#How To Make A Grapevine Grow

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (2) II a.putellas x sister!reader

part one

so i kinda...angst'd a whole lot harder than planned? but the song listened to when breaking my own heart writing this was all the pretty girls by kaleo, i recommend a listen while you read! filling the void (2) II a.putellas x sister!reader

you tapped your foot somewhat anxiously as you sent a smile to the waitress hovering nearby, the older woman clearly wanting to take your order as she passed by for the fifth time since you'd sat down.

"buenos días pequeña." your attention shifted as your breakfast date finally arrived, your anxiety that she might not come melting away as you stood to greet her, the older girl pulling you into a hug as you kissed her cheek.

"thank you for coming." you smiled a little nervously at olga as the two of you sat down, the waitress appearing again within seconds as you both ordered a coffee and she left you be with a food menu.

"thank you for inviting me." olga smiled, hanging her bag on her chair. "not that i do not want to have breakfast with you nena, but can i ask why i am here? you did not sound like yourself on the phone this morning." olga started gently as you nodded.

through the few years she'd been with alexia olga had of course been welcomed into the family with open arms, and albeit the growing gap between you and your sisters you still liked her a lot and visa versa.

olga had been the most nervous to meet you when she first started seeing alexia, knowing both from her girlfriend and through the grapevine that you had been incredibly close with her last partner jenni before she and alexia broke up, olga fearing you might resent her for not being jenni.

but right away you saw how happy olga made alexia and how she often brought out a different side to your eldest sister, something goofier, more juvenile and softer like when alexia was younger and there was far less responsibility on her shoulders weighing her down.

"sí, i wanted to apologise to you." you got right to the point, your sisters girlfriend quirking an eyebrow curiously but nodding for you to continue.

"i had no idea the event my friends invited me to was yours i promise, if i had known before i would not have agreed to go. but they bought my ticket for me and i only realized when we arrived that it was manuelas. then i tried to tell them why i couldn't go in but they insisted and i wanted a night out." you started, twisting the rings on your fingers nervously.

"but i should have thought about it more before i agreed to go inside. if someone found out i was underage and you were serving me alcohol you could have been in a lot of trouble and i did not think about anyone but myself." you sighed deeply, a noise which held far too much responsibility for someone your age making olga frown a little out of concern.

"so i am very sorry." you wrapped it up as your coffees arrived, thanking the waitress with a smile as you took a cautious sip and awaited olga to speak.

"thank you for apologizing pequeña." olga started softly once she'd had a mouthful of her own coffee, nails tapping absentmindedly against the burnt orange ceramic mug cupped in her hands.

"but i am not mad, and i was not mad at you the other night. i was just worried for you and for your safety which is why i tried to find you in the club before you ran away. but i can see now that i did not need to be because you are much more mature than any seventeen year old i've ever met, myself included." olga chuckled as she took another sip of coffee, a small smile curling onto your lips.

"but next time you want to go out with your friends to one of my events you come to me about it first, sí?" olga's tone became a little more serious as you quickly nodded in agreement.

"buena. or else i will have to stick pictures of your face behind the bar with a do not serve sticker across your forehead!" the older girl grinned teasingly which you returned, tension sucked away now as you visibly relaxed.

"so, estamos bien?" you checked in as you both grabbed the menu's to look at ordering some food. "sí pequeña, more than okay. but breakfast is on you since this is an apology!" olga winked making you laugh and agree with a nod, the two of you falling quickly into a different conversation.

~

alexia looked up from her phone as the front door opened, smiling at her girlfriend who stepped through and hung her keys on the hook, the spanish captain standing quickly to greet her.

"hola mi amor." olga laughed against alexia's lips which were quickly pressed to hers in a series of soft kisses, breaking apart and heading for the kitchen as alexia took her seat back at the counter.

"how was your meeting?" alexia questioned, ready to leave for training in an hour or so. "was not a meeting." olga shook her head, opening the fridge intending to make a list of what was needed so she could go shopping while alexia was training.

"i met your sister for breakfast, she called and asked me while you were in the shower this morning." olga explained, nails tapping away at her phone screen noting down what needed to be bought.

"so alba can see you but not reply to me? i have called her three times this morning!" alexia groaned in annoyance with a roll of her eyes, pulling out her phone intending to give her younger sister a piece of her mind.

"no amor, not alba." olga's hand gently pushed the phone down as alexia frowned. "oh. you saw fresa?" alexia's eyebrows shot up in surprise as olga hummed with a nod of confirmation.

