, but your eyes weren’t. No, they were still screaming for him. “Come on,” Javier started again, his voice an octave lower than before. He licked his lips, and watched as your eyes followed the movement. “What’s this warning you’re gonna give me?”

The seconds ticked by, the two of you silently watching each other. You were studying him so hard Javier couldn’t help but almost feel naked under your gaze, even with all his clothes on. He forced himself not to move, not to shift against the couch as he waited for you to say something, do something. He took a swig of his beer, and watched as your demeanor slowly shifted. Your back straighten, and a sly smirked pulled at your lips. He watched as you came to stand next to him, your thigh brushing against his knee.

Javier felt the tables were turning on him.

“Instead of a warning, how about this?” you started, resting one hand on the back of the couch while the other came to rest on high on Javier’s thigh as you leaned down, your lips only a few inches away from his. The hand on his thigh squeezed and Javier couldn’t help the small groan that escaped his lips. “You let me record this tiny, tiny, little message,” you explained, eyes flickering down to Javier’s lips, then to his crotch. Javier watched you lick your lips, hand sliding farther up his thigh, coming to a stop just short of where he wanted you to. “Without interruptions.” Your finger traced the outline of his half-hard cock, causing another groan to escape Javier’s lips as his eyes fell closed, hand gripping the bottle of beer in a death grip. “And, I’ll let you fuck my mouth,” you finished, and without warning, covered Javier’s clothed cock with your palm and pressed down, grinding your palm against him.

“Fuck,” Javier hissed, hips bucking into your hand, but as soon as it started, your hand was gone — and you were gone too. When his eyes opened, you were already standing up straight over him, looking down at him with that shit eating grin. Your eyes were dancing with arousal and mischief. Oh, how the tables had turned.

“You think you can be a good boy for me, Javi?” you asked, breathlessly and wanton, a sound that went straight to his cock. He nodded his head so quick that he was afraid he might break his neck. A wicked grin pulled at your lips as you turned your attention back to the machine.

It was the most painful ten minutes of his life because, of course, you wouldn’t like the first take. Or the second, or the third. Javier knew why you didn’t like them — it wasn’t cause you sounded bad, or you stammered ever so slightly in the middle. No, you were teasing him. You were purposely messing this up just so you could watch him squirm as he waited, his body humming in anticipation as his poor cock strained against his jeans. Javier had thought about shucking his belt, unzipping his pants, and taking out his cock, just to get some sort of relief, maybe even give it a few tugs. But, he wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to. Jesus Christ, allowed to — anyone else, and Javier wouldn’t have hesitate. But you, there was something about you that had him giving up the control he constantly needed. Maybe it was the way that when he pushed, you would push back— that constant back and forth that turned him on to no fucking end.

“Javi,” you called out, voice soft and practically singing. Javier snapped his head to look up at you. You were standing there, all doe eyed and innocent looking, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’m finished.” You took a step toward him, and reached out, giving his knee a squeeze. Without hesitation, he let his legs fall open and you came to stand between them. “See,” you mumbled, as you ran your hand from his knee to his thigh and back down again. “I knew you could be a good boy.” Javier’s cock twitched in the confines of his jeans. “And you know what good boys get?” You slowly went down, falling to your knees in front of him, and God, was it such a pretty picture. You grabbed the practically empty bottle of beer from his hand and set it on the end table beside you. “Good boys,” you started, hands coming to rest on his belt, “get rewarded.”

---- ☆ ☆ ----

The obnoxious beep pulled Javier out of his thoughts. “Fuck,” he muttered before realizing that he had said that out loud. “Shit, it’s—” he started and slammed his hand on the payphone box. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s me, princess. I wanted to — I needed—” Javier felt his heart beat rapidly in his chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just—I needed to hear your voice,” he said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. He quickly turned and glanced behind him. There was nobody near him, nobody that could hear the desperation — the absolutely fucking heartbreak because that’s what this was, even if he didn’t want to admit it — in his voice. But, still this was a shitty fucking place to be doing this.

But, he hadn’t thought — he saw the payphone and just called, the need to hear your voice so fucking strong. It had only been a week, but he fucking missed you. He missed everything about you, but God, did he miss your voice. He missed the way you sounded when you greeted him in the soft morning light after the two of you had woken up, limbs tangled around each other to the point where Javier wasn’t sure where one of you began and the other ended. Or, the way you sounded when you greeted him at your door after work, a smile on your face and your arms open, willing to be whatever he needed after a long, rough day. The sound of your voice when you whispered sweet nothings into his ear before you both fell asleep. The sound of your laughter when he told one of his jokes, or when he tickled your sides because he knew you were ticklish. And God, he missed the sound of your voice when you said his name. Javier. Javi. Peña. Pendejo (the one name usually reserved for when he’d done something particularly, utterly stupid or reckless). It didn’t matter what you called him, or even when you did — when you were happy, sad, angry, sleepy, aroused — he just missed it, so fucking much.

Fuck, he just missed you.

And now, here he was, standing at a goddamn payphone, leaving you a vague fucking message. He coughed, and softly banged his hand against the payphone’s metal box. “Please cal—” The line went dead, the recorder cutting him off, and leaving Javier with the numbing sound of a dial tone.

“Fuck!” he cursed as he pulled the phone away from his ear. Javier looked down at it for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh, eyes falling closed once more as he let the phone come to rest against his forehead. “Fuck,” he whispered again, his fingers clenching around the phone. The dial tone was softer now, not pressed against his ear, but he could still hear it. It was still as loud as ever, still ringing in his ear, taunting him and reminding Javier of what he had lost.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 19

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

While at first the days and nights that Mulder is away on a case feel lonely, she soon comes to appreciate the time to herself. She reads more, watches the rom-coms that he despises, has one-sided conversations with Priscilla, and gives her vibrator, long since relegated to the back of her bedside drawer, a second lease on life. When Mulder is home he’s more animated and energetic, their sex exciting and passionate. The things she loves best about him magnified, but also some of the worst. There have been a few nights he’s missed dinner without so much as a phone call, and her worry quickly gave way to irritation when he waltzed in the door raving about secret storage facilities hidden in mountains. They create new routines, new boundaries and expectations, and as time wears on, they adjust. He’ll call if he’s going to miss dinner, and she won’t guilt trip him when unexpected cases ruin their plans.

The day before Thanksgiving, he gets a tip from one of his sources about a UFO crash site in Utah and books himself and Monica tickets for that night. Scully questions whether he’s going to miss Thanksgiving dinner at her mother’s and he grimaces, saying he hopes to be back but as usual, can’t make any promises.

The last she hears from him is around 8:00 am on Thanksgiving day when he asks her to send his regrets to her mom. She tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she promises to pack up some leftovers for him to have when he gets home. When he hasn’t called by Friday afternoon, she’s a little bit worried. By Friday night, she’s panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, she goes to the Gunmen’s, using her own special knock that spells out “doc” in Morse code.

“Hey, Sis, are you okay?” Missy greets her with a worried frown, now an honorary fourth member of the trio.

“I haven’t heard from Mulder in over twenty four hours,” she answers, breezing past Missy and into the tech room. “I need you to find him for me.”

The Gunmen work their magic while Missy pours her drink after drink. They track his flight into Salt Lake City and then ping his cell phone just outside Provo around 8:00 pm Thursday night. After that, nothing.

“What do you know about the case he was investigating?” Byers asks, perched behind a computer with Missy’s arms draped over his shoulders, her chin resting on his head.

Scully rubs her hands over her face in frustration. “Nothing, other than an alleged UFO crash site. He didn’t give me any other information.”

“What about his partner, Agent Reyes?” Langly asks, “do you have any way to get ahold of her?”

“I’ve tried her cell a hundred times, it’s off,” Scully replies, feeling tears coming up again.

“Does she have a family, someone else you could contact to see if she’s been in touch?” Byers adds.

“She has a partner, Dahlia,” Scully explains, “but I don’t know her last name to look up her number. I’m sure it’s in Monica’s file as her emergency contact, but the whole Hoover Building is shut down for the holiday. I know that her first name is Dahlia, she works at a flower shop in Alexandria, and they live in Palisades. That’s it.”

“Well we can work with that, why don’t you go home and get some rest?” Frohike offers, resting his hand on her shoulder.

She shakes her head, quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers, her voice small and afraid.

“I’ll come with you, Sis,” Missy says, replacing Frohike behind Scully and wrapping her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

After Missy has gathered her things and kissed Byers goodbye, she drives Scully’s car back to her apartment and plies her with more alcohol. They hold hands as they sleep, Scully’s dreams plagued by visions of Mulder detained, hurt, or worst of all, dead. If she’d had any idea that having the X files reopened would put his life at risk, she never would have entertained the idea.

Please come home, she begs God, the universe, Mulder himself if he’s somewhere listening. Please be okay.

The phone shrieks and she sits up abruptly, her head spinning. Early dawn light is just beginning to seep into the room and she feels like she hasn’t slept at all.

“Mulder?!” she blurts out, a thousand prayers on the tip of her tongue.

“No, it’s Langly, sorry. We got a number for Agent Reyes’ partner.”

Missy is now awake, and scrambles to the hallway to get a pen and paper so Scully can write down Dahlia Vidales’ phone number.

“Thank you Langly, bye,” she says and hangs up without waiting for a response. She dials Dahlia’s number with shaky hands, repeating please please please in her head over and over.

“¿Hola?” says a creaky voice, and Scully glances at the clock to see that it’s only 6:00 am.

“Dahlia?” she asks desperately, her head feeling thick and muddy.

“¿Si, Quién es?”

“This is Dana Scully, have you heard from Monica recently?” Her throat feels thick and dry, her ears ringing in protest of what they might hear.

“Oh, Hi Dana. Yes, I spoke to her last night around ten pm.”

She lets out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief.

“Was Mulder with her?” she questions, her jaw quivering.

“Si, she said their cell phones were confiscated and they had stopped at a diner to get something to eat. She called me from a payphone. Is everything okay, Dana?”

She’s shaking, her body suddenly freezing even under her down comforter. The tension she’s been holding for the last two days erupts in a wave of tremors and she starts sobbing.

“Did she say when they’ll be home?” she forces out around her tears.

“They were hoping to get a flight this morning, so sometime today, should be.”

“Thank you, Dahlia. Sorry to wake you,” she says, and hangs up.

