breaking up with rafe cameron (it lasts a day) !
your phone was blowing up furiously with notifications you didn't have to look at to know who it was. another text from your recently self-proclaimed ex-boyfriend pinged again.
'Where are you'
'Answer me.'
'I'm coming to your house'
'We're going to talk about this'
swiping off the messages from your lock screen and angrily flipping over your phone, you sat up in bed where you'd been sulking and threw off the covers.
he'd really hurt your feelings this time, off and gone doing god knows what (selling w barry) for days, usually without a single text. when you did finally get to see him, he had the audacity to be tense and mean towards you.
everyone knows about rafe's short temper, but you're the one who had to deal with it. after so much of letting him take it out on you - especially recently - and not having a spare second to love on your boyfriend, you'd had enough and stopped hanging around his house. shortly after, ending it through a single text.
the sound of his truck swerving into your driveway had you furrowing your brows and pouting, stomping down the stairs to lock the front door. as you reach out the twist the knob, it swings open and you're left stumbling back.
his mere presence towering over you wipes your confidence to say anything. forcing himself inside, he shuts the door behind him and inches closer to you - like a predator to their prey.
"you gonna explain, or what?" he asks, tauntingly slow as he looks down at you and your glossy eyes, trying to contain his anger.
"we're done, rafe. that's what," you push out, though admittedly failing at trying to stand your ground. with him here in front of you, what could you possibly have been so upset about? your memory fails you the longer you keep his intense gaze.
he scoffs and shakes his head, exhaling sharply through his nose to physically release his rage - though his jaw is still firmly clenched. "that's fuckin' rich."
"i'm serious. you're— you're never here. i'm all by myself at your house all the time. i just.. it's so lonely." after finally finding your words and letting them out, the both of you seem to relax a bit.
"baby, i— listen, i'm workin' a business now, okay? i got my own money, i'm.. providing. for you." he explains in a hurry, trying to hide how desperately he needs you back.
"i don't need any of that, rafe. i just want to be around you." your voice starts to trail off towards the end, partly because of the vulnerability but mostly because of his possible reaction.
as he runs his hands over his face to ease the tension between his brows, he lets out a sigh and stays silent for a moment.
"don't fucking scare me like that. you can just tell me this shit, don't have to go starting a bunch of nonsense." the words are followed by his hands dropping to his side, looking down at you more hurt than mad.
it has your heart melting and your head nodding before looking down, letting out a bold but harmless mumble. "still mad at you though.."
the arm hooking around the back of your neck tugs you into his chest, free hand messily working through your hair to pull you firmer against him. his lips plant possessively on the crown of your head before murmuring, "jesus christ."
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Can you do a hc for zoro, law, kidd, and ace (or anyone else you chose) for the first time you let them go down on you? Like you never let them because (whatever reason you chose) and then one day you're extremely nervous and they ask and you say you wanna try it? (Bc maybe you heard a friend talk about it?)
If you aren't comfortable with this I AM SO SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME
(Also, just a little shy to come off anon bc you are like my hero and I'm nervous)
eeee nonny this is so good !! (and pleaseeee come off anon and talk to me u r so sweet!! <3)
going down on you for the first time (nsfw)
ft. zoro, law, kid, ace
cw: afab!reader, oral (reader receiving), teasing, marking, fingering
masterlist || commissions
zoro
when zoro slides down your torso and pushes your panties to the side, you start stammering profusely. "y-you don't need to, i can just take care of you—" you sputter; this was zoro's first time with you—or with anyone, for that matter—and you didn't want all the focus to be on yourself.
zoro clicks his tongue in mild annoyance as he grips the back of your thighs. "nope. not letting you get all shy on me." he insists, pressing sloppy, heated kisses along your inner thigh. "what's wrong? you think i can't figure out how to do it?" he teases.
"no—" you start, intending to explain yourself, but the way he licks a stripe across your clit with the flat of his tongue shuts you up.
"then lay back and relax." he says with a smirk as his head eagerly buries itself between your legs.
despite your shyness, zoro wants to taste you so badly, though you don't realize just how much he craves it until his tongue starts dancing across your needy clit.
he's inexperienced and a little clumsy, but he's messy and passionate and it sends electricity racing through your veins. he's a quick learner, and picks up on everything that sends you reeling and doubles down accordingly.
will not stop until he makes you cum all over his tongue. he has a deep-seated need to prove himself—to be the best—and that extends to the bedroom too.
ace
"ace—" you whine out as his fingers curl against your sweet spot; he feels good, but you're craving something more. "use your tongue too..." you plead softly, making his eyebrows quirk up in surprise.
"you sure, babe? you never let me—" he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish his sentence.
"ace, please—i need it!" you whimper, voice dripping with need as you stare down at him with lust-blown pupils.
"yeah?" he whispers as his tongue rolls across your clit. you arch your back in response and twitch your hips against him, but the reaction from your body alone isn't enough for him. "tell me how much you need it." ace murmurs, intent on making you work for it.
he definitely teases you for finally breaking down and deciding to let him taste you. he's been wanting to for so long—he's just been waiting for you to ask for it.
not afraid to use his devil fruit power to take things up a notch. now that you're finally willing to let him eat you out, he want to pull out all the stops.
if you still haven't had enough when he makes you come undone, he's more than happy to let you grind your hips against his face until the sun comes up.
kid
"oh, so now you want me to do it?" kid asks, a crooked grin on his face—you'd asked him to go down on you after months of not letting him on account of not wanting his lipstick to smear everywhere the sun doesn't shine.
"c'mon, please, kid—" you beg, tangling your fingers through his hair as you try to nudge him downwards.
he smirks and lets out a dark laugh; the glint in his eye as he looks up at you is familiar—it was the type of feral hunger normally reserved for the battlefield, and feeling it directed towards you is intoxicating.
"alright, princess, i'll give it to you." he chuckles, sinking his teeth into your inner thigh and leaving a harsh bruise before moving upwards towards your clit.
despite his rough nature, kid is experienced, and knows exactly what he's doing with that evil, smart tongue of his. as with everything, he's brutal with it as he makes you cum, relentlessly licking at and sucking your clit, but the way your orgasm makes you shatter into a million pieces makes his methods worth it.
now that he's gotten you to beg for him to use his tongue on you once, it's his personal mission to make you do it again, and again, and again. he gains a certain type of satisfaction from turning you into a creature just as insatiable as he is.
he makes you wait for a little while before hopping into the shower afterwards; something about seeing the sloppy red marks from his lips litter your inner thighs and the top of your mound drives him crazy.
law
"hey, law?" you ask hesitantly, face turning pink as you try to ignore the way your heart thrums in its cage.
"mhm?" he hums, trailing kisses along your collarbone, though his sweet affection creeps to a halt when he feels you freeze up beneath him.
"i know i said that i don't like... being eaten out... but it's just because no one's ever done it properly for me before. but i've been thinking recently, and—" you ramble, words spilling off your tongue quickly and tangling into a nervous mess.
"you want me to go down on you?" he purrs as his lips curl into a satisfied smirk.
"please—" you squeak out; the reaction amuses law, and you feel a soft chuckle vibrate against your skin as he kisses his way down your torso.
law has no experience whatsoever before you, and has no idea what he's doing, but he's used his fingers to pull enough orgasms out of you by this point that he has a good idea of where to start.
he masks his inexperience with confidence and teasing remarks, which stops your mind from racing a mile a minute, and leaves you feeling relaxed and pliant for him as he experimentally drags his tongue across your clit.
admittedly, it takes him a little while to figure out quite what he's doing, but he doesn't mind spending all night with you writhing beneath him to make sure he gets it right. his ego soars when he finally gets you to come apart on his tongue, and he'll work twice as hard to get you to cum a second time if you don't stop him.
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You can lay blame for this second ask at @hoifne 's feet, I saw their comment on the post and had to:
How did folks react to the moon landing?
"You're ready? No Big Regrets?" Renji asks. He always asks. He'd done hundreds of Konso rituals now that he was doing his mandatory tour of duty in the living world, but he never wants them to feel 'routine', so he talks to the ghosts. Hypes them up a bit for the afterlife, tries to keep his heart in it.
Especially when it's a kid.
"Well, it's not really a big deal..." The ghost Suichi considers. He was maybe ten or eleven years old. Thick prescription glasses, face round with puppy fat, very loved. Love won't stop a freak electrical accident though. Young Suichi is handling his sudden departure really well, all things considered, so maybe love does stop despair. "-but its a bit of a shame that if there's no TV in the afterlife, I won't be able to watch the moon landing."
"Yeah, we're a bit behind the times, but I'm sure one of the mad geniuses in the 12th will invent one sooner than late-" Renji grins ruffling the boy's hair before the rest of the sentence registers. "-The What Landing?"
"The Moon Landing!" Suichi lights up with excitement. "They just launched the rocket yesterday! But in just three days, man will walk on the moon!"
"...The Moon?" Renji blinks, bewildered.
"Yeah!"
Renji points up over his shoulder into the sky, gripping the boy's shoulder, eyes wide. "THE MOON IN THE FUCKING SKY?"
---
The lights of the Fifth division offices reflect blankly off of Captain Aizen's glasses as he attempts to process the news. He is entirely still, save for his eyebrows which are writhing like overcaffienated caterpillars, unable to settle on an emotion to convey.
"The Moon?" Lieutenant Ichimaru squints at Renji even harder than usual, pointing up out the window behind him. "The Moon in the fucking sky?"
"Yeah!" Renji spread his hands. "I didn't believe it either but the humans have managed to work out some neat trick with the way the world turns to like, throw the spaceship like a slingshot..?" he tried to explain.
"So, so there's three guys in a boat-" Captain Aizen tried again, reaching up under his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.
"It's really more like a sealed metal tube, but they call it a Space Ship because it does sorta sail through space..." Renji tried to explain, holding up the newspaper from the living world he'd brought back to substantiate his claims and also provide helpful images to explain what was happening.
"So there's three guys in a metal tube and they... threw it into the sky so hard that instead of falling it started flying instead?" Aizen tried. "How do they even throw something that hard without Kido?"
"So the men are up in this little itty bitty bit at the top that looks like a cap on a vaccine needle-" Renji pointed at the image of the Apollo 11 rocket. "-All the rest of this is the uh. enormous amount of extremely coordinated high explosives they used to launch it. The. The whole thing is like... It's a little over three hundred fifty shaku and only 12 shaku of that is where the humans are. The rest is um. Air they smooshed so hard it became liquid and then they set that on fire and look at the picture you can see the kaboom!" Renji tried to explain, pushing the paper across Aizen's desk for his captain to read.
Aizen certainly pointed his face at the image and accompanying article, but 'read' may have been a bit beyond him at the moment.
"Oh, is that all it took?" Ichimaru hummed with interest. "Well fuck, why haven't we done that?"
"Oh yes, how very silly that the humans have beaten us at the trifling matter of FLINGING OURSELVES INTO SPACE, WHAT THE *HELL* ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT ICHIMARU??" Aizen objected.
"Well like. Idea's sound. Moon goes around the earth, so a smaller thing should too. And we can absolutely make a sealed metal container and kaboom bigger than that." Gin shrugged, as though this were plainly obvious. "Betchya the clown that runs the twelfth has the stuff laying around- we got a meeting with him later today anyway, why not ask?"
"Oh sure, that's a great Idea!" Aizen beamed. "Why hello Kurotsuchi-taicho, curious news from the human world- do you think you could spare a few parts and several tons of explosives to send some guys for a stroll on the moon?"
There was a moment of silence where Renji and Gin shared an awkward glance (or at least, Renji gave meaningful look to the narrow slits where his lieutenant-commander's eyes theoretically were).
"...he'd agree to that in a heartbeat, if he hasn't started work on his own Spaceboat already." Aizen groaned.
---
"No." Grunted Mayuri.
"No? Why not?" Aizen asked, head cocked to the side like a confused spaniel.
"Look, what the old man doesn't know about budget expenditures won't hurt him!" Gin smiled encouragingly. "Think of all the scientific data you'd get to research!"
"What the old man finds out about budget expenditures after the fact can and will hurt me." Mayuri growled. "It's not cookie money, kitting an expedition to the living world to engineer a spaceship with atomic matter instead of Reishi- No, much more efficient to let the humans do it for us and poach the date from them."
"...Why would we need to go to the Living world?" Aizen blinked, confused. "I can see the moon from the window right here?" Aizen pointed out the window of Kurotsuchi's office.
"What? That moon? You can't go to that moon!" The clownish chemical engineer cackled."
Aizen and Ichimaru stared at him blankly.
"Is. Is the moon here different than the one in the living world?" Aizen asked, bewildered.
"Different? It doesn't exist!" Mayuri laughed, waving his hand at them.
Aizen and Ichimaru stared at him, then leaned back in their seats, looking out the window at the moon, which still looked as physical and present as it ever did.
"...Oh don't tell me you didn't know." Mayuri frowned, pouting. "No, spirit world doesn't have a moon. The thing up in the sky is a Tulpa- there's a "moon" because everyone who comes to spirit world thinks there should be one, and there's so much ambient spiritual energy even weak souls can exert some force on the nature of reality and when millions of them are all certain there should be a moon, a moon manifests. Or at least, a thing that looks like a moon. Doesn't act like one, changes size and skips around it's phases all the time and if it really were a round object in space, that's NOT what a crescent moon would look like."
Aizen and Ichimaru looked back out the window at the "Moon", whose crescent arced a full three quarters of the alleged satellite's circumference.
"Seriously? this is some really basic stuff." Mayuri glared at them in disappointment. "You never noticed that the moon is always visible out any random window at night, no matter what time it is? It doesn't even go east-to-west more than half the time!"
"But. But we have a lunar calendar..?" Aizen muttered, an edge of genuine distress in his voice.
"Oh yeah, the moon *used* to be regular as clockwork- everyone literally set their watches to it." Mayuri shrugged. "Then sometime about eh, two and a half, three thousand years ago? Right around the same time the first captain-class spirits started appearing, the moon started doing this 'Full Moon Thrice A Month If it Feels Like It' and 'Visible At Improbable Angles' nonsense."