"she called to ask you out to breakfast." alexia echoed as again olga nodded. "sí, she wanted to apologise for the other night." olga started gently, knowing the last few days had been a large wake up call both for alexia and alba who had been in near constant contact trying to work out how to fix things.

"really?" alexia asked in disbelief. "really. ale sometimes i forget she is only seventeen, she has a very good head on her shoulders. she even paid for breakfast too." olga smiled as alexia sat there stunned, drumming her fingers on the counter clearly lost for words.

"you called to invite her over for dinner this week?" olga asked softly capturing her attention again, rounding the corner and slotting herself in between the taller girls legs.

"i tried but she will not answer alba or i, both our texts or calls she just blanks them." alexia sighed as olgas arms draped over her shoulders, nails scratching lightly at the base of her neck relaxing her a little as alexia's own hands settled on her girlfriends hips.

"can you blame her cariño? when is the last time you called her just to talk to her?" olga spoke carefully, alexia looking as though she might argue before she deflated. "i cannot remember." the blonde muttered, shame obvious in her features as she looked away.

"how did i miss this? how did i mess this up so badly? she hates me olga and i cannot even fault her for it!" alexia laughed bitterly, the brunette wincing in sympathy.

"she does not hate you mi vida, venga." olga grasped her lovers hand, pulling her off the stool and leading her over to the sofa, sitting down and gently tugging the taller girl to lean into her side, hugging her tightly.

"she should after what i said the other night." alexia admitted after a few moments of silence had passed, pulling away slightly as olga gave her a curious look and alexia sighed, not having been completely honest with her about everything.

"i was so angry with her and the fact she did not seem care about what could have happened. but i was just so scared, what if someone spiked her drink? took advantage of her? hurt her? anything could have happened that night and i have been so absent i would not have even known. something could have already happened and i would not know!" alexia exhaled shakily, olga tracing a thumb over her knuckles.

"but what did you say to her amor." olga pushed gently, alexia avoiding her eyes as she paused for a moment. "i told her she was a careless, stupid, selfish little accident." alexia admitted quietly, olgas hands immediately withdrawing from hers as she recoiled in shock.

"alexia." the brunette managed out in disbelief. "i know. i know, it was horrible and cruel and i knew it would hurt her. i was so angry and scared i lashed out at her." alexia recounted, the memory burned into her mind like a branding, the blonde had been replaying it over and over for the last few days.

"you have not spoken to her since? apologized?" olga frowned as alexia shook her head. "no, alba and i have both tried but she just does not answer." alexia dragged her hands down her face, cheeks burning with shame that she once had the nerve to call herself your protector.

"she used to be this tiny perfect little baby, i remember the day she was born alba and i were so excited. when mami told us she and papi would be having another baby we were always happy, always supportive. mami was so worried we would resent her because there would be such an age gap, making us promise we would never." alexia started, voice hoarse and raspy as she avoided the burning gaze of her lover sat beside her.

"but from the very moment i laid eyes on her i promised i would never let anything hurt her, i would spend my life looking after her and making sure she knew she was so loved. she was so small when i first held her, our abuela knitted her this little blue blanket and beanie and my pinky didn't even fit in her tiny hand. she had rosy cheeks and bright eyes and she was perfect, our little bundle of joy." alexia recounted fondly, olga shuffling a little closer and placing a hand on her knee.

"our papi used to joke that she was born with a personal security team. the first few months she was home alba and i would argue over who got to hold her, help with feeding, dress her. at night we would drag our pillows in and sleep on the floor by her crib, we used to talk to her for hours and she would just giggle at everything." alexia smiled looking off into the distance with a forlorn gaze.

"then as she grew up and got a little older she could be so annoying. always following alba or i around wanting to do whatever we did, always wanting to be around us and just like us, copying anything we did, stealing our clothes to wear too. but i used to get her to mimic whatever alba said for hours and hours, she hated it but fresa always did whatever i asked." alexia chuckled at the memory, a small smile tugging at her lips before it slowly faded.

"but the way she looked at me the other night, like i was just a stranger in her home who she didn't even know. where is my little pequeña with strawberry stains all over her shirt who looked at me like i was the center of her universe? our fresa." alexia managed to whisper out as olga winced.