Missy holds her as she shakes uncontrollably, her head aching as her racking sobs jostle her dehydrated brain. Missy runs her a hot bath and after some ibuprofen, two big glasses of water, a set of warm clothes and a hot meal, she feels physically much better.

Mentally, she has shifted from worry, fear, and despair to white hot rage. When he walks in that door, she is going to kill him.

———

“Later, Reyes, sorry to hijack your Thanksgiving,” he says with a regretful smile as Monica slides into a cab. He grabs the next one, chucking his duffel bag into the trunk and slumping into the back seat with an exhausted sigh.

It’s been a long few days. They’d located the crash site and even got a little peek at it from behind a utility shed, but soon after they were loaded up in a paddy wagon and interrogated for six hours in a place that was definitely not a police station. When they were finally released, it was without their cell phones, though the suits were kind enough to let them keep their FBI badges.

He needs a shower and a shave, and a good night's sleep. He hopes Scully has gone grocery shopping, and if he's really lucky, there will still be Thanksgiving leftovers. He’d tried calling her from the terminal but she hadn’t answered. At least he has a full day off tomorrow before getting back to the daily grind on Monday.

The cab drops him off outside Scully’s apartment building and he tosses some money over the seat before retrieving his bag. Once inside, he’s fitting his key into the lock when the door swings open and he finds Melissa on the other side.

“Oh, hey Missy,” he says with a touch of surprise.

“I was just leaving,” she replies with an icy stare, and he wonders if something is up with her and Byers.

“Okay, see ya,” he says as she brushes past him and down the hall.

The apartment is dim, a fire crackling in the fireplace the only source of light.

“Scully?” he calls out as Priscilla trots up to him, rubbing her flank against his leg. He picks her up and scratches under her chin, letting her rub her cheek against his two-day stubble.

“I’m here,” Scully says flatly, and he realizes she’s lying on the couch.

He picks up his bag and walks it to the bedroom, dropping it on the floor and discarding his suit jacket on the bed. Returning to the living room, he leans down to kiss her on the cheek and then stands between the fire and the couch, facing her.

“Did you have plans for dinner?” he asks, “I’m starving.”

She scoffs, but he can’t make out her face in the dim light.

“Make your own fucking dinner,” she spits at him, and he physically recoils. Scully very rarely swears, so when she does, it means something.

“Whoa,” he says with a concerned tone, “What’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?” she repeats, moving to sit up. “What’s going on with me? Hmm, let’s see,” she continues, her voice shifting to angry sarcasm. “Perhaps, Mulder, what’s going on with me is that my boyfriend skipped town just in time to miss Thanksgiving dinner with my family and I had to answer questions all night about where he was. Or maybe,” she says as she leans over and snaps on the lamp on the end table, illuminating her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, pronounced bags resting underneath them. “Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t heard from you in over fifty hours, not a single phone call, or email, nothing. Maybe what’s going on with me, Mulder, is that I have barely slept in two days.” She stands, moving towards him, her voice rising in volume and her bottom lip quivering. “Maybe what’s going on with me is that I thought you were fucking dead, and I had to track down Dahlia to learn that not only were you alive and well, but you were also perfectly capable of calling me, but simply chose not to. MAYBE that is what is going on with me, Mulder!”

He stands there shell-shocked as she pushes past him, slamming the bedroom door shut as wails of agony erupt from the other side. Priscilla jumps up on to the coffee table and quirks her head at him with a meow.

“I have no idea,” he says to the cat.

He cautiously opens the bedroom door and finds Scully sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a wad of tissues in her hand and tears streaking her face. She looks up at him with a wounded expression that he’s never seen before, and would never like to again

“I’m sorry, Scully, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he says softly, approaching her.

She gives him an incredulous look.

“How the hell would I not worry if I hear nothing from you for two days, Mulder? What was I supposed to think? And why didn’t you call me?”

“They took my phone, Scully,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“What about the phone in your hotel room, Mulder? Or a pay phone, or a goddamn stranger’s phone. Your cell phone is not the only device available for you to contact me with.”

He’s starting to feel like he’s being lectured by his mother for staying out past curfew.

“Okay, Jesus, I get it. I’ll try to call next time,” he says with an irritated tone.

“You’ll try?” Scully asks him, the anger taking center stage again.

He shrugs. “Shit happens, Scully. You don’t know what it’s like out in the field. Sometimes you don’t have access to a phone, or you’re running down a lead and just can’t waste the time to make a call.”

The shift in her demeanor tells him that was the wrong thing to say.

“Waste the time?” she asks in a tight whisper. “Calling me so I know you’re okay is a waste of your time?”

“God, no, Scully, that’s not what I meant. You’re twisting my words around. Look, I’m exhausted, I’ve barely gotten any sleep, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“YOU’VE barely gotten any sleep?!” she screams, then stands and walks towards him. Even with the ten inches he has on her, she looks larger than life, imposing, and scary. “I have been lying awake crying for two days worried about you!” she shouts up at him. “Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

He’s dumbstruck. He can’t remember the last time she referred to it as her apartment instead of theirs.

“Scully, you can’t be serious, all my stuff is he-”

“I said get OUT!” She cuts him off. She picks up his bag and walks it to the front door, tossing it into the hallway.

He walks slowly towards the door, waiting for her to say she doesn’t mean it, that they should get some sleep and talk about this in the morning. She stands beside the open door, her chest heaving and her jaw set, eyes focused on some far-away point but most certainly not on him. He steps into the hallway, opening his mouth to speak, and she slams the door in his face.

He hears the thunk of the deadbolt, and the sound strikes him as similar to the final nail in a coffin.

[archaeopter-ace]

Writing Progress

For the longest time, I did a pretty good job at ‘only have one serious WIP at a time,’ and I knew a lot of other authors spawned new AUs all the time but I couldn’t see myself being one of them, I was much more determined to shove new ideas onto the backburner until they fizzled into nothing, never to see the light of day.

And now the shoe is on the other foot, and though I’m not sure how I got here, I can’t say I regret it ;P

So, without further ado:

Don’t Listen to Kafka: This is still a Work in Progress, I SWEAR. First chapter of the next installment is about 70% done, but I’m gonna need a lot more buffer before I’m ready to post, and I also still have to decide whether a ‘Get Enrique out the Darklands’ plot should be worked in here, or saved for later. Quite the conundrum, given how many other events and complicated plot threads are predicated on it, and it’s honestly really daunting to try to figure out how to deal with Gunmar once and for all. On the flipside, given that rescuing Enrique drives so much of the plot once Bular is killed, it feels like leaving the story unfinished to leave him in the Darklands. Of course, if my paralyzing indecision and writer’s block prevents me from finishing the story, then the story is still unfinished but in a much more literal way...

North Salem Possibilities: I had some ideas for what happns next, but haven’t fleshed much out. Truthfully, I’ve sort of fallen out of the phandom once again, but if the past (*checks calendar*) 13 years of falling in and out of this fandom is any indication, I will definitely come back around someday

Through Myself and Back Again: The next chapter is half done! Or possiby it’s 90% done because I am considering splitting it in two. I haven’t touched it since December, though (see above) and what I have got done needs a rewrite, since I realized I was making it more complicated for myself than it needed to be. Looking forward to writing Sam’s POV, and, later, introducing Jazz’s daemon. Possibly some of my ideas will just be written up as meta rather than fic chapters, like dealing with Vlad’s whole deal.

I Was a Teenage Troll: I’ve got bits and pieces written, but don’t expect an update anytime soon. This one is very much on the backburner, and whenever I do get a surge of ToA inspiration, I try to direct that towards DLtK, so yeah. Still really love this AU!

In Loco Parentis: So I haven’t even starting posting this one yet, but if you’re wondering where all my current energies are being invested, this is it. This is the thing that is The Most Exciting Thing to my brain right now, a crossover between Forever and Daredevil that began with two unrelated thoughts: 1. What if Henry Morgan adopted more kids than just Abe? At least as often as Bruce Wayne, spread out over decades - he’d probably be a grandfather several times over, can you imagine the family reunions? and 2. Forever is a police procedural and like all procedurals they take a very loose approach to due process and fourth amendment rights, including treating ‘lawyering up’ as a confession of guilt/worst possible roadblock to an investigation, instead of, you know, a constitutional right and good idea all-around. Gosh I’d love to drop a competent defense attorney like Matt Murdock on their heads and take them down a peg.

I am so deep down this rabbit hole that I swore I wasn’t going to go down, lol. There’s so many parallels to draw - but also points of delicious conflict. Like Henry and Matt are both stubborn men who hold strongly to their moral codes, and are willing to lay down their lives to help complete strangers, but where Henry holds to his oaths to First Do No Harm as much as he possibly can, the line Matt is unwilling to cross is Thou Shalt Not Kill, leaving a lot of grievous bodily harm still on the table. Also they were both at one point locked in the back of a New York taxi that was driven into the river in order to drown them in a plot orchestrated by their nemesis, which is a weirdly specific coincidence.

[onlyfortheplot]

I Don’t Know My Name?

➳ PART OF THE DADDY UNIVERSE

➳ Pairing:Habia Lev x Fem!Reader ft. Koji L/N

➳ Synopsis:

“I can give you an autograph if you want. Your kid said that you liked—“

You raised a hand to get him too stop.

“You’re Lev Haiba?“ you said softly, he gave a through nod, swiping of his sunglasses in proof.

“See?“

“See.“ you said. And you did see. Oh god.

➳ Warning: Slight language!! 

➳ Word Count: 2.4K

➳ A/N:

OMG!! I could barley focus on this because of the uwujima things (if you haven’t seen it its on my blog!). But, I am 100% gonna write a part 2/ extra for this??? Like it seems like a part 2 sort of fic??? Should I?? ANYWAY ENJOY <3

You shuffled the books on your desk, piling them on top of each other almost randomly. You had changed the order of these books five times, still bored as you gazed at the almost empty bookstore. Sure, it was still morning. And sure, maybe most people won’t plan to visit a bookshop at seven a.m, but you couldn’t help but wish that people would come. You had been sitting here, almost two hours, watching as a few people passed the windows, some stopping to wave a small ‘hi.’ Bu, you were glad that you could some extra cash, your sons’ birthday was coming up after all and you couldn’t expect his useless existence of a father to do much.

You had remembered, since you had been divorced to him, the excuses he had came up with to not celebrate his son’s birthday. On Koji’s second birthday he had made the excuse that he was too young to have a birthday party. You had looked at him angrily, fuming as you asked why he had celebrated his step-daughter’s first birthday. He shrugged, saying it was the way it was.

