#why is every other ship allowed to be happy

[fatherforgivethem]

Me cause every time that Helaegon is in a fic where they are a side ship they always either

A) never interact

B) they are with other people

C) dont get along and you never see them interact with the kids

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Not Allowed

Pairing: Cop!Bucky Barnes x Receptionist!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: bad date angst, jealous bucky

Summary: You and Bucky always flirt with each other while at work but it never goes anywhere like you'd hope. You accept a date with another man, causing Bucky to be jealous. He's a cop who is jealous. Nothing will go wrong, right?

Squares Filled: kink: pet names (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

You walk through the double doors with a smile on your face because today is another day. You’re alive and that’s the best kind of day. You work for the local police department as their receptionist. You’re the first thing people see when they come in so you have to be on your best behavior.

You set your things down on your desk and quickly get settled in. Besides the Captain, you’re the first one in the building. Every officer that comes in, you greet them with a smile as you log into your computer.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Officer Wilson says when he comes in. He always calls you that since he's often told you how he thinks of you like a little sister. “How was your weekend?”

“Too short,” you chuckle. “Did Sarah get into that college?”

“Yeah, she got the acceptance letter yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for her!” you grin.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her to give you a call.”

Sam taps your desk twice and leaves to go to his own. A few more officers come in until the one you’ve been waiting for walks in confidently. Your heart starts to race because you have a huge crush on him. He kind of knows it but doesn't outright call you out on it.

“There she is,” Bucky smiles and leans on your desk.

“Officer Barnes, it’s good to see you.”

“Doll, you know you can call me Bucky.”

He knows exactly what those pet names do to you. After a night of drinking together, you let it slip that your kink is pet names, and doll happened to be your favorite. Like him, you won’t call him out on it.

“I know. How was your weekend?”

“Better if you were there with me,” he flirts.

“Oh, Bucky,” you chuckle nervously. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do. I was wishing, ‘Man, don’t I wish Y/N was here with me? I guess I have to drink alone’.”

“You know what alcohol does to me.”

“Yeah, I do,” he smirks. “You look cute today. That dress compliments you.”

“A compliment. I might swoon,” you joke even though your cheeks are hot.

“As long as it’s in my arms, I don’t care.”

“Don’t you have a job to get to, Officer Barnes?”

“Yeah, but I’d rather stay here and talk to you.”

“You might get fired.”

“It’s worth it,” he winks. “Here’s your coffee.”

He sets your favorite coffee order next to your keyboard and walks away. That’s the extent of your relationship with Bucky. You two flirt constantly but nothing ever comes of it. It’s comfortable. Why leave something when you’re comfortable being there? Do you wish you were something more? Of course. Do you think he’s going to man up and take it to that next level? Not unless something threatening happened like him realizing if he doesn’t do it soon, he’d lose you.

Some of what your work includes is printing off documents for the other officers, inputting things into evidence before they get shipped off there, and sorting through the files regarding the people they have locked up in the holding cells or interrogation rooms. You already have a list of things to print out and file, but you look for Bucky’s name first.

After printing off what he needs, you get up and personally hand this to him. There is a mailbox for the officers that you’re supposed to put in, but you like visiting his desk. He has a picture of you and him printed out and placed next to his computer that you look at every time you visit.

“Here are the papers you asked for,” you smile.

“Thanks, doll,” he grins and grabs them from you, intentionally brushing his fingers against yours.

You go back to your desk to finish your work, and you come across two people who need stuff put into evidence. One of them sent it over a couple of hours ago, and the other one is from Bucky. You immediately click on his name to get what he needs first before looking at the other one.

“Now that is bullshit,” you hear from behind you.

You jump and turn to see Sam standing there with a half-smile on his face.

“What are you doing? You scared me!”

“I sent you evidence hours ago and Bucky sent you it just now, and he’s the one you pick first?”

“I--”

You don’t have any words for that.

“When are you two gonna fuck?”

“Sam Wilson!” you gasp.

“What? It’s a valid question. I should ask him that.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“I’m rooting for you two no matter how painful the slow burn is,” he chuckles and walks away.

It takes half an hour to get the idea of you and Bucky fucking for you to do your job right. Once you’re in the groove of things, the door opens and an attractive man walks in.

“Can I help you?” you ask with a smile.

“Yeah, I’m here for my brother. He’s in lock up.”

“Okay, what’s his name and date of birth?”

“James Farley. 04/05/1986.”

“Your name?”

“Brandon Farley.”

“Okay, I see your brother here. It looks like--”

“I’m sorry, but I have to tell you how beautiful you are.”

“Oh, thank you,” you blush.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, but--”

“Great. Can I take you out?”

“You can see how this is inappropriate, right?”

“Yeah, but you like it,” he grins. “So, can I take you out?”

There’s a certain charm about him that you find endearing maybe because he reminds you of Bucky. Being put on the spot like that is enough to make you freeze up, so you say the one thing that won’t cause conflict.

“Yes.”

“Here’s my number.”

He grabs your hand and writes his number on it so that it won’t come off with one scrub.

“I have sticky notes!”

“This is better. Now you won’t lose it.”

“Go take a seat. Someone will be with you shortly to bring you to your brother.”

“Thanks,” he winks and walks to the waiting room.

You’re about to get up and wash off the number when you notice Bucky standing in the doorway that leads into the precinct.

“Did I hear that right?”

“What?”

“You have a date?”

“Yeah, he asked me out,” you stutter. Bucky looks pissed as if you just told him you killed someone. “Why do you look angry?”

“Nothing. No reason.”

Bucky walks off angrily leaving you confused. He avoids you like the plague for the rest of the day. He isn’t at his desk when you drop off paperwork, and he’s not there to walk you to your car when you get off. He’s supposed to get off an hour before you do, but he stays after not on the clock to make sure you get to your car safely.

This time, he didn’t.

The next day, Bucky is already at work when you arrive. There is no coffee on your desk, either, and you’re feeling guilty for accepting a date with someone else. Is that why he’s acting this way? Sam walks in drinking an energy drink when you stop him.

“Hey, what’s going on with Bucky?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, what did I do?”

“You accepted a date from someone else.”

You knew it. Why is he bigging out?

“So?”

“Have you not been here for the past two years? You two flirt like crazy.”

“No, he’s just being friendly.”

“You won’t get it until you do,” Sam shakes his head and walks off.

The date with Brandon comes sooner than you hoped. He picks you up in a fancy car and takes you to a fancy restaurant that you could never afford. He smooth-talks the hostess to get him a table by the window so he can have a view while he eats. The waitress brings by a drinks menu but he already orders what you two are going to drink.

“Trust me, you’re going to love this,” he winks at you.

“Okay,” you say and fiddle with your fingers underneath the table. “You know what I do for work. What do you do for work?”

You shouldn’t have asked him that.

“I work in the telecommunications sector. You know that big building in the city? That’s mine. It’s funny. I got all my parents’ money when they died and instead of using that money for myself, I decided to invest in a small company that turned out to give me millions.” You open your mouth to speak but he continues talking. “Can you imagine that? This small company that wasn’t going to go anywhere if it weren't for me. I’m like their hero. They eventually sold their part to me, and I’ve been thriving ever since.”

Once he got to talking about his job, he hasn’t shut up about it since. He’s very arrogant and rude but that doesn’t seem to stop him. As soon as the drinks come, you greedily take yours and down it without caring what it is.

“Whoa, doll, calm down. I don’t need to haul you to the car at the end of the night. You should pace yourself.”

No one can call me that but Bucky. Oh, Bucky. You shouldn’t have said yes to this man. He only asked you out to hear himself talk. You want this date to end so you pretend to be interested in what he has to say. Even when the date is over and he’s driving you home, he won’t shut up. His voice mixed with alcohol is starting to make your head throb.

About halfway to your house, you see red and blue lights behind you.

This better not be him, you think to yourself. Brandon pulls the car over obediently and waits for the officer to approach him. You look through the mirror to see the outline of the officer and recognize it immediately. He better not. I swear to God… Instead of walking to the driver’s side door, Bucky walks over to your door and leans down so only you can see him.

“Step out of the vehicle, please.”

“No.”

Bucky takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He leans in so close that you can smell his delicious cologne. That makes your head spin.

“I’ll repeat myself. Step out of the car.”

“Or what? You’re gonna drag me out?”

“Don’t tempt me, doll,” he says so only you can hear it.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Brandon asks.

“Yes. You have a busted taillight.”

“Fuck! You’ve got to be joking, sir.”

“No, sir, I’m not.”

“Shit. Officer, I can promise you I keep this car in the utmost pristine condition.”

“Not today, buddy. That’s a ticket.”

Bucky takes out his pad and writes Brandon a hefty ticket for a broken taillight you’re not sure is even broken.

“Fuck!” Brandon turns to you without guilt on his face. “Look, do you mind if I drop you off right here? Your house is only down the road. You can get there from here, right?”

Your mouth drops open in shock.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Bucky offers.

“Thank you. I’ll call you.”

You don’t say anything as you get out of the car. Bucky walks you to the passenger side of his cruiser. You look at the taillights of Brandon’s car and notice they’re both working properly.

“What the fuck, Bucky?” you yell when he gets in the driver’s seat. “His taillights are broken! You can’t just do that. That’s illegal!”

“He’ll fight against it, and I’ll drop the charges,” he shrugs.

“You’re un-fucking-believable. We were actually having a good time,” you lie.

“No, you weren't,” he laughs.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s written all over your face. Your eyes don’t have the usual light.” Bucky pulls onto the road and heads in the direction of your house. “I don’t know why you would accept the date in the first place.”

“Because at least he had the fucking balls to ask me.”

That puts the entire car ride into a tense silence. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the ride home. He pulls up to your place but instead of letting you get out first, he gets out and walks over to your side of the car. He opens the door but doesn't let you leave the car. He leans into the car, grabs your chin, and kisses you. You’re shocked but you won’t pull away from him. Both your lips move in harmony against one another, and he slides his tongue into your mouth to show you he means business.

“You’re not allowed to see other men.”

“Why not?” you ask, breathlessly.

“Because you’re mine now and I’m not gonna let you go.” This brings a smile to your face. He lets you get out, and when you pass by him, he taps your ass lightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Doll.”

Yes, you will.

x

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[inu-mxki]

happy valentines ♡

roronoa zoro x fem!reader / established relationship / fluff

“for you.”

zoro thrusts the small bunch of picked flowers rather unceremoniously towards you. from the way his jaw is clenched and how his fist is almost sapping the life out of the little arrangement of flowers, you can tell the swordsman isn’t accustomed to offering a heartfelt gift. but even though his approach isn’t exactly romantic, the meaning is there all the same.

“did you pick those?” you ask softly, placing a gentle hand over his bruising fist to ease the tension in his hand, allowing you to retrieve the flowers from his grasp, “they’re beautiful, ‘ro. thank you.”

“yeah, well,” he scratches the back of his neck, a rare nervous disposition about the large man before you, “the cook said somethin’ bout valentines, so…”

“sanji wouldn’t miss valentines for the world, sappy devil,” you giggle, smelling the freshness of the flowers zoro had clearly spent time collecting for you, “they smell delightful. such pretty colours, too.”

“sorry it’s not… from a store or somethin’,” he said, leaning against the ship’s railing, eyes fixed to the ground and hands in his pockets, “i, uh, don’t have loads of berries, so i just…”

you watch as he tries to explain why he hasn’t just placed a diamond encrusted necklace into your hands. as if the gift he had gone out to personally pick for you wasn’t enough. zoro was aware that sanji had gifted each of the girls a small heart shaped chocolate cake he’d baked first thing that morning, leaving them outside of your rooms with a scented card that read: “mon amie, happy valentines.”

zoro can’t bake. or cook. or craft like usopp can. he’s just a swordsman, he doesn’t have any delicate skills like that. but he remembered, a while back whilst exploring an island the sunny had docked at, you were entranced by the different types of flowers you’d never seen before; smelling each of them and then asking him to in turn. it wasn’t something zoro would normally do, but he smelt them anyway because it pleased you, and spread a sweet smile across your face.

all he ever wanted to do was make you do that. smile.

he feels your warm palm against his face, and looks up to meet your soft, welcoming eyes. you’ve always looked at him like that - like you accept him. there’s no one around, the sun setting in the distance and a gentle, calm lap of the ocean at the base of the sunny. zoro made sure to catch you alone, as to not entice the others to ruin the moment.

with a swipe of your thumb across his cheek bone, you reach up and plant a kiss to his cheek. his eyes close with content, soaking up the feeling of your tenderness. a tenderness he never knew he needed.

“zoro,” you say his name with a soft voice, and all at once the worries burdening his shoulders are lifted, and his body, his mind, feel at ease, “i don’t need you to buy me anything. i would take flowers you’ve picked yourself over anything berries can buy,” his hands leave his pockets and you feel them take your waist, squeezing lightly, “besides, i have everything i already need, right here.”

your run your hand down his bare chest, the shirt sitting on his back getting caught in the warm wind that sweeps across the deck. his eyes never leave you, watching every move you make as your lips press against his collarbone, causing a shiver to run down his spine. “i love you.” you mutter against his olive skin, and the grip on your waist tightens.

his large hand snakes around the back of your neck, gathering your attention, and he leans down to capture your lips in a deep kiss. zoro kisses with such passion, such meaning. he’s not great with words, everyone knows that, and expressing his feelings for you has always been a challenge. so, he does what he knows best; kisses you like he’s never going to get the chance to again.

“i love you,” he mumbles into the kiss, words you don’t get to hear very often, but are a pleasure when you do. it’s not that he doesn’t want to say it - he just finds it hard sometimes. but you know that. you know him, and his actions have always spoken in tenfolds. when he pulls away, he lingers close, so you take the opportunity to press one more quick peck to his mouth. it’s not very often you’re alone, after all.

“c’mon,” you say quietly, taking his hand in yours and lacing your fingers together, “let’s find a nice place to keep them, yeah?”

i do not own one piece or any characters associated with it

[cow-smells]

Perv! Sanji hc's

Word count: 710

Warnings: sanji being a major creep, dubcon, drunk reader, im not great at warnings so just know this has dark themes and if that's not your jive, its best to skip this one

A/n: honestly and seriously, im embarrassed to have written this. the character of sanji and actor taz live rent free in my head. it is an issue. i will be seeking council

He doesn’t become obsessed with you immediately after you join the crew. He’s after you the same way he is after any other woman, but the more he gets to know you, the less interested he is in other women until eventually, you’re the only one he sees.

And when I say obsessed, I mean the man is OBSESSED.

You could do no wrong in Sanji’s eyes. Every little thing you’d do, he’d fawn over and praise you for

It certainly didn’t hurt that you were receptive to his wandering hands when he would praise you

He took it upon himself to teach you to cook. Whenever you’d manage to improve your skills or make something tasty, Sanji would pick you up in an excited hug, he was so happy you were learning from him

And when he’d put you down from said hug, his hands always somehow found themselves on your bottom, squeezing, pushing you against him

The kitchen was his favourite place to be with you

There was a lot less space to move around than there was in the kitchen at the baratie, but Sanji didn’t mind; it just gave him a reason to have his hands on your waist anytime he needed to move you around – he loved how easy it was for him to control you like that

And whenever he needed something from a shelf above the counter where you stood, it was an excuse to cage you in, grinding his groin over your bum

Sometimes he’d use the fact he knew you were busy in the kitchen or someplace else on ship to allow himself in to your room

He’d smell your sheets, imagining waking up in them with you

Ruining them with you

He’d never leave your room without a souvenir

His favourite? Your used panties

He’d settle for a washed pair if you didn’t have any used ones but he just loves them used

It’s the closest to your cunt he could get right now

Sanji would spend those nights jerking off with your panties in hand, cumming in to them, thinking about you wearing them after

He once heard you whisper to Nami that you kept losing your underwear. Nami threw a glance at Sanji’s direction, but didn’t voice her suspicions

So Sanji learned to wash them and put them back, and it was actually nicer than keeping them. He liked thinking that you indirectly had his cum on your cunt

Any time Sanji would see you having any type of positive interaction with Zoro, the jealousy would send him up the wall

His frustrations would manifest themselves in extra-intense fighting with Zoro and being a lot less subtle with his perving on you

After he’d have a fight with zoro, he’d go to you for comfort

He liked to hug you from behind, acting upset and in need of your care, but really he just liked how you’d let his hands wander to your breasts

If he felt really bold, he’d let his hands snake under your shirt or your skirt

If you’d try to push him away he’d play up how distressed he was about whatever happened, he knew you have a soft spot for him, that’s why he loves you

He knew what your favourite dessert is and he loves making it for you. He may or may not have cum in the frosting.