"mi amor, she grew up." the brunette spoke softly as alexia nodded. "sí. i took my eyes off her for a second and now she is all grown up, and i have failed her as a sister." alexia muttered bitterly, angry now at herself and how she had been so selfish and blind to everything.

"then fix this alexia. make things right with her before she grows up anymore and it is too late."

~

you'd not heard them arrive as you were in the shower getting ready to hang out with your friends, eli surprised to see both her other daughters at her front door when she opened it.

"hola mami. can we come in?" alexia started, both girls having been far too ashamed of their behavior to reach out much this week as eli nodded and moved aside, both her girls kissing her cheek hello.

"is fresa here?" alba asked hopefully as they both took a seat at the island, eli returning to the kitchen to keep making dinner. "sí, she is in the shower." eli nodded, turning around to stir the rice boiling in the pot as alexia and alba shared a look.

"so you have both thought about what we spoke of?" eli asked without turning back around, glancing over her shoulder her eldest two nodded. "we have and we want to fix things. we really really want to fix things with her mami, thats our baby." alexia spoke for the two of them as eli turned around with a small smile.

"i told you both, she is not a baby anymore." eli cautioned gently, scraping the vegetables off her chopping board and into the pot. "she will always be a baby, our baby. but we know she has grown up mami, and we want to be there to watch her continue to." alba spoke now as eli hummed.

"so you are both going to make an effort then? and because you want to, not because you feel you have to?" eli clarified as her daughters nodded in promise.

"we don't know how we let it get so bad mami, we thought she was just...spending time with her friends, that she didn't need us around as much." alexia admitted guiltily as eli only hummed.

though before another word could be said footsteps were heard and your eyes widened as you stepped into the living room and suddenly there was 3 pairs of eyes trained on you.

"hola hermanita." alexia spoke first, tone soft and as she smiled your hackles went up, sure that this had to be some sort of trap. "hola." you replied back curtly, tearing your eyes away and edging around the room.

"i'll be home later mami." you smiled grabbing your house keys as your hand hovered on the door handle. "wait hija!" eli called out as you raised an eyebrow.

"can you stay for dinner? meet your friends after, i made your favorite." eli offered, though her tone conveyed that this was still your decision, not wanting to push you into anything as you tried to ignore your sisters eyes boring into the side of your head.

"vale, i will message them now." you agreed with a small smile, hurrying back to your room before anyone could say another word. as alba went to stand and go after you eli sent her a look which said it all, they needed to let you come to them.

"nena! dinner is done." eli called out to you a few moments later as alba set the table and alexia helped dish up. "i can go get her?" the eldest putellas offered when everything was ready and you'd still not ventured out of your room.

eli nodded and alexia set off, pausing outside your door with a hand raised, pausing for a moment before knocking gently, stepping back suddenly as it swung open.

"dinner's ready fresa." alexia smiled as you only nodded curtly. "don't call me that." you replied quietly, shuffling past her and heading for the living room as alexia frowned and deflated at your words.

"why not?" alexia followed after you though if you heard her you made no move to acknowledge it, alba patting the chair next to her with a hopeful smile as you ignored the offer and sat down next to eli.

alexia knew she should drop it, try not to push and let you come to her but as you all sat down to eat she couldn't help it. "why can't i call you fresa?" you paused at the question before rolling your eyes.

"because i'm not a baby anymore, its a stupid nickname." you mumbled before shoveling a forkful of food into your mouth, eli sending alexia a sharp stare warning her to drop the topic as she started to argue your answer.

an awkward silence fell around the table as you shifted uncomfortably, well aware of the four eyes boring into you across the table as you stared down at your food and tried to pretend it was like any other night and they weren't there.

but given the set table and change to your regular routine, it was hard to ignore completely.

growing up you'd always had a strict family rule about eating all together and always at the table, no exceptions. though as the years passed and suddenly it was just you and eli she had softened, the two of you often sitting together on the lounge eating dinner and watching some sort of spanish soap most nights.

"so, how is work going?" you heard alba ask and assumed the question was directed at your mami, zoning out a little until you felt a gentle nudge to your shoulder and looked up, blushing when you realized your sister was actually asking you.

"its fine." you shrugged quietly, a pause following as everyone waited for you to elaborate. when you didn't eli decided to step in, taking the slightest amount of pity on the obvious struggle your sisters had to try and mend things.

"she can now test and take the blood, she is thinking about going to medical school." eli spoke proudly as you glanced at her with a small smile and your sisters eyes widened in surprise.