On Koji’s third birthday, you had asked your ex-husband to get him a present, a small figurine that Koji had begged you for. Then, on the day of his birthday, your ex had nonchalantly said he forgot, bu had bought him a gift card to his favorite store. You had grabbed the gift card, and throwing it on the ground. You swore as you kicked him out of your house. 

Koji’s fourth and fifth had gone swell. The cake was tasty, being made by your best friend and your mother. The gifts were even better!

But, Koji’s sixth birthday is when it had all gone down. You still cried at night as you remembered it. It wasn’t really your fault, or at least not fully. If anything it was your stupid ex’s fault. He had come to Koji’s party, slightly intoxicated. You could smell the dampening scent of alcohol. It was disgusting. You remembered, as he punched open the door and trying to grab Koji. You got angry, shoving him away from your son, pulling him behind you.

“Gimme my son.“he slurred, as he made grabby hands at him, “I want it.“

You gritted your teeth angrily as you slapped him, across his face. He looked at you shocked, thick tears streaming down his face. He then passed out on your living room floor.

That was the last time you and your son had seen him. Not that you tried to reach out after that. Even Koji had given up asking about his father. 

You watched, eyes thick with incoming tears and tiredness, at Koji, who lay asleep on the front couch of the bookstore. You sighed, rubbing your temples. You could only hope that his seventh birthday would go smoothly.

“Mommy?“ you whipped your head to Koji, who looked up at you with drooping eyes. You gave him a soft smile, waving him over.

“Come here, baby.“ He nodded, rubbing his eyes, as he moved from the couch to your lap. He shuffled on, wrapping his small hands on your neck. You rubbed his back as he cuddled into you.

“Are you sleepy, buddy.“ He gave a muffled response and a nod.

“Well, do you want to stay here or go read?”

He lifted his head up, looking at you.

“Books? Can I read comic books?” His eyes twinkled, even through the obvious drowsiness.

You nodded as he gave you a smile, making his way to move off your lap.

“Be careful okay?“ you murmured as you ruffled his hair.

“Okie!“ you watched as he shuffled off, behind some bookshelves. You heard the slight rummaging of books, and the shifting of papers. You listened as Koji let out a soft sigh.

You were glad he was mature—or more mature than other six soon-to-be seven year old. You reached under the stack of books for the magazine you had hidden. It wasn’t a bad magazine, but you felt slightly guilty as you flipped through it looking for a specific page.

“There it is.“ Your fingers brushed over the smooth page, as you gazed at the model.

Most models in the magazine were nice, good-looking, but this one made your stomach clench. There was just something different. Maybe it was the green, cat-like eyes that seemed to look through the paper, right at you. Or maybe it was perfectly trimmed hair, that framed his face nicely. Or maybe it was his long, lithe arms that seemed so elegant. You blushed as you looked at him. Whatever it was, it made your stomach flutter.

You flipped through the magazine resting your hand on your cheek.

“Lev Haiba” you read out-loud as you saw another picture, his name printed out right under him.

“Nice name,“ you muttered to yourself.

You continued to flip through, stopping periodically, to look over at the customers that began to file in. You gave a small wave as they grinned at you. Some came over to your desk, to which you leaned back slightly, cupping the magazine in an attempt to shield it from the customer's view. Some merely gave you a small greeting and went behind bookshelves.

“Good mornin’ L/N!“ You recognized , the smiling figure and smiled.

“Good morning,“ you replied, “How was your day?“

“Well, the day just started, L/N. It is just eight! Or did your boring job make you forget.“ she teased.

“Yukie,“ you whined as you closed the magazine, “it’s not my fault!“

“Sure,“ she smirked peering onto your desk, “Whatca got there?“

“Nothing,“ you said, stiffly, as you pushed the magazine towards you, “So what can I get—“

She didn’t let you continue, as she walked forward, swiping the magazine from under your nose.

She flipped through the pages, stopping where the pages seemed to be more creased.

“Oh?” she raised a brow, looking at the image of Lev, “Y/N you have a kid!” 

You scoffed, swiping the book back, and stuffing it in your bag under you.

“I am looking, respectfully.“ you replied to her amused glare.

“Sure.“ she rolled her eyes, as she looked around, “Anyway where’s the kid?“

“Koji?“ you asked,”Reading.“

“His birthday is coming up soon, right?“

“Yeah. A month and a half.“ you said, as you gave a small to the old man who had just walked in.

“Have you thought of a present?“ 

You bit your lips, scrunching your nose.

“I’m thinking.“ you muttered.

“Have you thought of getting him a new dad.“ You choked, gaping at Yukie. She had said it almost, nonchalantly, you had thought you heard her wrong.

“Yah? What about that model?“ she wiggled her brows, laughing at your emotionless face.

“He’s a model.“ you said before pointing to yourself, “And I’m a single mother with a degree in law, but works in a bookstore.“

“Well, he is a nice guy you know,“ you gaped at her again, jaw dropping at the statement.

“You—you know him?“ you screeched, receiving odd looks from your customers, “Yukie, why didn’t you tell—“

“I thought you were looking, respectfully.“ she said in a teasing tone. You huffed, crossing your arms.

“I was, but—“

“Crap!“ someone yelled as they ran through the door, slamming it open with their feet. You instinctively lept to your feet, at the cursing man. Your heart beat in your chest, as the man looked behind him, before walking into the store. 

Giant. That was the first thing you noticed. He had to bend under the door frame to make sure his baseball hat wasn’t knocked off. You gasped as he stretched slightly, his full height revealed. You felt small. So small. You weren’t short— or not too short, but beside this man. You were an ant compared to him.

The next thing you noticed, was his lean figure, draped with multiple layers, a hoodie being the top. His pants hung low, on his hips, the belt being useless. The sunglasses were pushed right up the bridge of his nose, hiding his eyes from you. You scrunched your nose, as you thought. Familiar.

“He told me I should have been careful, but it wasn’t my fault. This time. I think.“ he muttered to himself.

You leaned closer, as customers gave him an annoyed glance, but continued with their work.

“Can I do something for you. Sir.“ you added, to be respectful. He winced away, looking at you with eyebrows raised high.

“Wait, people actually come here?“ he asked, his voice low and gruff. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yes people come to my store. What can I do to help you“

“What?“ he asked, pulling out a phone from his pocket, fumbling as he swore.

“Sir, if you could not swear, that would be much appreciated,“ you gritted your teeth. Just who did this man think he was.

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair, as he walked behind a couple of bookshelves. You peered your eyes, suspicious.

“Is that normal?“ Yukie pointed at the door. You sighed.

“No?“ Sometimes it was, it really depended on the day. You just wish it wouldn’t be the day you brought your kid to the store.

“Anyway, about Koji’s birthday. Just think about getting a—“

“Cool!“ you flinched at the high voice, that you knew was your sons’.

“Isn’t that Koji’s voice?“ Yuki murmured.

“That’s so cool, mister!” 

You lept from your seat, stomping across the store.

“Thanks!“

“Are you really a...“

“Model? Yeah!“

You paused. A model in your bookstore? You slowly peeked from behind a shelf. You gritted your teeth as you saw the man from before, crouching down to talk to your son. He had taken of his hat, his silver hair tousled as he ran a hand through them. He grinned at your son, who looked at him with awe.

“My mom loves models!“

“Really? Who?”

“This one model named Lev! She looks at him all the time. She talks about him too. She—“

“Koji L/N!“ you hissed as you jumping from behind the shelf, scaring both the man and Koji.

“Mom!“ he shrieked, baching away from the stranger.

“Koji L/N, what in world are you doing.“ Heat crawled into your cheeks as you refused to look at the man.

“Mom I—“

“No excuses, young man.“ you hissed, “What have I told you about strangers!“

“But, he’s not a stranger! He’s a model!“ he squeaked under your intense gaze. You turned your head slightly, looking at the man.

“Sir, you could be a model, a doctor, or the goddamn president, but when I say—“

“I’m sorry ma’am!“ he gushed, bowing “I didn't mean to hurt anyone, Its just that the press keeps on bothering me.“

You looked at him. His silver hair falling over his head, as he continued to bow his head. You sighed, kneeling in front of him, and patting his head.

He looked up, looking at you. His glasses had slipped off, revealing his slanted green eyes. Well shit.

“I can give you an autograph if you want. Your kid said that you liked—“

You raised a hand to get him too stop. 

“You’re Lev Haiba?“ you said softly, he gave a through nod, swiping of his sunglasses in proof.

“See?“

“See.“ you said. And you did see. Oh god.

“I’m sorry!“ you sighed, as you looked at Koji, warily. “Koji, Auntie Yuki is up front.” He nodded, giving a small, apologetic smile, before he rushed off.

“Its too early to deal with this.“ you muttered, as you continued to kneel before the man.

“So Mr.Haiba?“ you asked, he shot his eyes to yours.

“Call me Lev!“ he grinned, giving you a big thumbs up.

“I—are you really Lev Haiba?” 

“Yeah!“ he looked at you, tilting his head in confusion, “I look like myself, right?“

You gave him a deadpan look.

“Okay, first of all—“

“What’s your name?“ he blurted out, blushing slightly.

“Pardon?“

“Name. What’s my—your — name.“ he stumbled over his words, as be rubbed the nape of his neck.

“Y/N L/N,“ you said.

“Y/N. A pretty girl for a pretty name?“ he sounded confused, even if it were his own words he spoke.

“What?“ you asked incredulously.

“You’re pretty?“ he said, more a question than a real statement.

You rubbed your temples, softly pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Let’s restart. Hi!” you looked up to him, hiding the wariness with a layer of warmth, “My name’s Y/N L/N, what’s yours?”

“Lev Habia!“ he said, holding a lithe hand out to you. It really was elegant. You reached out grasping it. You fluttered your lashes, as he looked into your eyes. The blush grew as you grasped tighter on his hand. He squeezed slightly, as his eyes immediately shot to your fingers. You giggled, as you removed your hand and wiggled your empty ring-finger towards him. He sighed, as if content. You smiled as you looked up at him. His eyes were so pretty. His lashes fluttered slightly, as he blinked at your face. At the awe in it.

He had lied when, he blamed their run in on the press. Or at least, he wasn’t telling the whole truth. Sure, there were a couple of crazy fan girls trying to follow him. But, he wanted to come here. Come to see you,at least. He remembered months ago, when you had screamed at a man in front of your bookstore, giving him a glare that could kill. He remembered the scoff you had given as you shrugged him off and slamming the door in his face. It was a weird reason to be attracted to someone, rather it would be something most people avoided. He remembered telling Yaku about the incident. He could feel the disappointment reeking from his senpai after he told him.