Aizen's eyes were wide and Gin's very nearly open with alarm.
"That's uh- that's terrifying?" Aizen sputtered, now outright frightened.
"Yeah, anybody know what coulda caused that?" Gin muttered.
"The going theory is that the precipitation of a new class of spiritually hyperpotent souls like us has caused disproportionate tugs on the desired appearence of the the "Moon", but that's only a theory- my predecessor's predecessor once attempted to send a camera to the 'Moon' for a closer look, but it never actually *got* any closer." Mayuri explained, casually inspecting his fingernails- he seemed to be growing out the middle one for some godforsaken reason. "-Your theoretical starboat would likely far worse."
"...Okay but that's worse. You understand how that's worse, right?" Aizen demanded and Mayuri waved him off.
"No, no hit makes sense-" Gin nodded, and Aizen glared at his lieutenant. "Think about it! There's what, three and a half billion human on earth? Millions die every day, but only a couple hundred ever turn up every day at the intake queue in the 7th, and nearly everyone is from just the one part of Japan. We're one afterlife of many- ugh, could you imagine if the missionaries were sent here?- anyway, our world is nowhere NEAR as big at the Living World, so the moon-moon is just a geographical feature in the living world, and there's only a couple million people living here. We got disproportionate swing, so we pull on the collective conciousness more. It's fine!"
"That's AWFUL!" Aizen shouted, dismayed.
"I mean I think we all understand God is an Asshole, but what are you gonna do about it?" Mayuri shrugged before tapping on the crate beside his desk. "-Anyway, do you want these Polio Vaccines for the rukongai outreach program our not?"
"I- yes. Please." Aizen muttered.
"Good man, sign here." Mayuri tapped the sheet on his desk. As Aizen tried to read over the provisions release paperwork, the small "Electronic Mailer" on Mayuri's desk pinged. "Oh, the word got out- Kyoraku-taicho wants to hold another moon-viewing party for the occasion. Do me a favor and attend so you can explain to him why we can't go to our 'moon' for me? I don't want to go, and I really don't want to explain it to him through a hangover either."
"If you don't wanna go Boss I'll stand in for you. Promises to be a real riot." Gin grinned.
"Yes, you have your young friend, don't you? Miss Matsumoto?" Aizen smiled fondly at his second-in-command.
"Oh, she probably already got her invite- she an' Miss Nan- er, lieutenant Ise are real pals from the academy." Gin laughed. "Nah, I was gonna drag old blind bones along."
"...Captain Tousen?" Aizen asked, befuddled. "Whatever for?"
"Stars ain't exactly braille, y'know?" Gin explained, wiggling his fingers. "He knows even less than we do an' I wanna watch Rangiku and Kyoraku try'n 'splain the whole thing to him." Gin grinned.
"Sounds lovely! Take your shit and get out of my office." Mayuri threatened.
---
Renji exhaled, still bewildered, laying on his back on the grassy hill just outside the 2nd division training grounds, staring up at the moon as it rose opposite the sunset behind him. Or, maybe not? There had been some lecture about how the moon in spirit world wasn't a moon back at the academy that he didn't really remember-
"You sound like you're in the throes of a moral conundrum Red." Shuuhei teased, looking up from the strange contraption he was setting up.
"Huh?" Renji blinked. "Oh, no I'm just- Those guys in the Spaceship gotta be somethin' else, going to die thousands of miles from home."
"What? The Astronauts? They'll be fine! -Probably." Shuuhei laughed. "They're definitely insane, getting in that contraption at all, but they still gotta come home with all the rocks and whatever they get from the moon for the lab techs to look at."
"...How the hell are they getting back?" Renji frowned, rolling up onto his elbow to frown at his senpai. "I thought they blew up all the rocket getting off the planet?"
"They got a bitty rocket in the lunar landing craft that will get them between their ship and the lunar surface, and then they will angle the ship a bit and the moon will fling them back to earth the way earth flung them at the moon." Shuuei explained, not looking up from the weird bass-drum looking object he was messing with.
Renji opened his mouth, realized his friend probably understood it way better than he did, closed his mouth, shrugged, and changed topics. "So what is that thing you had me haul up here?"
"It's uhhh... Experimental. Haven't got a name for it yet." Shuuhei muttered, placing a level on top of it and frowning at the bubble before adjusting the legs bolted awkwardly to the side of the drum. "-But with all this excitement about the Lunar Landing, I realized Tousen-Taicho is... I mean he gets left out of a lotta stuff, y'know? But it's not like he can see the stars, or the spirit-moon, and I don't think he really understands orbital mechanics-"
"I sure fuckin' don't." Renji muttered.
"Yeah, because you're the kind of moron who put a ham sandwich in a VCR-" Shuuhei rolled his eyes.
"That was ONE TIME, and Matsumoto Senpai told me it was a Panini Press!" Renji sulked.
"-and then pressed "Fast Forward", but Tousen is actually smart as hell- I'm the one who can't explain it without gestures he can't see." Shuuhei continued. "...but I can use a camera obscura and reiryoku-sensitive film to sort of take an old exposure image of the night sky. I'm hoping that if I treat the exposed film right, that the light and dark parts will turn into different textures for him to read, like a braille sky."
"Oh." Renji muttered. "That's really nice of you actually."
"I mean, we'll see if it works." Shuuhei shugged, examining the level again. "Hand me the allen wrenches- What about your boss?"
"Captain Aizen? Uh- honestly? He seems a little freaked out by all this and I saw him fuckin' slam the newspaper into his wastebasket when he got back from the twelth." Renji winced. "He's weird like that. Sweet as cake most of the time but then there's these weird flashes of anger... and I'm not sure how much longer he's gonna be my boss."
"As in you got ambitions, or you think he's gonna get fired?" Shuuhei asked, staring at the level again.
"As in 'Tetsuzaemon Iba got in another brawl with his mother about him only being fourth seat when she made captain, and Liuetenant Madarame asked me if I'd updated my resume recently." Renji winced.
"Woof. Talk about a lateral promotion." Shuuhei winced. "Still, the pay raise would be nice. You could afford to take your girl Rukia somewhere up to her brother's standards!"
"IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!" Renji snapped, rolling over and jumping to his feet. "-It's -I'm sorry. It's kinda complicated." Renji sighed.
Shuuhei was silent for a minute as Renji sat back down on the grass, face in his hands. After a minute of fine-tuning the drum to keep it level, he spoke up. "You're more than good enough."
"Huh?" Renji jolted. "Oh, yeah- I'd be doing all the eleventh's paperwork but there's no way it's worse than the fucking rice subsidies accounting board-"
"That's not what I meant." Shuuhei glared.
"...I know." Renji groaned. "It's just. It's complicated, okay?"
"If you say so." Shuuhei shrugged. "Alright, hand me the flat box- thanks. It'll be ready for exposure in a minute, and I want to get it done before those clouds roll in." He gestured at the distant thunderheads threatening to bloom into a summer storm on the edge of the city.
The process was quick- the shielded plate went into the gap under the drum, and the light of the night sky was reflected onto it from a pinhole in the top. Once the metal plates were pulled back, it needed a few minutes to pick up enough light, before Shuuhei pushed the metal shutters back in and locked the plate in darkness until it could be developed.
"It's for taking pictures of the stars, right?" Renji asked as Shuuhei started disassembling the camera. "You could call that plate an Astrograph."
"Hah! Futuristic. I like it!" Shuuhei grinned. "C'mon and help me with this thing before the punishment squad turns up to kick my ass for having a camera within a mile of the second."
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!bestfriend Jungkook that buys you snacks at the nearest convenience store when he knows you’re feeling under the weather because of course he does. He won’t even hesitate to grab every single snack in an aisle if it means turning your frown into a smile <3
!bestfriend Jungkook that walks to your apartment daily after practice no matter how late/early it is because he knows with even your presence he’ll be fully energized all over again
!bestfriend Jungkook that follows right behind you when your friends ask you to go to the club with them. They’re not even surprised when they spot you walking towards them with Jungkook to your right. He follows to keep you safe and sound. Or so he says.
!bestfriend Jungkook that watches your every move when his hyung walks into the studio to make sure you’re attention to Eunwoo isn’t more than he’d like. His love for Eunwoo is endearing and he’d do almost anything for his brother. Key word: almost. Jungkook doesn’t need to lose you to Eunwoo so when he walks in, greeting you as Jungkook is finishing up recording, Jungkook grabs all his items in record time along with your hand and guides the two of you out of the building and to your apartment.
!bestfriend Jungkook that doesn’t know how to react when you talk to him about your coworker that has had a crush on you since you first applied to the job. The feeling in his chest confused him in the sense that he doesn’t exactly know why it hurts when his name is brought up.
“Can we change the subject?”
“Oh sure is something wrong?” You ask with concern all over your face.
Shaking his head he replies, “No I just want to move on from this subject,”
You nod before cuddling back into him and resuming the movie you were both previously watching before you interrupted with your story.
!bestfriend Jungkook that doesn’t know he’s in love with you and that his feelings are reciprocated.
“You’re pretty,” he watched you walk out of the dressing room into the private room he booked a few weeks ago wearing a pink dress you've had your eye on for who knows how long.
Jungkook would have bought it for you had you not straight up threatened him to not speak to him for a week because the dress is expensive.
"...and you're a liar,"
"What? How am I lying?" he replies staring at your smile that was simply for him before it fades.
"I don't know if I like it anymore," you frown a bit looking in the mirror not really liking the way it wraps around your body.
"What do you mean? You look beautiful, Y/N," he replies staring at you through the mirror.
You stare back at him for a split second before shaking your head slightly and making your way back to the dressing room before a hand wraps around wrist.
"You look absolutely gorgeous and I will remind you of that every day if I have to," his hands are now on your shoulders and his face is closer than ever.
You stare at his eyes that you've admired every chance you get and his lips you always wanted to feel.
He begins to lean in closer to the point that you feel his warm breath when he exhales.
"Is there anything needed in here?" you hear before you back away staring at the floor.
Jungkook remains where he was with a smirk on his face before looking at the consultant.
"We'll take this dress. Just put it on my card," he says
"Absolutely I'll be back in a minute to pack it up for you," she smiles and pulls the curtain back to the way it was before. You hear her heels fade further and further away.
You clear your throat, "I'm going to change," you say walking back to the dressing room.
Jungkook smiled watching you walk away and realizing you completely did not notice he would be the one purchasing the dress for you.
I guess now he would just have to hope you would still speak to him.
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changes || mapi leon x reader ||
the natural changes in your relationship with mapi.
minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.
mapi could tell that something was up. the locker room was a weird mix of tense and seemingly excited. there were rumors of new signees, but mapi hadn't had time to look at them. however, when she arrived at her locker to see a jersey sitting next to it with your last name on it, she realized what was going on.
"are you fucking kidding me?" mapi turned to alexia, as if the woman had personally sought you out to sign. alexia tried to ignore mapi, but the brunette's glare was too much to ignore. "her?"
"she's good, and we could use the extra help on the field with jenni leaving," alexia reasoned. mapi huffed as she hurriedly changed into her kit to get out onto the field. the less time that she had to see you, the better. if mapi was ever to have an enemy, it would have been you.
she knew that there wasn't really a good reason for the two of you to hate each other, but it had been that way for years. whether it be through playing internationally or in your clubs, you and mapi had always clashed on the field together. she knew that alexia was hoping that things would be different with the two of you on the same team, but mapi knew better.
"what is the deal with her?" ona asked as she glanced over to where mapi was glaring at you. everybody knew about you, but they didn't really know you personally. this was a brand new club to you, and you were going to keep your distance because surely these girls were all already mapi's friends.
you didn't understand the rivalry between the two of you. it had started back in international youth teams, and spiraled since then. emotions had run high for you back then, and in the year since, you had mellowed out a bit. many girls who you had once played against were now your friends, with the exception of maria.
maria seemed to hold onto the resentment from your youth. for you, it all stemmed in a single game. it was your chance to show how good you really were, and mapi had shut every single one of your attempts down. you knew how that it was just her having you marked, and that it wasn't personal, but back then it felt personal.
"go away ona, i don't want to talk about it," mapi practically growled. she was much closer to snapping with you around, and it was something that ona realized they'd all have to get used to. ona just hoped that it wasn't going to be a permanent change in attitude.
…
"fuck, come on!" you shouted as you rubbed your thigh. you thought that you were alone in the training room, so when you heard footsteps, you jumped. you looked around the room, surprised to see mapi limping around with an ice pack on her knee. "oh, it's you."
"don't sound too happy," mapi muttered. your face fell, unsure of why she was still being so mean to you. the two of you barely ever interacted during practice, but today had been put on the same team for the 5-v-5. mapi had played things a little high for a couple of the drills, which meant she had gotten you some great passes. if it wasn't for the bad blood between the two of you, there would be a lot of potential for a team up.
"what's wrong with your knee?" you can't help but ask. it's not that difficult to tell yourself that it's just because you're teammates. there was no way that you cared about mapi outside of the pitch. it wasn't like you had been catching yourself thinking of her randomly throughout the day or anything.
"pina, she jumped on my back and my knee buckled. it's no big deal. what's wrong with you?" mapi didn't hide the concern in her voice. you had hobbled away early during practice, and mapi knew you better than to think it was just to get out of drills. they had been ready to start your favorite one of practice when you left.
"it's an old injury that acts up sometimes. i'm good though, barcelona didn't waste their money signing me," you reassured her. mapi's face fell, wondering if that was how you thought she felt about you. truthfully, she hadn't been happy to learn that you came all the way here, but she respected you as a player. mapi knew firsthand how good you were, more often than not having been a thorn in her side when the opportunity arose.
"do you need ice or something?" mapi asked. you shook your head. icing your leg hadn't helped it at all. the tapes would help for a bit, but you needed something more. mapi tilted her head as she watched you try to rub your discomfort out. it was risky, but she stood up and stood in front of you.