"to become a doctor?" alexia asked quite stunned as you scoffed. "no to become a firefighter." you rolled your eyes again as alba snickered quietly, wincing as alexia stomped on her foot and shot her a glare.

"to become a nurse." eli corrected as you nodded. "what about tennis, do you have a competition coming up?" alba asked as you gave her a strange look. "i don't play anymore" you reminded as she frowned.

"how is mariona?" alexia asked next, referencing your childhood best friend, someone you were no longer friends with. "how would i know?" you shrugged still looking down at the table in front of you and starting to eat a little faster, uncomfortable with all this sudden attention and interest.

"well she is your best friend, no?" alexia questioned in confusion. "no she's not." you mumbled shifting a little as eli caught her daughters eye and subtly shook her head, urging her away from the topic as alexia frowned but dropped it none the less.

"i didn't think you liked peppers pequeña, used to fight and kick and spit them out." alba chuckled quickly changing subjects as you continued to eat. "almost like when people grow up their tastes change, crazy!" you muttered sarcastically as your sisters grin fell away.

"what about art? are you still taking classes?" alexia swooped in next as you raced to finish your food and eli watched on at the trainwreck this dinner was fast becoming. "don't do that anymore." you answered quietly among mouthfuls.

"why? you were so good fresa." alba frowned as there was a clatter as you dropped your fork into your now empty bowl. "don't call me that. i'm not your fresa, or your pequeña, or your hermanita or your chiqui. i'm not a baby anymore!" you warned with a huff, grabbing your empty bowl and standing.

"can i go now please mami? my friends are here." you asked eli in a much calmer tone who nodded as you darted to the kitchen, rinsing out your bowl.

"i'll be back late, don't wait up." you ducked down to kiss eli's cheek and made a beeline for the door, grabbing your keys. "what you don't say goodbye to us anymore?" alexia spoke up as alba elbowed her with a glare.

"oh no i forgot alexia. it must have been an accident!" you bit back, clearly intending your words to mean something else, enjoying the way your eldest sisters face paled.

"hermana i really need to-" but alexia couldn't finish her sentence before the door was closing and you were gone. "nice one ale." alba mumbled with a shake of her head, grabbing her and eli's bowls.

"don't wait up, how late does she normally get back mami?" alexia asked with a frown, ignoring her younger sister who was washing up their dishes.

"whenever. she has never been dishonest with me about her plans, i trust her and she is responsible, more than either of you two were at her age." eli pointed out as both girls scoffed. "mami!"

"so she just comes home in the middle of the night and you say nothing? she's seventeen!" alexia scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

"like i said alexia, i trust her. she might be seventeen but she has had to grow up a lot faster than most girls her age trying to keep up with the two of you." eli warned softly as alexia fell quiet. "those are her friends?" alba asked, watching out the window as you walked up to a car and two girls got out.

alexia was up and by her side in an instant, both your sisters watching you hug the two older girls before getting into the car and taking off. "they are too old for her to be hanging out with. what about all of her other friends from school? mariona? natalia?" alba questioned with a frown.

"like i said hija, your sister has grown up a lot faster than other teenagers. as for mariona, you will never mention her name in this house or around your hermana again. sí?" eli spoke firmly as both girls frowned.

"why? mami what happened?" alexia questioned as the older woman sighed, both girls taking their seats at the table across from her again. "when your sister left school, she drifted from her friends. nothing bad, but she worked and had different interests and schedule availability than they did. but mariona did not take it well." eli started to explain.

"she invited fresa to a party saying she missed her and wanted to reconnect, i dropped her there and everything seemed fine. your sister called me a few hours later and she was very upset, i picked her up and she wouldn't tell me what happened at first." eli sighed with a shake of her head.

"what happened mami?" alba asked quietly.

"your sister was seeing someone, only for a little while but she liked her a lot, it was her first girlfriend. mariona and this girl told her at the party in front of everyone it was all a bet to embarass her, the girl said she never liked her, everyone laughed at her and she left." eli finished with another deep sigh.

"they grew up together, they were best friends. how could she do that?" alba asked in disbelief as alexia sat beside her seething. "why does a sixteen year old girl do anything nena? teenagers can be cruel." eli smiled sadly as alba hummed.

"i will kill her." alexia stated with a determined nod, rising to her feet as eli scoffed. "you will do no such thing and you will not mention a word of this to your sister! sit down and promise me alexia." eli warned sternly as the blonde locked eyes with her, eli raising an eyebrow daring her to argue.