He makes you cocktails all the time. He tries to get you inebriated because then you’re much more receptive of him sneaking his way in to your bed.

He knew you wanted him when you were sober, too, you were just shy and needed to be pushed in the right direction

He loves it when you’re drunk – he can kiss you all over, touch you all over, mark you up as his (which was partly for himself, and partly so zoro would finally take the hint)

And being drunk made you so cuddly. Sure, he was hot for you, but he really did love you and just loved having you wrapped around him

[mint-yooxgi]

Promises - Yandere!Kraken!Felix

Yandere AU & Kraken AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Felix X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,958

Warnings: Implied violence and shipwreck, kidnapping, Felix is a type of Sea God in this, mentions of past sexual relations. Tentacles. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Did I base the start of this drabble on the ending scene in Dead Man's Chest? Perhaps. Is this a bit tamer than the others. Maybe. Either way, I still hope you like it! I've been slowly easing myself back into writing, so I'm happy with what I've been able to do. Plus, I just fucking love the banner I made for this hehehe... Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Thirteenth of The Feral Drabbles

They thought they could keep you away from me.

They really thought they could keep you away from me.

It’s laughable. I thought it was a known rule for sailors not to anger the sea, but alas. Here we are.

The frantic screams and shouts don’t deter me for one second. I know what I came here for, and I’m not leaving without you. You’re mine. I warned them what the consequences would be, yet still they refused to give you to me. Even after we promised ourselves to each other! Can you believe that?

Oh, that sounds so harsh. It’s not like you didn’t also choose me. It’s these… these… things keeping us apart. They don’t understand our love. Think I’m corrupting you, or something.

Such bullshit. The only thing I’m corrupting is their ability to live.

They hid you on the third level, thinking you’d be safe within the deepest confines of the ship. Little do they know it’s the worst place you could be. It’s like they want you to get hurt, like they want me to kill you. Such things I would never do. 

Still, despite my anger as I tear this floating piece of wood apart, I’m careful. Your safety is my top priority, and I’ve already ensured that. Right now, you rest, cocooned inside a few of my tentacles. Magic surrounds you, ensuring none of their attacks have any effect on me or you. Like hell I’ll allow them to disturb you now. Besides, you passed out shortly after my assault started on the ship, but you don’t have to worry. I’ve got you.

I can still remember when we first met, how you told me you didn’t fare well with sea travel. Yet another offence they’ve made against you. I’ll never forgive them for their transgressions. Sinners need to pay, and I am here to pass my divine judgement on those that would call themselves ‘heroes’.

Do not fear, My Beloved. Once I finish smashing apart this pathetic excuse of driftwood, I’ll take you home. 

Where you’ve always belonged. 

With me.

These planks are so brittle, it’s almost laughable. Your captor’s pathetic attempts to defend themselves are cute, in a way. If not for the fact that every time I start to pull you out of the wreckage, more of them show up to try and hinder me. I don’t know why they’re so obsessed with protecting you now when they’ve never done so before.

I’m the one who always saves you. I’m the one who ensures you no harm. Not them.

No matter. They haven’t seen everything that I can do. My capabilities far surpass what their puny, closed off minds can comprehend. I’ve got magic beyond the darkest depths of the ocean, strength greater than the harshest of tides. There is no being, save myself, that could keep me away from you.

I don’t even know why they try.

Finally, I’m able to pull you out of that godforsaken wreckage and unleash my full wrath upon these wretches. The boat snaps like a twig as I pull the debris and all remaining survivors below the surface. 

None will survive. They don’t get to. I won’t let them.

Honestly, it’s kind of fun tearing stuff apart. I’ve always enjoyed making a mess of things. I only wish you could be awake to see just how strong your lover can be. After all, I’m doing this for you. I warned them about what would happen should they lay their filthy, traitorous hands all over you. I’m simply staying true to my word!

You know firsthand that I’m a very truthful guy. I would never lie to you, My Pearl. I would rather be slow roasted over an open fire than even think to deceive you.

Aren’t I so loyal?

Oh. Right. You aren’t awake to hear my teasing. Teasing which you seem quite fond of whenever I’m with you.

I think you just like hearing my voice…

That’s okay, Beloved. I will speak for as long as you desire me to. Besides, the feeling is quite mutual.

Gods- I can’t wait to see your face when you wake up in our home, and I get to tell you everything that I’ve done for you. Finally, we can be together, free of oppressive opinions and suppressive stares. Where I’m taking you, we can be ourselves, and the magic of my ocean will keep you safe. Eventually, when you’re ready, you’ll even become like me, too. 

Won’t that be incredible? Just thinking about it makes my whole body tingle.

Or maybe that’s just the change in depth.

I promise my home isn’t too much further out, and it’s in a safe area. You’ll be able to live here with me free of any restraints. I’ll be your comfort. I’ll be your guide. I will provide for you everything you will ever need. 

There is nothing stopping our love now.

I’ll even make sure that no sliver of the wreckage I just caused gets to you. The currents listen to me. They’re my friends, and soon they will be yours, too.

Either way, I’m glad that’s over, because now I can focus on you! I know that you’d be celebrating with me if you were awake, but for now, I’ll simply revel in this sweet victory alone. Having you safe in my arms is enough reward, and when you wake, the true celebration will begin.

Hmm, I wonder what we should do first? Should I take you to the reefs so you can see all of the colourful coral that I’ve grown just for you? Should I present you to the schools of fish that always seek refuge around my house? Get them to revel in your beauty? Or maybe I’ll worship you in the den of our own personal sanctuary, where nothing - no one - will be able to interrupt.

My Beauty.

My Beautiful, Beloved Pearl.

I’ll admit, there’s a certain ring to those names that I enjoy. It calls to me like the cavernous songs of the sirens. An enchantment I can never seem to escape: you.

Not that I want to. 

No. Never. Not since the very first time I laid eyes on you.

You’re addictive, you know that? One glance caught my attention. One melodic note of a spoken word, and I was hooked. Your eyes are deeper than the darkest sea, and I could swim in them forever. You hold me, transfixed, with your gaze whenever you look at me, and I never want it to stop.

Honestly, I can never grow tired of you looking at me. I want you to look at me, and only me. I want to be the first thing you see in the morning when you blink those glorious eyes open, and the last thing you see when you go to sleep at night. I want to wrap you in my arms and hold you close, whispering the sweetest words of all the worlds in your ears, and hear you do the same for me in return.

There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Beloved, and I will never hesitate to prove that to you. With me, you will never have to settle for less than what you deserve, for I will always give you every single thing your heart could ever desire.

Fuck- I can still remember the way your body trembled from the very first touch. The more I trailed my arms over your body, letting the tips of my tendrils caress your skin, the more your whole being warmed. You fit so perfectly in my hold, that I long to always touch you - to always be near you, and obey your every whim.

I am but your loyal servant, sent to worship the very depths of your soul. Your entire being calls to me, and I could bathe in your warmth for all eternity. Right now, it’s that warmth that I crave more than anything. That glorious nectar that seeps from between your legs beckons to me. One taste isn’t enough. I need to feel you flooding my every sense once more.

Sweet.

Addictive.

I could spend ages defining it, but nothing could ever truly put into words just how ethereal you are to me.

People always thought my existence was mere myth itself. Rumours and legends only meant to scare those away from pursuing adventure on the high seas. Nothing more than a fable to tell their children at night to ensure they don’t go off swimming in the bay alone.

They have always been, and will always be, wrong.

I’m as real at the tide, as sure as the sand that resides against the ocean floor. There is nothing in these waters as deadly as I am, and all those that oppose us will face my wrath.

Well, where we’re going, we won’t have to worry about being disturbed at all. Plenty of room for the both of us. Plenty of privacy. No one dares disturb that which should be left undisturbed. At least, those smart enough to.

That is, of course, unless I use my magic to let those sirens get a taste of their own medicine. Water echoes even the smallest of sounds, and yours should be heard for miles around. I can still hear your glorious voice calling out my name as you bathed me in your own sacred waters, and I want all to know that you are mine, and I am yours. For all eternity. 

I’ll admit… I’m addicted to you, and I can never get enough. Though, from the way I remember your hands clinging to me that night only days ago, I don’t think you can get enough, either.

Good thing we have forever to spend fully satisfying each other!

Ah… looks like we’re finally getting close to home. I can see the familiar drop off up ahead. Don’t worry, Beloved, there’ll be plenty of air for you to breathe inside. I won’t always have to keep you covered in a veil of magic. Though, I would always like to have an arm around you. Feeling your skin pressed against my own is a sensation unlike any other, and I long to never let you go.

Perhaps I should tidy up a little more before you wake. I always have way too much energy after destroying a ship. Something about adrenaline and all that.

Perhaps when you wake up you could even help me with it… You might be a bit tired and disoriented when you wake, but my magic can help with your exhaustion. You seemed to like that that last time I used it on you.

How else could we have gone as many rounds as we did?

Oh, you flatter me by pulling yourself in closer to me subconsciously when I shift into such a basic form. It easier to move around like a human within my home when it’s drained like this, and besides, I haven’t exactly shown you my entire true form yet. The last thing I want to do is scare you as soon as you wake up. You’ve already suffered the trauma of being stolen away from me today. I don’t want to make things worse.

There. All you need to do is rest now. 

In my arms? Well, who am I to pull away from My Pearl when you’re clinging onto me so tightly in your sleep? 

I truly can never say no to you…

Just rest, Beloved. This creature shall keep you safe, tucked away deeply in his heart for all eternity. Once you open those glorious eyes of yours, our own adventure will start.

Just you and me, forever. 

I promise.

[stllmnstr]

easy mode — a lee heeseung drabble

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: brother’s best friend au

word count: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, (brief, non descriptive) vomit mention, veeeeery suggestive (but no explicit content/smut), sorry feminism I let heeseung win this round

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Lee Heeseung likes to do things the easy way. 

It’s not that he’s lazy, just... efficient. A fan of the path of least resistance. He knows how to pick his battles and does so sparingly. 

Heeseung minds his own business, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him and rarely lets them stray. And he definitely, definitely never pokes his nose into other people’s problems. 

It’s a philosophy that keeps his head on straight, that allows his friendships to remain low-maintenance and sans drama. It’s what’s kept Jay at his side for the last fifteen years, even through the trials and tribulations of elementary school playground altercations, puberty-fueled fights in the middle school locker room, and most recently, the frustrating misalignment of their post-graduation work schedules. 

Four years ago, Heeseung thought a bachelor’s degree would be his ticket to success, not a soul-sucking nine-to-five that leaves him itching for a drink or three most Friday nights. Luckily for him, Jay’s in the same boat. 

But tonight, sitting next to his best friend on his favorite slightly wobbly bar stool, Heeseung almost misses the monotony of their usual Friday evening happy hours. 

He’s nursing his third beer, which would usually go down like cold water, even though time and tipsiness have turned it lukewarm. Tonight, though, Heeseung’s eyes keep wandering towards the same corner table just over Jay’s shoulder. 

And every time they do, the muscle in his jaw strains a little further. The beer on his tongue tastes a little more bitter. 

Heeseung hates making things complicated. He doesn’t get involved. He doesn’t. But–

“Are you gonna do something about that?”

On the adjacent bar stool, Jay glances at Heeseung. “About what?” 

Heeseung just keeps his eyes trained on that table, that spot over Jay’s shoulder. 

Picking up on the hint even through the pleasant haze in his mind, Jay turns his gaze to follow Heeseung’s nonverbal cue. It takes him only a matter of seconds to locate what has his best friend in such a mood. Or rather, who. Although Jay isn’t quite sure why. 

He’s digging for clarification when he looks back at his friend. “What do you mean? Did she do something weird?” It wouldn’t be exactly unlike his younger sister to do something slightly embarrassing in public. 

Heeseung’s jaw just tightens further, betraying his annoyance. Finally, he puts words to his irritation, saves Jay from his suspense. “You’re gonna let that idiot put his hands all over your little sister in the middle of the bar?”

Jay frowns, turns over his shoulder once again to make sure he isn’t seeing things. He’s not. From this angle, at least, Sunghoon’s hands are at a perfectly respectable distance from you. Not that Jay could do much about it either way. 

He tells Heeseung as much. “What am I supposed to do? Drag her out by her ear and force her to join a convent? Ship her off to a girls only boarding school?” Jay laughs humorlessly. He’s not exactly thrilled that you and your friends chose to patronize the same bar as him and Heeseung tonight, but he doesn’t want to linger on it either. In fact, he doesn’t want to do anything but forget his woes this evening, drown his sorrows in overpriced pints of whatever’s on tap. He’s perfectly happy with his back turned towards you. Out of sigh, out of mind and all that. “She’s twenty-two.”

And that wasn’t what Heeseung was suggesting exactly, but now that Jay mentions it…

“You’re okay with Park trying to play tonsil tennis with her then?”

“Dude,” Jay winces, setting his beer down on the bar, stomach suddenly queasy. “Gross. That’s still my little sister.”

Which is exactly the card Heeseung is hoping he’ll play. But all Jay does is sigh. If Heeseung didn’t know better, he’d think the exasperation was directed at him instead of the loser he’s pretty sure is currently trying to make himself Jay’s future brother-in-law. 

Jay checks over his shoulder one final time for good measure. It confirms whatever he’s looking for. Mostly the fact that Park Sunghoon’s lips are too busy cracking mediocre jokes to be making sloppy passes at his sister in public. 

Hoping to put it to rest once and for all, at least for tonight, he turns back to Heeseung. “Besides, it’s Sunghoon,” Jay reasons. He finds it in himself to reach for his beer again. “She’s known him since preschool. He’s practically like a second brother to her.” Jay takes a sip, misreading the rise in Heeseung’s agitation as familial affection. Trying to soothe it over, he concedes with a nod, “Or third, I guess. I’ll let you be her second.”

Like always, Heeseung lets it go. Goes with the flow, at least on the outside. 

But even if he weren’t so committed to never rocking the boat, this is hardly the time or place to correct Jay’s assumptions that his feelings towards you are anything but brotherly. That, he decides, will have to be a revelation for another time. Preferably in a situation where Heeseung is well out of arm’s reach and Jay is in restraints of some sort. 

Those, after all, are the only circumstances in which he could ever disclose just how decidedly not brotherly his feelings towards you are. 

In fact, they’re a lot more aligned with that stupid game you used to make him play as kids. The one where you put on the white dress you’d gotten from your cousin as a hand-me-down, an assortment of grape juice, finger paint, and pasta sauce stains scattered along the hemline. The one where you’d gather a bunch of dandelions from your overgrown backyard and call them a beautiful bouquet. The one where you’d live out all your grandest six-year-old dreams of walking down the aisle towards a handsome prince with the latest Kidz Bop rendition of whatever love song was most popular on the radio setting the mood in the back. 

The one where you’d drag Heeseung away from the player number two console, much to Jay’s unending annoyance, and force him to play the part of your groom. Even at six, you were a force to be reckoned with. An argument-winning fiend that even your older brother could rarely best in a fight. 

Heeseung played along, more than anything, because he was scared to face your wrath if he declined. But he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t feel a little funny in his chest every time he watched you walk down a makeshift aisle made with your mother’s missing tablecloth. 

And Heeseung doesn’t give a shit how long you’ve known Sunghoon. After all, what does Sunghoon know about your childhood dream to get married in a garden full of roses? Judging from the way it looks like he keeps trying to get you to try his drink, he doesn't even know you can’t stand the taste of Coke mixed with liquor. 

But Heeseung knows. He was there the night you developed the aversion. The night you decided bottom shelf tequila and the soda you snuck from your parent’s fridge were your best friends for the evening after junior prom. The night he held your hair as it came back up a few hours later. 

And he was there for the rest of it, too. All the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between that spun the tapestry of your formative years. The day you finally got your braces off and didn’t stop smiling for three weeks straight. The time you sprained your ankle trying to hide Jay’s favorite pair of sneakers in the alarmingly tall tree in your backyard. The night you cried for four hours straight when you found out Jake Sim from biology was a big, fat, liar that was indeed texting other girls for homework answers. 

There may have been moments, tangled up in that swirling mix of memories, when Heeseung felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection for you. A desire to protect you from the world and a distinct sort of pride when he inevitably failed and you rose to the challenge anyway. 