"what are you doing?" you asked as you watched mapi move your hand away. hers replaced yours, working through the knots much better than you had been able to. "mapi-,"
"don't mention it, please," mapi said quietly. you nodded and closed your eyes as you leaned back against the bench. mapi was grateful for your eyes being squeezed shut because it allowed for her eyes to roam over your body. things seemed to be just fine between the two of you until her fingers pressed a little higher up than she meant to, pulling a very breathy sigh from your lips. "lo siento."
"don't mention it," you told her. mapi noticed the way that your voice shook like you were barely holding it together. it wasn't the first time that you had crossed her mind, but it definitely was the first time that she had ever really thought about putting her hands on you like this.
…
there's a definite shift in your relationship with mapi over the next couple of weeks. the two of you aren't exactly clambering to spend time together outside of training, but everybody could tell that something had changed. you opened up more to your teammates, no longer afraid that they'd all follow maria's lead and decide to hate you.
"hola maria," you greeted happily as you sat down across from the woman. she furrowed her brows as she looked at you, a slight pout on her lips. "it's rude not to say it back."
"don't call me maria, it makes me feel like i'm in trouble," she said.
"that's your name though," you said. she got up and stood in front of you, encroaching on your personal space. "what am i supposed to call you then?"
"mapi." she grabbed onto your chin and tilted your head up so that you were looking at her. there had been a weird bit of tension building up between the two of you that everybody was waiting to come to head. alexia seemed to watch the two of you with a particular closeness, occasionally with a look of disbelief on her face.
"fine. hola, mapi," you corrected. mapi smiled down at you, leaning in almost close enough to kiss you.
"hola, (y/n). are you coming out tonight? the girls want to go dancing." the invitation had been extended to you in the parking lot, but you hadn't accepted it just yet. you knew that tomorrow was a recovery day, but you also knew that meant twice the amount of drinks as normal. the spanish girls could handle their liqour a lot better than you could, having spent most of your adult life not drinking much.
"promise to keep an eye on me and make sure i don't drink too much?" you asked her. mapi nodded, smiling as she let go of your head. the two of you paired up for some of the drills during practice, something that had become fairly normal. after practice, mapi walked you out to your car, promising to pick you up whenever it was time to go out.
…
the club was absolutely packed, and you hated it. somehow, the entire team had been talked into going, which meant you knew a good amount of the people there, but it was still far too crowded for your liking. that was why you had sat down in a booth across from alexia and refused to move no matter what.
"are the two of you having fun?" you and alexia both glanced over to jenni, who looked disappointed. mapi and leila were right next to her, both of them looking at the two of you expectantly. "come on, it won't kill you to dance with us."
"it might, you don't know that it won't," alexia shot back quickly. you smirked as you watched jenni's face harden a bit. there wasn't a doubt in your mind that alexia would be in for it whenever they got home. jenni didn't like to brag about the things that she got up to with alexia in their bedroom, but the two of you had a habit of chatting in the gym.
"well, if you die, i'll just give you cpr," jenni said as she tugged alexia out of her seat. leila followed the two of them, trailing close behind jenni. that left you and mapi to stand there and stare at each other.
"come on, if ale can get up, so can you," mapi said. she was much more gentle in getting you onto your feet. she also seemed to be content to wait until a slower song started to get you out there.
you didn't fight with mapi as the two of you swayed to the beat of the music. her hands fell onto your hips as she pressed herself up against you. you welcomed the warmth of her body, not having realized how long it had been since someone touched you like this. your mind quickly went elsewhere, but when you felt the press of mapi's lips against the side of your neck, you realized that maybe she wanted this too.
"kiss me," you said as you turned around. you knew that mapi couldn't hear you, but she could read your lips well enough to know what you wanted. and even if she couldn't, you weren't being subtle at all. your eyes hadn't left her lips, not until she was leaning in. excitedly, you surged forward and closed the gap between the two of you.
mapi's lips were soft, a contrast to the way that her teeth nipped at your lip. you let out a little yelp, one that had mapi laughing as she held you in her arms. you swallowed as you looked at her before nodding towards the door. she nodded, and the two of you left the club wordlessly.
"my place or yours?" you asked mapi. she got into the passenger's seat of her own car, having given you her keys after her second drink. you were pretty sure that she hadn't drank much more after that, but in your mind, it was always better safe than sorry.
"yours. i have never been there before," mapi answered. you started her car, jumping a little as the engine roared to life. mapi laughed at that, placing her hand on your thigh to calm you down a bit. she knew that her car could be a bit much for someone driving it for the first time, but she trusted you. you had proven yourself to be one of the very responsible members of the team, especially tonight when everybody else had chosen to get nearly blackout drunk with a few expections.
mapi seemed surprised to see where your apartment was. you had truly gotten a good location, extremely close to the training grounds and nearby several restaurants and stores. mapi was a bit jealous, even if she did like her apartment. it was close by alexia and jenni's, so she could always go annoy them whenever she felt like it.
"it's a bit messy. i had a hard time finding something to wear tonight," you warned her. mapi didn't seem to care. her eyes dropped down to your outfit, appreciatively checking you out once again. it had been hard to keep her eyes off of you earlier in the night, and she was beyond relieved whenever you hadn't pushed her away on the dance floor.
"with how good you look, we'll be lucky to make it to your bedroom," mapi told you. you clenched your thighs together as you unlocked your door. once the two of you were inside, mapi pulled you in for another kiss. this one was firm without being rough. mapi established her control very early on, but you had expected as much.
you kicked your heels off before jumping up into mapi's arms. she carried you down the little hallway, stopping momentarily to press you against the wall to kiss you a little harder. you moaned into that kiss, grinding your hips against her just a little. mapi could already feel the heat coming off of your core, and she realized that she couldn't wait to have you.
"bedroom?" mapi asked. you pointed at the door at the end of the hallway. mapi pulled you away from the wall and walked you right over there. she set you down just long enough to let you move the dresses and clothes scattered about on your bed. you turned around to see her half-naked in front of you. "like what you see?"
"fuck yes," you breathed out. mapi smirked as she moved towards you. your hands immediately flew down to touch her stomach, fingers running along the taunt and toned muscle of her abdomen. mapi's head dropped down to rest on your shoulder, breathing heavily as your hands moved along her body.
"touch me." mapi guided your hands down between her legs. you were surprised, having assumed that she wouldn't have let you in so quickly. you had heard the way mapi talked about having sex with the girls she had picked up before, and it had all sounded very one-sided. although, you supposed that her letting you touch you like this was even more exciting because you did't expect it.
your fingers were met with skin made slick from arousal. mapi was panting in your ear as your fingers teasingly stroked between her lips. mapi bucked her hips forward as your fingers approached her clit. mapi's hands grabbed onto your shoulders for support as she tilted her hips just enough for your fingers to wind up at her entrance.
"one at a time," mapi told you. she sounded desperate, so you let one of your fingers slip inside of her. mapi hiked her leg up as she bucked her hips to try and ride your finger. you quickly lifted her with your other arm, pulling both of you back onto the mattress.
mapi stayed on top of you, riding your finger as you tried to comfortably adjust yourself beneath her. you could tell whenever the one finger wasn't quite enough for mapi, and slowly added a second. once again, you were patient as mapi set the pace that she wanted. you matched her thrust for thrust, not daring to go faster than what she was.
"please, i need more. i'm so close," mapi begged you. she was a lot more prone to whining than you had originally thought, but it didn't bother you one bit. you liked the vulnerability that mapi was willing to show to you, especially considering how volatile your relationship had been in the beginning.
"do you want another finger?" you asked. mapi shook her head, and suddenly, you realized what she needed. you dropped your other hand from her hip down between her legs, allowing for your fingers to brush against her clit. you felt a surge of wetness along with the first spasm of her cunt around your fingers. the next few came in controlled little waves, matching the rhythm set by the fingers against her clit. there was only so long that she could hold off on cumming, and once she had let you, you felt her body tense up around you.
mapi lifted herself off of your fingers before settling down in between your legs. she placed her hands on your waist and bunched them around your dress. you lifted your hips up off of the bed, allowing for the bottom of your dress to move up around your waist. mapi licked her lips as she looked straight ahead to be met with the sight of your definitely ruined underwear.
"i can't wait to taste you," mapi said as she leaned in. your breath hitched as you felt hers ghost across the insides of your thighs. it wasn't fair to see her so composed immediately after an orgasm. you felt like a wreck, turned on and no longer distracted with something interesting to focus on. you were left to lay there and think about how uncomfortable the now-sticky fabric of your underwear felt.
"please hurry," you whined. mapi hooked her fingers around your underwear and pulled them down slowly. she gave a quick teasing little lick between your lips, moaning in pleasure at the taste of you.
"so sweet, i could spend all night licking up every drop." the thickness of mapi's accent made you want to clench your thighs, but her hands kept them apart. she kept you spread open as she took her time to admire you. it was touching her that had gotten you so worked up, and once the two of you were finished, mapi planned on being insufferable about it.
"just please, i want to cum so badly." you looked at mapi with a pout. she bit her lip as she pushed her finger against your entrance. "two, not just one. i need to be fucked, mapi, fucked."
she gave you a quick nod and pushed another finger inside of you without hesitation. her fingers moved at a quick pace, nearly fucking the breath out of you. you threaded your fingers in her hair and pulled her head forward, directing her so that her mouth was on your clit. mapi didn't need instruction past that.
her tongue worked magic on your clit, moving with fluidity and precision. your hips were bucking wildly as you ground yourself against mapi's face. she let you push yourself closer and closer towards an orgasm until you were on the edge of it. that was when she wrapped both of her arms around your hips, keeping you still so that she could truly control when you came.
you hadn't meant to scream her name out at the top of your lungs, but it had still happened. mapi relished in the sound of it echoing off of your bedroom walls. your neighbors would be pissed, but you'd apologize later on, if you could even face them again. mapi liked the sound of her name spilling from your lips that she didn't stop there. you were physically pushing her off of your body to get her to give you a break, and even then, she was looking at you as she "patiently" waited for another turn.
"in the morning," you promised. mapi pouted as she settled in the bed next to you.
"that is so far away," mapi whined. you rolled your eyes at her as you pulled her in for a kiss. "just one more?"
"no, it's late, and i'd like to actually get some rest now. god, you're so needy, maria," you teased. mapi's brows furrowed as she stared at you, obviously not happy with the use of her full name.
"well, now you owe me one in the morning," mapi told you. you laughed it off, already having planned on having sex with her again in the morning. you knew that the two of you had opened up a can of worms, one that you'd be exploring for at least a couple more weeks. you hoped that it would blossom into more, but you didn't want to push mapi for anything too serious when you'd only recently become friends.
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i had a post in the works talking about some of my personal life shit and the things i'm looking to do with rekindled this year to help make personal life shit easier aaand then i fell asleep for a nap and when i woke up Rachel announced that LO was ending in less than 10 episodes ??
sooo yeah i'm officially saving that post for later, because LO is officially ending, with an actual end date. It does mean that it's not ending at the start of Spring like my initial prediction, which is a bummer (because that would have been really cool LMAOOO) but it does mean it gets to go on long enough to resolve the current plot arc. As for every other plotline in the story... yeah, those aren't getting wrapped up, at least not in any way that could be satisfying.
For over the last year LO has been a series of "wait seriously???" and this is yet another, though it's kind of different this time. We knew the end was coming and practically begging for Rachel to pick an end date because for many, following along with this comic has become a Sisyphean task week after week. It's bittersweet in a way, but . . . I also kinda don't feel anything? Maybe it's just my 'tism, maybe it's just the fact that I'm so tired of following this series, but I just... don't feel joy, but I don't feel dread. It's ending and that's that. As all things come and go in life, some day there won't be any more LO, and that day is May 11th.
I will miss the weekly readalongs that I would do with pals, the memes we'd make out of the new material, but I don't think I'm going to miss the comic and everything it said and did. At this point reading LO feels like watching a horse struggle to breathe and you're just begging the farmer to put it out of its misery, but the farmer thinks "No no, it'll be fine! It'll get back up in no time!" and it's like... no, it desperately needs to be put to rest 💀
I still have my two drafts stowed away, both on opposing sides of the fence depending on how LO turns out-
-and now we finally have an end date on when those essays will be written.
I don't know how I feel yet about it ending. These are complicated feelings to sort through regarding a comic that's basically been my life for the last few years, even before I turned into a critic of it. I'm just glad there's a light at the end of the tunnel. And I'm glad even my "love to hate it" energy has been waning on it the past few weeks anyways so that the end of it all can feel as painless as possible LOL Don't get me wrong, there will still be plenty to discuss after the comic, I don't think the antiLO/ULO community will just disappear into a puff of smoke as soon as LO is over, but I think a lot of us are also equally relieved that the comic made it this easy to stop reading and that it now has an end point.
And most of all, I'm hoping that whatever ending the comic brings, even if it just winds up being the S2 finale all over again for the critics, is still satisfying for the fans who have stuck around with it this long. The people who have loved this comic through it all at least deserve a proper send-off and I really hope Rachel gives it to them.
As for me... I'm not going anywhere, but it's been nice to stuff the overflowing clothes of LO back into its drawer within my brain. I want to make room for other drawers, other things, other pieces of work that will undoubtedly bring me more joy and entertainment. I don't know what yet, but it's nice to know the drawers aren't overflowing anymore.
And that's all I'm gonna say on that.
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Loved and Landed (Steph Catley x Reader)
A/n Requested
-------
Steph lives a busy life.
There's her football life. Obviously.
There's her schooling life.
There's the life she lives with her friends and family.
And then there's the life with-
"Steeeeeph, come on, I wanna get there early, I'm not dealing with Katie leaving something for me to find, again."
There's incessant tugging at the sleeve of her red Arsenal hoodie.
Of course, her football life keeps her the most busy.
Especially when she has to drive it to and from home all of the time now that Kyra's living in the house as well.
It had been a hectic process, but the young midfielder had settled in quickly, taking in the familiarity of the Aussie herself and her club teammates' closeness around them.