"prometo." alexia mumbled, sinking back down into her seat. "why didn't she tell us? she used to tell us everything." alba spoke up now as alexia sat back with her arms crossed and a stormy look on her face.

"she did, and then you both stepped away and fresa had to find other people to go to. those girls might be older but they are her friends, they were there for your hermana through all of that. they have looked after her and helped her in the ways i would have expected you both to, they are good girls and good friends to fresa." eli's tone was swift as again, needing to cut into both her daughters in front of her.

"but they aren't her sisters mami, we are. she's supposed to come to us, so we can protect her and look after her." alexia grumbled, still with a face like thunder, a slight jealousy brewing in her eyes.

"sí, but you have not done either of those things lately alexia and if you want to fix this then you need to admit that to yourself and own it. your sister had to find other ways to protect herself and other people to care about her when she felt like both of you stopped." eli raised her voice slightly now as alba shrunk into her seat wracked with guilt and alexia's hardened gaze fell to the ground.

"she tried to come to you and i watched her be hurt and dismissed by both of you and i will always regret not stepping in sooner. but i am stepping in now and if you both do not want to lose her forever, make the effort, do the work and fix this."

~

you waved goodbye to your friends as you arrived to the front door, rummaging around in your hoodie pocket for your keys, shoving them into the lock and stepping inside as your friends peeled off having waited until you got inside safely.

when you heard the tv you shook your head with a smile, closing and locking the door behind you as your keys dropped into the bowl with a clink.

"mami i told you not to wait u-" you fell silent as you rounded the corner and realised it was in fact not your mami sat awake, but rather both of your older sisters were staring back at you, a movie playing in front of them which neither seemed to be paying much attention to.

"oh, you're not mami." you mumbled, giving them a suspicious once over. but before you could even blink suddenly two taller bodies were pressed against you and you tensed at the unwanted and unexpected contact.

"qué es esto?" you asked, arms pinned down to your sides as your sisters clearly attempted to force you into some sort of group hug. "get off!" you huffed, trying to push them off or wiggle away to no avail.

"just hug us." alba demanded as you rolled your eyes and managed to shove her away, darting out of alexia's reach as she grabbed for you next. "you are both so weird." you grunted out with a scowl, hovering in the hallway.

"why are you still here anyway? do you not have your own homes to go to." you rolled your eyes once you had, shoving your hands into the pocket of your hoodie.

"you know at one point we used to live here, it was our home too fresa." alba spoke up first with an amused smile which only soured your mood. "yeah used to." you mumbled under your breath.

"and i told you both to stop calling me that." you spoke up louder now with a small huff. "since its miraculously your home again you can both show yourselves out then." you rolled your eyes yet again and turned to head off to your own room.

"fres-no wait, por favor." alexia called out as you stopped, shoulders dropping as again you looked toward them. "we waited up and thought you might want to watch a movie? we could stay over and all hang out." alexia asked perking up hopefully as alba nodded in agreement and sent you a smile.

"why would i want to to do that?" you replied bluntly, raising an eyebrow as you looked coldly back to both of them. "pequeña we know we have not been around or been there for you like we should have been lately, we want to fix that." alba started gently as your eyebrows furrowed.

"oh sí? you do?" you perked up as if interested as both of your sisters both brightened. "well i don't, i told you both the other night. stay out of my life!" your fake enthusiasm dropped as your eyes narrowed into a glare.

"hermanita por favor we-" alba again continued as you scoffed and shook your head, taking a step forward and cutting her off. "i am not your fresca or your chiqui or your pequeña or your hermanita. i am not a little kid anymore, the two of you made sure of that." you spoke so coldly it was near unrecognisable.

"what is that supposed to mean?" alexia frowned as you barked out a laughter which was anything but humerous. "i think you know exactly what it means. i am not stupid, i am smarter than both of you and i do not need your pity or your guilt now your heads are out of your asses!" you snapped, fists balled by your side.

"your friends cannot replace us even if you try nena, we are your sisters by blood. you will not succeed in pushing us away." alexia spoke holding her head a little higher as you snickered in disbelief.

"oh i am pushing you away am i ale? i am pushing you? would you like me to push you alexia?" you stepped forward and shoved at her chest, the towering girl barely moving as her hands grabbed yours.