But Heeseung also remembers what it felt like to stand across from you as you recited your six-year-old brain’s attempt at recreating marriage vows, and he thinks he never really stood a chance. 

Glancing over Jay’s shoulder again, Heeseung watches as you lean a little further into Sunghoon, straining to hear him over the cacophony in the bar. And the anger he feels in his gut is not brotherly in the slightest. Nor is the red, hot, scalding jealousy that burns his throat every time he forces himself to swallow it down. 

Searching for a distraction, he busies himself with his beer once again, lets Jay’s unwanted evaluations fall to the wayside for the time being. Immersed in the dregs of his own despair, he almost misses it. The flash of movement as you slide out from your seat next to Sunghoon. 

Heeseung mumbles some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom that Jay only partially hears before he’s stepping off of his bar stool, beer forgotten on the counter behind him. 

Your footsteps are easy to follow as he traces the predictable path you forge to the opposite corner of the bar. Heeseung’s bathroom excuse was a good one, he’s pleased to discover, once he realizes that’s precisely where he’ll be meeting you. 

The line is long, but it moves quickly. Only a handful of minutes have passed when you emerge again. This time, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give you the chance to walk back and make him watch you from a distance for the rest of the evening. 

Instead, he wraps the skin of your wrist in long, precise fingers, drags you to the adjacent hallway where it’s empty, quiet. Secluded. Away from any wandering eyes or unwanted ears. 

Any protests of yours are overtaken by surprise, and by the time you finally find them again, they’re replaced by questions. 

Heeseung may be a captain of a steady ship, a firm believer in the merits of smooth sailing, but he’s never been able to resist the urge of liminal spaces like these. Moments with enough plausible deniability that Jay won’t have a reason to give him a bloody nose or threaten his life if he so much as looks at his little sister again. Exchanges that he hopes will linger with you long after the two of you have parted ways. 

Desire for ambiguity aside, the position he puts you in is compromising no matter how you spin it. Your back against the wall, and Heeseung leans over you, cages you in like he’s after something other than your answers, something more. But the gap between your bodies is deliberate, a way for him to backtrack if the situation calls for it, an out if he needs it. 

Your wrist is still in his grip, light but demanding, when he finally says, “Park Sunghoon? Really?”

“What?” You hope you can blame the obvious breathlessness in your voice on shock. “What are you–?”

Heeseung won’t leave you wondering for long. “You think he can handle you?” With the way you’re wrapped up in Heeseung’s hold, the challenge, the comparison is apparent. 

Your shock morphs. Hardens. “Handle me? Am I a wild animal? I don’t need to be han–”

And, oh, this is Heeseung’s favorite kind of tightrope. His very best balancing act. He loves it, thrives on it, revels in it. This exchange of heated words that never go anyway but to your head. He hopes you’re seeing fucking stars. 

Heeseung leans an inch closer. He’s breaching dangerous territory. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if he has to. Glancing at your eyes, holding your gaze, he doesn’t think he will. 

“Who said anything about you needing it?” He’s so close you feel his breath on your cheekbone, ghosting across your temple. “I’m talking about what you want.”

Something unreadable flickers through your gaze before you’re masking it with contempt. As if Heeseung is nothing but a pest, a fly to swat at until it stops buzzing. “Awful presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Heeseung only grins. “I don’t know.” He leans in closer. “There are a few ways we could find out, though.”

If your breath stutters, you’ll disguise it as a scoff. “Pray tell.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Heeseung inclines his head in a mockery of an apology. For a moment, he lets his eyes do what they want. You feel the heat they track in their path from your nose to your chin back up to your molten gaze. “I’d rather show you, and I don’t think I can do any of the things I want in public.”

You hate the way he does this. The way he never says what he means. The way he skirts around things with such heavy footsteps but still leaves you feeling foolish for drawing obvious conclusions. The way your heartbeat stutters regardless. But tonight, you’ll hold firm. If he wants anything from you, he’ll have to spell it out. “What are you saying?”

Heeseung is as evasive as always. “I’m saying that Sunghoon’s too nice for you.” There’s a hard edge in his eyes when he adds, “You’ll eat him alive and still be begging for more.”

Fine. If he wants to play games, then you’ll roll the dice too. Make scathing comments and heated taunts with whatever numbers you land on. This time, it’s you that leans in. “Should I make sure to find you, then? When I’m all done with him?”

You can’t tell if he’s furious or the most delighted you’ve ever seen him. “Careful,” Heeseung breathes. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing at.”

“I’m not playing at anything.” It’s a blatant lie, but you’ve become well acquainted with denial, too. Picked up a few tricks from the ringleader himself. “You’re the one that dragged me here and started demanding that I ditch my friend.”

Heeseung smiles as if you serve no purpose but to amuse him. “You let all your friends look at you like that?”

“Only the ones I really like.”

But now you’re under his skin. “Careful,” he repeats, even lower this time. “I’m not as nice as him.”

You won’t heed any warnings, and especially not ones given from him. He’s all talk. All bark and no bite. You almost wish he would bare teeth, just once. “What are you gonna do?” Unblinking, you hold his gaze. “Handle me?”

A blurred line dissolves completely. Heeseung’s resolve slips, just a fraction. “Is that an invitation?”

“A challenge,” you correct, sliding out of his grasp, maneuvering away from his hold. This time, he has no choice but to turn as you begin to back away, to let his eyes follow your lead. 

After his misstep, the results of this game are under your sole control. You have choices, ones that leave him in the dust and ones that put a trophy in his wandering hands. In the end, you discard it all. You have only one final demand for him. It’s a whisper that’s barely audible, “Rise to it.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to hear it twice.

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note: I was having serious heeseung brother's best friend brainrot on my friday evening and decided to make it everyone's problem. (you're welcome/I'm sorry). and thanks for reading! thoughts, comments, tags, reblogs, and screaming are appreciated as always <3

[devondeal]

Long Chaggie rant ahead

I think a reason Chaggie get called "boring" is that they are waayyy past that beginning stage of their relationship TV love to glamorize.

They've been together for three years and already have that comfort level with each other that not everything is a new discovery. They accept each other's differences and just support. That's what a well established relationship is like.

Of course they are still heavily affectionate and loving with each other because duh, they're in love. Society loves to repeat the bullshit "losing the spark" problem in relationships and how "marriage is so hard" but most of these situations are people that barely even like each other let alone love.

I think that's why media loves showing either beginning stage relationships OR trope-y enemies to lovers and variants of that.

ESPECIALLY in the case of queer relationships because it's only fairly recently that it's been normalized onscreen and I don't think we're used to seeing a normal queer relationship. Like think about it.

Media has always loved showing the gays as deviant and toxic because that's been the only way it was allowed to be seen. I think many of us have gotten used to seeing ourselves that way that it's been normalized.

Personally, I'm in the boat of I'm sick being seen as deviant and like it's bad and wrong thing to be in love with someone of the same sex. For me, Chaggie has been healing because it's just two women being a healthy happy couple. Something that society and even family have told me is not possible which hurts beyond words to hear.

So yeah, I love Chaggie. It is the best wlw canon ship in fucking YEARS and I have been craving representation like this. The very things that I get dirty looks at for irl, is completely normal with Chaggie.

They can hold hands, lean in together arm around shoulder, quick casual kisses in public, give each other goo-goo eyes, just general affection and couple-y behavior as well as the "been together for 3 years" quirks and routines. Like I swear I cannot remember any other wlw ship like this so yeah, it's gonna hit me hard in the feels.

And when characters like Lute and Adam are disgusted or fetishize it, it's very obviously portrayed as villainous behavior. Everyone else just accepts them as they are.

Of course it's not just the normalization of those things but specifically in the context of they've been together for 3 years and are still very much in love and have nothing to prove to each other and just face any conflicts as they come like a normal couple.

Most media especially TV have gay couples break up after that amount of time just for drama points and cuz us gays cant ever last in a long term relationship apparently 😒 And I feel like that especially goes for lesbian relationships on TV. I've seen wayyy more long terms mlm relationships than wlw in main roles.

(Wonder if that's cuz it's just so unbelievable that women could actually love each other cuz society just is so attached to the idea that all women hate each other)

Basically fuck Chaggie hate. We need more wlw long term relationships like this onscreen. I'm tired of being seen as deviant and likely to be toxic. And I'm not saying they need to be perfect. They're obviously not and have some issues but that's a good thing. Every couple has issues.

I'm just saying not all gay onscreen need to almost destroy their relationship in order to repair it.

I just really find it incredibly annoying that some will slap the "boring" label on Chaggie when it's more likely that a long term healthy happy wlw relationship is just that bizarre to them. Just let women actually love women for fuck's sake.

[kamwilliamsonn]

The Captain - Leah Williamson

When you reunite with your best friend after 2 years of facetime only, it was bound to get emotional.

You had deployed into the Royal Navy the moment you turned 18, started off as a Petty Officer, and making your way up the ranks until you were a Captain. You were only 23 when you got the rank, but your first mission was a 2 year long stay on your ship - the HMS Medway - in the Carribbean, you were allowed to Skype and text your family, but you couldn't see them.

It was never much problem not to talk to your birth family, they never agreed with any of your decisions - sexuality or career especially.

But not being able to talk to the Williamson's - to Leah - was definitely difficult.

Leah had been your best friend since birth, the both of you growing up in Milton Keynes, neighbours for your whole life.

You went from seeing each other everyday, to once every couple months, to your only source of communication being Skype.

You were overjoyed for your best friend when she got the role as Interim Captain at the beginning of 2022, and we're even happier for her when she got announced as the actual captain for the Euros.

You knew you needed to be there.

And not just for the final, you wanted to be there for the first match.

So you spoke to your Commanding Officer, your Admiral, but you didn't want to just take a break. You asked him to discharge you.

It was a hard decision, but after 7 years of service, and no life outside your ship for 2 years, you knew it was about time that you take on your next challenge.

Away from the Royal Navy.

But back in London.

He understood greatly, and told you that should you ever wish to come back, your ship would be awaiting you.

And while you gave him a gentle smile,

you knew you were never coming back for good.

-

6th June 2022.

The opening of the Euro's.

England V Austria.

Kick off was at 8pm, in Manchester, Old Trafford.

You arrived in Manchester at 5pm, still fully kitted out in your captain's uniform, your cap set snug on your head.

As soon as you touched down, you messaged the person you trusted most - other than Leah - Lucy Bronze.

You'd known her since Leah broke out in the England squad, and Lucy had become somebody you confided in pretty easily.

You knew she could keep the surprise from Leah - unlike her counterpart, Keira - and would help you out.

So, 10 minutes later, Lucy pulled up at the private airstrip, helping your bags into the car and smiling proudly at you.

You pulled her straight into a hug, relishing in human contact from somebody who wasn't your employee.

"Y/n, it's so good to see you. Two years is way too long." She told you, opening the car door for you and letting you sit in her passenger seat.

You sighed, taking your cap off and placing it on the dashboard in front of you. "I've missed you, Luce."

"Not as much as you've missed Leah, though, I'm sure."

"Well, I hope to never miss her again." You told her.

Her head snaps towards you. "What d'you mean?"

"I'm never going back to the Navy, London will be my home now, Leah will be my home again."

The drive was comfortable, music playing as she drove you to the hotel everybody was staying at, they didn't have to be at Old Trafford until 6:30, ready for warm ups at 7:30, so Lucy organised with Sarina for you to come to the hotel for a bit.

Sarina was more than happy to ablige, a captain of the Royal Navy, one of the only female ones out there.

But as you turned up to the hotel, Lucy couldn't convince you to get out of the car.

"It's been two years, Lucy, what if we aren't the same!" You worried, making her hold your shoulders and force you to look at her.

"Okay, if you're truly that nervous, don't go in there as y/n, 18 year old who first started out in the Navy. Go in there as Captain y/l/n. The youngest female Captain of the Royal Navy. Go in there and stand proud. You are in your uniform, show them why you are what you are."

You took a deep breath and picked up your cap, placing it on your hand.

Lucy patted your thigh softly. "I'll get your bags. You go get your girl."

A blush grew on your face and you looked at her with wide eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She just scoffed. "Yeah, sure."

-

None of the lionesses were in the Lobby, but Sarina was, waiting for you. She greeted you with a warm smile and a handshake, thanking you for your service - even if she wasn't English, she was honourably one for the rest of her time as the England Coach.

She told you that she was going to call a meeting, that you can wait in another room until everybody was in there and then you'd sneak into the room.

You nodded with a soft smile, agreeing with the plan, knowing that the Lionesses were going to see a very different side to their captain.

And that they did.

With all 23 girls sat in the little meeting room, Lucy having been the last one in, you quietly opened the door and slid in.

A trick you'd learned in your 7 years of service.

Keira, who'd been facing the door, instantly opened her mouth in shock, about to speak until you put a finger up to your mouth.

Slowly but surely, each of the girls figured out you were there - not that they all knew who you were - but didn't say anything, Leah was still unaware.

You snuck up behind her and took off your cap, putting it behind your back, with your arms interlocked - standing at ease, the most comfortable you could feel anymore.

You bent down slowly, until your breath was fanning on her ear. And as she began to turn around to face you, you spoke.

"Hello, my darling, it's been a while." She gasps and stands up instantly, turning around like the flash.

She threw her arms over you and pulled you into the tightest hug she ever had before.

You snuck your arm around her and placed your cap on the table, letting your arms fall tightly around her waist, breathing in her scent.

The comfort of your best friend.

Without even thinking, as soon as she pulled away out of the hug a little, to speak, you pushed your lips against hers.

The rest of the lionesses let out hollers, but neither of you paid them any attention.

She kissed you back with just as much passion.

It felt like just the two of you.

Just as it had many years ago.

Idk how much I like this, but I love the premise, and as somebody who spent many years of her life as a sea cadet, there are some things in life that my heart will always find peace with.

[tommyshelbyswh0re]

the forgotten daughter- Tommy Shelby

summary- tommy sent his daughter away because she was a burden he wasn’t ready for. she went 12 years without seeing him once, what happens when she gets an invitation to his wedding?

trigger warning- talks of abuse, neglect, rape, violence, illness.

angst

dad!tommy shelby x daughter!reader

you were 6 when you were sent away to a girls school in manchester. your father, thomas shelby, had told you that ‘he couldn’t be a father’ and that he was ‘too busy to be burdened with a child’. you were now 18 and hadn’t seen your family since. the last time you had received a letter from your father was when you were 17 and it was to inform you about the birth of his son, charles shelby.

you were enraged. it was unfair that he saw charles as a blessing and you as a burden. that he could step up to be a father then but not 17 years ago. you had practically raised yourself for the last 12 years. every birthday you stole a cupcake from the canteen at the school and sung yourself happy birthday. every christmas you receive pitying looks from the nuns because you were one of the only children to stay in the four walls of your dormitory whilst all the other girls spent time with their families.

you had just finished your last year and was lucky enough to get a job straight out of straight out of school which allowed you to buy yourself a small flat. you sent a letter to your father to let him know that you were safe and you gave him your address although you never knew whether he received the letter because he never wrote back. until a week ago when he sent you a wedding invitation.

deciding to attend was the easiest decision. you knew you wanted to see him one last time before you ultimately cut all communication and moved on, knowing that there was no point in hoping he would acknowledge you as his daughter. you were however grateful that he paid for your education, even if he did abandon you for 12 years.

you used your savings to buy a new dress before getting the train to birmingham and paying for a taxi to the church. as you stood outside the venue you pondered on whether this was a good idea, but you knew you had to do this in order to accept that you were alone in this world. you sat at the back with your head down for the entirety of the ceremony. you didn’t even put your head up to see the bride. as selfish as it sounded, you didn’t care for the wedding and you did not care about their happiness.

when the ceremony was finished, you stood outside of the church with a cigarette in your hand whilst your ‘family’ took photos. next to you, a gentleman was doing the same thing. he was also glaring at the family and you wondered what his issue was.

“what did they do to you?” you scoffed.

“huh?” he raised his brow

“if looks could kill, they’d be slaughtered by now” you joked.

“i just don’t like the groom” he shrugged.

“me neither” you agreed. “y/n” you reached your hand out to shake his.

“alfie” he reciprocated. “so why don’t you like him?” he asked.

“im his daughter” you nonchalantly replied.

“never new tom had a daughter”

“yeah he seems to forget aswell” you shrugged.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“it means he shipped me away for 12 years whilst he fucked off and had a family” you smiled. “fancy giving me a lift to this reception?” you linked his arm.