Quickly becoming a child amongst the older girls on the team, much like a sibling to them, within but a few months.
That being said.
Kyra was a little shit.
And she knew it too.
A demanding one at that.
Hence why Katie had taken to knocking the young brunette down a few pegs.
Her cockiness was starting to show under the protection of the older girls, so the Irish captain had been messing with her enough to take the invincible mindset away from her.
Leaving her ultimately latched onto Steph now.
A lot.
"Seriously, Steph, please, I can't deal with her leaving shaving foam in my boots again."
The older woman raises an eyebrow at the pleading look on Kyra's face.
"You did this to yourself, Ky. Katie's only retaliating because you decided you were king shit enough to put hair dye in her shampoo."
The younger girl whines.
"Don't you think she's retaliated enough? I've had my shoes violated, my shin guards replaced with slightly smaller ones. I mean, the other day, my water bottle was filled with pickle juice. Pickle Juice! For gods sake."
Steph sighs, rolling her eyes slightly, grabbing the last of her stuff to shove into her pack, she gestures to the front door, to which the midfielder eagerly hurries out of and towards the car, waiting impatiently for the defender to unlock it.
"You've seriously gotta apologise to Katie or something. The girl has ten siblings, I can't imagine she hasn't spent her whole life dealing with bratty behaviour from little shits like you."
Kyra scoffs as she hurriedly buckles herself in.
"Rude."
"The truth."
Steph smirks at the small pout that forms on the other girls lips.
"Hurry up and drive."
"So bossy."
-------
As expected, they arrive with hardly any other people around, decidedly much earlier than any of the other girls. Katie wasn't the earliest of player's anyway, so Kyra really shouldn't be worried about her beating them there.
Still, the youngin looks exceptionally nervous as she peaks into the changing room and gingerly makes her way over to her cubby, scanning it with a ridiculous level of detail.
Steph can only shake her head, watching the young girl sheepishly wander around the room, checking for what may well be hidden traps.
Maybe she should talk with Katie about getting her to take it down a notch.
The Irish woman was nothing if not relentless when it came to getting back at someone.
The last thing the team needed was a midfielder with serious trust issues stemming from their infamous yellow card magnet of a winger.
"Ky, relax. She's not even here yet."
"Yeah, but you never know."
"Seriously, it's game day, relax, she won't-"
"Oh, hello, you two. Stephy. Kyra."
The ever so loud and joyful Katie enters the changing room with a bang of the door as it slams open and hits the wall.
Her smirk quirks up a little wider at the sight of the midfielder, who's looking rather sheepishly around her rather than at the Irish woman herself.
"You two extra early today, eh?"
"Ha, something like that."
Steph gives her a look as she nods in Kyra's direction.
"Give the poor girl a break, would ya? I think she's been thoroughly humbled."
Katie snorts in amusement, eyeing her up.
"Eh, she’s fine. I wasn't gonna do anything."
Steph raises a brow at that.
"....Yet."
There it is.
"Of course. Don't mess around too much, though. We still have a game to play, McCabe."
She lets out an unconvincing hum in response, right as some of the other girls start to filter in, Caitlin one of the ones to settle into her cubby beside the defender.
"What's up with the kid?"
Steph snorts.
"Ask your girlfriend. She's been torturing the poor girl."
Caitlin rolls her eyes, turning to Katie, who's now got a cheeky glint in her as she eyes up the younger of the three.
"Katie."
"What? I didn't do any-"
She stops at the look she gets from the Australian, grumbling as she relents and turns back to her cubby.
-------
Kyra's finally able to escape the locker room out of sight of the defender the moment the Irish woman is distracted.
Heading down the hall towards the physio room, she ends up coming face to face with and bumping face first into someone.
She groans when she rubs at her face and her backside from where she landed on it as she stands up again with the help of her assailant.
The person is stood in a royal navy uniform, a patch on her shoulder with three horizontal gold stripes and a small circled loop on the top, hair slicked back and tight into a bun behind her head.
'L/n-Catley' the name badge reads.
Confusion crosses her face which you quickly notice.
"You're Steph's teammate right?"
"Uh yeeaah? Who are you?"
"It's a long story and sorry about the bump there. I uh, I don't know if y'all know yet but I might need your help. The staff were nice enough to let me in but I need an escort here."
"Where are you going?"
"I got told to wait for one of the trainers in the staff room?"
"Can I ask what you're doing?"
"Waiting to see Steph, but don't tell her, it's supposed to be a surprise."
Kyra is extremely sceptical, but she leads you down the hall to where the trainers are situated and one of them recognises you immediately, hugging you and dragging you into the room.
She's even more confused when the staff member is nearly in tears.
Wait.
Navy uniform.
Here to see Steph.
L/n-Catley on the name badge.
There's no way.
"Are you... Are you married to Steph?"
You chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck.
"Yes I am. If you can't tell it's been a little while since we've seen each other."
"Yeah, I can tell, her house is far too empty for the size of it."
"Ah, so you're the new roommate. Kyra, right?"
"She's been talking about me?"
You nod.
"We would call every two weeks. When she found out you were moving to Arsenal, I couldn't tell if she was happy or mad because you'd already trashed her white towels."
"Hey! That was not my fault, the wine just fell... on it's own."
There's a sheepish look on her face.
You chuckle softly.
"She'll be fine, the pattern was ugly anyway, we needed new towels... Don't tell her I said that."
Kyra smiles at that.
"It's great to meet you, then... How are we planning this out?"
"I'll have my sister here sneak me somewhere I can wait and surprise her at the end of the game."
She nods.
"Alright, I better get going then before the girls come looking for me for pitch inspection."
You nod back and give her a warm smile.
"Oh, I'm Y/n, by the way, Lieutenant Commander Y/n L/n-Catley."
-------
The roar of the almost entirely red and white crowd as the girls enter the pitch is as usual, deafeningly loud.
Home games are always the most adrenaline instilling games, ones where their fans are always the loudest, chanting and screaming every time one of their own touches the ball.
Steph can still hardly believe it.
The growth in the game. Breaking records every single home match so far.
The FA Cup semi-final was no different it seems.
Her eyes subtly scan the crowd as she jogs out behind the others, shifting from clapping fan to clapping fan. There's an air about the crowd.
A massively high inducing air, one that she can feel in every nerve ending in her body as she practically bounces around the pitch in warmups.
She brushes it off as it being a semi final type of high.
Aston Villa would be a difficult opponent and she assumed that was the reasoning.
-------
It seems she's proven wrong in the first ten minutes.
It doesn't take long for Stina to score, the home crowd immediately losing their minds, and they barely have time to recover just two minutes later when the Swede swoops in for the double.
By the fourty-fifth minute, they know they have the game. Four to nil over the Villans thanks to a Stina hattrick and a goal from Frida. Her heartbeat is thumping in her ears as they approach the final minute.
This is the part they're in the dark. How many minutes left of stoppage? How much longer does she have to defend?
The players are taught not to worry about that. To just play until the whistle blows. And she does.
But she can't help the nagging awaiting of the whistle, wondering when it will go.
The moment it does, there's celebration, relief, and a lot of cheering and screams and congratulation from the air around.
A pair of arms and legs wrap around her from behind as Kyra jumps on her back, the young Australian whooping into her ear.
"Onto the finals, Stephy!"
The defender chuckles and celebrates with the team, the announcer shouting out the home teams win to wind up the crowd once more.
As they do the celebration walk around the pitch, the announcer announces player of the match, and then one more announcement catches her ear.
Her head snaps toward the tunnel the moment she hears it, heart stopping at the words of the female announcer.
"And finally, one last round of applause. Let us congratulate and welcome back someone very special to one of our own. Lieutenant Commander Y/N L/n-Catley returning from fifteen months of duty at sea with the Royal Navy."
And truly, there you are, her wife.
Dressed to the nines in your Black, long sleeved uniform, hands clasped behind you, standing with a wide, almost teary smile as you watch Steph bolt across the pitch towards you, catching her with little effort as she jumps into your arms, knocking the cap off your head with the force.
The rest of the Arsenal girls stand shocked, looking between themselves and their left back at the sudden appearance of a totally new member of the Catley family.
Before they can even try to work out who you might be to Steph, the defender has her lips pressed to yours tightly, tears streaming down your face.
The sensation of finally being able to kiss you, her wife. HER wife, has her trembling against you, her stomach twisting and curling as you hold her tight against you, your own hands shaking as they rest on her back.
It had been the longest stint you'd gone without seeing each other, having been on a cramped ship for the majority of that time.
Even having been used to long times apart, the immense relief of being able to hold your person, your love, YOUR wife, after so long. was like nothing else you'd ever experienced.
And you were glad you had all the time in the world to experience it now.
When Steph's finally able to pull back and look you in the eye, hands holding your face, eyes scanning your features, noting a small scar under your right brow, and then returning to make eye contact again with you, albeit very tearily, much like yourself.
Lifting your own hands, your thumbs swipe away the tears on her cheeks, leaning down once more to kiss her, forehead leaning against hers.
You take in the immensity of the screams of the crowd all of a sudden, especially the crowd around the players' tunnel.
With that, she buries herself back into your hold, her nose buried into the crook of your neck.
Your eyes scan the pitch, watching the applauding or shocked expressions of the players.
You'd already known her teammates didn't know she was married, however their shocked expressions still have you chuckling.
All except Kyra's wide smile as she watches the two of you and you give the girl a wink.
"I can't believe it. You're here."
It's half whimpered into your shoulder, and you just barely hear it over the crowd.
"I'm here. I'm home."
"They finally let you on leave?"
She's using a half joking tone beneath the watery chokes and sobs.
"Better than that, Love."
She pulls away shocked.
"You mean.."
You smile down at her teary eyed.
"I'm home for good, not retired but they're giving me an office in London. Full time hours still but I won't be needed for duty anymore."
She frowns softly after a second.
She knew you'd always hated the idea of an office job.
Catching the look on her face, you knew what she'd be thinking about.
"I don't care where it is, or what I'm doing. I'm just glad I'm home, with you. I've had my fill of travelling and front line work for a lifetime."
Leaning your forehead back against hers, you let the moment sink in.
You'd known it was coming for months now, haven spoken to your superiors, and them letting you know there was a position available remotely, you'd taken it in a heartbeat.
If it meant coming home to your girl, you'd have done anything.
A small throat clearing a couple feet from you, the team had moved to stand around the pair of you, eager to ask questions of the brunette in your arms.
You nudge her softly with a small giggle in her ear.
"Babe, I think they have questions."
"They can wait a little longer."
You don't fight her on it just letting her settle into you again, holding you tightly.
The moment she does let go, she's grabbed by the shoulders and interrogated by the team rather swiftly.
Leah stands arms crossed.
"Now Stephy, when did this occur?"
Steph sheepishly smiles around her at her.
"Alright alright, Gunners, meet my beautiful wife, Y/n. She's been in the navy since she turned eighteen, we met five years ago when she was on leave in Australia. We started dating less than a month later and she left on duty about four months later. We got married after three years, bought a house right before she left a year and a bit ago. We haven't seen each other in person since then. Until now, that is."
And just like that, you're immediately dragged into the group rather swiftly, squished into several hugs.
A firm handshake and then a tight hug from their captain, especially. The Scot making firm well you know how quickly she'd bury you should you hurt their defender, despite the fact you'd known Steph longer and you chuckle, nodding in agreement at the stern look turned cracked smile she lets go.
When you're finally free, Steph takes no time tucking herself under your arm and wrapping hers around you, looking up at you slightly with a proud, elated smile, eyes still slightly teary.
Returning the expression, you press a small kiss to her nose.
"Welcome home, Baby."
You shake your head.
"Congrats on the win, Baby, this is your moment right now. Go celebrate for a bit, we've got all the time in the world now."
She pouts but relents with a small peck and nudge.
"KYRA, YOU KNEW?!"
The shouts of the Irish captain make her jump but chuckle a little as a gloating midfielder teases the rest of the girls.
Yeah. She was in for it.
-------
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The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media
[large text: The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media]
If you followed this blog for more than like a week, you're probably familiar with “the mask trope” or at least with me complaining about it over and over in perpetuity. But why is it bad and why can't this dude shut up about it?
Let's start with who this trope applies to: characters with facial differences. There is some overlap with blind characters as well; think of the blindfold that is forced on a blind character for no reason. Here is a great explanation of it in this context by blindbeta. It's an excellent post in general, even if your character isn't blind or low vision you should read at least the last few paragraphs.
Here's a good ol’ tired link to what a facial difference is, but to put it simply:
If you have a character, who is a burn survivor or has scars, who wears a mask, this is exactly this trope.
The concept applies to other facial differences as well, but scars and burns are 99% of the representation and “representation” we get, so I'll be using these somewhat interchangeably here.
The mask can be exactly what you think, but it refers to any facial covering that doesn't have a medical purpose. So for example, a CPAP mask doesn't count for this trope, but a Magic Porcelain Mask absolutely does. Bandages do as well. If it covers the part of the face that is “different”, it can be a mask in the context used here.
Eye patches are on thin ice because while they do serve a medical purpose in real life, in 99.9% of media they are used for the same purpose as a mask. It's purely aesthetic.
With that out of the way, let's get into why this trope sucks and find its roots. Because every trope is just a symptom of something, really.
Roughly in order of the least to most important reasons...
Why It Sucks
[large text: Why It Sucks]
It's overdone. As in — boring. You made your character visibly different, and now they're no longer that. What is the point? Just don't give them the damn scar if you're going to hide it.
Zero connection with reality. No one does this. I don't even know how to elaborate on this. This doesn't represent anyone because no one does this.
Disability erasure. For the majority of characters with facial differences, their scars or burns somehow don't disable them physically, so the only thing left is the visible part… aaand the mask takes care of it too. Again, what's the point? If you want to make your disabled character abled, then just have them be abled. What is the point of "curing" them other than to make it completely pointless?