“But, senpai, she’s so pretty!“ he had whined to Yaku, who had called him a moron and promptly cut the call.

He looked at you, with your hard, peeking out from your poorly tied ponytail. His eyes trailed from your hair to your face, especially your eyes, that glowed with curiosity. He blushed.

“You have a cute kid!“ he blurted, taking in your surprised face.

“Would you—would you like to meet him?“ you asked shyly, looking at the ground.

Lev smiled, his eyes crinkling.

Yes. Yes he would.

[221bshrlocked]

I saw you answered my ask about Mando requests!! Yay!!! Would you write a Mando x reader fic where she had a lot of trauma in the past (being assaulted/stalked at 18 and having an abusive/toxic relationship at 22-23) and she has a lot of anxieties and trust issues? Please and thank you!

Hey friend, I’m sorry it took me a while to get to your request. I hope you like this, and just a quick fyi to anyone reading this, I am not currently taking any requests so this and a couple of others are just exceptions :)

The first time you feel the Mandalorian’s touch, you shrink away from him, your entire body trembling before you quickly move behind Peli. It was a complete accident and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve such a reaction. He was never violent or cold towards anyone who didn’t mean him harm, but looking at you now, with your eyes aimed away from him and hands clinging onto Peli, he can’t help but let out a string of apologies. Peli believes it must be the end of the universe because did the Mandalorian just apologize?

He says nothing as you run out of the office, and as soon as he moves towards the door to ask if you were alright, Peli holds him back and tells him to let it go, briefly mentioning something about you not having a good track record with people of his kind. When he asks her where you could have possibly seen other Mandalorians, Peli laughs and tells him that she was referring to him being a man. She doesn’t need to say anything else for him to understand what that might have been about.

By the time he does make it back to his ship, he sees you playing around with the kid, laughing and running after him before he starts running after you.

“He likes you.” The Mandalorian breaks the little game and raises out his hand to let you know that he means you no harm. You look cautiously at him, frantically turning around to try and see if you can hide. But then you watch the child running towards the big bounty hunter and raising up his hands. You could only gawk when he leans down and carries the kid in his arm, fixing his clothes and saying nothing as the kid babbles before he shoves one of the large gloved fingers in his mouth. You’re surprised by the scene unfolding in front of you. You’ve never seen someone like him be so caring and soft with another, let alone show this much affection without needing to assert his dominance.

“I am sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to...it was not my intention to scare you or make you feel uncomfortable.” You’re still staring at him when the kid starts whining and you nod briefly as you watch the bounty hunter take some cookies out of his pocket and hand them to the kid. “Slow down, don’t eat them all.” His voice is a whisper and you can’t help but run away at the sight of them. The Mandalorian doesn’t understand what he could have possibly done now but he doesn’t run after you, afraid he’d scare you even more.

The second time he touches you, it’s because you’re asking him if you could play with the kid while he fixes up the Razor Crest with Peli. His gloved hands skim over your wrist accidentally and he immediately apologizes, remembering what Peli told him many cycles ago about you having issues with someone like him. He backs away when he sees your eyes widen in shock and your lips quivering, not giving you a chance to say anything as he to his ship to ease your anxiety. You feel a strange sensation crawl up your neck face breaking out into a smile when you feel your wrist tingling where he touched you. But the comforting sensation is gone as soon as you touch your skin, the memory of his soft touch twisting until you can only remember the hurt you experienced under another’s touch.

You say nothing to him as you bring him the child before he leaves and the Mandalorian thanks you profusely for taking care of his foundling while he patched him his kid. You offer him a slightly forced smile and a quick wave before you move back to Peli’s office. 

Small progress is still progress.

The third time you feel him is when you, him and Peli go to a cantina looking for some parts for his ship. They’re bargaining with someone so you decide to give them some space, approaching the bartender and asking him if he had anything for the kid. You’re in the middle of paying for the juice when someone comes behind you and grabs your waist, laughing like a drunk as he whispers the vilest things in your ear. You’re whimpering at his touch and closeness, and the sound breaks the Mandalorian’s heart. Without thinking twice of the consequences of his actions, he’s standing up and heading towards the two of you, wrapping his hand as softly as possible around your wrist and pushing you behind him. You gulp at the sheer size of the man you’re hiding behind, shushing the kid as the bounty hunter looks at the drunk and his gang. He warns them once and when the drunk man tries to punch the Mandalorian, he’s ducking away before laying a blow right in the middle of his face. You watch as the man falls down and his friends try to pick him up to leave. You say nothing as he turns around to ensure that you’re alright and you don’t look at him, can’t even if you tried.

It takes him many sleeping cycles to realize that you never thanked him or even dared to look into his helmet following the incident because you were terrified of him. He’d shown you that he was just like any other man, and whatever hopes he had getting to know you were crushed.

But something magical happens because the fourth time the two of you touch is of your own volition. The Mandalorian is surprised and doesn’t understand how he should react so he opts to stay still and silent. He’s fixing his ship one minute, and the next thing he knows, you’re running towards him with a medical kit and taking his gloves off to inspect his hand when you hear him swear and drop the tools. His breath hitches when he feels you rubbing some sort of ointment on the mild burn on his wrist. His eyes are boring into your focused expression and once you’re done, he puts his gloves back on and thanks you before walking up the ramp. The bounty hunter hides in the refresher and takes his helmet off, shutting his eyes in relief when he realizes that deep down, he must have known that you were a friend because his reflexes never kicked in and he hadn’t tried to cut your arm off when you revealed his skin.

You, however, don’t realize what you were just able to do until he’s out of sight. You look down at your hands, refusing to believe that you willingly touched him without cowering away. It’s both frightening and hopeful and you sleep soundly at night, replaying the memory in your mind over and over again.

The fifth time, maker, the fifth time you feel Mando’s touch is when he comes to you and tells you that he took care of the men you spoke of. You’re shocked and unable to process his words. Mando takes his gloves off and holds out his hands, hoping that you’d take them and allow him to comfort you. He smiles to himself when you slip your smaller fingers into the palm of his hand before throwing yourself in his arms. He says nothing as you break down in his embrace, thanking him for doing something that he didn’t need to do. He shushes you and whispers pretty things in your ears, telling you that no harm would ever come to you as long as you’re around. You sense discomfort from him when you ask him whom he went after.

“I don’t wish for you to be afraid of me mesh’la.” He admits lowly and you can’t help but smile up at him once more before you wrap your arms around him.

“I could never be afraid of you Mando. You’re my safety.” You confess to him and wait for a few moments to ask him again.

“I went after both of them sweet girl, the one from your younger days and the one who drove you away from your new home.” Mando speaks through the vocoder and you feel him tighten his hold around your back when he feels you sob against him.

“Why Mando? Why did you do that?” You needed to know, hoping that whatever it was you saw between the two of you the last time you spoke was not a figment of your imagination. He was so quiet that night as you apologized for not being more friendly with him.

“Hearing what they’ve done to you hurt me more than you can ever imagine. I wanted you to never waste another moment of thought on them and- and I wished for you to feel safe with me.” Mando confessed quietly as he kept you in his arms for a little while longer before you pulled away.

“Oh Mando, I always feel safe with you.” You take his hands in yours and bring them to your lips, kissing both palms before he rested them on your cheeks. Slowly leaning forward, Mando rested his visor against your forehead before pulling away.

“No more sad memories sweet girl.” Mando broke the silence after a while and watched as you looked up at him with admiration and love in your eyes.

“You healed them all Mando...you healed them all.”

[vidalinav]

More House of Wind Headcanons: Rooms/Floors Edition

These actually help me a lot writing Queen of Queens, sort of like jotting down notes for your fic. So here goes!

There are four levels; the main (top), the first floor of bedrooms, where Cassian and Azriel stay, the second floor of bedrooms where Nesta stays and where there’s a private library, the third level that has the kitchen, and then the levels that start being the library. (This is canon-taken straight from the beginning of ACOSF) 

But there starts being more levels and rooms in between the actual house and the library, and NO ONE knows where they came from. Nesta very much thinks it’s the House; however, EVERYONE else thinks that it’s Nesta who did it unknowingly. Because if she’s not in the house, the rooms do not exist. They start thinking that maybe the House is siphoning magic from Nesta, but it is really just Nesta. Whatever she imagines in the house, exists. 

First Floor: 

Is just the main floor. Honestly not much of it changes, because of the formality of it being the floor that business is held. The House could change it and change it back, but Nesta thinks that’s a hassle, because then every time someone comes over she’s like do you need this room? And so she doesn’t bother with it. They really stop eating in that dining room anyways, so it becomes a stage house that is sort of the beware all who come here type of entrance. The only time it actually changes is during holidays, but they end up having a terrarium of sorts to the side of the house on the mountain outside so.... starfall eventually gets mostly held in there, because it’s also controlled by the House’s heart, but the only way you access that is through the third floor, so the top floor is again just for show. 

Second Floor: 

Ends up being Azriel’s floor and the floor for guests. The House/Nesta redecorate and it’s a lot more apartment-ish. One side of the floor is a large apartment for azriel and the other half is a hallway that leads to more rooms for guests. Each room is made up for specific people, just in case they stay over. All of them are soundproof. Nesta made sure of it. There’s like maybe six rooms. Emerie and Gwyn stay quite often, and Gwyn starts staying their way more often when she starts the process of actually leaving the library, but since she technically still lives there, Clotho is like well... if you just want to keep working here you can, which she does. Emerie stays there more often, because her winning the Rite starts making it harder for her to live in Illyria. Also winnowing back and forth for training is like more steps than necessary and she doesn’t like having to rely on anyone... except that Mor happens to winnow her often, which she appreciates. She still does live of course in Illyria, but her friends are in Velaris, so she struggles with if she wants to live there or not. Because that’s her livelihood, but Nesta is like do what you want and let the house know. Eventually she gives her a key, but that will be explained later in this long ass thread. 