“absolutely. i think we will get along just fine” he grunted. and you smiled at him.

you both walked to his car and he held the door open for you. “didn’t take you for a gentleman” you bantered.

“is it the cockney accent that gave you that impression?” he wondered. which made you laugh.

“i suppose so” you climbed into the passenger seat and he climbed into the drivers. he started the car and drove towards what you were guessing was your fathers house, not that you’d ever been there.

“so tell me about the relationship with your father y/n” he delved straight in.

“wow you waste no time” you scoffed. “well he impregnated my mother, she died during childbirth, he lazily raised me for 6 years before telling me he couldn’t be a father and shipped me off to boarding school in manchester for 12 years and didn’t visit me once” you shrugged. it didn’t bother you anymore. you have accepted that even though he’s your dad, he’s never really been your father. he never tucked you into bed and read you a bedtime story, he never looked after you when you were ill, he never threatened your first date when he came to the door, he never took you for your first alcoholic drink and he will never walk you down the aisle at your wedding. and even though sometimes you just really need your father to tell you everything is going to be ok, you have been alone for 12 years and managed. you can go the rest of your life.

“oh. daddy issues then?” he tried to banter which made you laugh.

“you could say so yes” you replied.

“so if he’s such a shit dad why did you come to the wedding?” he pondered.

“i need closure. after this we will never ever speak again. all form of communication will be cut off.” you said with confidence.

“fair enough” alfie replied. he felt bad for the girl. she had never had a parent in her life. she had been neglected. and he could tell that even though she gave off the impression that she wasn’t bothered by it, he knew she was hurt deep down. so he left it at that.

for the rest of the drive you spoke about all sorts. your job, where you live, his job and where he lives. it was nice. and when your ‘fathers’ house came into view, you were in shock.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you whispered under your breathe. you don’t know why it was the house that made your heart drop, but it was a reminder that you were unwanted. that your father had abandoned you and started a new family that he lived with and looked after in the ridiculously large fucking house. and then came the lump in your throat.

“you ok?” alfie asked. he could tell that she was not.

you took a deep breath. “yes” you nodded and got out of the car. all the guests started showing up at the same time. you waited for alfie to get out of the car before you went in. he linked arms with you and you both walked in.

the first thing you saw was a stair case with large portraits of the family of three. it made you laugh.

“arrogant arseholes” you whispered to alfie which made him laugh. and it was then that you really looked at them. there was a portrait of what you’re guessing is your father, his new wife and his child. that was the first time you saw mrs grace shelby and charles shelby. and as bad as it sounds, you resented them. you resented grace for not encouraging your father to get to know you which sounds stupid and irrational but you couldn’t help it. you knew logically that it’s not your fault that the relationship between you and your father was none existent. it was his. and you resented charles for having the father you needed and wanted. that was supposed to be you. and again it’s irrational because he’s a child and it’s not his fault but you just felt so angry. so you looked away.

a waiter passed by with a tray of champagne and took a flute and chugged it. this concerned alfie. he didn’t want you to get drunk and say something to your ‘family’ that you would later regret.

“go easy” he sternly told you.

you glared at him.

from the other side of the room, john and arthur had noticed you.

“who is that linking arms with alfie?” arthur asked john.

“i think it might be y/n” john squinted.

“y/n y/n, as in tommy daughter y/n?” arthur responded.

“yeah, kind of looks like ‘er” john smiled.

“well why the fuck has she got her arm around alfie soloman’s” arthur said angrily.

“i don’t know, he’s like 15 years older than her” john looked confused. before tommy came up behind them. “need you in the kitchen now” tommy demanded.

“did you know y/n is here?” john asked him.

“who?” tommy asked

“your daughter, y/n” said arthur.

“what? where?” tommy looked around before he saw you.

“why the fuck is she linking alfie, and why is she downing champagne? she’s a child” tommy asked.

“that’s what we were wondering. and tommy she’s not a child, she’s like 18 now isn’t she?” john asked.

just as tommy hummed, he made eye contact with you and it was you who looked away as soon as it happened. he truly saw you for the first time in 12 years. you were a woman now. he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were. you looked like the spitting image of your mother with your y/e/c coloured eyes and your soft y/h/c coloured hair. and all of a sudden he had a wave of guilt come over him. he knew he’d been a shitty father towards you, but he never really thought about it until that moment. he felt like shit and so he did what he does best and walked away.

on the other side of the room, you had just made eye contact with your father for the first time in 12 years. you had seen him in the papers so you knew he hadn’t really changed. but making eye contact felt so awkward for you. this was the man whose dna you shared and yet you felt no father-daughter connection with him. you just felt hurt. and so you chugged another flute of champagne. to which alfie’s concern grew even more.

the announcement was made that there was food in the other room as they asked everyone to move there.

you and alfie made your way to the table. you sat next to eachother. you looked around and saw your great aunt pol sat opposite you.

“is that you y/n?” she smiled.

“hello” you suddenly felt shy.

“hello darling” she replied. sat next to her was ada.

“how have you been y/n?” she asked.

“good, i graduated school”

“oh brilliant, do you work?” pol asked

“yes, i have a secretary job working at a factory and i’m a barmaid on the weekends”

“why two jobs?” ada asked

“moneys tight, have to be able to pay the bills on my flat”

“tom doesn’t give you money?” she responded

“why would he?” you asked.

“because you’re his daughter” ada said to which you shrugged. this conversation made pol and ada sad. they realised they truly knew nothing about you and your life. they also knew that tommy hadn’t been the best to you, but again, it didn’t dawn on them how neglectful they had also been.

“you recently turned 18 didn’t you?” pol asked.

“yes”

“did you do anything for your birthday?” she asked.

“not really. just went to work, went to the bakery on the way back home and bought a cupcake and went to bed” you shrugged. that was your routine of 12 years.

“you didn’t celebrate with friends?” they asked

“don’t have any” your shrugged.

“what about school friends?”

“well they all knew eachother because their parents were friends so they would see eachother outside of school” and this made pol and ada feel even worse, you truly were alone.

“well i’m sorry we didn’t come and see you, we were just so busy preparing the wedding” ada smiled.

“it’s ok, i didn’t expect anyone to”

arthur got up from his seat to do the best man speech.

“hello everyone, before you eat i just want to say a few words as best man. my brother tommy met grace in 1919, obviously at that point we didn’t know she was a spy from the parish” at this, you looked up to the top of the table for the first time to see arthur and john for the first time, and then you looked towards your dad. he had an uncomfortable face on him, obviously not expected arthur to bring such a thing up in his speech.

you chugged another flute of champagne. and now, alfie, pol and ada all grew concern for you.

“-anyway, enough about that. these two were destined for eachother. if tom can forgive her for it then it shows how much he loves her. tom doesn’t really love anyone besides grace and charles” and at this, your father looked in your direction to see you chugging another flute of champagne. your 4th in the space of an hour. his eyebrow raised.

“-they are the perfect family. tommy, grace and charles. when grace was pregnant with charles you should have seen tommy. constantly talking about how this is all he’s ever wanted. he was bouncing of the walls” a lump formed in your throat. because he already had a child. you.

ada and pol looked in your direction to see your head facing down and you picking at your nails. a nervous habit you have.

“when charles was born, you couldn’t get the smile off tommys face for weeks. it’s obvious he loves his little family. it didn’t take long for tommy to finally start taking days off work for once to take grace and charles on days out. i remember the first time tommy took a week off to take charles away in the caravan.”

you could feel your heart beat speeding up and tears forming in your eyes. and you sneakily tried to wipe them away. but alfie noticed. and he placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed it.

“i remember the dark circles under his eyes when charles had a cold and wouldn’t settle and tommy had been up with him all night”

your dad looked in your direction to see you wiping a tear off you face and put your head up. and he saw the disappointment in your eyes. and he was disappointed in himself. he knew then that he hadn’t been a father towards you. he can’t remember a single night where he stayed up with you as a child and helped settle you. it was mostly ada and pol who raised you for them 6 years.

“grace. we love you, you came into tommys life and made it better. you gave him something to live for, a child” at this you stood up and walked out of the room. at this it dawned on all the family what had happened. arthur hadn’t realised how big he was fucking up until your shoes clacked against the floor as you speed walked out of the room. “shit” tom whispered. grace looked very confused as to what was happening. alfie stood up and went after you.

he found you sat on a step with your head in your hands. he quietly sat next to you and out his hand on your back and rubbed it. neither of you said anything and you just sat there and cried for the first time in 4 years.

a minute later, tommy came out. alfie glared at him. “go away mate” he whispered gesturing to you crying.

“i want to speak to my daughter privately” tommy demanded.

“haven’t you done enough. why now?” alfie asked him as he got up of the step.

“please” tommy pleaded. he looked desperate.

“don’t say anything stupid” alfie warned as he walked back into the other room. tommy sat next to you. you still had your face in your hands and he could just hear you sniffling. it broke his heart.

“im sorry y/n i know i haven’t been the best father” you scoffed.

“you’ve not been a father at all” you muffled from behind your hands.

“i know” he nodded.

“i haven’t been there for you at all. especially in the last 12 years. but i want to start” he tried to put his hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off. and pulled your face away from you hands.

“it’s too late. i’ve managed on my own for 12 years i can do it for the rest of my life” you turned to him.

“everyone needs someone y/n, trust me. i didn’t know it until i met grace” he sincerely said.

“maybe. but i’m fine without you in my life.”

“you don’t mean that” tommy shook his head.

“i really do. i have my own flat, a job and food in my cupboards. i don’t need you. i will never forgive you. you abandoned me for years. you neglected me. i spent twelve years in the same institute. christmas’s and half terms included. i was stuck in a building with people who would hit, kick and spit on me whenever i did the slightest thing wrong. i spent my 18th birthday being brutally raped by 3 men on my way home from the fucking bakery. i had to nurse myself back to health whenever i was ill. you weren’t there. you don’t need to be here now.” you shouted.

“y/n i- i don’t even know what to say. i overheard you talking to pol and you never mentioned that that’s what happened” you shook your head.

“its not really dinner talk is it.”

“i swear i will hunt those men down and make them hurt” he had a determined look on his face.

“too late. it’s already happened. they’ve already told me that if i tell anyone they’ll come after me” you shrugged.

“they won’t touch you, i’ll protect you”

“for how long? two weeks before you decide i’m too much of a burden again” you shook your head.

“you remember that?” he asked

“what? you telling me that i’m a burden? you don’t just forget your parent telling you that. sticks with you”

“i am so sorry y/n”

“yeah well i’ll get over it. coming to this wedding was a fucking mistake.” you sighed

“why did you come?” he asked.

“i wanted to see my family one last time before i cut all communication. not that any of yous care”

“come with me y/n” he got up and gestured for me to follow.

“why?” you questioned

“just come with me” he started walking so you followed.

you came to a stop infront of a door. he opened it and gestured for you to come inside.

you entered and quickly realised this was his office. “why are we in here?”

he walked towards his desk and grabbed a picture that was stood on it and held it out to you. it was a picture taken on your graduation. you looked up at him confused

“i had your school send a copy to me. i always asked for updates on how you were doing at school. i have every school report in my draw. i always cared about you. i was just terrible at showing it. and i always thought it was too late to try and be your father so i avoided you. which was wrong. but seeing you today reminded me that i don’t want to have regrets in life. i don’t want to be an old man on my death bed and wondering where my own daughter is. i know i cant expect you to just accepted me as your father. but i would really like you to come over for dinner one day. and meet grace and charles properly?” he asked.

“i don’t know. i don’t feel like they would want me here” you shook your head. with tears still rolling down your face.

“trust me, they do. grace has wanted to meet you for years. she was the one who encouraged me to invite you to the wedding. she really wanted family here. and you are family y/n. i know you feel wronged by all of us, and i understand why. but i want to make it better. please, give me a chance” he pleaded.

“okay.”

[pinkandpurple360]

Yknow what’s great about the Asmodean crystal? I think we have got it wrong. It’s not Stolas whose “love” is setting Blitzø free from the Full Moon Deal. It’s Fizzarolli’s love and gratitude.

I was saying to myself “wow fizz really holds the key to everything” the troubled past, complex about self worth, self hate, need to keep family around, and his soft side— and, yeah, canon:

He pirouettes him and Blitz stares at him with love in his eyes, then he shows us the key with the keychain on it. Established to be the thing he loves the most, horses. And this is what they used to play with, and used to live with, keeping horses as part of the act. The symbol freedom is frequently horses.

The golden colour behind the keychain is kinda interesting too.

Considering:

Blitz used his skill and his kind side to protect Fizz, keep him safe, apologise to him, and selflessly helped to reunite him with Asmodeus and says he’s happy for his relationship, despite the fact he himself is very much still in love with Fizz. Those two saved each other, not the royalty who the audience gave a lot of undue credit. Fizz without knowing anything behind why he needs the crystal, believes that through all his kind actions, and his remorse, that Blitz earned it, and gives him the chance to be free of the shackles Stolas put on him. Ozzie wouldn’t even give Blitz the crystal until Fizz gave him the ok. So its not just a gift from Asmodeus to Stolas to Blitzø it’s a gift from Fizz to Blitzø with the two royal demons as a go between. And B might never know that Fizz was at the heart of the decision.

Like im 100% serious when I say if Blitz hadn’t met Fizz that day, he might never be free of Stolas’ contract of transactional sex. A performance with no ending.

If Fizz or any of the events of Oops arent mentioned even once it would be a massive waste of this character work.

Viewing the timeline: fizz was there all those years ago at the circus when stolas saw him, blitz did a double take when he heard stolas mention the value of “my first ever friend”, he was there at Ozzies and was the catalyst for both the fallout and the strength blitz needed to stand up to stolas, he was the one who has given him the ability to finally leave the abusive relationship. Even if stolas won’t allow him, or forces him to stay. it still happened. It’s as if he’s been present or mentioned at every single key moment in that relationship. If you can call it that.

And you guys wonder why I love the blitzfizz ship! Lot of narrative importance

[hammyballeceter]

Ivar The Boneless

Different

summary - You had been courting Hvitserk, when you’d caught him doing the unthinkable. That’s when Ivar stepped in.

You and Hvitserk had been together for a while, you were in a partner ship but there wasn’t an official label. You were his, and he was yours as far as you were concerned. People knew that, you weren’t quick to be married and you didn’t mind that.

You had definitely fallen for the man you’d known since you were a child having been friends with the young Prince since you were toddlers. He was kinder and more gentle then his peers, so how could you not? You knew of his reputation for bedding numerous amounts of women. He was happy if his belly was full and if there was a lady keeping his bed warm, for years that’s how it went. It hurt you to keep the way you felt under wraps. Until one day you had confessed to him, and lucky for you he had felt the same way.

Recently things hadn’t been going so well, you’d noticed his wondering eye but never thought much of it, well tried not to anyways. He loved you, you loved him. Small arguments started to break out every so often but it wasn’t anything that wasn’t sorted with a kiss. You had thought you were secure and happy. Trying to ignore the little cracks that were beginning to form between you and him.

You’d found yourself becoming friendly with his brother Ivar, finding that when you’d search for Hvitserk, he was out doing something. Ivar would usually be the one to tell you he was out, at first you were weary of the man. He was never particularly kind to you as a child, you’d originally tried to befriend the boy as he was your age, but it was Hvitserk who ultimately won your friendship and then love. But in Hvitserks recent absences you found yourself chatting to Ivar, he was kinder when he was by himself.

——————

“He’s not here y/n, he went out early again” you heard Ivar say as you pulled the door closed behind you, glad to be out the cold but annoyed at the fact it was now the 6th time Hvitserk hadn’t bothered to let you know he was out. You tried to not think anything of it, although an uneasy feeling nibbled away at your stomach. Not wanting to push the man, you always assumed he was with his other brothers. You still respected Hvitserk and his brothers, so if he told you he was out with his brothers then he was out with his brothers, you never pushed.

“Well, I’m bored so can I just stay with you for abit? It’s cold and I don’t want to walk through that snow again just yet.” Truthfully you wanted the company, you’d felt so lonely recently and Ivars company was not so bad. You shrugged your furs from your shoulders, placing them over a spare seat to dry from the snow.

“I’d like that, I’ve been alone all day. Your company seems to be the only one that doesn’t annoy me” his answer caused you to shoot a small smile at him. Taking a seat next to him on the floor, you ran your hand through the furs placed for him and now you to sit on, after shifting abit to get comfortable you finally let out a sigh that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in.