Making your readers with facial differences feel straight up bad. I'm gonna be honest! This hurts to see when it's all you get, over and over. Imagine there's this thing that everyone bullied you about, everyone still stares at, that is with you 24/7. Imagine you wanted to see something where people like you aren't treated like a freakshow. Somewhat unrealistic, but imagine that. That kind of world would only exist in fiction, right? So let's look into fiction- oh, none of the positive (or at least not "child-murderer evil") characters look like me. I mean they do, but they don't. They're forced to hide the one thing that connects us. I don't want to hide myself. I don't want to be told over and over that this is what people like me should do. That this is what other people expect so much that it's basically the default way a person with a facial difference can exist. I don't want this.
Perpetuating disfiguremisia.
"Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk
[large text: "Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk]
It's quick when compared to my average facial difference discussion post, bear with me please.
Disfiguremisia; portmanteau of disfigure from “disfigurement” and -misia, Greek for hatred.
Also known as discrimination of those mythical horrifically deformed people.
It shows up in fiction all the time; in-universe and in-narrative. Mask trope is one of the most common* representations of it, and it's also a trope that is gaining traction more and more, both in visual art and writing. This is a trope I particularly hate, because it's a blatant symptom of disfiguremisia. It's not hidden and it doesn't try to be. It's a painful remainder that I do not want nor need.
*most common is easily “evil disfigured villain”, just look at any horror media. But that's for another post, if ever.
When you put your character in a mask, it sends a clear message: in your story, facial differences aren't welcome. The world is hostile. Other characters are hostile. The author is, quite possibly, hostile. Maybe consciously, but almost always not, they just don't think that disfiguremisia means anything because it's the default setting. No one wants to see you because your face makes you gross and unsightly. If you have a burn; good luck, but we think you're too ugly to have a face. Have a scar? Too bad, now you don't. Get hidden.
Everything here is a decision that was made by the author. You are the one who makes the world. You are the person who decides if being disabled is acceptable or not there. The story doesn't have a mind of its own, you chose to make it disfiguremisic.
It doesn't have to be.
Questions to Ask Yourself
[large text: Questions to Ask Yourself]
Since I started talking about facial differences on this blog, I have noticed a very specific trend in how facial differences are treated when compared to other disabilities. A lot of writers and artists are interested in worldbuilding where accessibility is considered, where disabled people are accepted, where neurodivergence is seen as an important part of the human experience, not something “other”. This is amazing, genuinely.
Yet, absolutely no one seems to be interested in a world that is anything but cruel to facial differences. There's no escapist fantasies for us.
You see this over and over, at some point it feels like the same story with different names attached.
The only way a character with a facial difference can exist is to hide it. Otherwise, they are shamed by society. Seen as something gross. I noticed that it really doesn't matter who the character is, facial difference is this great equalizer. Both ancient deities and talking forest cats get treated as the same brand of disgusting thing as long as they're scarred, as long as they had something explode in their face, as long as they've been cursed. They can be accomplished, they can be a badass, they can be the leader of the world, they can kill a dragon, but they cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to peacefully exist with a facial difference. They have to hide it in the literal sense, or be made to feel that they should. Constantly ashamed, embarrassed that they dare to have a face.
Question one to ask yourself: why is disfiguremisia a part of your story?
I'm part of a few minority groups. I'm an immigrant, I'm disabled, I'm queer. I get enough shit in real life for this so I like to take a break once in a while. I love stories where transphobia isn't a thing. Where xenophobia doesn't come up. But my whole life, I can't seem to find stories that don't spew out disfiguremisia in one way or the other at the first possible opportunity.
Why is disfiguremisia a default part of your worldbuilding? Why can't it be left out? Why in societies with scarred saviors and warriors is there such intense disgust for them? Why can't anyone even just question why this is the state of the world?
Why is disfiguremisia normal in your story?
Question two: do you know enough about disfiguremisia to write about it?
Ask yourself, really. Do you? Writers sometimes ask if or how to portray ableism when they themselves aren't disabled, but no one bothers to wonder if maybe they aren't knowledgeable enough to make half their story about their POV character experiencing disfiguremisia. How much do you know, and from where? Have you read Mikaela Moody or any other advocates’ work around disfiguremisia? Do you understand the way it intersects; with being a trans woman, with being Black? What is your education on this topic?
And for USAmericans... do you know what "Ugly Laws" are, and when they ended?
Question three: what does your story associate with facial difference — and why?
If I had to guess; “shame”, “embarrassment”, “violence”, "disgust", “intimidation”, “trauma”, “guilt”, “evil”, “curse”, “discomfort”, “fear”, or similar would show up.
Why doesn't it associate it with positive concepts? Why not “hope” or “love” or “pride” or “community”? Why not “soft” or “delicate”? Dare I say, “beauty” or “innocence”? Why not “blessing”? “Acceptance”?
Why not “normal”?
Question four: why did you make the character the way they are?
Have you considered that there are other things than “horrifically burned for some moral failing” or “most traumatic scenario put to paper”? Why is it always “a tough character with a history of violence” and never “a Disfigured princess”? Why not “a loving parent” or “a fashionable girl”, instead of “the most unkind person you ever met” and “total badass who doesn’t care about anything - other than how scary their facial difference is to these poor ableds”? Don’t endlessly associate us with brutality and suffering. We aren’t violent or manipulative or physically strong or brash or bloodthirsty by default. We can be soft, and frail and gentle and kind - and we can still be proud and unashamed.
Question five: why is your character just… fine with all this?
Can’t they make a community with other people with facial differences and do something about this? Demand the right to exist as disabled and not have to hide their literal face? Why are they cool with being dehumanized and treated with such hatred? Especially if they fall into the "not so soft and kind" category that I just talked about, it seems obvious to me that they would be incredibly and loudly pissed off about being discriminated against over and over... Why can't your character, who is a subject of disfiguremisia, realize that maybe it's disfiguremisia that's the problem, and try to fix it?
Question six: why is your character wearing a mask?
Usually, there's no reason. Most of the time the author hasn't considered that there even should be one, the character just wears a mask because that's what people with facial differences do in their mind. Most writers aren't interested in this kind of research or even considering it as a thing they should do. The community is unimportant to them, it's not like we are real people who read books. They think they understand, because to them it's not complex, it's not nuanced. It's ugly = bad. Why would you need a reason?
For cases where the reason is stated, I promise, I have heard of every single one. To quote, "to spare others from looking at them". I have read, "content warning: he has burn scars under the mask, he absolutely hates taking it off!", emphasis not mine. Because "he hates the way his skin looks", because "they care for their appearance a lot" (facial differences make you ugly, remember?). My favorite: "only has scars and the mask when he's a villain, not as a hero", just to subtly drive the point home. This isn't the extreme end of the spectrum. Now, imagine being a reader with a facial difference. This is your representation, sitting next to Freddy Krueger and Voldemort.
How do you feel?
F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]
[large text: F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]]
As in, answers and “answers” to common arguments or concerns.
“Actually they want to hide their facial difference” - your character doesn’t have free will. You want them to hide it. Again; why.
“They are hiding it to be more inconspicuous!” - I get that there are elves in their world, but there’s no universe where wearing a mask with eye cutouts on the street is less noticeable than having a scar. Facial differences aren’t open wounds sprinkling with blood, in case that's not clear.
“It’s for other people's comfort” - why are other characters disfiguremisic to this extent? Are they forcing all minorities to stay hidden and out of sight too? That’s a horrible society to exist in.
“They are wearing it for Actual Practical Reason” - cool! I hope that this means you have other characters with facial differences that don’t wear it for any reason.
"It's the character's artistic expression" - I sure hope that there are abled characters with the same kind of expression then.
“They’re ashamed of their face” - and they never have any character development that would make that go away? That's just bad writing. Why are they ashamed in the first place? Why is shame the default stance to have about your own face in your story? I get that you think we should be ashamed and do these ridiculous things, but in real life we just live with it.
"Now that you say that it is kinda messed up but I'm too far into the story please help" - here you go.
“[some variation of My Character is evil so it's fine/a killer so it fits/just too disgusting to show their disability” - this is the one of the only cases where I’m fine with disability erasure, actually. Please don’t make them have a facial difference. This is the type of harm that real life activists spend years and decades undoing. Disfiguremisia from horror movies released in the 70s is still relevant. It still affects people today.
"But [in-universe explanation why disfiguremisia is cool and fine actually]" - this changes nothing.
Closing Remarks
[large text: Closing Remarks]
I hope that this post explains my thoughts on facial difference representation better. It's a complicated topic, I get it. I'm also aware that this post might come off as harsh (?) but disfiguremisia shouldn't be treated lightly, it shouldn't be a prop. It's real world discrimination with a big chunk of its origins coming out of popular media.
With the asks that have been sent regarding facial differences, I realized that I probably haven't explained what the actual problems are well enough. It's not about some technical definition, or about weird in-universe explanations. It's about categorizing us as some apparently fundamentally different entity that can't possibly be kind and happy, about disfiguremisia so ingrained into our culture that it's apparently impossible to make a world without it; discrimination so deep that it can't be excised, only worked around. But you can get rid of it. You can just not have it there in the first place. Disfiguremisia isn't a fundamental part of how the world works; getting rid of it won't cause it to collapse. Don't portray discrimination as an integral, unquestionable part of the world that has to stay no matter what; whether it's ableism, transphobia, or Islamophobia or anything else. A world without discrimination can exist. If you can't imagine a world without disfiguremisia in fiction... that's bad. Sad, mostly. To me, at least.
Remember, that your readers aren't going to look at Character with a Scar #14673 and think "now I'm going to research how real life people with facial differences live." They won't, there's no inclination for them to do so. If you don't give them a reason, they won't magically start thinking critically about facial differences and disfiguremisia. People like their biases and they like to think that they understand.
And, even if you're explaining it over and over ;-) (winky face) there will still be people who are going to be actively resistant to giving a shit. To try and get the ones who are capable of caring about us, you, as the author, need to first understand disfiguremisia, study Face Equality, think of me as a human being with human emotions who doesn't want to see people like me treated like garbage in every piece of media I look at. There's a place and time for that media, and if you don't actually understand disfiguremisia, you will only perpetuate it; not "subvert" it, not "comment" on it.
I hope this helps :-) (smile emoji. for good measure)
Mod Sasza
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“Please.”
Stiles stands there, chewing on his pretty crimson lips, pleading.
Derek isn't fully clued in yet, but honestly, the kid is kind of vaguely breaking his heart.
“Please, Derek, I'm really sorry about this, but please just—just don't say anything, okay? And just—let me?”
Stiles had texted Derek earlier, at 3.17am, presumably just before he’d set off from his house to drive his jeep to the loft.
Derek was still awake.
His messages had read:
> dude, i rlly need to come over. that ok?
And:
> ill let myself in if thats cool?
And, after a few moments, in quick succession one after the other, and before Derek had a chance to respond:
> and i rlly need u to just like. not get out of bed. presuming yr already in bed
> all shall be revealed
> lol i don't know why i put that
> and obvs tell me if any of this is not ok. ok?
> as if you wouldn't lol
> #sourwolf
> and yeah i know im being a weirdo but thats why you like me
And then, a few seconds later:
> right?
Derek had stared at the flurry of messages for a minute or so, then texted back:
Okay, weirdo <
About ten minutes later, Stiles had let himself into the building. Derek listened to the kid muttering away to himself as he rode the old service elevator—except it wasn't really himself he was talking to.
“God, I hope I'm not wrong about this. Like, I think we're good enough friends now for it not to be weird. I mean, at least I hope we are. I'm just so fucking tired, man. I have got to get some sleep. Anyways, just—don't get up, okay? Or, like, can you get into bed if you're not already in bed? Sorry, I know I texted you this already, I just really need you to trust me. You do know you can trust me… Right, big guy?”
Derek's trust of Stiles was implicit.
When the steel door slid open, Derek had smelled fresh, mostly unscented shower gel over the base notes of Stiles's own cinnamon scent, mixed with the very definite chemo-signals that indicated fear, restlessness, apprehension… and also, the strongest of them all, hope.
Let me.
Here, now, Derek still doesn't know what the kid needs.
Let him what?
Derek doesn't have any more time to wonder, though, because Stiles is taking off his sneakers and pants and is slowly, very slowly—as if giving Derek the chance to protest—climbing into bed next to him.
Stiles is now in Derek's loft in the small hours, in Derek's bed, fully under Derek's covers, with Derek wearing only his grey tank and black boxer-briefs and a probably terrified look on his face.
He silently thanks the universe for the cover of night.
“Like, you should obviously say something if this is completely heinous or whatever, but otherwise just—let me do this?”
And all Derek can think is shit, he's freezing, at the same time he is going into a some sort of dumbstruck shock because Stiles is now wrapping his entire sinewy, beautiful body around the entirety of Derek's.
“This okay?” Stiles asks, the air around them spiking with the smell of his anxiety as he Big-Spoons Derek like some human-shaped octopus, skinny but strong limbs astonishingly everywhere.
And he sounds so unsure, and so small, and Derek can't bear it.
Not giving the stoic part of his brain any opportunity to talk him out of doing this, Derek takes ahold of Stiles's wrist from where the kid had draped one of his long arms around Derek's midriff, and hangs on, as firmly but gently as he can, manoeuvring them both around in the bed so that Stiles is now the Little Spoon.
“This okay?” he asks gingerly, mirroring Stiles because his own words are failing him.
Stiles says, “Yeah. Even better,” and his anxiety is melting away into something much more pleasing; something similar to relief.
Derek breathes out the word, “Good,” and feels a little dizzy and a lot amazed, and kind of like his heart is beating wildly in his throat.
The only reason he knows it isn't, is because Stiles says, “I can feel your heart thumping away in your chest, man. But, uh, I don't have wolfy senses, so… I can't tell if it's good thumping or bad thumping.”
Then he promptly stops breathing.
Derek resists the desperate, learnt urge to run away from this. He mentally shakes himself and figures: After so many years fighting monsters together, maybe he and Stiles can fight this one together, too?
He gives himself a moment to ride out the panic, then screws his eyes shut and, praying to nobody in particular, whispers, “Good thumping,” into the shell of Stiles's ear.