"get off!" you hissed trying to pull your hands free. "no. i love you and i will fix this, we both will." alexia's voice wavered for just a moment as you fought her to let you go as she just attempted to bring you into a hug.

"quítate de encima!" you yelled now, your chest growing tighter with anxiety and feeling like a cornered animal as your sisters strong arms refused to let you go. "alexia." alba warned quietly, catching her eye as alexia shook her head.

"no! i love you. i love you vale? i am so sorry for not showing it and making you feel like i did not fresa. i love you mi hermanita!" alexia let go of your hands and grabbed at your face, forcing your eyes to lock with hers.

with a broken grunt you wrenched them away and shoved her again, catching her off guard as she stumbled backward and grabbed the corner of the counter to stop from falling over.

"hey hey, take a breath chiqui por favor, lets all just calm down." alba tried to coo at you, stepping closer as you instantly recoiled and shook your head. "why won't you listen!" you yelled at her now, chest heaving to try and force back the sob which wanted to rip free from it.

"i am not a baby anymore. you want to fix things? you love me? you miss me and suddenly want to hang out with me? ask me questions about my life? as if you suddenly care?" you could only whisper out now as hot tears began to pool at the corner of your eyes and you angrily wiped them away with the back of your hand.

"hija." your head whipped sideways to see eli stood a few feet away with a concerned gaze as you wordlessly shook your head. "no. no! no. vete a la mierda!" you spat venomously at the two older girls and took another step back still shaking your head.

"you both have no idea what it is like to go from having a home filled with laughter and love and noise to nothing. one day we were all living here and it was happy and i was happy and you both cared about me. we ate dinner together, we went to watch barca, we would stay up late watching movies and go for drives. but then the next suddenly it was just me here, just me." you started, swallowing hard as your nails buried crescent shaped dents into your palms where your fists were tightly clenched by your side.

"I had to watch the two of you grow closer and closer, going on trips together, out for dinners, to concerts, eating meals at each others houses, to football games together when ale was injured, through a phone screen." you continued, everyone else stunned to silence at the outburst which eli had feared was a long time coming

"when i felt you both pulling away i tried reaching out. for months i tried calling, texting, i barely got one word replies or your voicemails. i posted photo after photo after photo of me hanging out with friends just so you might see and invite me to hang out with either one of you!" you confessed, again angrily wiping away a few stray tears.

"you don’t come over for family dinners anymore but you always seem to be eating at each others houses without me, you didn’t even notice I stopped coming to your stupid football games alexia, and you didn’t even notice we haven’t gone for breakfast in months when we used to go every single sunday alba, every one!" your voice raised again as you swallowed down a hard lump and continued.

"but why would you notice? i am just a-what was it ale? a stupid, selfish little accident." you growled as your sister rapidly shook her head.

"no no no mi pequeña por favor i did not mean it, no no no lo siento mucho i did not mean it, promesa." again your eldest sister surged forward to cup your face in her hands, heart breaking at how small and defeated you suddenly looked. "off!" you harshly pushed her away and shook your own head.

"you meant it, and you knew it would hurt me and thats why you said it. at least own that alexia, own it!" you yelled those final two words so hard your throat started to hurt, exhaling shakily.

"my entire life i have done nothing but look up to both of you. i have held you both on a pedestal for years and i wanted to be just like you. i looked at you like super heros por el amor de dios!" you laughed as a sob got caught and came out more like you were choking.

"but then you left me behind and suddenly i did not matter, my life did not interest you, i was not old enough or cool enough or whatever to gain any of your time or care anymore. you both left me here all by myself without a single word! you. left. me." you worked to choke out, fighting to catch your breath as your body shook.

"when you both left everything I did was to try and get you to want to spend time with me again. i played tennis so you might come and watch my games and be proud of me alexia, you never came. i did art so you might see and want to come to a class with me alba, you never did. i forced myself to grow up and try to seem like I was more than just your annoying little hermanita, so you might look at me like a friend and want to hang out sometimes." you shook your head, the tears now flowing freely and leaving a salty bitter taste in your mouth as you spoke.

"but none of it worked and I watched you two grow closer while i never felt further away. so my friends are older but they care about me, they want me around and they ask about my day and they invite me on trips and out for dinners and we go get lunch and we have sleepovers and watch movies and go to the beach and go for drives late at night singing to the radio." you listed off not even pausing to take a breath.