“I’m unsure as to why your allowing him to get away with this” Ivar questioned, allowing his eyes to wander over your form. He’d only ever been mean to try and fight the feelings he has for you, the day you tried to become his friend he remembers like it was yesterday, and he curses himself for ever being so awful to you. You could of been the one thing in his life he could hold onto. But he was afraid, afraid incase you’d reject him or make fun of him like so many others seemed to do. But you never did, and you never would.

Hvitserk was usually his favourite out of his brothers, but the way his older sibling had been making you feel recently bothered him. It wasn’t fair on someone who was so pure and genuine. Although he wanted the unwavering love you had for Hvitserk to be for him. He also, for once in his life, was putting your feelings before his own. He wanted to hold you, make that drained unsure look on your face disappear. He could tell that everything that was going on at the moment was bothering you more then you let on, but you were to polite to do anything about it, to worried to make someone upset. But you also didn’t want that nagging feeling to be true, to address it would mean you were either extremely wrong and possibly hurt Hvitserk or it was true and your heart would surely shatter.

“Ivar, I’m worried. I’m scared. Recently he’s had wondering eyes, for years he hadn’t even looked in the direction of another woman unless it was to speak to them. We’d always tell each other where we are going but mostly we wouldn’t have to because we’d already be together. We haven’t shared a bed in a while, and when he comes back from where ever he’s been going he’s been off with me, like he’s pretending. What am I doing wrong Ivar? I’ve known him since I was a child.” You felt awful for revealing everything to Ivar knowing the young man already had enough going on. Tears streamed your face, it was the first time you’d allowed yourself to cry. It was a foolish thing to do especially in front of a man such as Ivar. You didn’t want to seem weak.

Instead of speaking Ivar placed a gentle arm over your shoulder, cradling you as you cried. His heart-ached for you. But his anger, oh how his anger was boiling over toward his brother.

You both heard the door open, the familiar voices of Ubbe and Bjørn filled the room but Hvitserks was absent. This only caused more worry for you. They stepped into the room you and Ivar were sat in, noticing your obvious distress.

“Ubbe, Bjørn. Was Hvitserk with you today. Or any day recently for that matter?” Your heart speed up, if there answer was anything other then yes, you were ready to start your own war.

“Sorry y/n, me and Bjørn have been fishing recently. But Hvitserk hasn’t been joining us.” Ubbe had a sympathetic tone to his voice, but no amount of sympathy would stop the blood that was now pumping through your veins as you stood. Any upset you had felt was now turned to adrenaline and anger. It was the only thing that would give you the courage to walk over to Hvitserks home and confront him. You hadn’t intended to leave so abruptly hoping the brothers would understand your predicament.

Ivar watched the door slam behind you, his instant reaction was to pull himself up and grab his crutch and strapping his leg braces up as quickly as possible. He wouldn’t allow you to face this on your own if things went south. Despite the cold he set out after you.

You reached Hvitserks door, finally realising where you were. You hesitated, noticing the glow of candles. He was in. Your heart dropped, unsure of what you were going to walk in on. The gnawing feeling in your stomach now a full raging beast. That’s when you heard the soft dragging of feet behind you, you knew exactly who it was. Ivar.

“I’m here for you. y/n. You don’t have to face this alone.” You’d never been more glad to see his face, he brought a tiny bit of comfort. Which you hadn’t of expected. You nodded at him. Thankful for his presence.

With a shaky hesitant hand you pushed the door open, not bothering to knock. Your manners were put on hold for now. It was dark the flickering candles being the only source of light. But he was home, and your fears became reality. You saw her and him, on the bed you used to sleep in with him, where you and Hvitserk spend many a night making love or cuddling. And there he was now but with another woman. They hadn’t noticed you at first but you saw her naked back and heard his grunts.

Your gentle side had been tossed out the room as you pushed the rest of the front door so hard it caused it to crash into the wall beside it, whilst also nearly taking the large piece of wood off of its hinges. This caused the woman to jump from riding your partner, Hvitserk shooting up from his previous position to see the you. Your head whirled with 100 million things to scream at him, yet you didn’t say anything, you stood in the door way, chest heaving. Making sure to make eye contact with Hvitserk so he could see the fury that bubbled behind them.

With that you stormed off. You needed to be alone.

Ivar allowed you to go, understanding that you were angry and needed time alone. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t give his brother what for. Ivar was enraged. And Hvitserk would soon know all about it.

“YOU, OUT!” Ivar snarled at the naked woman, as she hurriedly gathered her clothes. “if y/ns ever in the same vicinity as you. You better not show your face. Infact do yourself a favor and never come back” he spat.

Turning his attention to his brother, his eyes narrowed at him. Hvitserk didn’t know where to look, he wanted to find you. But no amount of sorry would ever heal the heart he’d just broken. Instead he had to deal with Ivar.

“You disgust me brother. I’ve never known you to do such vile things” Ivar dragged himself further into the house.

“You are no man, you have a woman’s love and this is how you treat it. especially the love of a woman such as y/n” his voice thick with venom towards his brother. “I hope the gods cruse you and that sleaze” Ivar took his arm and swiped everything off of the table allowing it to break, crash and spill. “You are lucky she will not allow me to hurt you, her kindness still prevails even when she should nail your balls to your eyes!”

three months later———

The heartbreak was soul shattering, it took you nearly a month and half to even consider going out side. Yet Ivar visited you most days, even if you wanted your own space Ivar would sit quietly. Allowing you to know his presence was there if needed. Which you were glad for, he held you when you cried, listened when you needed to talk, and chatted when you needed a distraction. You two became close, becoming the best friends you were meant to be.

Hvitserk had tried multiple times to come see you but Ivar wouldn’t allow it. You needed to heal and he would help you do that. Hvitserk left many a gift at your door, it confused Ivar as to why it was now he was spoiling you, trying to give you the attention that you needed for the last part of your and his relationship now. He was two late. You wouldn’t ever go back to a cheat, Ivar helped you get to that frame of mind, as before you would of crumbled craving to feel the man you loved.

Ivar helped remind you that you were beautiful, although to Ivar you were more then beautiful, you were truly breathtaking. Learning some self love was important right now.

You and Ivar had decided to take a walk, nothing major. There was a feast going on in the great hall tonight so Ivar assured you that there wouldn’t be anyone around. So you wrapped yourselves up in furs and your cloaks and headed out.

It was quiet at first, you weren’t going far due to Ivar using his crutches but it was nice to be outside regardless. It was night and the stars had come out in full force, like the gods wanted to paint the sky especially for you and Ivar.

“Oh how wonderful, Ivar look at the sky! The gods has truly blessed us tonight!” You giggled, clasping your hands together softly. It was a joyous sound and one Ivar had missed dearly. You both took a seat on one of the tables that stood in the middle of Kattegat, and Ivar was finally able to look at the sky. He never cared much for such things but today was different if you wanted him to look at the stars then that is what he’d do, and you were correct, the sky was littered with stars and it was truly breathtaking.

“I need closure” you blurted out randomly, Ivar brought down his head to look at you.

“I need closure so I can move on. I want to know why. It’s been months since I’ve seen his face. And I thank you for helping me take the time to heal. But I want to start moving on. I want to be able to love someone else who’ll love me just as much.” Your looked at Ivar to gage a reaction, he smiled softly at you. His gaze relaxing when he met your eyes.

You and Ivar had decided that he would go to the great hall and get his brother. Rather then you having to walk into a place that would cause you a great distress, at least if you were outside and couldn’t handle it you could just walk away. You sat whislt Ivar went to find Hvitserk.

After about 15 minutes you saw the two men walking toward you, Hvitserk caught your eyes first. You’d expect to want to run away but you didn’t, you were quite happy just sitting there looking at the stars in the quiet. Although a little nervous, seeing Ivar behind him calmed your nerves tenfold.

Hvitserk remained stood whilst Ivar pulled himself up to be sat beside you, taking his fur off and wrapping around your shoulders although you already have your own on, you appreciated the kind gesture. Jealousy was written allover Hvitserks face, as he scowled at his brother.

“Well say something brother” Ivar bit, he rolled his eyes at the other man who remained silent, yet to even mutter a word.

“Ivar, it’s okay. I’ll speak.” You gently placed your hand on Ivars wrist giving it a squeeze. Hvisterk wanted nothing more then for his little brother to go away, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He hadn’t even been able to see you for three months. His brother forbid it. He’d been nothing but spiteful towards him, which he deserved.

Hvitserk looked at you, hopeful to still see some form of loving gaze toward him but there was none. And his heart sunk.

“Hvitserk, it’s been three long months since you betrayed me and betrayed our love. You shattered my heart into a million pieces. I do not understand if you were so unhappy with being my partner then why not just end things. I now have new worries & insecurities due to your actions, I doubt that I will ever be good enough for anyone anymore. If it hadn’t of been for your brother I don’t know where I’d be now. Probably still fawning after you making a fool out of myself. But, I shall not. You will forever hold a piece of my heart, that I will say. I loved you Hvitserk and a part of me always will. I’m unsure as to if you ever loved me as I could not possibly do the things that you have done to me. But all I ask is why?” Your voice remained a level tone. No hate was spat at the man. You couldn’t bring yourself to be so unkind.

Ivar was beyond proud of you, although he was full of anger toward his brother you remained calm, having seen how you screamed into your furs, how you threw things and how you cried behind the closed door of your hut when it first happened, you had come so far. He could only wish to ever deal with things the way you had just done.

Hvitserk sucked in a breath, almost to stop his voice from wobbling. He had lost you, through his own foolish, greedy actions.

“Y/n my lov-“ he started but you cut him off, “you’ve no right to call me that anymore.” His eyes watered, but he held his composure the best he could infront of you and his brother.

“Y/n, I love you. My gods i love you. But I had been foolish. I had been tempted by a woman and slipped into my old ways, she persisted and I gave in. I have no excuse for doing what I did, and I shan’t makeup one. You deserve better then that. These past three months have been torment. I just wanted to hold you feel your warm flesh against mine again. I had known you were too good for me. I fear you hate me now. I can’t live without you at least speaking to me.” He spoke carefully, his voice timid as if he was getting told off. Ivar scoffed and you placed your hand once again on his arm to stop him.

“I don’t hate you, I don’t hate anyone. As I had said a piece of me will always hold onto you, and it will pain me. But I shall learn to live with it. I will speak to you if the situation permits it but I shan’t make an effort. I cannot hide away anymore. I am friends with Ivar and that won’t stop. Whether you like it or not. I hope you live a happy life. But please promise me, don’t hurt another woman like this. Make sure you love her and you love her hard. Never make her feel the way you have made me feel. Goodbye Hvitserk.” With that you hopped off of the table, and bowed your head. He was to you now a prince of Kattegat and you would respect him as such. But he wasn’t your Hvisterk anymore and you had started to finally come to terms with it.

Ivar followed you back to your hut, you were still so unbelievably grateful for him. So once you got back although late, you set about making the man a warm pie as to thank him for tonight. Ivar had perched himself on your bed as your hut was small and you could see the kitchen from where he was easily enough. He watched you carefully as you made the food and chatted away to him, his heart fluttered at you. He had fallen so unbelievably in love with you, but knew to keep it to him self whislt you went through what your going through, he knew deep down that you were meant to be his. He’d never felt this way about anyone. Your the only person that he would protect wholeheartedly, even against his own brother.

The small space was filled with the warm sent of your baked good, it was warm and cozy due to the fire burning away in the centre. Ivar could get used to this. He’d never known the true feeling of home, always feeling out of sorts around his brothers. But here, he was comfortable. He was warm and he could look at you all he wanted. He’d never understand why Hvitserk did what he did, and in someways he was glad.

He could finally get you to himself.

You grabbed two spoons once the pie had cooled off abit, bringing it to where Ivar sat wrapped in your bed furs. Intending it to be a nice late night treat and a thanks to Ivar.

“It smells delicious” Ivar smiled at you taking the warm pie into his hands so you could slip in next to him. “Why don’t we just use the same spoon, saves on dishes” he laughed, “Ivar I don’t mind washing it it’s just a spoon-“

“No if we share we will do it properly” he said as he scooped up some sweet filling and pastry, holding it up for you to take the first bite. A feeling was brewing as you looked at Ivar, but it was a different feeling, one you hadn’t experienced before. A warm feeling, no rampid butterfly’s. A safe, warm, glowing feeling toward Ivar. You’d soon find out. That it was love starting to form for the man, true love.

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (16/22)

Chapter summary: You go through a difficult period following your breakup with Yelena, and you and Wanda end up falling down the rabbit hole for the second time around

Chapter word count: 6.4K | Warnings: Angst, Mild smut | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: Before you say anything, I have a plan. Enjoy :) P.S. My requests are open

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next chapter: Seventeen Part One

--

Sixteen

“And then she kissed you?” Agatha asks. She looks the same way she does when she’s actively participating in gossip, hanging onto every detail of the latest scandal that keeps most people entertained in their insignificant lives.

Wanda solemnly nods, as if validating a piece of tragic news.

“Why aren't you thrilled?” Agatha observes quietly, picking at her tooth with her fingernail. “I mean, doesn't that confirm that she still has feelings for you?”

“You remember what happened last time, right? When she did more than just kiss me?”

Agatha grimaces, “Right, of all places, in our stockroom." Then, her tone morphs into a more probing one, “But, did the kiss feel as if she just wanted to get into your pants?”

Wanda lets out a sigh, her heartbeat quickening as she reminisces about its tenderness. It felt akin to a first kiss—vulnerable, slightly apprehensive, tinged with anxiety, and yet, at the same time familiar—like finding her way back home.

It was perfect in every sense. 

But it was tainted by its very nature. It was a betrayal. And if there were truly raw feelings behind it, then it’s worse—it would mean that you have been emotionally unfaithful to Yelena. 

Wanda may have ruined yet another relationship.

In the midst of her internal struggle, she finally manages to answer Agatha, “It felt like hope,” giving voice to her undeniable feelings for you. “But she’s with Yelena.”

“I never really had faith in that relationship to begin with,” Agatha retorts dismissively, cleaning her hands with a towel before reaching for one of the cookies on display.

“That's a terrible thing to say,” Wanda chides.

“I’m only being honest,” Agatha says, unapologetic in her bluntness. “You were fucking each other like rabbits and then a few weeks later, she gets a girlfriend. That's a classic rebound scenario. I'm surprised the woman she's with allowed herself to be used like that.”

Wanda finds Agatha’s uninhibited words a little offensive, though she understands that their deepening friendship has allowed for such unfiltered honesty between them. Even though she's jealous of Yelena, Wanda understands that she is good for you. She doesn't like how Agatha talks about Yelena as if she's too naive to try a relationship with you.

Wanda feels she can relate with Yelena. Often, love makes us scared that we might never get a second chance, so we choose to take a leap of faith, despite the warning signs.

“So, what are you planning to do about it?” Agatha asks, taking a bite of her favorite cookie. Wanda makes a mental note to deduct that cookie from the stock count.

Wanda shakes her head, replying, “Nothing,”

Agatha pauses mid-chew, her eyes wide with shock. Wanda can't help but observe the crumbs of food lodged in her teeth. “You're not going to seize this opportunity?” Agatha questions, disbelief coating her voice.

“Y/N needs to sort things out,” Wanda lets out a heavy sigh. “Without my interference.”

“You’re not afraid of missing out on this chance?”

Wanda sidesteps Agatha's question with one of her own. “Why are you suddenly supportive? It wasn’t long ago when you couldn't stand her.”

“I’m supportive of you. I’m rooting for your happiness, dear. But I’ve seen you at your worst, and I think you’re putting on a brave face right now.”

Wanda's eyes dip down. Her friend isn’t entirely wrong.

“What happens if she decides to stay with Yelena?” Agatha probes further.

Wanda's response isn't immediate; she takes a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before replying softly, “Then I hope she’ll be very happy with her.” 

Agatha rolls her eyes, because of course, Wanda would say that. Even if you were being served to her on a silver platter, she’d worry for your happiness over her own. 

“And where does that leave you?” Agatha asks, folding her arms across her chest.

Wanda lifts her shoulders in a casual shrug, her face unreadable. “Living life as it comes, I guess. Just one day at a time.”

At this, Agatha decides to drop the subject. She has a strong feeling that Wanda’s just waiting for you to come to her, and when you do, she's certain that Wanda won't maintain this pretense of indifference. As for Wanda, she doesn’t want to obsess over what you’re doing or thinking. She doesn’t want to make the same mistake of hoping for an outcome that only you can decide.