Stiles shivers and breathes again, but doesn't say anything else. For once, he doesn't need to. He just needs to sleep.
As the kid settles into Derek's bed and Derek's embrace and, hopefully, Derek's life, he smells like a mix of serene and promise and contentment—and, wonderfully, of Derek, now.
Derek is a strange combination of relaxed and freaking-the-fuck-out, because that's just the way he's made. His brain won't stop whirring at a speed of a million miles an hour, worrying about everything and nothing, all at once, and before he can bite into his lip to stop himself, he blurts out, “Cora says I sometimes dream-talk about Cajun Gumbo recipes.”
Stiles's only sighs, then hums quietly, his breathing already evening out almost to the point of sleep.
Just when Derek thinks he's not going to get any sort of real answer, Stiles mumbles, “Okay, weirdo,” on an exhale, and then he's drifting off into unconsciousness.
Derek settles, then, and smiles into the nighttime, thinking that maybe, finally, he might get a good night's sleep, too.
.
for @shealynn88, the bestest of friends. i love you and miss you always... <3 (unedited btw—forgive me!)
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in which: Jack has liked you for years, but so far you have been oblivious to his feelings. Will the guide he made with the help of his teammate make you fall for him? Or will it end up destroying your friendship?
tags: written, use of alcohol. (masterlist for this au) (my masterlist)
notes: hi so uh. I'm really excited and twice as nervous as usual about posting this. It's hard to put it into words, but there is something very fragile about this to me. come tell me how you liked it!! Enjoy :)
Jack let his head fall against the sticky counter of the bar table. Dawson, who sat next to him, shot him yet another worried look but Jack couldn’t really find it himself to care.
On his mind was still you, from this morning when you had come over to get your jacket that you had forgotten at his place a few days ago. You, who had stood in his apartment, laughing at something he’d said, the sunlight hitting your face at just that right angle to light up your eyes in a thousand different tones of the same colour. You, you, you.
“Don’t worry about him, he is probably pouting again.” Jonas said over his head, “what was it today? Did she jokingly talk about setting herself up with one of your friends again?”
From the other side of the table Holtz chimed in, “no, I think she might have just looked at one of his friends for a second longer than at him so he got jealous.”
The others laughed. Jack wanted to defend himself and argue that that would never happen, but it had, once, so they weren’t excatly wrong.
Now, sitting in this bar, already halfway to being drunk, Jack contemplated the choices he’d made thus far that had led him here. Being laughed at in a shitty, almost empty bar where only a handful of people recognized them.
Maybe he should just quit hockey, pack up his things and just move to a foreign country where no one knew him and start coaching instead.
One thing he was sure of however, was that he should definitely get new friends. Preferably ones that didn’t bully him half as much as his current ones did.
Then Nico interjected, “c’mon guys, don’t be mean.”
Jack allowed himself to turn his head so that he could look at Nico and just as he wanted to thank him, Nico continued. “She probably just stood in his kitchen and looked happy and he was just reminded that she wasn’t officially his.”
Okay, fuck him too. Back to plan A, dreaming about running away. Why was he still on this team with these people anyways? Luke, probably. Instead he just mumbled a “fuck off,” to his friends that only laughed in response.
Nico’s statement hit a little too close to home. Was he really that pathetic? So what if he wanted to come home to you, to be the one that wakes up next to you, to be the one you fell asleep on when you were drunk (which you always insisted wouldn't happen this time but it always did anyways), to be the one that leaves the hickies on your skin he saw once when your skirt rode up high when you tried to pet a cat that kept trying to escape you.
“No but seriously,” Jonas said, and the others quieted down, suddenly caring about what Jack had to say, “why don’t you just ask her out? What do you have to lose?”
Nothing, actually. But then he thought about you, about what could happen if you rejected him or what happened after came crashing down, because relationships with him always ended brutally.
Jack had everything to lose, because he could lose you. “Her.”
The others were silent after that and Jack didn’t want to lift his head and face whatever expression was on their faces now. It was hard sometimes, being honest like that.
“So you just need to make her fall for you, right?” Holtz said.
“Just?” Jack replied, jokingly, but it came out rawer than expected. As if that wasn’t the crux of the problem, the way his feelings for you remained unrequited.
“C’mon there was a reason everyone calls you ‘pretty boy’. If you can’t make her fall for you then I don't think she will ever settle down.”
The others that were listening to their conversation agreed and a sliver of confidence flooded back through him. Jack lifted his head from where it had been stuck to the table. “Okay, but how do I do that?”
“Simple,” Nico said, his eyes alight in the same way they were when he discussed a weakness in the other’s team's defense they could exploit, “we brainstorm and make a plan.”
Jonas seemed to like it, “a cheat sheet to make her fall for you.”
Jack perked up at that. It seemed worth a shot at least. Even if you didn’t respond to his advances, at least he’d have tried. “And if that doesn’t work then you should give up on her.” Holtz said.
Jack knew this. That realistically he couldn't pine for you forever, but suddenly there was something bitter in his mouth.
This would be his final chance, his final attempt after trying to subtly flirt with you over this past year. He had been steadily brushed off and he wasn’t sure for how much longer he could stomach the constant rejection. Jack looked at his teammates, the ones he had trained with, the ones that had always stood by his side, the ones he trusted with all he had. If they couldn’t do it together then he knew that he truly gave it his all.
“You know what,” he grinned, “I’m in.”
The rest cheered and clapped him on the back, as if it was as simple as that. Despite not wanting to, he was happy. With their help he might actually have a shot at getting your attention.
This was so stupid, so reckless, and yet he was just so indescribably happy that he had these people in his life that would support him and an idea as stupid as this one.
Maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t have to run to a new country just to find new friends.
Without meaning to, he almost started laughing. It might just be insane enough to work. Even if it was a stupid idea, he had to try it, because you were worth it. Worth all of their efforts combined.
So, Jack took the piece of paper that Nico had somehow gotten from the barkeeper in the meantime, clicked one of the pens that he carried around everywhere and wrote down:
Jack Hughes’ guide to falling in love.
taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle (send me an ask to be added!)
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😇✨ Sugar Daddy Lucifer Morningstar X Gender Neutral Sugar Baby Reader ✨😇
SUMMARY: you're the king of Hell’s favorite influencer and he wants to make it very clear how much he appreciates you and loves your content, thus starting a transactional relationship between the two of you that slowly turns into something more.
WARNING: light stalker stuff going on for a little bit lol ┐( ̄ヮ ̄)┌ also some sugar baby catching feelings for sugar daddy nonsense
(also- i'm using the terms "sugar daddy" and "sugar baby" pretty loosely, and there are no sexual transactions in this story)
NOTE: I keep going back and forth between saying “livestream” and “video,” so just assume that in the story y/n mainly does livestreams and uploads them as videos later.
•You started out as a humble influencer in Hell.
•What you didn't know is that you happened to be the favorite influencer of THE king of Hell Lucifer himself.
•I personally headcanon that when this man finds something he likes, he REALLY obsesses over it.
•I can imagine him laying in bed with a cozy blanket and a snack, kicking his knees while watching your latest upload.
•Not gonna lie Luci got kinda stalker-ish in order to find you and know you in person.
•He is the king after all, so therefore he has ways to find and keep track of his people.
•It started as him sending you money anonymously as a way to give his appreciation to his favorite content creator.
•You'd sometimes get small donations here and there from different people, but you definitely noticed the big donations you'd consistently get. Even though they were all anonymous, you assumed they were all from the same person because it was usually always an absurd amount of money to donate to an influencer.
•While livestreaming one day you mentioned that you wanted to find out who this anonymous donor was and somehow do something special to thank them.
•Lucifer NEVER misses one of your livestreams and felt extra fanboyish thinking about his fav influencer doing something special specifically for him.
•He knew he couldn't just message you and say “I'm your anonymous donor” because he didn't have a public account. If he were to message with his anonymous account saying that he's the king of Hell you'd obviously think he was lying.
•HERE is where his stalker era starts. 💀
•Luci comes up with this convoluted plan that actually somehow ends up working exactly the way he wanted.
•He happens to “find” you at a place he knew is your favorite café just outside of Cannibal Town.
•He pretends to just be casually walking by (well, as “casual” as the king of Hell can be)
”Oh hey! I've seen a few of your videos, I like your content!”
•You're absolutely baffled that the man in front of you praising your content is Lucifer himself.
•Lucifer invites himself to sit down with you, and how could you possibly refuse.
(He knows using his status to get what he wants is a lil problematic, but he easily pushes any guilt aside cuz he gets to be in your presence. He honestly wonders why he hadn't done this sooner.)
•He uses this opportunity to ask you a bunch of questions he's always wanted to ask, as if this were his personal Q&A with you. You happily answer his questions and even ask your own, eager to get to know Lucifer.
•Eventually he asks the main question that'll set his plan into place.
“Have you ever done any collabs?”
Of course he already knows the answer is no.
•”I've never asked anyone to collaborate with me, I'm a little insecure and automatically think they'll say no.”
•”I'm shocked! I'd personally love to be in one of your videos!” He boasts.
•Even though you've been talking for a while now, your brain still hasn't been fully able to compute that you're not only talking to Lucifer Morningstar, he says he enjoys your content, AND he just said he'd like to be in one of your videos.
•”Wha- I'm sure you've got so much more important things to do!”
•”I've got spare time!”
•When he realized he was probably starting to sound desperate, he backed it up a bit;
“I'm not trying to invite myself into one of your videos, but what I am saying is that IF I were one of those people you were to ask then I'd definitely accept your offer!” He twiddled his fingers nervously under the table, his smile never faltering.
•”oH I mean I do want to ask you- I am asking you!” You become just as nervous as Lucifer, fumbling over your words a bit.
•Before you can say anything else he raises from his seat and extends his hand out in agreement. “Sounds good to me!” You quickly stand to take his hand and shake it.
•The two of you calm down a bit and start discussing times and dates, even though Lucifer knows he's just going to accept whatever day you suggest and cancel any plans that he might already have for that day.
•Lucifer's little plot went perfectly.
•The day came when Luci got to feature in a video with his fav influencer.
•The video blew up super quickly, you gained a whole new wave of fame.
•Not only was he in the video with you, but he also got to spend the whole day with you.
•Somewhere along the way he kind of forgot that he was with his fav influencer and started to feel more like he was just hanging with a friend…which, honestly, he hasn't really had a friend in a long time.
•Also- you had noticed that during the stream with Lucifer you didn't get any donations from your special anonymous donor who never missed any of your previous streams.
•THIS MOMENT is where Lucifer knows he could potentially ruin everything with you, but he wants to be honest.
•He tells you that he's the anonymous donor, and that he can prove it with receipts. He admits that he didn't just casually watch your content like he said previously, and that he's actually a super huge fan. He doesn't go into detail about the stalker-ish extent he went to find you though.
•You take a second to process everything.
•I think if it were any other man you'd probably be a bit weirded out. It's definitely mainly because he's the king of Hell, but also he's just so charming that it's kinda hard for you not to be flattered.
•Now the king of Hell is in your phone contacts and you've got a viral video of the two of you together that shows literally everyone that you know him, it all feels so surreal.
•You still get donations from him on your streams, they still say they're anonymous but you know it's him.
•Lucifer calls you ALL THE TIME, usually to talk about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.
•Suddenly he started showing up at your door with random gifts. Usually things that you mention very briefly on social media.
•Like one day you posted a pic on your story of a cute pair of shoes that you'd like to have, and the next day he's on your doorstep with a shoebox in hand.
•This escalated to him taking you out to dinners quite frequently, and he'd always go out of his way to reserve a special private area or even book out the whole restaurant.
•Then he started inviting you to visit him. Movie nights at his place, or he wants to show you something new he made.
•Eventually it turned into you staying the night at his place sometimes. You'd fall asleep during movie night and he didn't wanna wake you, or your home is just so far away and he didn't wanna let you go home in the dark.
•THEN it became you staying at his place for multiple days in a row, and sometimes it felt like you practically lived with him.
•You’d always ask Lucifer what you could do to repay him for all of the stuff he does for you, and he just replies that your company is enough to satisfy him and when you aren't around he still gets to watch your new videos.
•After getting to know the king of Hell over the span of almost a full year, you've come to realize that he was a pretty lonely man before you met him.
•He almost never talks to his own wife, whom you aren't even sure is his wife anymore. He rarely talks to his daughter, and is terrified of not being a good enough dad to her. Most of his time is spent home alone if he isn't tending to somekind of personal royal business.
•You knew Lucifer meant it when he told you that your company is enough to repay him.
•Somewhere down the line, you've started catching yourself contemplating your feelings for him.
•Don't get me wrong, he's always made you swoon and get flustered. It's really hard not to when a handsome man is literally handing you everything you want on a golden platter.
•There are much more raw moments you have with him, when you're just sitting on the couch together and you start to think about your possible future together.
•You usually end up getting slapped with reality when you remember who it is you're looking at. The king of Hell.
•Being in a relationship with a man of such status could never be in the cards for you. You're aware that you're basically just his sugar baby and that's probably all you'll ever be.
•You were definitely fine with the transactional relationship between the two of you, in fact you enjoyed it.
•Now, with these feelings constantly creeping up on you it made everything so much more complicated, and it made it hard for you to be around him knowing you'll never be anything more to him than a sugar baby.
•Lucifer is a sweet man, but you know there's another side of him that's a powerful king. His wife was an equally powerful queen. You're not enough for him, he just wants someone to keep him company.
•What you don't know is that while you're sitting there on the couch next to him having an inner depressive episode, he's got a box in his pocket that he's waiting for the perfect moment to whip out.
•In the box is a flashy custom engagement ring that he wants everyone to be able to see from a mile away.
•That man wants to make you officially his and he has been trying his hardest to make that VERY clear.
•You're just kinda insecure and don't think high enough of yourself. ಥ⌣ಥ
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˖♡Left In Metropolis✧*。 ( Batfam x Toddler! Reader)
(That one scene in home alone.)