Third Floor: 

This is Nesta and Cassian’s home which is so pretty and Nesta’s whole aesthetic. Again it’s more apartment-ish. Of course, there’s one hallway that you know has the stairs and leads to the terrarium/sunroom place and the small private library, but otherwise most of the rooms get combined to be just Nesta’s and Cassian’s. It really looks like a large house. Besides their room which has the biggest bed you’ve ever seen, there’s of course so many windows on this floor. Some are the balcony's carved out, some are just giant windows. There’s one window in the living room/ private library that opens, but is technically not a balcony, and there’s flowers along the window sill, which Nesta loves and of course she can see all of the city. The whole floor is very bright, cream and blue is the theme. A mixture of seaside and hygge. I feel which I have pictures of on pinterest lol. But there are maybe three empty rooms for when Nesta and Cassian decide to have kids. Nesta caps it at three. But actually one of these rooms gets filled in my fic, but not because of a baby that they have themselves. But I’ll let y’all unpack that one. The private library gets decorated on a regular basis with holidays and when they’re having small family gatherings or have a war meeting, they use this place. It has a large table in the middle for studying, so it’s a good place, and it’s just a way more comfortable, happier setting. There’s also cat fixtures that climb up the walls and cat doors that lead to the most obscure places for Bryaxis when he’s a cat, for those of you who’ve read that fic idea post. Maybe you haven’t. 

The Terrarium/sunroom place: 

This place has a literal pond in the middle. It is so large, and there are wild plants all to the side of it, even in the middle of winter, because it’s like a greenhouse. All of it is windows. It is tucked away, on the side of the mountain, you can only reach it from Nesta and Cassian’s floor and it is a gift from the House to Nesta and Cassian as a mating present... sort of. It’s mostly to Nesta. It has A LOT of poisonous, carnivorous plants. Which Nesta learns are useful... because she starts dabbling in her witchy magic and she learns how to make poisons. This place starts being like a lab almost. If she learns magic, she does it here, away from the House with actual people in it. But on Starfall, they do start having the celebration here, because it is the perfect view of the stars. It is the closest you can get without being splattered by star guts and the windows of course clean themselves. You can access outside through here, so sometimes they’ll just open up the doors and go outside to the porches that surround it. Elain will come here often, mostly because she does want to hang out with Nesta and Nesta is not keen on going anywhere, so at first she goes because she’s like well I can take care of your plants, and Nesta is like the House takes care of it, but if you want I guess... and she does take care of them, and actually while Nesta excels at all things magic, it’s really Elain who starts exceling at poisons. They kind of bond over it lol. 

What floor am I on? Fourth Floor: 

Is where the kitchen is. Nesta never goes here. Elain goes here every once in a while, especially when she tries to make Nesta things, but Nesta is very adamant that the House will do it for her, but at some point the House is like let your sister do something for you! So it withholds her desserts. Elain is very happy to oblige and most of the time, it is just Nesta sitting on a stool by the work table, warmed by the heat of the oven, her music playing from the symphonia, and Elain smiling softly as she works, perfectly content, while Nesta reads a book or talks about what she learned in the library this week or that. It is very hard to get Nesta to talk sometimes, so Cassian is actually immensely  grateful that Elain gets more pushy about communicating with Nesta and having her talk with her more. Not on a super deep level, but a companionship to have, because Nesta is mostly introverted, except for occasional instances, and if she can, she will avoid personal connection at all costs. It’s just a habit. There are certainly days where Nesta is more subdued that most, and usually he’ll give it a couple days, but if she’s still sort of off by the end of the week, that’s when Elain comes. She actually shows up by herself and Cassian’s always like how did you know and how did you even get here? And she’s like it’s a sister thing. Nesta and her get closer this way. 

So, on the Fifth floor: 

These are the floors that start being based off of whatever Nesta wants to see, because that’s how she unknowingly does magic. 

On this floor, there is a massive ballroom. I’m telling you there are fountains on the walls with cherubs, paintings on the ceilings that both look angelic and looks like clouds are in the sky and they’re moving. It’s bedecked in white and gold and there are crystal chandeliers hanging from the domed ceiling and it is so tall. It’s like a cathedral, and every time music plays which it does as soon as Nesta walks in, it echoes in there. Like loud, moaning sounds. Cassian thinks its creepy af, but Nesta loves that haunting sort of extravagances, and she swears she can see shadows dancing along with her. She starts taking private dance lessons in my fic, and this is where she practices. It has a lot of giant bouquets. 

But not only that there are two rolling staircases and when you go up them, that level is a theatre. Reds and velvet, and dim faelights that float in the air as if they’re floating on water. Think Phantom of the Opera. This “room” most of the time goes unused, but Nesta specifically starts being like well... I’m a big fan of the arts and music, so let’s start hosting things here. And it starts becoming a really big thing to be invited to these things. However, it’s mostly because Nesta still doesn’t really want to go out into the city, but she does want to hear a symphony. So it’s actually Cassian’s idea at first, to invite the orchestra to play at their home theatre for a surprise, and it just becomes a thing and citizens are invited, because it’s just a huge theatre to just be 2 people. However the stairs are a big problem, but we get passed that, but I’ll go into detail about that later.

Sixth floor: 

Is just one narrow hallway that leads to one door. But that door can lead you anywhere. And Nesta has a really hard time figuring out how to use it. Because one of the powers Nesta has, instead of winnowing, in my fic, is that she can open any door and go anywhere she wants, provided that there is a door, even one she draws. But she doesn’t figure that out until she figures out this door. So, for a while, she keeps opening the door and it leads to the riverfront estate, and Rhys is so freaked out that she just pops out of the closet, and she’s so freaked out too. But she closes the door and when Rhys tries to open it, it’s just a closet, and he’s like all looking through it like wth, knocking on the wood. But when Nesta opens it, it’s not even the house, it’s like a large dark abyss and some monster starts trying to claw it’s way out, so she shuts it really quick and the door keeps pounding and she’s like never again. And she gets very wary about opening anything, except many times the IC will ask her to use this door, so that they can find things. Similarly to scrying, where she knows the locations of things, she can open the door thinking of that specific object and she’ll end up being in that location. Nesta does not like this door, because she thinks it has a mind of its own, even though a lot of it is just her controlling where it goes. But because of this door, she learns that she can make any door a portal, so she ends up “drawing” a door at the base of the mountain outside which becomes an actual door which leads to the theatre. Also, she learns that there are a specific set of keys that the House gifts her, which unlocks and locks these portals she makes attached to the house specifically. Cassian and Emerie of course have one, but she gifts two also to Feyre and Elain on the premise that if they should ever need her and for some reason cannot fly up and obviously don’t want to climb the stairs or if they’re somewhere else entirely, they can visit her and be lead back by just unlocking any door they’re by and it will make a door to the House. Eventually she learns to have the door open to the seaside. And let me tell you, think Japan’s Hitachi Seaside park, with all the nemophilia (blue flowers), but all of it eventually coming to end at a beach or water striking the cliffside, still haven’t decided on that. 

I think that’s all the floors, but tbh, there might be more. I’m just super tired and I can’t think anymore or describe things. So for now, that concludes the House of Wind, Rooms and Floors Edition. Let me know if y’all have any headcanons or suggestions that you might want to see! Bye. 

[koreaweeb]

Marionette - Fade Away (1) *NSFW

@i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic @laraplisetski

TW: SWEARING, VIOLENCE, SEXUAL VIOLENCE, SEXUAL CONTENT

-

-

Once they got their cards, Kurenai and An made their way down together.

Walking into the elevator, An was staring at Kurenai the whole time. There was always a sense of relief when one cleared a game, but they would also be coming down from the adrenaline high. Usually they would either break down, or collapse. They were probably the few handful who would walk out nonchalant.

Scratch that.

An was nonchalant. Kurenai’s behaviour was...borderline psychopathic. 

She hummed a nursery rhyme, pressing a floor button before leaning against the elevator wall. 

“Stop staring at me, you’re making me shy,” Kurenai smiled, glancing in An’s direction. “Did you fall in love with me after that game?”

“Are you sure you never played chess before?”

“Hm? Of course not. Why would I lie?”

“How are you so calm? You do realise if that man made the jump, neither of us would be here.”

“Well, he didn’t,” she shrugged. “I’d admit, that was a miscalculation on my part. I thought he wouldn’t have the guts but apparently he’s more stupid than I imagined.”

“You were betting with our lives.”

“We bet our lives every time we play the games,” Kurenai stated. “Hatter bets my life every night, making me play with you guys. If I complained every time my life is on the line, I wouldn’t still be alive.”

The look in her eyes was cold, but Kurenai was right. 

It felt uncomfortable this time only because it was too much of a close call. Applying the situation to any other game, An would do the same thing.

Stopping at the fourth floor, Kurenai stepped out but An remained in the elevator frowning. Where was she going? 

Twiddling with the card in his hand, Chishiya looked up when yet another group of players returned from their game. No sign of Kurenai, however. His group was the first to return for the night, participating in only an Ace game. That was almost three hours ago.

“Come on, let’s shop since we’re at a shopping mall,” she grinned.

--

As the Queen of Games here at the Beach, Kurenai held the track record of not only the most games played, but also the fastest at clearing the games. Tonight, however, her group was the last to return. Could it be that she was finally defeated?

At that thought, Chishiya dropped his card.

Why did it matter if she returned or not? First of all, this was Kurenai. Even in a Spades game, she would find a way to survive somehow. If it was any of the other three, there was simply no worrying about her; she would have crushed the game. So why was he standing by the pool waiting to see her appear like a wife waiting for her husband to return from war?

“An-san!”

Just as he turned to walk away, someone shouted An’s name. She was with Kurenai for the game. Looking back, it was as if a ton had been lifted from his shoulders. There she was, all 155cm of her. 

They were both carrying several bags each, and he noticed that Kurenai even changed her swimsuit, coupled with a hoodie just like the one he was wearing. A group gathered around the two women, excitedly asking for details about their game but An dismissed the group after handing the bags of supplies over.

“You’re late,” he said, as Kurenai was walking up to him.

“Hm, the game took a little longer and we went shopping after,” she smiled. “Now we match!”

Chishiya closed his eyes and laughed a little. Why did he ever worry about her?

He grabbed her by the hand, pulling her with him and left the pool. He did not say a word, not when another executive member was calling out to them. Not when Kurenai asked repeatedly where they were going. 

Heading up to Kurenai’s room, he closed the door and put the security lock on. He pushed her up against the wall, holding her face in his hands and crashed his lips on hers. Kurenai was a little taken off guard, though she was soon kissing him back. 

Sex with Chishiya was becoming a routine, but Kurenai was always the one who initiated. She had been the one so vocally and directly expressing her feelings for him after all. It was exhilarating to have Chishiya be the proactive one this time. 