Switching topics, Agatha raises an eyebrow and asks, “And the pup? Is he doing okay?”

Wanda smiles faintly, “I brought him home yesterday.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Agatha remarks. “Do you reckon Sparky masterminded all this to get Y/N to your place at an ungodly hour? Can dogs be that crafty?”

Wanda throws her an incredulous look. “Are you being serious right now?”

A wicked giggle slips from Agatha, spreading until Wanda finds herself laughing along. She doesn't notice the arrival of a guest until the distinct sound of the call bell jars her attention.

It’s Valkyrie, casually leaning against the countertop, looking awkward and so unlike her usual self.

Agatha casts a sly glance at Peter, who's been trying to catch her eye ever since Valkyrie stepped into the cafe. When Agatha isn't around, Peter fills her in on the latest happenings, a reliable source of juicy tidbits. Peter quirks his brows and discreetly nods towards Valkyrie, his mouth miming a silent message. Reading his lips, Agatha pieces together that this is the woman who recently found herself entangled in Wanda's intricate web.

Agatha sweeps her eyes over the woman appreciatively. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Wanda rubs her palms together, a habit she’s developed before taking a customer order. “Hi, Val! What is it for today? We have new beans delivered all the way from Niseko–”

“Actually,” Valkyrie softly cuts her off. “I was hoping we could talk?”

Agatha watches their exchange, an eager twinkle in her eyes. With the pace at which interesting events are unraveling, she may as well pop a bag of microwave popcorn to truly savor the unfolding drama.

Wanda nods and moves away from the counter, temporarily handing the reins to Agatha. They pick a spot in the furthest corner from the kitchen, well out of earshot, much to Agatha's disappointment.

“First off, I owe you an apology,” Valkyrie begins. “I’d blame it on the alcohol, but there’s no excuse for me pressuring you too much to take shots. That wasn’t cool at all. You already said no several times and I ignored you.”

Wanda waves her off casually. “Oh, it's alright. I appreciate the apology, but it wasn't that big of a deal. You couldn't have forced me to drink if I really didn't want to, right?”

Valkyrie's frown dips further at Wanda's easy dismissal of the issue. “No, Wanda. If I'd kept on, I might've pushed you into it even if you didn't want to. I'm just glad Y/N stepped in when she did.”

Something flashes in Wanda’s eyes at the mention of your name. Valkyrie catches it but opts to ignore it for the meantime.

“Yeah, I did feel a bit cornered that night,” Wanda concedes, a smile returning to her face. “But it's water under the bridge now. Was there something else you needed to discuss?”

“You sure don't beat around the bush, do you?” Valkyrie attempts to lighten the mood, but her tension is evident in her shaky voice and the way her fingers fiddle with her watch.

Wanda chuckles. “It's a skill I've been honing lately.”

Taking a deep, measured breath, Valkyrie gathers her courage. "Alright, here it is..."

Wanda tilts her head at her curiously, wondering what it’s about.

“I like you,” Valkyrie blurts out. “I don’t normally confess to someone I’m not even dating, but you’re… incredible. That's how I feel about you and I thought you should know."

“Oh! Uh…” Wanda trails off, blushing at Valkyrie’s confession.

Valkyrie nibbles at her lip, observing as Wanda fumbles to put her thoughts into words. She silently hopes she's left Wanda speechless in a good way.

“There’s… someone,” Wanda manages to utter out eventually. “I've been in love with her for the better part of my life.” Or maybe her whole life, if she’s being brutally honest.

Valkyrie nods, her throat tightening to hold back the sting of rejection. “It's her, isn't it?” she ventures, silently alluding to you.

Wanda diverts her gaze and emits a modest laugh. She must have made her feelings too obvious for anyone to see.

“She’s my ex-wife,” is all the explanation Wanda offers.

“Wow,” Valkyrie looks taken aback by the revelation. “That sounds messy.”

“It's beyond messy,” Wanda retorts.

“Go on,” Valkyrie encourages.

Wanda looks at her, thoughtful. “Are you sure you want to delve into my past? It might take some time.”

Valkyrie smiles, already leaning in closer to signify that she’s all ears. “I made time this morning specifically to talk to you. I want to understand, at least, why I'm being rejected.”

Wanda chuckles softly at the gesture. Collecting her thoughts, she starts to narrate a condensed version of the turbulent history she's had, of how she ruined everything that’s good in her life.

When Wanda wraps up her story, Valkyrie simply says, "Wow, that's... pretty fucking messed up."

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Wanda admits, biting her lower lip, anxiety swirling in her gaze. She worries that revealing her darkest past may have cost her a budding friendship. “I think I saw your interest, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions and have the wrong idea. I just wanted us to be friends. I still do, if that's okay with you.”

“Of course, I want to be friends with you, Wanda. More than the fact that you’re hot, we have a lot in common too.”

Wanda's cheeks tinge a soft pink at Valkyrie's flippant comment about her being ‘hot’.

“So, friends then?” Valkyrie extends her hand.

Wanda smiles in relief. “Friends.”

***

A phone call rouses you from sleep. You groggily glance at the clock and realize you've overslept.

“It’s done,” your lawyer's voice cuts through the grogginess as soon as you pick up the call.

Disoriented, you squint against the daylight streaming in through the window. “What are you referring to?” you inquire, your voice hoarse from sleep.

“Vision has settled,” she elaborates, her words crisp and distinct. “And he caught a flight to Tokyo last night.”

“He's gone?”

“From what I've heard, he intended to use the settlement money to finance his studies overseas. He won't be returning in the near future. But even if he does decide to cut his trip short, you're safe. He has no legal means to trouble you anymore,” she assures you.

“You've got snitches now?” you quip, your eyes narrowing in suspicion even as the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

Her laughter rings out through the phone, followed by a breezy, “You're welcome,” before she ends the call.

It's over. A chapter of your past has finally closed. Vision has physically left the city, and you've literally paid your dues. You hadn't realized you were in a kind of self-imposed cage until now, when a sense of liberation pulses through your veins.

Before you can fully indulge in the relief provided by your lawyer's news, however, a persistent knock at your door breaks your reverie. You can't help but wonder who it could be, and how they bypassed the building's security without a notification from the concierge.

As you pull the door open, you find yourself face to face with the last person you expected to see.

“Nat?”

She appears ready to tear you apart. For a moment, the thought crosses your mind, 'this is it, this is how I go, at the hands of my best friend'. Strangely, you're indifferent to whatever she might inflict on you. Having her here at least affords you an opportunity to have a conversation.

Yet, Natasha doesn't respond. She doesn't even spare you a glance. Instead, she brushes past you and starts gathering random items into a large duffel bag she brought along.

“Nat, can you please just talk to me?”

“What for, Y/N? I have nothing to say to you.”

“Yelena broke up with me,” you say.

Natasha scoffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Nat, please,” you plead. “You can’t just cut me out forever. I’m your best–”

“Are you?!” The outburst that tears from her is enough to make you recoil. “Are you my friend, Y/N? I woke up to my sister on my doorstep, in shambles. All thanks to my ‘friend’.”

You wrap your arms around yourself as tremors course through your body. Tears start to flow down your cheeks at the mere mention of Yelena.

“You want to talk? Fine, I’ll talk,” Natasha rages on. “I stood by you through thick and thin. I held your hand through all the shit you went through last year. I brought you into my home. I took care of you. I loved you–” Natasha's voice catches on 'loved', and your heart shatters at her use of the past tense.

“–and you just betrayed me, like I meant nothing. You betrayed my sister like she meant nothing. We both cared about you, Y/N.” Her voice dwindles near the end, her next words coming out just above a whisper. “So, no, we’re not friends. Not anymore.”

“Nat, I’m s–”

“You know what? I can’t fucking do this. I’m just gonna send someone to collect Yelena's things. If I don’t, just throw out her stuff like you did with your relationship. Goodbye, Y/N.”

The door slams shut behind her. You find yourself on the floor, curled into a ball, as you grieve the friendship you’ve known all your life.

***

Dark screens and unreturned messages follow.

Yelena has blocked you on every possible platform, cutting off any form of communication. Natasha hasn't, but she leaves all your messages unread, allowing your calls to go unanswered, seemingly enjoying your desperation. Clint ignores your texts, and Kate only responded once, promising to try and speak to Yelena for you. That was a week ago, and there's been no word since. You didn't think you'd be back in the dark place you were in a year ago, and the worst part is, you brought it on yourself this time.

The only news you get about Yelena is from your own mother. A few days after Yelena left your shared apartment, your mother called to ask what had happened. Apparently, Yelena had told her the news herself and asked her to take care of you and make sure you were alright. Throughout the call, you cried silently, feeling the remnants of Yelena's care for you even after you broke her heart.

And your mother, perennially at odds with handling emotions, simply offered her condolences. Although by doing so, she offered more support than she did when you were weathering your divorce from Wanda the year before. With your latest tragedy out of the way, she proceeded to ask if you could make time to visit Montauk over the holidays.

***

Drinking is… a problem. Again. 

But you approach it with more caution this time. You don’t drink as much at home so you can avoid not showing up at work the next day. Rather, you sneak in a flask in the office, sipping from it from time to time to keep you the right amount of…adrift. You’re too good with numbers that even with a little haze in your head, the alcohol doesn’t interfere with your work. 

It interferes with other thoughts.

***

When Kate finally calls you, you’re in the middle of a disastrous presentation at work. Her words had been brief, only giving you the time (three in the afternoon) and location (The New York Public Library) where she wanted to meet. 

It takes some time for you to locate Kate within the vast elegance of the Rose Main Reading Room. She's tucked away in the northeast corner, engrossed in her work, even on a Sunday. A towering pile of books rises to her eye level on her desk.

“I can’t believe I was wrong about you.” Kate says without looking up as you settle on the vacant seat next to her.

“Wrong about me?” you ask, keeping your voice in a hushed tone.

“I had this fleeting thought that you might actually be a good person.” she says.

Swallowing hard, you struggle to find a response, well aware that Kate is just laying out the facts. What kind of person would cheat on their best friend's sister? What kind of person would throw away years of trust and a lifelong friendship?

“She told you?” you finally manage to ask.

“Yelena didn’t say much,” Kate says with a hint of sorrow. “But I've never seen her look so…” she trails off, struggling to find the right words, and eventually concludes, “She doesn't look like the Yelena I know.”

You’re afraid to ask what she means by that. You haven’t looked in the mirror yourself, in fear of seeing the results of your own wreckage.

“She quit today, you know?” Kate reveals, setting down her pen to give you her full attention. You don't see resentment in her eyes, only caution. This is the most compassion you've been shown since your relationship with Yelena fell apart. 

The news of Yelena's resignation hits you like a punch to the gut. She had a promising career ahead of her, and she'd found a supportive environment in her workplace. It's hard to believe she'd just abandon that so abruptly. You feel a wave of nausea at the thought.

“I sort of saw it coming,” Kate adds. “Not her resignation–God, I tried my best to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't budge. I… I saw you running back to Wanda.”

Your eyes narrow curiously as you regard Kate. “How?” 

Kate sighs, pushing a pile of papers to the side to give you her full attention. “It's not a secret, you know. You might think you're being discreet, but you’re more transparent than you'd like to believe. You’re a completely different person when she’s around. I saw it during the 6-miler event we all joined by chance.”

There’s no point in denying any of that. The weeks that follow after that, you were crying to your mother regarding your conflicted feelings about Wanda. But if you had been aware of the signs as early as then, would things be different somehow?

“I didn't mean for any of this to happen, Kate,” you say, the words sounding weak and inadequate to your own ears.

“I know,” Kate says quietly, and there's a touch of sympathy in her eyes that makes you feel even worse. “But that doesn't change the fact that it did happen. And people are getting hurt because of it.”

You can sense that Kate is one of those people–by hurting Yelena, the girl she clearly loves. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you whisper. You wish there was another way to convey how sorry you are–a keyword to make it all go away.

“Yeah, me too. Mostly because I have to tell you that we can no longer be friends.” Kate says, looking genuinely upset about her decision, her gaze dropping to her hands as she twirls the pen between her fingers.

“I know,” you nod, appreciating her honesty. “Thank you.”

“Look, I have no idea how deep your thing with Wanda goes. All I know is you can’t keep running away. You can’t keep hiding behind the comfort of other people.”

You bob your head in acknowledgment, even though you're uncertain how to put her words into practice.

"Can you pass on a message to Yelena for me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously.

Kate lets out a sigh, her fingers halting their movement on the pen. “I’ll try. No promises though.”

“Could you tell her that I'm sorry...that I truly loved her?”

A moment of silence follows your request as Kate studies you, her lips pursed. It might seem hypocritical of you to make such a claim, but she refrains from passing judgment. But seeing your bloodshot eyes and your pale chapped lips and the lack of life in you, she thinks there’s probably some truth to it.

***

It takes you an additional week before you summon the courage to visit Wanda's apartment. 

Truth be told, you've been hiding away in shame, confining yourself to either your bedroom or your office, instructing your assistant to keep the door closed and not to disturb you, secluding yourself from the outside world. Aside from interactions at your work, you haven’t talked to anyone. 

A moment of misjudgment led you to lose everything that you were left with when you lost Wanda. But gradually, even as you were beating yourself up over and over again with the dissolution of your relationship with both Romanovs, Wanda became the only one you can think about. You can't escape her pull, no matter how hard you try. 

Eventually, you devolve into nothing more than a compulsion; a compelling need to see Wanda. Which is what brings you here, with your fist poised to knock on the door. But just before your knuckles make contact with the wooden panel, the door swings open, and Wanda's voice unthinkingly spills into the hallway where you stand.

“–let me ask if the neighbor has some sugar–” Wanda halts dead in her tracks as she comes face to face with you.

The timid smile on your face drops as soon as you realize she's not alone. Behind her, comfortably perched on the couch is Valkyrie.

“Seems like you're already entertained. I'll head out,” Valkyrie proposes, getting up on her feet. “I'll pick up my shirt when you come around for the run next week, sound good?”

Wanda nods in a daze to that, her eyes never leaving you.

"No, I should leave," you counter weakly.

“No, Y/N, please stay,” Wanda implores. “See you later, Val. Thanks for the shoes.”

You stiffen and step aside as Valkyrie moves to gather her belongings. When she finally approaches the door, standing next to you, she tilts her head to murmur a parting sentiment intended for your ears only.

“You’ve got it all wrong. I had a spill on my shirt. Don't let her down this time,” she whispers. 

Her words stun you into silence long after she's left.

“Y/N? Please, come in,” Wanda invites you, her voice trembling slightly. Nodding silently, you step inside.

You regard each other quietly, simply observing one another for what feels like an eternity. This isn’t how you imagined things would go when you thought about coming here this morning. You wanted to see Wanda because you needed to be with her. But now, all you can think about is Wanda and Valkyrie being all over each other.

“It’s been awhile,” Wanda offers, not really sure how to begin as you stay awkwardly near the door–as if you’re strategically placing yourself there in case you decide you want to run. She studies you, attempting to read your expression, to figure out what this could be about. She’s been thinking about the thumb drive that contained the video of her and Vision. Did you finally see it? Did you decide to pay him off?

Or is this about Yelena? Wanda’s been thinking if you came clean to your girlfriend about the kiss, wondering if you've managed to patch things up, and if Yelena has forgiven you.

If you’ve chosen to be with Yelena after all.

“Yeah, Valkyrie was here pretty early, wasn't she?” you state more than ask, a hint of bitterness edging your words. You glance at your watch, adding, “At 6:30 in the morning, no less.”

Wanda furrows her brows at your tone, as though she's on the receiving end of an unfounded accusation.

“She was on her morning run, dropped by to hand over a pair of shoes from her club's sponsor. Nothing more,” she explains.

You snort, "Sounds awfully convenient."

Rather than entertain your skepticism further, Wanda redirects the conversation elsewhere. What you presume about her and Valkyrie is the last of her worries right now.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” Wanda asks, her voice a little unsure. When your eyes meet hers, Wanda sees the signs of sleepless nights and a certain emptiness that paints a clear picture.

You and Yelena are done.

And it's breaking you. Her heart aches, even knowing that you're now, technically, available. She never wanted this for you. And she can't help but feel that she messed up your happiness once again.

“I just... I needed to see you,” you admit with a half-hearted shrug. “Looks like you didn't waste any time though.”

“Valkyrie and I are just friends,” Wanda insists, the edge of her patience beginning to fray.

“You seriously think I'll believe that?” you shoot back.