It was a short flight from metropolis to Gotham but they were finally back home, currently they were all at the airport conveyor belt standing from oldest to youngest collecting their luggage.
Bruce would pass down each of their bags as they came out of the machine and it seemed as if everything was going smoothly, that is until your luggage came out.
"Dick, pass this to (reader)" Bruce passed the luggage to Dick.
Then to Tim, Damian and then....
It hadn't yet clicked in Damians head that his little sibling was missing from next to him so he just passed the bag back to Tim.
"(Reader) isn't here" Damian passes the bag back to a sleep deprived Tim while he passes it back Dick and then to Bruce.
It takes a while but they all finally notice what just happened.
"What do you mean reader isn't here, I left them with you" Bruce asks Dick.
"And I left them with Tim" he turns to Tim who's a wearing a confused expression that slowly turns into one of shocked realization.
"And I left them in Metropolis..." he whispered but they all still heard.
"You left them in Metropolis, do you know how far that is from here, they could be dead by now" Dick suddenly shouts.
"Damian where are you going?" Bruce asked.
"Back to metropolis" he says curtly.
He hadn't really gotten to know you that well as a sibling but he still watched you from afar and knowing you were currently all by yourself in a large crime ridden country was all it took for him to move.
"And how are you getting there?" Bruce asks but is then cut off by the sound of Damian shaking the keys to the batplane.
Meanwhile your currently in the airport sat next to a worried Clark and Jon licking a small lollipop they bought you.
Luckily you remembered they're number and called immediately.
"Can't we just fly them home Dad?" Jon glanced over to you as you mindlessly licked away at the lollipop.
"Shhhhhh" you immediately went to place your sticky hands on his mouth.
"Nooo cave talk outside of the cave" though you stumbled over your words but he still understood.
"Either that or we keep em" Clark muses.
"What about him?" Jon asks while pointing to Jason who sat right beside you, watching you struggle to bite your lollipop with your small front teeth.
"I'm sure they'll take him back as well, seeing as they're the ones who brought him" Clark stated confidently
Safe to say Jason had to hitch a ride back home on the Clark Kent express. (Mainly because Damian kicked him out of the jet)
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This request is so middle school core but I'm such a sucker for this trope, could you do how the toxic Slytherin boys would react to either them finding out they were a bet or you finding out you were a bet? I <3 your writing
Slytherin boys – You find out you are a bet/They find out they were a bet
Warning: Toxic Slytherin boys and physical abuse (Tom Riddle), so please proceed with caution. Otherwise have fun reading!
Also: Not proofread.
A/N: Thank you for your kind words! Honestly, same – I love those tropes that are all over TikTok. 🙈 Glad you enjoy my writing!
Mattheo …
… clenches his jaw when you glare at him with tears in your eyes, angry at himself and angry at whoever told you about the stupid bet. He watched you shake your head in disbelief before taking something out of your pockets. It was the money they had bet on. You flung the money in his face before storming out of his room. Mattheo just closed his eyes, his anger reaching a new peak as the money made contact with his face. How dare you throw something into his face?
He wouldn’t bother running after you. You’d be crawling back to him in no time.
Theodore …
… scoffs at your accusations. “Do you really believe them over me? Do you have that little trust in me?” He raises his brows, mock hurt all over his face. Theodore would make you feel bad for doubting his love for you. If his friends were the ones who told you, he’d have to talk with them. If your friends somehow found out and told you, he’d make you question their loyalties. “Don’t you see, bella? They’re trying to rip us apart. You know your friend still has a crush on me, don’t you? I didn’t want to tell you, because I don’t want to see you hurt, but it is true, cara mia.”
And just like that, you start apologizing to him. With a heavy sigh, Theodore pulls you into his arms, holding you close to his body. “I forgive you. But please – never doubt my love for you again.”
Bullet dodged.
Lorenzo …
… rubs his hands over his face as he paces around in his room. You have been trying to talk to him – apologize for your wrongdoings – but he simply wouldn’t listen. Lorenzo had already known about the bet – he was the mastermind behind it after all. He had been watching you for a while but did not know how to approach you without appearing too needy. So, instead he told his friends to make a bet with you – the goal: You have to seduce Lorenzo Berkshire. You had actually agreed and given it your best. Enzo had enjoyed the advances you had made; all the attention you had given him.
And this whole drama of him ‘finding out’ and you tearfully apologizing was just a positive side effect. It was his way to ensure your emotional dependency on him.
“How could you do this to me?” He cried softly as he slid down the wall, face in his hands as he forced himself to cry. You immediately ran to him, falling to your knees in front of him as you tried to pry his hands from his face, apologies falling from your lips like a mantra.
When you finally uttered the magical words, he had hoped for he bit back a smirk before removing his hands from his tear-stained face. Please, I’ll do anything you ask of me!
Draco …
… stared at you in disbelief. How did you find out? Raking his hand through his hair he stared at you silently. For once, he didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because he knew that nothing he said would make it better. After a minute of silence your tears finally fell, your bottom lip trembling at the betrayal. How could you do this to me.
Your voice came out in a broken whisper before you walked out of his room, leaving the blonde to watch you leave with sad eyes.
Blaise …
… was honestly impressed when he found out about the bet. He never would have guessed you to engage in silly things such as bets. He’d underestimated you. Blaise would tell you that he knew – he’d let everything play out and watch your reactions whenever he mentioned words such as ‘bet’, ‘honesty’ and ‘loyalty’.
“I love you so much, babe. I really appreciate your honest and good-natured heart.” Blaise whispered against your lips before passionately kissing you. When he wanted to pull back, you followed him with your lips not wanting to part yet – not ready to look him into his eyes yet. You were obviously ashamed for hiding something from your boyfriend and Blaise knew. Oh, he knew, and he would enjoy watching you squirm and do anything to please him. And if you ever got mad at him for something or denied him any request, he’d throw the truth into your face and make you pay.
Tom …
… is deeply disappointed when he finds out. The more he thinks about it, the angrier he feels. And when you finally walk through the door of his dorm – he is filled with blinding rage.
“I didn’t think you’d stoop so low … how pathetic.” He grit out, his steps slow as he walked towards you with a dark look on his face. You stared at him with confusion written all over your face, your eyes wide with fear as he pressed you against the wall, trapping you between his arms.
“I can’t believe I didn’t find out sooner – and don’t you dare deny it.” He spat, clenching his jaw as he penetrated your mind. Your eyes widened when he found what he was looking for. He knew.
“Yes. I know.” He murmurs, dragging his nose from your cheek to your ear – and before you know it, one of his hands moves to your throat, fingers gripping tight as he smashes your head against the door.
“Time to reap what you sow.”
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Hello again! Could I ask for bg3 Karlach, Gale, Dammon (if he's one of the npcs you write for), and Shadowheart's reactions to their s/o flopping onto them in a silent demand for snuggles?
Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3
Character(s): Dammon, Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart
Note(s): I'm assuming this is after Karlach's engine is "fixed" since she would so confused and horrified if her S/O laid on her for cuddles and then burst into flame.
I also don't know if I've written for Dammon before, but I'm very happy to include him in my headcanons 🥰
Dammon
Very time and place for cuddling with Dammon. He likes to cuddle with you, it's a nice way to relax and wind down from work.
Dammon would chuckle and kiss your forehead before wrapping an arm around you to hold you close. If he is busy with something else then he'll give you permission to hug him from behind so long as you behave.
But please don't fall on him when he's working the forge, he does not want you to get burnt from any of the very hot materials he works with. Even if you have some kind of fire resistance, he still would be devastated if you ended up hurt.
Gale
"Well hello to you too." Is one phrase he'd say with a grin on his face when you flop on him. If he's reading a book and you decide to lay against him then he's quick to start telling you all about what he's reading while you cuddle with him.
Seriously is one to spill all about what new interest he has or some cool discovery he's made while cuddling. Doesn't even mind if you fall asleep or don't know what he's talking about, he's very happy to talk.
While he likes to talk about his interests, he does make sure to ask about your day, what you've been up to, things like that as he lightly rubs your back or makes some minor illusion / dancing light show for you.
Karlach
Nothing needs to be said. You flop on her, she's pulling you into a tight (but not too tight) hug. Depending on where you're at, she throws you over her shoulder and just carries you around with her.
Karlach would never say no to cuddles. Even if she's upset. She's had enough space from others that you flopping on her is permission for her to wrap her arms around you. Might pepper your face in kisses, depends how she's feeling.
On the occasions when she has to leave camp to travel and do boring stuff while you stay behind then she'll hand you Clive, telling him that he better give you the cuddles you deserve until she comes back.
Shadowheart
Also time and place when it comes to flopping on Shadowheart. Just because she might be focused and trying to do something, or figure out what's going on with her goddess. Having you flop on her when she's concentrating makes her pout and give you the silent treatment.
She does enjoy giving you hugs and affection when she isn't preoccupied. Will pull you into her tent and just lay down and cuddle with you as long as you're both able to.
There's quite a bit of teasing and being playful when you're cuddling with Shadowheart too. You flopped on her for attention so she's giving it to you, her giggles carrying through the air as she pokes your cheeks or sides to get you to pout at her.
Taglist:
@reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc
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♧14.05♧
University Student Choi San x (F)Reader ft.Yuyu
Summary: Jealousy is but a natural trait, especially when your bro gettin' a bit too comfy with your butterfly.
Genre: Fluff
Rating: SFW
Warnings: None
Word Count: 943
Est. Read Time: 5 min
Networks: @cromernet @k-labels
Banner: @cafekitsune
A/N: I was supposed to upload Meow ch4 today, but it's still not done :( But here's a timestamp inspired by @edenesth
Yunho sat across her, working silently, well naturally they were in the library, and had to finish this project because she was ever so kind enough to request him if they could finish this a bitter early, explaining how the due date was the same day as her boyfriend's birthday and she really wanted to spend the day with him and not do this project.
Naturally, he agreed, any friend of hers is a friend of his- that and she was literally talking about San, his roommate, so he'd seen the two together a couple of times, they'd even invite him for dinner sometimes, she was nice and San was happy- that's all that mattered to him.
An hour turned into two, then three, and the two were still compiling and researching. He'd glance at her, mumbling to herself, eying her notes, then looking back at his barely readable notes, then getting back into the rhythm.
It was all good until he began to feel something burn into him, like a piercing gaze that had him fixed in spot, sneakily glancing to see if it were her, he realised it wasn't, she was still mumbling to herself. Then who was it? He realised the chair next to her was now occupied, the person was sitting extremely close to her, San wouldn't have liked that, turning to sit up properly and ask the intruder in the fuzzy grey jacket to keep distance he locked eyes with a pair that was glaring at him- San?
Ever so slowly he saw the man raised his arm, reaching over to wrap it around his girlfriend's shoulders, startling her before giving her a sheepish smile for a second, only to glare back at Yunho when she went back to work, his arm still around her.
"You're an idiot." Is all Yunho said before glancing at her, knowing she couldn't hear them. She was too busy blasting whatever song she could find at this point.
"And she's taken -"
"And she's finishing her work early so she can spend time with you on your birthday," he smiled, resting his chin on his palm as he gave him a gentle smile, one that tried to neutralise the judgemental look in his eyes, "You know...for when you turn FIVE Sannie."
In an instant, the other man's expressions softened, morphing into a pout, trying to gain the elder one's forgiveness, though he earned only an eye roll in return, followed by a, "You and Seonghwa need to calm down." That's because of each man's significant other shared more than just a few classes with Yuyu- truth be told Yunho was their senior, but the two took advanced courses, so the real problem was that they were dating two idiots. With that, he got up, collecting his things and packing up.
She pulled off her headphones, glancing at San before looking up at Yunho, worried that he was upset she made him spend three hours of his only free day in the library, "I-I'm almost done, I can compile the work whenever you send it-" though he smiled at her, shaking his head, "No, you just finish it and send it to me, I'll compile it later tonight and then we can turn it in."
"Oh my gosh, thank you, Yuyu~" her little nickname had San tighten his hold on her, though she didn't notice, too concerned about getting free time to spend with her giant idiot.
"It's my pleasure." The golden boy smile at her, watching her put her headphones back on and getting back to work, only to turn and glare at San who was glaring back at him, though his glare faltered when Yunho raised an eyebrow, clearing his throat and averting his gaze for a split second, only to gasp when he saw how Yunho had flipped him off, mouthing, "Grow up."
He quickly turned to his butterfly. Did she see? Did she see how horrendous and demonic that man was? He was no innocent Yuyu, but a spawn sent down by Satan, himself. Though all he saw was her typing away with a greater determination, all so she could spend time with him. Sighing, he pulled her closer, encasing her in a side hug, ignoring how she was protesting and whispering, "Excuse me, Sir! I need to finish this! San, San move!"
And he did let her go, only after forcing her to wear his fluffy grey jacket, so everyone would know she was taken- he had class anyway, so he had only dropped by to check on her because she didn't respond to his text spams or picked up his calls- oh...he did come here only after Yunho had disclosed the location.
Huffing to himself, he pressed a chaste kiss on the top of her head, moving the headpiece to whisper in her ear about his class before covering it with the hood of the jacket.
Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked out of the library walking towards his class, thinking of what to get Yuyu as a thank you present for taking care of his girl in class, maybe dinner? Or a restraining order to keep him away from HIS girl. Chuckling to himself he walked into his class, Choi San, you comedian, no wonder she likes you, you're so funny.
"You at the back, is something funny?"
"No S- Yunho?"
"No, that's Sir Jeong to you, professor Kim sent me as a guest lecturer for this class, now why dont you give us a sumamry of what you all have done ....for the past whole semester."
"Shit"
He should really get that restraining order.
Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee @mlysalt @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp
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Workday Blues
2024 Masterlist
i wrote this weeks ago after a co-worker had me seeing red lol
"I just don't get it, H," you sighed, leaning back against the leather seat of your car as you waited for the light to change. Your voice felt strained, and you knew you sounded whiny, but you couldn't help it. After a long shift at work, you told yourself you reserved the right to complain. "Why can't people just, I don't know, do the job they showed up to do and get paid for?"