“If I knew you were waiting, I wouldn’t have gone shopping,” she whispered.

One by one, they littered the floor with their clothing while making their way onto the bed. Kurenai fell backward onto the bed, and Chishiya climbed on top of her. They barely did any foreplay but they were both ready for each other.

Kurenai pressed her hands on his chest, letting out a moan as he was pushing into her. No matter how many times they did it, the pleasure of having him enter her never decreased. In fact, each and every time they slept together, she craved him more.

It was a dangerous game they were playing, more than the nightly Borderland games.

If they were to continue on this path, Kurenai had a feeling that she would be falling for Chishiya as more than a sex buddy. And if that were the case, it was only a matter of time before they would be in the same game together where only one could survive. 

“You’re different tonight, Shuntarou.”

“Am I?”

Biting down on her bottom lip, Kurenai could only nod as Chishiya was thrusting into her. She gripped onto his shoulder with one hand, while her other was clutching the pillow to the side, and her toes were curling from the pure pleasure.

Chishiya had his hands on her thighs, squeezing them. With every touch, it was as if he was confirming to himself that she was really there.

He leaned down, burying his face in her neck. It was hard to find a spot where he had yet to leave a hickey on her neck. That day, after she was strangled by Niragi, Kurenai came to him later and asked for him to leave his mark on her. She never said why, but Chishiya understood it was because she did not want to see the bruise Niragi left on her.

This time, however, Chishiya was leaving his mark on her because he wanted to. 

“Hm...if you were there tonight, we could have cleared the game faster,” Kurenai whispered, tilting her head to give him more access.

Despite his denial, Kurenai knew. He was indeed acting differently today. Taking the initiative, the rougher-than-usual sex. That was when she remembered him mentioning that she was late earlier. Had he been waiting for her and worrying?

“Maybe if you were there, I’d be less reckless,” she said.

For a second, Chishiya stopped and looked down at her. Reckless? What did she do in the game?

Kurenai wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close until their foreheads were touching. “Thank you for worrying about me, Shuntarou. But I’d always come back. Especially since I know you’re waiting for me.”

The smug smile on her face was wiped away pretty quickly when he started thrusting once more. She threw her head back and arched her back, biting down on his shoulder to stifle her moans. 

God...she should get him agitated more often.

[fanfics4all]

The Worst Year

Request: Yes / No hey!! can you write this for me please? 🥰 it’s draco x best friend reader (PLATONIC PLS), and harry x reader (secret relationship) draco and reader are like brother sister they are always bickering but they care a lot for each other, the reader and harry are in a relationship since 4th year and in 7th when harry goes hunting, the reader is numb like depressed she doesn eat (has loss weight), doesn’t sleep and draco is worried, one day she has a breakdown (really bad) and d is there -like really worried, so she tells him about harry, d is mad and overprotective (like a brother) but comforts her and takes care of her, is always like “please eat something!” “you are so skinny just eat please!!” and they sleep in the same room so he comforts her. and then harry is back, they have an emotional reunion, and draco warns harry “if you hurt her i kill you” or smth like that THANK YOU SO MUCH and sorry if this is so specific!! (feel free to not write everything or none hajaja) ❤️❤️ @starcross16

Requests are open <3 Have a nice day/night

Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1700

Warnings: Not eating, not sleeping, breakdown, just a lot of sadness   

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Draco malfoy was my best friend. He was more like a brother to me, and we sure act like brother and sister. So when fourth year came around and I started dating Harry Potter, big brother Draco came out. 

“Have you gone bloody mad?” He asked, storming into my dorm. 

“Good afternoon to you too.” I said rolling my eyes. 

“Tell me what I just heard is simply a rumor.” He said with narrowed eyes. I raised my brow at him confused. 

“Well I can’t read your mind Dray so you better tell me if you wish for me to confirm.” I said. 

“You’re dating Potter?” He growled and I sighed. 

“Honestly Draco, yes I am.” I said and his eyes widened. 

“Then you have gone mad, or he spelled you!” He said and I sighed again. 

“No I haven’t and no he hasn’t. Honestly Draco I’m happy with him.” I said. He stared at me for a bit and then sighed. 

“Why’d it have to be Potter…” He groaned, laying next to me. 

“I know you dislike him, but could you please not try and ruin this for me?” I asked. 

“We’ll see.” He said with a smirk and I rolled my eyes. That was the best I was gonna get. Draco’s bullying got worse and I would beg him to stop. It only started to die down when I started ignoring him. 

When year six came around that summer was the worst of mine and Draco’s lives. Each of us had met the dark lord and he said he would kill the other if we didn’t take his mark. I couldn’t let Draco die, but I didn’t want his mark. I watched as he took the mark to save my life and I felt tears form in my eyes. 

“Your turn dear, take it or watch Draco die.” His sickening voice said. 

“O-Okay.” I stuttered and offered my arm to him. I felt pain run through my body and felt like ice was consuming my blood. The snake and skull formed on my arm and I gulped. Draco took me to his room after and I started crying. 

“Hey, it’s alright love, everything will be alright.” He whispered, holding me close. 

“Harry is going to hate me…” I whispered. 

“He’ll understand.” He whispered back. 

I was with Draco when he almost killed Dumbledor. Luckily Snape stepped in and took the burden. Draco grabbed me and we ran along with the Death Eaters. I was so worried about Harry, but I don’t know if I should risk looking for him. 

“What about Harry?” I asked. 

“Y/N/N, we need to go, we can’t risk staying here anymore.” He said with fear in his eyes.

“But-” 

“I promise you, as soon as we get home I’ll help you sneak a letter to him.” He said and I bit my lip. 

“Alright…” I said and he continued to pull me along. As he promised Draco, help me send Harry a letter. After a few days I received one back. 

‘Dear Y/N, 

I know you are a Death Eater. I saw you on the Astronomy Tower when Dumbledore was killed. I saw how scared you were and now I understand. Your life is on  the line and I promise I will free you. However I’m going on a journey to find all of his Horcruxes. I need to destroy all of them before I can kill him and set you free. I won’t be able to send you any more letters and please don’t try and send me any. I don’t know where this will take me, but I must do it. Please be safe. I love you. 

Love always, Harry’

I wouldn’t be seeing Harry any time soon. That thought broke my heart and I started crying. Draco pulled me to him and took the letter from my hands. He read it and held me tighter. 

“It’s alright Y/N/N, you’ll see him again.” He whispered and kissed my head.

Months went by and my depression was only getting worse. I still haven’t heard from Harry, for all I knew he was dead. That thought haunted my mind, never leaving me. I no longer ate or slept, whenever I did I would just have horrible nightmares. At first no one noticed my lack of eating or sleeping, but soon my weight dropped and my bags under my eyes were incredibly dark. Draco was incredibly worried about me. So worried that he started having me share his room with him. That’s when I stopped bothering to get out of bed. 

“Love, I brought you some breakfast.” Draco said, walking in with a tray of food. 

“Not hungry…” I mumbled. He set it on his bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Please Y/N, you need to eat.” He begged. 

“What’s the point?” I whispered. 

“Love, please.” He said and turned me to face him. 

“Harry is probably dead, so what’s the point?” I asked and I saw tears start to form in his dull gray eyes. 

“I wish I could prove to you that he isn’t, but I can’t. But if he were here right now he’d be telling you to eat.” He said and I sighed. 

“It doesn’t matter.” I whispered. 

A week later and I still haven’t slept or eaten. Draco was growing more and more worried with each passing day. It was night and my body was so tired that I ended up passing out on Draco’s bed. 

I saw him. Harry. I smiled so bright and rushed over to him. Just as I was about to reach him I was blocked by something. I tried my hardest to push through, but it was no use. 

“Harry!” I shouted, but he didn’t look at me. 

“Harry! Harry!” I shouted over and over. Nothing. Suddenly the Dark Lord appeared and sent an evil smirk my way. 

“You can’t save him.” He said and my eyes widened. 

“Harry! Harry look out! Harry please!” I shouted, begging him to do something. 

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort shouted and the spell hit Harry. He fell to the ground as Voldemort laughed. 

I woke up screaming, crying, and sweating. Draco sat up next to me and quickly looked around. He pulled me to him and I continued crying hard. Draco pet my hair and whispered soothing things into my ear. 

“Y/N, it’s alright. Everythings alright. You’re alright.” He said trying to calm me. 

“H-Harry…” I cried. 

“Shhh, I know love, just calm down.” He said. It took awhile, but I finally calmed down. Draco turned me to face him and looked me in my eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. 

“H-He killed him. He killed him and I couldn’t do anything to stop him…” I said. 

“Hey, I need you to believe me, Harry is alive.” He said. 

“You don’t-” 

“I saw him. Remember when Aunt Bellatrix called me down to check someone they brought in?” He asked and I nodded. 

“It was Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They took my wand and they’re out there right now.” He said. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. 

“I was worried it would make things worse, but I was wrong.” He said. 

“He’s alive?” I asked and he nodded. I hugged draco and cried a few tears of joy. 

“He’s alive!” I whispered. 

Weeks went by and Draco and I returned to Hogwarts. The war was here and we were in the middle of it. Draco went to get his wand back and I wanted to go with him, but he said it was better if I didn’t. After he retrieved his wand we met up and followed everyone outside. There stood Volemort with all the Death Eaters, but my eyes went to Hagrid and who he was holding. Harry Potter.

“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort shouted. I wanted to scream out and cry, but Draco grabbed my hand. 

“Don’t do anything.” He whispered. I knew he was right. If I did anything he would kill me or even Draco. Draco’s parents called for him and mine called for me. Everyone’s eyes were on us and I didn’t know what to do. Draco pulled me along with him and Voldemort gave us both an awkward hug. 

“Well done.” He said and we walked to our parents. I tuned everyone out after that. It wasn’t until I heard Harry’s voice that I tuned back in. I looked over and he was alive! I don’t know how that was possible, but I didn’t care. He was alive. My parents started pulling me along behind the Malfoys, but I escaped their grip. 

“Y/N! What are you doing?” My Father asked. Draco looked at me with wide eyes. 

“I need to go.” I said to him and he nodded. Draco left his Mother’s grip and walked up to me. 

“Then I’ll go with you.” He said and I smiled. He grabbed my hand and the two of us ran back to the action. We fought off a few Death Eaters and Draco made sure to keep me safe. Then it all stopped. I ran out of the castle with Draco following me and there he was. 

“Harry!” I shouted and he looked at me. 

“Y/N!” He called back and we ran to each other. He pulled me to him and kissed me deeply. 