Wanda heaves a sigh, exasperation seeping into her tone. “Believe whatever you want, Y/N. Doesn't change the truth.”

“She was wearing your shirt.” you highlight, not quite ready to drop the issue.

“She spilled coffee on herself. I gave her a clean one. That's it.”

“And I'm supposed to accept that at face value?” you challenge, an eyebrow arched skeptically in her direction.

“Yes, you are!” Wanda says firmly. “Because it's the truth. I wouldn't lie to you.”

I wouldn't lie to you. Her words reverberate within your skull, playing on repeat like a broken record.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? You're not sure whether you can still believe her.

“Y/N, please,” Wanda's plea rings out, sounding lost and desperate. She isn't even certain what she's asking for. What she does know is that you're teetering on the edge of a breakdown, still reeling from the pain of your breakup. 

You don’t look like you’re in the right mindset to talk about what you’re going through. About how you both left things. And as much as Wanda wants to figure this out with you, she can’t do anything if you’re not willing to trust her.

“Wouldn’t lie to me?” you repeat, your voice laced with sarcasm and a painful sort of humor. “Alright, let's put that to the test, shall we?”

Wanda's throat tightens. She's unsure where you're heading with this.

“Yelena and I broke up. She left me that same morning,” you start off casually, as if discussing the weather. “Because she deserved better. Because I am, as it turns out, selfish and deceitful, right?”

“No–”

“You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Wanda's mouth snaps shut at your words, a sense of finality creeping into her. “...yes,” she admits quietly.

Slowly, you advance towards Wanda, your steps intentional and calculated. She remains rooted in her spot, refusing to back down.

“Do you feel happy that Yelena and I have broken up?” you ask.

Wanda looks hurt by your question. "Y/N, no, of course not–”

Your stoic expression tells her you're not buying it.

“Do you regret our kiss?” you probe, stepping closer, until Wanda finds herself backed against the wall. You lean in, foreheads almost touching, your dark eyes daring her to lie to you.

Wanda takes her time to answer, but when she finally does, her expression is resolute, as though she's trying to prove a point to you. “No, I don’t regret it,” she murmurs, her words a mere breath against your lips. Wanda looks so taken by the hungry look in your eyes that she fails to see what comes next.

The kiss this time is a stark contrast from the last. There’s an edge of danger to it, almost like the kiss that started Wanda’s downfall that culminated in a near-death experience, the kiss that was punishing and every bit of the hatred you harbored for her. 

But there's also a desperation to it–as if you're sinking and this kiss is your lifeline; a frayed, ragged lifeline that could only be the one to pull you back to the surface. 

As Wanda's head hits the wall with a soft thud, a pang of concern breaks through the haze of your fervor. Swiftly, you slide your hand between her head and the hard concrete, cushioning her as the urgency of your kiss escalates. Wanda almost sobs at the subtle tenderness behind your action, the considerate gesture leaving her somewhat taken aback, considering the harsh exchange you'd had just moments before.

No, this is nothing like your previous encounter.

You're not biting down to break skin. Your fingers aren't pressing into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. Your tongue isn't demanding or invasive, it's simply there, matching her rhythm and intensity. Wanda is unable to do anything but moan under you and rub her thighs together to relieve the pressure that’s building there.

Yet, you still don’t let her touch you. You don’t let her fingers venture up your stomach from under your shirt. Instead, you catch her hands, lacing your fingers through hers, and pull her arms above her head. All the while, your lips deftly trace a path down her throat. It’s soft and wet and so utterly delicate–everything Wanda thinks she hasn’t earned.

Nothing prepares her for the moment your hand makes contact with her core, even through the fabric of her shorts. She realizes just how much you’ve been holding back when you cup her forcefully, groaning from the heat and dampness that hits your palm.

If this means what Wanda thinks it means, she doesn’t want it to happen against the wall of her living room.

“Y/N?” she whispers raggedly in your ear, feeling the heel of your hand starting to grind against her clit. 

“Yeah…?” you moan against her heated cheek as your fingers slips beneath her panties and find wet, wiry curls.

“Fuck–” Wanda whimpers at the contact. “B-Bedroom, please.”

Following her lead, you hoist Wanda up and her legs instinctively coil around your waist. She directs you towards her bedroom with verbal cues, realizing you're far too engrossed in lavishing attention on the skin just above her breasts to care about bumping into furniture. Your hand drifts up her back, finding the clasp of her bra and skillfully unfastening it.

And then no words are spoken at all after that.

***

Wanda stirs awake near noon, realizing that she's skipped her therapy appointment. Instinctively, her hands reach out to the area beside her, expecting to feel your warmth. However, she is greeted only by the cool sheets of the bed, the space vacant.

You're gone.

While she had been lost in dreams where she had a second chance at the life she yearned to have with you, you had quietly dressed and slipped out of her apartment, leaving no trace or note behind. You had vanished as silently and swiftly as a dream at daybreak.

Wanda arches her back, mimicking the languid stretch of a cat, the resulting pops of her spine easing the tension more than the action itself. The sex was… phenomenal. She couldn’t think of a better word to describe it.

When a bit of the afterglow wears off, she is haunted by a question: What happens now?

More importantly, are you coming back? Or is this a one-time thing for you?

With a weighty sigh, Wanda allows herself to collapse back onto the mattress. Doubt creeps in as she begins to question whether her decision to let this unfold was the right one. After all, you’ve both been down this path before, sex was not a magic remedy that mended everything. 

What she couldn’t deny, however, is how gentle you were with her. You were making love to her, and nothing could sway Wanda from this belief. It sparks a tiny ray of hope within her that perhaps this time, you're ready to give her another chance.

Maybe, just maybe, you're open to trying again.

Yet, the vacant space next to her feels almost accusatory. Wanda has never been fond of waiting. But it’s the only thing she can do for now.

After all, beggars can’t be choosers.

***

The call from her therapist comes at around nine in the evening. Wanda considers it a little unprofessional, given the late hour, but she supposes that Calliope sees at least a dozen patients a day. Truthfully, she’s been anticipating this call all day, especially after she deliberately skipped her session to–

A soft snore escapes from your half-open mouth, drawing Wanda’s attention momentarily.

–spend time with you. Wanda can’t explain it, but she’s afraid to bring this up to Calliope. And she knows that if she sees Calliope or talks to her, it would open the floodgates and everything will come rushing out before she can stop them.

She's missed two calls now, but the phone in her hand vibrates again and Calliope’s name stares back at her.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda finally picks up.

“Hello, Wanda?”

“Hi,” Wanda replies, aiming to sound cheerful.

Calliope wastes no time getting to the purpose of this call. “You missed this morning’s session. Did something happen?”

Wanda's gaze drifts to you, sleeping soundly, your hair a mess as it spreads out in every direction. The sheets have slid down, exposing your bare back in a manner that makes her want to abandon the call and join you.

“Oh, uh... I just got tied up at the cafe. Sorry for not informing your secretary,” she hastily lies.

“So, everything's okay then?”

“Yes,” Wanda confirms, her eyes never leaving you as she replies honestly this time. Calliope seems satisfied with that and proceeds to book a slot for Wanda two days hence before ending the call.

You open an eye at her lazily, your voice muffled by the pillow as you ask, “Who was it?”

“No one,” Wanda says without batting an eye. “Just a supplier for the coffee shop.”

Your response is a drowsy murmur, your face sinking deeper into the pillow as you pursue the lingering traces of Wanda's scent. A smile tugs at Wanda's lips at the innocence of the gesture, despite the fact that you’re very naked under the covers. She hadn’t anticipated she’d see you again so soon, moreso that she’d sleep with you again right away when she does. But you had showed up unannounced, yet again, and casually asked Wanda if she'd eaten dinner already. Wanda had barely gotten the word ‘yes’ out, before you’re urgently reaching out and snatching her into a hungry kiss.

And then it was all lips and touches and her coming into your mouth three times until she had to literally cover herself with her hand just to get you to stop. 

Wanda's cheeks warm as she surrenders to the memory of your fervent reunion from only a few hours prior, but your sleep-laden murmurings, muffled as they are by the pillow your face is buried in, yank her back to the present. She chuckles lightly and perches herself at the edge of the bed, drawing a line along your back with her fingertips, raising goosebumps along the path.

"Can you repeat that?" she prompts, massaging your neck.

You lift your head slightly, your eyelids still heavy with sleep. “I said–do you need me to go?”

Wanda shakes her head, even though you can't see her. “Let’s just sleep,” she whispers.

Wanda gets up to remove her shirt over her head. Then, she slides back under the sheets and curls up against you. She presses her bare body to your back, fitting herself perfectly against your shape. Your warmth seeps into her, filling the cold spots that your absence had left behind.

Wanda notes that this is the first time you’re willing to stay since before you found out she cheated on you. She closes her eyes and allows herself to drift away. If you’re staying, then there's an opportunity to talk about this tomorrow.

***

Leaving a slumbering Wanda behind is not easy. You have to gingerly disentangle yourself from her grip to avoid waking her up. Initially, sleeping with Wanda was not part of your plan, but seeing her with Valkyrie had stirred a sense of jealousy within you that led to a powerful desire to claim Wanda as yours.

And so it kept happening, again and again–like a drug you just couldn't shake off.

You haven't really thought about what it all means. To be honest, you've been actively avoiding it. A week of overthinking has left you stuck at a dead-end, feeling numb and desperate to feel something, anything at all.

And in all this, Wanda is the only one who seems to fill the void, the only one who doesn't make you feel so alone.

***

“Dr. Williams?” Pietro says hesitantly as he picks up the call.

“Hi, Pietro. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time,” comes Calliope's voice, clear and loud.

“No, I was just–did we have a scheduled meeting that slipped my mind?” he inquires, wondering about the suddenness of this call. 

“We didn't,” Calliope assures him. “I'm actually calling about Wanda. Have you had a chance to speak with her recently?”

Pietro doesn’t like the sound of this. “No, I haven’t. Is she okay?”

“She missed her appointment this morning without notice. It’s the second time in a row. And I just got off the phone with her… she was deflective.”

“I'll check in with her,” Pietro promptly assures, before adding more softly, “Should I be worried?”

“She has agreed to meet me on Tuesday,” Calliope replies, deftly skirting around his question. “So, it may not be a pressing matter. I apologize for disturbing you.”

“No problem at all, Dr. Williams. Feel free to call anytime.”

As the call ends, Pietro is left alone with his thoughts. His mind is whirring with worry for Wanda, and he sits there for a moment, lost in thought. With a sigh, he places his phone back on the coffee table, a frown etching itself onto his face.

Feeling restless, he picks up his phone again, fingers swiping the screen with a certain degree of nervousness. His gallery opens up, a collection of countless memories frozen in pixels. He scrolls through it, stopping at a particular picture that still haunts him.

It's a hard image to look at, a memory of a particularly painful day. But he keeps it, just in case he needs it, a ghost hiding in his phone.

He knows, if push comes to shove, he has this to fall back on.

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby | @swiftie1-0-1

[the-fiction-witch]

Good News

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty

Requested: can you also do one where yns father sold her off to Jack

I hummed to myself as I worked in my little patch of the garden, digging and planting little flowers. I saw my father approach and almost immediately I had a bad feeling about this. 

"Good News!" He gleamed, 

"Ohh?" I glared, 

"I have very good news for you dear."

"Oh? am I being shipped back to England?"

"Better."

"You're killing me?"

"Don't talk like that dear, it's good news."

"I stand by what I said." 

"I have found you a husband."

"This is terrible news." I sighed returning to my flowers, 

"Ohh for-" he sighed picking me up from the dirt and forcing me back to the house "You are to have a bath, wash and brush your hair, and put on your prettiest dress to meet your new husband."

"And what if I refuse him?" I asked as he threw me back into my room,

"You will not refuse him, it's already been agreed your dowry paid." he said "Clean. Now," he demanded shutting my door,

"What happened to me having a choice!" I yelled,

"You turn away ten suitors, you give me no choice you're marrying him." 

"UUuuuughhhhhh!" I yelled in frustration, I had a quick back and fixed my hair to the minimum my father would allow putting on my dull blue dress, nowhere near my best dress but I highly doubt this is anywhere near the best man. 

I went out and met with my father outside as he wore his good suit, I held my fan in my hand trying to both fan myself and hide myself from this whole situation.

"Straight." He demanded forcing my back straight, "And smile."

I rolled my eyes and forced a smile for him, 

"That's a good girl" he smiled kissing my head "Where is he?" he muttered, 

Luckily at that moment, the carriage came into view, I noticed immediately it was our carriage meaning Father sent it to pick him up rather than him coming to get me, well that's a red flag. 

Once the carriage stopped my mind ran through with who on earth my father could ever convince to marry me. And then he stepped out.

My eyes went wide, as I saw The Dr Jack Dawkins step out.

He hadn't even dressed up, in his usual attire hell he even still had blood on his sleeves! 

He was the new surgeon in town, we hadn't met yet I had just heard of him in passing and such,

I glared at my father and he just smiled back. 

"Miss Y/l/n" He smiled at me, 

"No." I snapped turning to go inside but my father stopped me and forced me back to my place, 

"Do excuse her Dr Dawkins, overcome with emotion."

"Yes ange-" I began but my father slapped my hand silencing me, 

"Shall we retire to the parlour for the celebratory drink?" he asked,

"That sounds lovely" He smiled, 

My father then forced me to walk with them.

I sat in my chair pouting as they discussed me as if I wasn't here. 

laughing and drinking between themselves, 

"I'll leave you two to... get acquainted." My father smirked before he left the room leaving us alone, 

"So? We're going to get married."

"It appears we are."

"I take it... you're not thrilled about this?" Dr. Dawkins asked,

"Should I be?"

"I thought every little girl dreamt of her wedding?"

"Not me." 

"Alright,"

"What are your intentions?"

"... to marry you, oldy enough."

"Why?"

"Why not? you're cheaper than a maid"

"How dare you!"

"Look, you're a maid, I don't have to pay, live in my house, and I can fuck. This is a win-win for me"

"I will make your life a living hell."

"So would every other woman."

"So you're just fine with marrying an unwilling woman?"

"I'm unwilling, your unwilling, most we can do is make the best of it." 

"And what am I meant to get out of this?"

"You'll be married so your father will stop bothering you, you get out of this house, bragging rights of having a well-renowned surgeon and doctor as your husband and given I work so much I'll barely be home so you can just... do whatever you want." 

"Fine." I sighed I wasn't happy about this but he had a point, my father would stop bugging me and as a doctor, he wouldn't really be around that much. "So you're a doctor?"

"Surgeon yes."

"Let me guess military?"

"Ex-Navy"

"That'll be why father likes you," I sighed, "So you'll be working at the hospital?"

"Six to ten most days." He nods "Eleven to five is all for you."

"Fine, you get days off?"

"If I'm not busy yes."

"time with friends?"

"Friday night down the cat and bagpipes"

"I'll allow it so long as you don't come home drunk enough to be hung over Saturday morning"

"...Alright." He nods

"Do you expect children from me?"

"Four."

"One."

"Three?"

"One."

"Two?"

"I'll allow two."

"Good, one needs to be a boy." 

"I'll see what I can do." I sighed, "One boy one girl?"

"I can find that agreeable." He nods, "social events?"

"Avoid at all costs."

"Well we agree on something." He smirked "You dance?"

"No."

"Thank god neither do I." he smiled "You cook? clean? laundry?"

"I'll cook and do laundry, you do dishes and handy work."

"Ohh no handy work is gonna be your forte."

"I meant fixing things."

"Ohh. Fine Anything you insist on in our home?"

"Give me a garden and I'll stay quiet."

"I can agree to that." He nodded getting up and coming over stroking my face, "Once we are married shall we start working on our baby?"

"I can agree to that Dr Dawkins."

"Just jack buttercup" he cooed giving my lips a soft sweet kiss, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you too" I smiled 

[rea-grimm]

Looking through his eyes - Mihawk pt 1

You ate a devil fruit and now you can see the world through the eyes of your soul mate.

This devil fruit is made up.

He was the strongest swordsman in the world to begin with. One of the few pirates who were ignored by the government. He could have everything he dreamed of. However, he was missing something. He searched all over the world for it. He destroyed ships like nothing out of boredom.

That is, until that fateful day when he was defeated and cursed. That day he lost his legendary sword and his human form. In return, he got wings and became a hawk. He was supposed to fly around the world in search of his purpose. Only when he finds it will he find his original form.