"I'm sorry, bub," Harry said, his voice tinny as it filled up your car. "Did you talk to your manager?"
You scoffed. "There's no point, but I swear I wanted to tell them I didn't want to work that shift anymore. I'm just so sick of—of—doing more than what's required of me and not being compensated for it."
Harry remained quiet over the phone. At this point in your relationship, he knew when you wanted his advice and when you just needed to vent about your job. The latter happened more and more as of late. Sometimes you felt bad for being so negative, but after nine hours of being overly positive as a restaurant server, you didn't have much positivity left in you.
"Need me to leave you a review again?" Harry finally asked.
Despite your exhaustion, you smiled. "What's that, now? The third one this month?"
"Fourth. Three and a half. I had Mitch leave one after the, what did you call it, 'influencer incident?'" he asked, referring to an afternoon where someone tried to pay for their meal by posting a video online.
"Hm. I'll have to bring him a slice of pie the next time I visit the studio."
"Hey, what about me? Where's my pie?"
Grin widening a bit, you said, "I'll give you something better."
"And...how far from home are you now?"
"Pulling in right now. I'll see you inside."
You pulled into the home you shared with Harry, resting your forehead against the steering wheel once the car was in park. Your feet hurt, you smelled like the food your restaurant served, and you desperately needed to take your makeup off. Sometimes you wondered why you were still putting yourself through all of this, and Harry definitely did too. For years now, Harry promised to take care of you, to take care of your student debt so you could focus on your career and not be so tired and unhappy. He didn't say it often because it typically led to an argument about independence and needing to be able to take care of yourself, but you knew how he felt, and after days like today, the idea of letting someone else take care of you financially seemed more appealing than it normally did.
Sighing, you slid out of the car, gathering your lunch bag and purse before shuffling into the house on slippered feet. "H?" you called, eyes lighting up when you heard the sound of nails scraping against wood floors. A shadow of jet black fur whipped around the corner and bounded toward the entrance hall to you, tongue out and tail wagging.
"Hi, pookie! How's my sweet boy?" you cooed. Hades nudged your leg with his nose, and you bent down to run your hands over his soft puppy fur until he eventually fell onto his back in need of belly rubs.
"You talking to me?" Harry's voice sounded like it came from the kitchen, which you followed once you straightened up and your dog was finished licking your face.
"You're gonna eat your words when you get your cute butt over here."
"I live with two boys, and only one of them greets me excitedly without fail. You do the math," you joked.
You smiled and shook your head at the comment. Harry knew your feelings about your "unflattering" work uniform, so he often went out of his way to compliment you whenever you were in it.
When you finally made it to where Harry was standing at the kitchen counter, tears nearly welled up in the corners of your eyes. "Is that—"
"Wild Cherry Pepsi," he said, his grin wide and knowing as he read your expression. "With pebbled ice. And dinner, but I know you care more about the drink with that sugar addiction of yours."
"You know me so well," you said, your voice rising in pitch as your head bowed.
"Aw, come here, bub." You shuffled over the last few steps to Harry, folding right into his welcoming embrace.
His body was firm and comforting against yours, his t-shirt soft beneath your cheek. Breathing in deep, you wrapped your arms around Harry's torso, letting every frustration you felt at work fall away as he held you.
"Thank you," you mumbled, tilting your head up after a minute or two had passed.
Harry smoothed his hand over your hair and down your back, pulling at the hair tie that held your braid in place all day. "For what?"
You shrugged, eyes closed as he began to pull the strands of your braid apart. "I don't know. For being you, for not suggesting I should quit when I know you want to."
"Another time," Harry promised. Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, he gestured for you to sit down. You practically fell into the chair, feeling like you could finally relax as you took the plastic to-go cup into your hands and took a sip. Your eyes closed, feeling as though you could fall asleep right then even though you knew you should probably eat. As if he could tell you were on the brink of sleeping, Harry asked, "Do you want to keep talking about work or are you ready to forget?"
Harry wasn't being rude, nor was he belittling your frustration. You'd done this song and dance a time or two, but some days required you to vent more than others.
Around the straw, you said, "Can I?"
He sat beside you, taking Hades in his lap, who was happy to be held even though he was getting way too big for it. Usually, you chided Harry for holding Hades like that, but you were too tired, and honestly, it was kind of cute.
You talked while you ate, and Harry listened, letting you get everything you needed off your chest. He was quiet but attentive, apologizing for things out of his control and cursing your co-workers when you did. None of it would really improve the situation at work, but you always appreciated Harry's willingness to listen when you needed him to, and share in your anger and frustration when necessary.
Standing from the table, you took your plate and put everything in the dishwasher. Grabbing your plastic cup in one hand and Harry's hand in the other, you said, "I think I'm all done."
Harry kissed your temple before pulling you up the stairs toward your bedroom. Hades snaked between you and him to run ahead, waiting on the landing impatiently. "Good, because the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City won't wait for just anyone."
"Not a reading night, huh?" you asked, resting your head on his shoulder. Harry looked down and raised his brows in an expression that expressed he was not, in fact, going to be cracking open his book tonight. Kissing his cheek, you said, "Go ahead and start the next episode, baby. I'm gonna hop in the shower and wash my day off."
Harry, who'd been on his way to do just that, paused and frowned. "Well now I want to watch something else."
Grinning, you held out your hand while you continued to sip your drink. "Come on."
Hades, who had already claimed his spot at the edge of your bed, tilted his head to one side, clearly confused as to why his parents were walking away instead of joining him. "We'll be quick," you promised, even though you knew your dog didn't understand. But the message was for Harry too.
When you were finally in bed, watching Harry's show through eyes that were struggling to stay open, you looked up from where you resting against his shoulder. Harry's glasses were perched on his nose, his eyes focused on the television in front of him as he ran his hand idly over Hades' fur, who had conveniently found his way onto your lap once you settled into bed for the night.
"If you insist," Harry said on an exhale, turning the shower on and setting it to a temperature he knew you both liked.
"Be honest," you said suddenly. "I'd be happier if I quit, right?"
Harry was quiet, but you knew he'd heard you. He was just weighing his words. "Is another job lined up in this alternate universe?" he finally asked.
"I don't know, maybe. They argue quite a bit, though. Don't think you want to be part of all that drama," he replied, taking the remote and pausing his show. He looked down at you, eyes soft but perhaps a little concerned. You'd never considered his offer of letting him provide for you this seriously before. "Honestly? I think you'd get bored, bub."
You shrugged. "I don't know. You've said you'd always take care of me. What if I just...let you? I could be one of them," you mused, nodding your head at the women on your TV.
A nod and a noncommittal hum was your only response for a few seconds until you'd gathered your thoughts. "I'm just so...tired. I'm tired of everything I do not being appreciated. I'm tired of not being supported. I love my regulars and I like most of my co-workers, and part of me feels a sense of loyalty to this place despite, well, everything."
"We'll do some job hunting tomorrow," Harry said. "I'll help you update your resume, you'll send some feelers out, and we'll go from there. How does that sound?"
"I could get a remote job," you mused. "I'd get to be home more. I could travel more with you."
Harry kissed the top of your head. "As much as I would love that, I think your strengths lie in the connections you make with people. You certainly charmed the pants off me."
"Literally or metaphorically?"
"Both."
You grinned, cheeks reddening as you recalled the night you first met Harry.
*.*
"Holy shit you're Harry Styles."
Your hand immediately clapped over your mouth, as if physically covering it would keep you from embarrassing yourself further. In your defense, it was the first time a celebrity sat in your section at work, and no one had thought to warn you. And Harry Styles, no less. The man in front of you was probably still immortalized on your childhood bedroom wall, and now you'd all but outed yourself as a fan when he'd no doubt wanted some privacy.
"I'm so sorry, I—" How were you supposed to recover from this? Harry stared at you with a small smile, a pitying one, no doubt. God, you had one opportunity to act cool in front of a celebrity and you blew it in less than ten seconds. "I'm sorry, let me start over. Hi, I'm Y/n, and I'll be taking care of you today. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Just a water please," Harry replied, his voice soft as his smile widened, which made you think that perhaps he thought you making an absolute fool out of yourself was at the very least amusing.
Once you made it back to the service station to retrieve his water glass, you gave yourself exactly one minute to collect yourself. "He's just another customer. An extremely attractive customer," you murmured, grabbing a pitcher of water from the fridge. "You can do this, Y/n. Pull yourself together."
From there, things went smoothly. You acted like you hadn't freaked out when you initially greeted Harry's table, and Harry was thankfully on board with that plan. He was polite, wasn't fussed when a dish he wanted couldn't be made vegetarian, and was surprisingly interested in making conversation with you anytime you were at his table.
"How long have you worked here?"
"Too long," you joked. "Sometimes I feel like there's a bit of Stockholm Syndrome with this place, but the tips are good."
Your eyes widened a bit when you realized he might think you were making a joke about one of his songs—which you absolutely weren't trying to do—but you didn't comment on it, and thankfully neither did he. You talked a little bit more about the career you did want to get into, and casually asked what brought him to the restaurant you worked at. It wasn't one celebrities tended to frequent, but perhaps that was its charm to Harry.
"Had a day to myself, just thought I'd do some exploring," he explained before you left him to enjoy his meal.
You'd gotten a couple more tables since then and couldn't go over and talk to Harry like you wanted, but perhaps that was for the best. You flitted around the restaurant floor like you always did, charming customers and taking complaints in stride with a smile. Tips were key, and snarky comments or not being accommodating would get you nowhere with certain customers, even if it did kill you inside just a little bit to see an insufferable person get their way.
You didn't realize it at the time, but according to Harry, he watched you—not in a creepy way, per his recollection of your first meeting. He watched you chat with regulars and help your co-workers place orders and carefully placate disgruntled customers. And all the while, you still managed to stop by his table, smiling and topping off the coffee he ordered after he ate, which, according to him he'd done just so he could keep talking to you.
Apparently, he'd been working up the courage to flirt with you when you finally set the check down on the table. "No rush," you said with a smile before heading to another table, a party of ten that you accidentally huffed to him was supposed to be a party of five.
Harry paid, then smiled when his bill and credit card came back to him. Sorry for acting like an idiot earlier. It was nice meeting you! you'd written on the receipt, adorning it with a smiley face. You watched as Harry smiled as he read your note from Expo before one of the line cooks shouted at you to run the food that was up.
You didn't think you'd ever see Harry again, a universal truth, some might've called it. But for some reason, the notion disappointed you, and not because you didn't get a picture with your teenage crush. It felt bigger than that somehow, which was altogether crazy considering you'd only just met him.
So imagine your surprise when you saw him again two days later. "He was supposed to be in my section, but he insisted on yours. Don't fuck it up," one of your more vile co-workers told you, clearly jealous. And as you saw him, his head bent over the menu and his knee bouncing beneath the booth, your heart leaped in your chest in a way that made you both nervous and excited.
"You forgot something," he said as he closed out his check for the second time that week. Time had passed in a blur, despite it slowing down every time you went over to talk to him, which was to say a lot. It wasn't as busy as the day he first came in, leaving you no choice but to check on him more than you normally would.
"Did I?" you asked, looking down at the bill with furrowed brows.
"Last time I was here, I mean," Harry corrected.
Last time, you thought. All Harry had gotten was a salad and a coffee, but the tip he left was well over half of what your other tables had left that day combined. But you rang everything in correctly. Perhaps he was expecting a discount for his celebrity status? He didn't seem like the type, but that was the only conclusion you were able to draw.
"The note you left," he continued, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He sat up straighter, giving you a better view of the Keith Harring shirt he wore. "It didn't have your number on it, so I've had to come back the last two days so I could ask you for it. Only now I know you don't work on Mondays."
Shock ran through your entire body, to the point where you couldn't even speak. Harry, Harry Styles, mind you, wanted your number. Badly enough that he'd come back to an average Mom-and-Pop restaurant to get it.
"No, I—I don't," was all you could manage as your entire face heated up.
"I hope I'm not sounding like a creep right now," Harry said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "I realize now I may have participated in some light stalking."
"You're not," you blurted, trying to remember how to speak. You felt like you'd somehow entered an alternate dimension. "Here, hold on."
You pulled your order pad from your back pocket and scribbled your number down, willing your hands to stop shaking. Ripping it off the stack, you handed it to Harry, who took it from you graciously.
"Can I call you later?" he asked, standing up from the booth. You had to back up a couple steps to give him room, and you were now aware of just how tall he was as you craned your neck to look at him.
"Please," you blurted, cursing yourself for sounding so eager. Harry didn't seem to mind, though, smiling as he slipped his phone and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. "I—I mean, sure. I'm off at eight tonight."
"I'll be counting down the minutes," he said before cursing under his breath. "Shit. I sounded like a stalker again, didn't I?"
A laugh bubbled out of you, making Harry's shoulders relax. "I'll allow it. Just this once."
Harry laughed too, then winked, and you were honestly so proud of yourself for not swooning in front of him. "I guess I'll be talking to you later then, Y/n."
*.*
"You made me so nervous," you said as you recalled the memory of how you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Harry the first time you met.
"I know," he said, laughing when you smacked his arm. "It was cute, though! And you also made me plenty nervous, to be fair."
"That is true," you sighed, grinning a little as you turned your face into his arm. "One of us stalked the other, and it certainly wasn't me."
"Sure, but one of us has posters of the other plastered all over their childhood bedroom."
Scoffing, you sat up and scooted away from him, making Hades bark in protest. "It's one poster. And you weren't even my favorite. Zayn was."
"Sure. Keep telling yourself that."
"I will."
Sighing, you settled deeper against him, as much as you could considering the puppy still in your lap. "Sometimes I think I keep the job because that's where we met."
"It's okay to let it go. We'll have the memory," Harry promised, his hand meeting yours as he began to scratch Hades' fur. "We'll figure it out. I promise."
Nodding, you reached for the remote and pressed play on the show, content to leave the conversation there. If Harry promised to help you figure it out, then you believed him.
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