“You’re alright.” I cried and he looked me over. 

“What happened to you?” He asked. 

“She’s been a mess all year, because of you.” Draco said walking up behind me. 

“I’ve been so worried.” I said and he kissed my head. 

“There’s no need to worry anymore.” He said and I smiled. 

“I swear Potter if you do anything to hurt you, I’ll kill you myself.” Draco said. 

“Draco!” I hissed and he just smirked. 

“What? I need to watch out for you, clearly.” He said and I gently shoved him. 

“I’d never dream of hurting her.” Harry said. Draco nodded and the two of them shook hands. I doubt they would ever be friends, but at least they can be civil to one another. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @softgamerking @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @accio-rogers​

[lunap95]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Super Sons (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Damian Wayne Characters: Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Maya Ducard, Collin Wilkes, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Kara Zor-El Additional Tags: Roommates, Domestic Fluff, adopting a pet, High School, Jealousy, Running Away, Partners in Crime, Fake/Pretend Relationship, getting caught, Heartbeats, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Masquerade, Family Vacation, Marriage Proposal, JonDami Week 2021

Hey, hey, hey! Last day of the @jondami-week  Thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos and comments, it makes me super happy! As I mentioned I'm planning on doing a longer (but not too long) fic about Damian and Jon so please if you like anything of these prompts tell me so I can have a clearer idea on how to write them. Thanks!

Day 7: joint family vacation | proposal | free day

You can also read it under the cut

“Stephanie, I swear to God if you play that stupid song one more time.”

“Shut up, Jason, you didn’t have a good music taste even before your first death.”

“Come on, guys, I’m sure we can find something nice for every-” Duke dodged a hamburger and decided it was better not to get in between.

“Has anyone seen my sunglasses?” asked Conner, his sunglasses obviously over his head.

“No,” answered Tim not even making an attempt at pointing his mistake.

“I’m just saying, it would totally rock if you made a ‘Is Bruce Wayne Batman?’ headline,” Cassandra nodded at Dick’s words.

“You know it would actually be really funny,” Lois smirked, her smile too similar to one of the evildoers they usually fought.

“Not it wouldn’t!” interrupted Barbara visibly angry. “Because then we, instead of him, will have to deal with it later.”

“I stopped dealing with Bruce’s shit a long time ago, you should do the same,” proclaimed Kate taking a sip of his wine.

“This is the fourth time I have to repair a train, Kent,” argued Bruce on the other side of the field. “Is it really too much to ask to show a little restrain?”

“Oh, excuse, mister billionaire, next time a train is about to run over some innocent citizens I will kindly ask the train to stop,” refuted Clark.

“The only thing I’m saying,” not too far Alfred was in the middle of another discussion with Martha and Jon Kent. “that the recipe is obviously done with raisins.”

“Raisins? Maybe in that rainy spot of yours,” Martha seemed to be terribly offended. “But not here.”

Damian sighed for the hundredth time that day watching how the whole family continued creating absolute chaos. If his calculations were right there were just a few minutes left before someone screamed “food fight”. Next to him, Jon munched on a hamburger as if the picture did not bother him at all.

“Let’s have some picnic together, you said,” said Damian. “It would be fun, you said.”

“I think is nice.”

“Your cousin tried to throw Todd over the roof just an hour ago.”

“And I think Steph is about to ask her to do it again,” laughed Jon pointing at were Jason and Steph continued to argue about the music, Duke and Cass now enjoying their exchanged while eating popcorns.

“At least Grayson has stopped with the puns,” he was starting to question why the hell he had accepted Jon’s idea, this was bound to end in disaster.

“Well, actually I think he is telling my mum that story about the Napkin man.”

Jon could not help but smile at his groan. Maybe their families were a bit… chaotic when they met, but he actually enjoyed spending time together like this. As long as he kept a safe distance between him and Jason’s guns there should not be a problem (he still remembered when the Red Hood first discovered he was dating his younger brother, that had been a fun chase). And deep down he knew Damian enjoyed them too, but his boyfriend was too stubborn to admit it.

“I just don’t understand why you insisted so much on this.”

The box in his pocket seemed to get heavier with his words. They have been dating for almost eight years, living together for six of them. While he worked as a journalist in the Daily Planet, Damian had his hands full with inheriting the Batman legacy and leading the new Gotham Justice team along with Duke, although he still made some art exhibitions from time to time. He still went out as Superboy, mostly with Damian, but the defence of Metropolis had gone mainly to Supergirl and Conner, who now called himself Supernova. Their fathers had told them they would soon pass their mantle to them and Jon had decided he wanted to ask the big question before that happened.

“D, mind walking with me for a minute?”

Damian raised an eyebrow confused as to why his boyfriend wanted to walk on the same fields that had seen him grow, but he decided it would be way better than staying there. They walked while holding hands, chatting about their little things until they reached a familiar forest.

“Does it ring a bell?” Jon smiled.

“This is where we first met,” realised Damian. “Well, when I kidnap you after discovering you were a threat to society.”

“Well, you suspicious turned out to be correct, only not to society,” he winked at him. “Only a threat to you.”

“Hmm,” Damian wrapped his hands around his neck. “Maybe I should have let you tied on the examination table of the Batcave.”

“Then, you wouldn’t have this.”

Jon then proceeded to kneel in front of him, taking the box out of his pocket. Damian didn’t say anything but his eyes widened.

“Damian Wayne,” he proclaimed. “I never thought I could hate anyone more than the first time I met you. But with time, you showed me the great person you are. Because many might think of you as brash and arrogant, but I know your actions speak more than your words. I have seen you bleed for your teammates, cry for your brothers and sister and take care of your pets as if they were the most valuable thing on this planet,” he opened the box to show a ring with a green gemstone. “You became my best friend and later the love of my life and I can’t think of a better person to share the rest of my life with so… would you do me the super honour of becoming my husband?”

“Did you have to add the super thing?” but Damian was smiling and he could swear his eyes were shinning. “Of course I do, you sap.”

Jon did not waste any time jumping to capture his lips while putting the ring on his finger. The gem was the same shade in his eyes and the moment Jon saw it he knew he wanted his boyfriend to wear it.

“I’m going to make you the happiest man on Earth,” he whispered between kisses.

“I already am.”

There were still a lot of hardship to face, millions of adventures waiting for them on the corner, but in that instant, in the same forest where they met, both could feel the strength of their bond. A union that could not be broken by time or dangers, a connection that will be with them until the time they expired their last breath. So for the moment, they enjoyed this moment and the pure bliss of knowing they would never be alone as long as the other was next to them.

[3arzal]

sincerity is scary (part 1)

nathan mackinnon / reader

3,200+ words (for this part at least)

friends to lovers. this turned out angstier than i originally planned in my head um...

warning for swearing

author’s note: many months ago, i said i was done with writing, then i clowned myself. this is the first time i’m writing an x reader type of fic because i used to write kpop bg pairings so idk how decent this will be lol. anyway, this is a highly personal and self-indulgent fic and something i’ve wanted to write for a very long time. to all my fellow hopeless-romantic tomboys out there waiting for their turn in love, this one goes to you. i said i was content with reading fics because i’m too lazy to write but oh well fucking shit.

Your first memory including Nate was his fourth birthday party. It was a memory that makes you smile come a time that you think about it while spacing out. You remember it vaguely, but all the details don’t even matter. You remember sitting next to him at the big table as he blows his cake. There’s a picture of that somewhere in the photo albums in your parents’ house. You remember being the new kid in the neighbourhood, but you lived next to the MacKinnon’s. Even if Nate had a few friends from nursery, you eventually became his best friend. You were a shout away from him and all the details don’t matter, because until now that you’re both twenty five, you’re still the bestest of friends even if you lived in different American states--him in Colorado and you finally landing your dream job in New York City.

It was a special friendship that had been rock solid for twenty one years. You know he has a lot of people in his life now being the NHL superstar that he is. You know he considers some of the guys and some of his teammates as his best friends as well. All of that did not bother you to say the least. It was okay, because he was meant for great things and you were there to witness him achieve everything he longed and wished for since you were kids. You know you will always have a place in his heart, and him in yours, because that’s what best friends do, right? They’re each other’s biggest support system, away or together.

You were there in all of his home games, you spent almost all of your childhood with him in the rink, he gladly participated in any hobby you had at the time, and most of all, he made sure that if he had free time, it was all yours. You couldn’t ask for a better best friend and neither can he.

Now, as you sit in front of him in a hotel restaurant in the middle of Aspen at his birthday dinner on a trip he insisted you two take before the pre-season starts, you stare at him in part-shock-part-confusion as he lays his heart out on the table with a confession you did not see coming at all: “I guess I’ve been in love with you all this time.”

-

Now, see, you have always been Nate’s tomboy best friend. You were the girl who played hockey with him when you were kids and the girl who skateboarded all throughout middle school. You were the girl no guy has ever looked at like that, because you were different from all the pretty blondes and skinny girls and conventionally female specimen that boys would usually like. It didn’t bother you, not until high school anyway, when you finally crushed on some other guy that wasn’t in yours and Nate’s friend group. It was the biggest infatuation of your life so far, and when you realized he’ll never look at you like how he looks at the girls who wear skirts and tank tops, you gave up on even trying to feel.

“Are you seriously looking at skirts?” You remember Nate asking you one time you were both in the mall and he caught you lingering around skirts. You were both sixteen at the time, and he just got back from his morning hockey practice. You looked down on your usual oversized tee and baggy pants and your favorite pair of tattered Vans and thought, yeah, how can you even choose to wear a skirt willingly? It didn’t offend you or anything, his question was purely out of curiosity and not one of judgment. 

You shrugged at him, “Don’t you think it’s about time I dress more girly? I’m turning seventeen soon, and I still haven’t had a boyfriend.” 

“I dunno, you dress fine to me.” Nathan said then, and then it hit you--if Nate says you look fine then other people’s opinion shouldn’t even matter. He was your bestest friend, and you trust him because you have to. You should. But he’s still a guy, and you’re a teenage girl who’s becoming more self-conscious as the days go by because that’s how life goes when you’re sixteen and hormonal. You shrug it off, though, because looking pretty was the least of your concerns anyway.

The following year, you get asked out on a date by one of the guys you went to middle school with. He was decent, and you were consistently talking to him and hanging out the past summer. He made you laugh and he became such a charmer since you last met him when you were pre-pubescent kids. It was your first date ever, and a week before you were highly stressing out on what you should wear, on what you should do, because you were seventeen and had no experience being with someone other than, lo and behold, Nathan. 