You didn't know if it was just a joke. You ate a devil fruit that allowed you to see through someone else's eyes. There was even a legend about it. Whoever eats this fruit will see the world through the eyes of their soul mate. 

You were under the impression that it was all nonsense and that you had eaten the weakest fruit that existed.

In addition, you had the impression that the eyes through which you saw did not even belong to a person, but to some bird, because often when you looked, you saw a view from above. Never mind, it was a beautiful sight, but inside you hoped that it really could have been your soul mate's eyes. That somewhere in the wide world there is someone just for you.

You were walking through the bazaar on the small island, wondering why you didn't see anything from your other eyes. Every time you wanted to look, at the view from the sky or just like that, you were greeted by pitch-black darkness.

You passed one stand after another and nothing extra caught your eye. You stopped almost at the last one, which offered everything possible. However, it wasn't the things on display that caught your eye. 

It was a larger cage that was built on top of a barrel that housed a hawk with a cap over its head. The bird had beautiful black feathers a white belly and sharp claws. Even though he couldn't see, he sat there proudly regardless of the situation.

When you were younger, your father, who was a falconer and was still alive, trained you with them. You tamed an eagle, which you then went hunting with. Maybe you could train this hawk as well, and if that doesn't work, he'd still be better off free than here in this cage.

The buyer tried to stretch the price and negotiate, but he didn't stand a chance against you.

As soon as you reached your ship, you took him out of his cage and removed his cap. He sat on your hand and looked at you with his golden eyes. It's hard to say if at that moment you created some kind of imaginary agreement between you because when you released him into the air, you expected him to fly away.

That he will fly somewhere to find his happiness. No. He flew past your ship, looked around and landed not far from you. In that moment you knew you could count on him. As he flew, you noticed that he had beautiful, reddish feathers on the inside of his wings. You have never seen such colouring in any such bird. 

You were even more happy when you discovered that it was his eyes through which you saw the world. When you figured it out, you immediately started training.

You released him into the sky and moved while looking through his eyes. You felt like there was some kind of connection between the two of you because he knew exactly what to focus on and what you needed to see.

The hawk didn't have a bad time with you. And when he succeeded in something or there was an opportunity, you bought him some good meat. 

You found out by accident that he had a weakness for wine and while you were drinking yours, you poured a little into his glass. Although you were worried that it would be unhealthy for him, he had a different opinion. When he got drunk like that, he sometimes let you pet him.

At the same time, you had no idea how everything in this world was connected. You were one of the best thieves in the world and you chose the sword of the most famous swordsman in the world, which disappeared without a trace, as the goal you wanted to reach the top. 

His sword was subsequently confiscated by the Marines and hidden on one of their island bases. You had no idea that its owner was at your fingertips the whole time.

You left your ship on a blind part of the island that was not patrolled by marines. From there you started planning what to do next. You were studying the map of the fortress when Mihawk flew up to you and was looking at the map with you. With his help, you went through the whole island and found out the necessary things before you could go into action.

Everything had to work out perfectly. You had the timing right when the patrols were supposed to change. You had been watching them for a long time and you found out that they worked exactly like clockwork and had several blind spots between the alternations.

Once the time was right, you signalled to Mihawk and got to work. You ran with your planned route, using hawk eyes the whole time. From a height, you had a better overview of where everyone was standing and could react more easily to unexpected changes.

You avoided the guards who jumped around the corner or were late somewhere. You managed to get to the fortress undetected. You knew exactly which room the sword was in. It was just a matter of getting to the right window and picking a couple of locks before the sword was within reach. 

You picked up the black sword and strapped it to your back when you noticed that there were still a few valuables to keep as souvenirs. You filled your pouch and headed back the same way.

You made it safely out of the base and stopped just behind its walls. You walked down the forest path and a hawk circled overhead before he swooped down and landed on a crossguard of the sword.

 However, as soon as he touched it, there was a flash and he fell to the ground. It was strange. The sword did nothing to you. You carefully took him in your arms and walked with him.

When you were almost at the boat that was supposed to take you to the ship, you were surrounded by marines. You had the impression, based on how many were there, that they were waiting for you.

You immediately ran away. You ran into the forest and tried to shake them off. You ran to the cliff where the giant boulder was that you hid behind. From your hiding place, you heard the marines approaching and calling out to each other.

You cautiously peeked out from your hiding place. They completely cut off your escape route. However, most of the marines had their swords drawn and that worked in your favour as you were a more than passable swordsman. 

You placed the hawk on the ground and noticed that he was finally coming to his senses. You removed the stolen sword from your back and stepped in front of them. You counted your enemies and got the impression that the odds were in your favour.

You put up a fight. They didn't stand a chance against you and fell to the ground one by one. You found yourself on the edge of a cliff, but you were still confident of victory. 

What you didn't expect were shooters hiding in the thick undergrowth. You noticed them too late. Only when a bullet flew through your shoulder and completely knocked you over. 

You lost your balance and dropped your sword. The other marines took advantage of this and one of them threw you off the cliff.

Below you was the sea. A normal person would be able to survive, but for you, the sea meant death because as a devil fruit user, you couldn't swim. You didn't imagine this ending.

You took a deep breath before breaking the surface and trying to swim. As you expected. You had the impression as if the sea held you with invisible bonds and prevented you from moving. You couldn't do anything at all. It was slowly getting dark before your eyes.

Hawk saw your defeat before it happened. He had to make a decision. The whole time he thought he needed his sword to undo the curse, but the more he thought about it, the better he felt with you. 

Even in this weak form, he had the urge to save you. That's why he didn't delay and jumped into the water after you. However, during his fall, a similar light enveloped him as when he was cursed and fell into the water as a human.

PART 2

Mihawk Masterlist

[kedsandtubesocks]

12:07 am - Gojo Satoru

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☽ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Happy birthday to our Sagittarius boy, you are so deeply loved Gojo

tags: sweet fluff with a surprise ending - just like how the birthday boy would want it

wc: 1.6k

The weeks leading up to Gojo’s birthday have been a nightmare.

Whenever you casually tried asking your boyfriend what he wanted for a birthday present, his answer was always the same -

“You. You’re all I need.” And he said it with the same toothy genuine grin.

You still wanted to try and get him something though.

However… fate decided she instead wanted to fight you at every step.

The special outfit you ordered with the hope of it arriving in time for his birthday ended up back ordered and wouldn’t be shipped for another week. The cake shop you planned to grab his birthday cake from had an unexpected construction issue. The surprise trip you had been secretly trying so hard to plan grew harder and harder to figure out with Gojo’s constant meddling. Plus, with his hectic unpredictable schedule you wondered if a trip, surprise or not, was even possible.

Discouragement consumed you fast and the bitterness still lingered on your tongue. Even now, as you hung up streamers in your shared apartment, you wondered if this would even be enough. Were you even enough for a man who could have anything in this world?

Climbing down the small stepladder, you glance at the clock.

11:47

Just a few minutes short from the time actually turning into his birthday.

You’re at least thankful this week’s mission would keep him away until the morning. The extra time became a blessing and allowed you to decorate before he came home. You wanted to try and stay awake to greet him. But as more and more yawns over took you, you think maybe you might not be able to.

So you decided for the next best option. You already had most of the table set up for Gojo to see when he walked further into the apartment. Large balloons covered most of the table. Vibrant streamers hung from above. Your card for him sat waiting. And now you’d place out the final piece.

It wouldn’t be the cake you had hoped for, but the assortment of cupcakes you snagged from a bakery nearby were pretty adorable. You now move to set them out on the table.

The keys jingling however suddenly ring into the apartment.

No. He couldn’t be home now. Then the apartment door unlocking ignites panic. You rapidly place the cupcakes down on the table, and scurry to the door.

And there he is. The strongest sorcerer.

Satoru, even still in his work uniform, looks like a quiet dream in the soft light. Even as he unceremoniously drops his travel bag without a care. He shoves his blindfold up and those mythical cerulean eyes of his twinkle.

“Well now, what are you still doing up?” Gojo grins, his voice warm and curiously excited.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought you weren’t supposed to be back till this morning?!” You fire back.

“What? Can I not sneak back early for my birthday?” Satoru smirks while he walks towards you to already lean down to kiss you.

Then, he freezes. His eyes flicker to stare out behind you and you turn around. A balloon softly rolling out gives you away.

“Oh?” His damn amused voice twinkles brighter. “You having a party without me?”

“Yeah. I was waiting for my secret other boyfriend to come over until you showed up.” You playfully tell him.

“I just got home! Why do you wound me so?!” Gojo shrieks in horror. Quickly he draws you into his arms and holds you tight. You can’t help but burst into giggles as he playfully kisses every inch of your face.

You just accept your surprise is slightly ruined. However, in your boyfriend’s arms, defeat doesn’t feel so bad. Once he sets you back on the ground, Gojo follows right behind you giggling like a gleeful kid about to meet Santa.

“Alright,” you sigh. “I wanted to surprise you when you got home and-”

As you walk into the kitchen, instead of seeing the cupcakes on the table, they now sit on the chair and are flipped over in their container.

Your excitement deflates and a wave of sadness swallows you whole. In the frenzy of Gojo coming home, you must have not place the container fully on the table and they fell.

“Wow!” Satoru cries loud and excited. “You set up all of this?! Look at all the balloons?! And the streamers!”

You can’t even look at him, or even acknowledge him. Your focus is only on the ruined sweets you silently approach.

His voice vaguely behind you now sounds distant and concerned.

Tears begin clogging your throat and you furiously, angrily, blink them away. You shouldn’t be this upset. They’re just cupcakes. Gojo could buy a whole bakery if he wanted to. But maybe the exhaustion of the day catching up to you, or the frustration leading up to this, all of it has you crying.

Gojo cries out your name worried, panicked.

“Is this about the cupcakes?” He asks and his voice floats around you like a comforting balm.

“Because they’re not that messed up! Actually, they still look pretty intact if you ask me-”

“No.” You sigh through the hot tears. “It isn’t just about this.”

You explain everything. Before you can even get to how upset you were about the cupcakes falling, Satoru’s hands suddenly cradle your face. Swiftly he’s titling your head up and capturing your lips with his.

He kisses you fierce, dizzying, as if he’s trying to steal your breath away while also ground you completely to him.

“You damn adorable and gorgeous dummy.” Satoru whispers fiercely against your lips. “How many times did I tell you? You’re all I need.”

It gets harder fighting back the tears for another reason, one that’s sweeter than any confectionery.

You also realize you shouldn’t have doubted Satoru’s sugar skills because, like he prophesied, the cupcakes are actually pretty salvageable. And after pouting with the worst puppy dog eyes, Satoru manages to get you to at least split one of the cupcakes.

You glance at the clock.

It’s officially his birthday.

Your heart grows against its cage thinking of how grateful you feel getting to celebrate this incredible man. Even now as he tries to sneak another cupcake like you won’t see him.

Playfully you swipe your finger through the messy icing. You childishly place a dot of it on his cheek. Satoru’s sky blue eyes go wide a bit confused and stunned at the action while he turns to you.

“Happy Birthday Satoru.” You warmly tell him.

His handsome face melts, like he’s staring at the sun first breaking over the horizon and your heart trips over itself.

“You gonna lick this off me now?” He tilts his cheek and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You laugh, shaking your head.

Suddenly an entire messy half cupcake smashes into your face. It mainly catches the side of your lips and more of your cheek. But icing is all over you now.

“What was that for?!” You screech.

“You started it first! You know I had to finish it.” He grins triumphant and it makes you want to pummel him, birthday boy or not.

“I’ll clean you up if you want?” He purrs suggestively.

“No! And no more cupcakes for the rest of the night!” You swat at the container as you close it. Satoru effortlessly and swiftly however sweeps you in his embrace.

He also flattens his frosting covered cheek against yours and rubs them together making you shriek at his ridiculous actions.

“Aw! Come on baby! It’s my birthday! You can’t do this to me!” Gojo wails.

“I’m tempted to lock myself in the guest bedroom for the rest of the night now.” You snap back.

“Oh like that would stop me.” Gojo snorts almost insulated and you know it’s true.

While still in his arms, Satoru suddenly kisses your cheek with his lips pressing against the icing. The sensation is squishy, strange but makes your lips twitch giddy.

“You’re my extra sweet treat.” He whispers grinning.

“You’re ridiculous.” You scoff without any malice.

Gojo simply beams bigger as he dives in to kiss your cheek again. He even playfully bites at your skin causing you to let out surprise squeak.

Unfortunately, another surprise yawn also escapes you.

“Alright, let’s put this party on hold till later.” Gojo says.

The cupcakes are put away. He drags you into the bathroom to help clean up the icing properly. As the night begins to unwind, you glance over at your boyfriend.

He really does seem carved out of a dream, so handsome it’s unreal. Yet a bright color of frosting faintly lingers against his cheek. Of course he didn’t wipe it off fully. So wetting a small hand towel you lean up to clean the last bit of frosting painting his cheek.

Gojo’s eyes flicker to you and his gaze stays intently glued on you.

“Next year I'll just have us plan a trip for your birthday.” You sigh thinking of how a trip to the hot springs sounds so nice now.

“Next yeah, huh?” His voice is colored playful, a shade just below a tickle-me-pink color.

“Yes, next year.” You playfully elbow him. “Unless you already have plans without me?”

He snorts. “No…I want as many birthdays as I can get with you.”

His words cause your heart to sprout wings and flutter wildly in your chest.

“Even if I decide to stick around and let you annoy me forever?” You offer light, delicate, and cautious.

Satoru chuckles softly. “Funny enough, I’m kind of hoping for that.”

His words, so simple and soft, wrap around you. Suddenly his hand again cradles your face. His thumb strokes your cheek tender and delicate. Your eyes can’t help but look up to him. In the warm bathroom light Satoru’s sky eyes shimmer like the ocean at dawn, deeply reflective, yet so bright.

He says your name and it’s caressed with such tenderness you feel it sinking into your bones.

“I realize what I want for my birthday today.” Gojo mutters. His eyes flicker to your lips.

“Oh?” You wait for his answer to be something crude.

But it isn’t.

“Yeah…I wanna marry you.”

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being more poetic and vulnerable about fictional ships than I am to my irl boyfriend?

It's basically a core trait of mine that I'm always fixated on *some* pair of fictional guys. I'm also a writer and a pathological content creator, so I'm always got some kind of project or sideblog or something. There's nothing that I care about more than gay romantic love especially *in* fiction because I also love a solid narrative and symbolism, etc - and due to those things, I've always vastly preferred living vicariously through fiction to real life. I tend to essentially kin one character really hard and, through them, be genuinely in love with the guy he's in love with. And my bf definitely knew this before starting to date me because we were friends for like 3 years first (and we've now been dating for 2). The thing is, he used to be like this too, but once he moved in with me and his real life got a lot happier, he basically grew out of fixating as hard as he used to on media bc he no longer needed to live vicariously through it.

He says he understands that it's not something that I'm gonna grow out of and that it's fine. But more and more he's getting upset and genuinely jealous about my current fixation. He all but refuses to watch the show I'm currently into even though it's been a singular obsession of mine for over a year now, though he does read some of the fic I write and look at my sideblog for that show. And sometimes it's fine but other times he brings up romantic headcanons I've posted, upset that I don't ever say/do that kind of stuff for him. Or he'll outright tell me to say "something sweet" to him and when I inevitably can't think of something on the spot, which I NEVER have bc I'm just not that kind of person, he'll be like "[character A] would have something to say for [character B] :((((("

I've tried reassuring him SO many times that it's not a matter of me not loving him, or of me loving fictional characters more, but that I simply am not vulnerable like that in real life and maybe I wish that I could be, but I'm not. I'm not a fictional character, I don't live in a narrative, and I'm way too self-aware, to my own detriment, to feel authentic saying the kind of things that I write about. I'm also in my 20s and I grew up on the internet, as opposed to the middle aged men that I write about. In any case fiction allows a certain veneer between the notion of those feelings and my instinct to cringe. But my bf basically never believes me, and he doesn't say this outright, but he's clearly upset that he isn't enough to make me want to "live in real life." Even though literally nothing and no one ever has been.

As for what could potentially make *him* the asshole: I'm kind of really fucking tired of having to explain this to him. And I hate being made to feel like I'm not allowed to do what makes me happy when it's literally all fiction. I'm literally so depressed any time I don't have a show to be obsessed with and he knows this. I really don't understand why he wants to look at my posts and keep bringing it up when it just causes the same argument every time.

Basically, is his jealousy justified? AITA?

What are these acronyms?