He was away from you now, doing his hockey thing and being great, but phone calls were still consistent between the two of you, and after stressing out for two whole hours trying to rummage the internet for Tips On How To Nail Your First Date, you finally give up and whine to him over the phone.

“Him? You’re going on a date with him? Wasn’t he like...a wimpy kid back then or something?” His voice is tired on the other line. His team lost tonight, and you know he’s frustrated about it, but he doesn’t really talk to you about it because he chooses not to. You’re going to change that soon because you know he’s too hard on himself when he loses. He knows you’re there to listen if he wants to whine, but for some reason he never talks about a loss with you anymore. Not like he used to back when you were younger and you still lived near each other. 

“Nathan, be nice.” You rarely call him Nathan because to you he has always been Nate. It means you’re dead serious right now. You mess up your short hair and stare at all the possible clothing options you’ve laid out on your bed. It’s mostly t-shirts, the ones that are close to your actual size, and then you realized you have no jeans that actually fit because all of them are baggy ones.

“Wow, she’s calling me Nathan. Who’s that guy?” He calls from the other line. His speech is turning more slurry, like he’s already falling asleep but trying hard to fight it. “But seriously, why do you need to dress up, anyway? Your clothes are fine.”

“You’re not a girl, you wouldn’t understand.” You tell him in a moment of miniscule irritation--not with him, but with yourself, because it then hits you: you want to impress this guy. You want to appear different for him, because it’s  your first ever date, and finally someone’s looking at you and making you feel pretty--like a girl. “Oh my god…” You croak after spacing out, and you jump a bit when you hear Nate through the speaker phone, forgetting that he’s still on the other line.

“What’s wrong?”

“Holy shit. I just realized I’m finally trying to get in touch with my girly side. Seventeen years too late for that.” You snort at how ridiculous you’re being, at how silly this whole situation is because you’ve never tried to change who you were before attraction came in the way. You realized you were turning into a woman without knowing it, and it’s not really bothersome because you are a woman. It’s just something different from what you’re used to growing up even if you were no stranger to it having an older sister who is undeniably more female than you. Nate didn’t have any problem that you have a vagina but can also beat up any guy who picks on you for being such a tomboy. Nate loved it when you played hockey with him even if he beat you every time. He loved watching you skate, cackles when you fall down, but gets concerned as he should when you get scrapes and bruises. He’s fine with what you are--with the way you dress, the way you project yourself to people, the way you’re not just any other girl. You’re his best friend and he loves you just as you are.

You remember that time at the mall last year when you were looking at those skirts, you remember what he told you back then, and then you remember why it doesn’t matter what you wear on a date. If any other people can’t handle you the way that you are then they don’t really have to matter to you, too.

The date approaches and you give up, thinking if this guy talks to you and even ended up asking you out he should accept you as you are, right? 

You’re wrong, because three dates in all he ever did was subtly criticize everything you did. He was trying to groom you into the girlfriend you can never be for him, and that appalled you so much and hurt you at the same time. You think he’d be one of the few guys who’ll understand that as much as you want to, you can’t really change who you are for someone else.

Nathan was livid. “Fuck that guy. He’s nuts.” He crackles through one of your nightly phone calls. “He’s ugly, he sounds like a rat, and I bet he smells like--”

“Okay, enough.” You chuckle at his frustration despite feeling down the past few days post ‘break-up’. “It’s okay, really, but I’m not that girl for him.”

“You’re not. You’re like leagues cooler than him, anyway.”

“Damn right I am.”

-

In the following years as he started his NHL career in Colorado, and with you moving to New York for your job, you’ve only seen him a handful of times although the Facetimes were still consistent. The time difference was there, and even if your calls only lasted about ten minutes or so as you both caught up with your lives, it was enough. You didn’t need two hours with him on the phone, because yours and Nate’s friendship was as solid as an asteroid crater on land. It could be two years since you’ve last spoken to one another and when you do see each other again it’s like nothing has changed. You’re grateful for it, because with you having a new life in NYC and him making a home out of Denver, he’s still the one piece of Cole Harbour you have anywhere you go. 

You forget about dating as you focus on your job. You love it, and you love living in New York. You’ve made friends that you can already consider as family. You have a great life ahead of you and you know it. You watch Nate’s games when he’s in town. You meet him back home in Canada when you managed to get a week off from work. Life is good and steady. For a while you thought that the happiness you managed to find will last a long time, and it did...until it didn’t. That’s when you realized. 

-

Nate gets a girlfriend. Her name is incredibly girly and she’s fucking beautiful. 

The Facetimes and phone calls were less now, has been for the last couple of months, really, but that did not bother you at all because they were having a fantastic season and you understand his job comes first. 

What hurt you though was how he just dropped the news like a bomb through text. And you two never ever texted. You didn’t even get a scoop that he was seeing someone, never even mentioned anyone when you two manage to sneak in calls in between your busy schedules. It’s on a sad and dull Friday night when you were sulking on your couch because nobody was available to hang out with you to get a drink when the text comes.

‘Guess I have a gf now lol. Her name’s __’ Attached is a picture of her seated across from Nate on what appears to be a restaurant. 

You sit up in alarm, your heart beating a mile per second, followed by a heavy ache in your chest. You don’t know what to feel yet you’re feeling everything all at once--surprise, confusion, anger. The happiness is questionable. You sit there for a whole five minutes staring at the very random text when the text bubble appears on the screen.

‘You know it says when you’ve read my message ryt’

You don’t really know and you don’t really care right now. You want to yell at him and demand details, but you’re really confused as to why he’s texting when he usually just calls you. It was eight in the evening when you decided to sleep away the dull ache in your chest and that heavy heart of yours. You turn your phone on silent as you put it inside the drawer of your bedside table.

The following day you wake up at noon. You instinctively reach for your phone on the bedside table when your hands come up with nothing--and then you remember where you put it the previous night. You didn’t dare check it, though, because the moment you wake up you know the ache is still there. You remember those damn texts, you remember everything you’ve felt as you lie in your bed for hours when your mind and body refuses to shut down.

You skip breakfast because you weren’t really hungry, so you do your laundry instead. It leads to you cleaning your bathroom, and then that leads to cleaning your entire apartment, and when you managed to finish it was almost four in the afternoon. You were too tired to cook, so you munch on cereal. You chug several bottles of water after when you realize you haven’t had any the entire day. You take a quick shower. You switched on Netflix on your flatscreen and you managed to finish two movies. You stare blankly on the rolling credits as you feel your mind shut down. You’ve managed to avoid thinking about Nate and his new girlfriend for the entire day, and now that it’s evening again you feel every damn feeling come back. You finally decide to check on your phone. 

Fifteen messages and ten phone calls all from Nate. Funny how that turned out. You check some more and there were texts and a few calls from your sister and from a few friends from back home. You check that out first, and you were surprised that they all seem to ask you the same damn thing: You okay? Where are you? Nate texted me saying you weren’t answering your phone.

Ten phone calls left unanswered. 

Then you finally get to his messages:

‘Why you leaving me on read?’

‘Heyyyyyy’

‘y/n…..!!!!!!!!!’

‘I’m getting worried wtf’

‘Y u aint answering meeeee’

‘I’ve called five times!!’

‘TEN times!’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Holy shit where the hell are you’

‘Don’t joke with me like this I’m fucking serious answer your phone’

‘Even your sister can’t reach you’

‘What’s happening? Are you at a party and drunk off your ass in some dark alley in nyc?’ 

‘Jesus i don’t even know your friends there i can’t contact anyone to check on you’

‘Just please call me back asap. I’m fucking worried bc you always have your phone with u’

‘Hope you’re okay’ 

It’s kinda funny how he stopped trying, because you haven’t been on your phone the entire day as well and there weren’t any follow up texts or calls this day. You don’t know when the bitterness settled in but now you finally know what you feel and you feel bad that you’re feeling that way. Why are you reacting this badly? You don’t even know, but to calm his dramatic ass down you finally reply to him.

‘Sorry lol im sick i’ve been asleep and weak the whole day’

You jump on the call that lights up your screen immediately and you panic while thinking of ways to sound sick.

“Hey…”

“Jesus fucking christ.” Is how he greets you. “I’ve been worried sick the whole day.” You suppress a snort because you don’t know how true that is. “You okay?”

“Not really…” You try to croak. “Got a raging fever.”

“How long? Maybe you should go to the hospital. Don’t you have someone who can drive you?”

“Unlike you, I don’t have someone.” Is what slips out of your mouth before you can even think about it. You gasp at your own display of bitterness because that sounded harsher than you intended. You know he means well, and of course you know that he knows you have many friends in the city. He wasn’t specifically pointing out a boyfriend, but you sure are making things big. Stupid fucking bitterness. Stupid fucking jealousy. You tried to deny it, but when you’re close to crying over your best friend getting a girlfriend that he apparently hid from you, then you know what it really is after all. 

His silence is deafening and it’s the first time you’ve ever felt awkward with him and you’re not even together in the same damn place.

As the silence stretches on, you hear a voice in the background call out. “Nate? You coming to bed?”

And you beat him before he can voice out a reply to her, or to you. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself. You should go, I’m hanging up. Catch ya later.”

You don’t ‘catch up’ with him, not for another three days, and even then it’s still through text. Your last phone call had been two weeks prior to his girlfriend revelation. You tell him you’ve recovered from your (fake) fever and that you’ve been busy with work you missed. He tells you about his schedules and games and the new guy who’s recently traded to the Avs. There wasn’t another phone call for weeks to come and it’s weird not hearing his voice for more than a month. 

You’ve finally managed to put your jealousy aside as you try to ignore that, yes, you’re probably in love with Nate without you even knowing. Over the weeks that passed you’ve come to a very, very annoying realization that the reason why you don’t and can’t date is because no one will even compare to Nate. You’ve managed to put him on a pedestal when you really shouldn’t have but it’s hard when he’s the best guy you’ve ever known. He’s the only guy who understands you and knows you inside out. He has no judgement for who you are. He was the one you shared your entire life with and no one of the opposite gender will probably solidify himself on you as Nate did. You think life has been okay because it’s you and him against the world even if you’ve been long distance for a long time now. Him not telling you about this girl from the beginning really, really hurt you more than it should, but you will come to realize it’s the wake-up call you badly needed.

You’re fucking in love with Nathan MacKinnon and that scares you.