"all the things I used to crave the two of you wanting to do with me like we used to but you never did. so I filled that void, and i no longer care what either of you think. i grew up, by myself. i have my own life, my own support system of friends that love me and want to spend time with me. who know what i like and remember my interests and actually ask me about them because they care not because they suddenly feel what? guilt? hermana's there is no need. i had my time to be hurt, and let me tell you it hurt to watch the two of you leave me behind and ice me out when i did not even know why or what i did." you laughed again, a hauntingly broken noise which echoed around the otherwise dim and silent living room.

"so no. i do not want to watch a movie with you or be interrogated at dinner with a million questions of my life because neither of you can bother to call me or see me or care about what i am doing. i want you both to listen to me, know how much you hurt me, and just like you have been, i want you to leave. me. alone." your voice once again cracked on that final word as you spun around and all but sprinted to your room, slamming your door and sinking down against it with your head in your hands.

"i need you both to leave, now." eli spoke up quietly breaking the thick, uncomfortable and unbearable tension which had festered around the room, your sisters stunned to silence for once in their lives.

"mami-" alexia started, voice hoarse and croaky as eli shook her head and pointed to the door. "go." she ordered, refusing to meet either of their eyes which desperately bore toward her seeking any sort of comfort or solace, a gentle reminder that this would all be okay, that you could all work it out.

but they recieved nothing.

so with heads bowed and tears edging at the corners of their eyes they did as they were asked, eli only finally looking up once she heard the front door close and a car engine start, locking the door and hurrying to your room.

"oh mi preciosa." eli sighed, slowly opening your door and finding you curled into a ball on your bed, body wracked with sobs silenced into the pillow pressed against your face.

the moment you felt the bed dip you sat up and all but launched into her awaiting arms, breathing ragged and broken as you struggled to try and stop the tears which seemed to have burst like a dam.

eli's heart broke both at the sight of you and the realization of just how deep these new cracks ran within her daughters as she pressed soft kisses into your hairline and hugged you tightly.

"todo saldrá bien nena, te lo prometo."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

part three

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

[finalgirllx]

thought you hated me | mattheo riddle entry 1 of a little anthology series i am starting with mattheo. as a way to practice writing without committing to a long series, i'll be writing a few blurbs for him based on the 'enemies to lovers' trope. 1.1k words | nsfw | minors dni | f!reader this is also a thank you for 2000 followers, like holy cow. that's insane. thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has supported my nonsense.

"Hey, hey! Watch it! The recipe calls for a scoop of rose petals, not the entire bloody jar," you scold the curly-haired prick. He abided by your warning, much to your surprise, but not without tilting the jar above the cauldron a few extra times just to savor your irritation. You can't help but wonder what past mistakes led you to be doomed by fate to be partnered with Mattheo Riddle for potions class.

The whole school was aware of your mutual hatred, and neither of you made any effort to conceal it. It had been this way for so long that you couldn't even pinpoint why you hated him. Well, besides his utterly insufferable personality and a pisspoor attitude that not even his stellar good looks could redeem.

"He's an arrogant prick." "What a wretched tart." "A hotheaded muppet." "An absolute menace to civil society."

These were just a few recent jabs exchanged between you, either spoken directly or whispered through the grapevine. As long as everyone knows how much you despise each other, it suffices.

After your taunt over the rose petals, Mattheo's gaze bore into you beneath impossibly full eyelashes before he released a huff of pure disdain at your rigidity.

"You can piss off with that attitude. I say the one of us who didn't cause an explosion in class last week gets the bigger say over our potion-making," Mattheo countered, to which you promptly stood at attention and turned to face him, hands planted firmly on your hips.

"If that's the qualification, then I've had the upper hand practically every week this entire term! I cause one explosion, and you think you're all that," you argued back, to which Mattheo responded with a tired eye roll before he fixed his spiteful gaze fully on you.

"Well, I do have the right. Especially when you caused the explosion by staring at Cormac fucking McLaggen while biting your lip like an idiot," he grumbled, his voice lowered but the intensity still sending a shiver down your spine. You knew the implications of his words and that the facade could crumble under the man's temper in moments if you didn't tread forward lightly.

"Yeah, well, I don't see why you'd care, but I'll keep my eyes off of him," you begrudgingly relented with a shrug. You would have given him an earful with just about any other provocation, but what he could risk revealing over this wasn't worth continuing to bicker over.

"Good girl," Mattheo purrs the next time he leans closer to grab an ingredient, quiet enough so only you could hear, causing the heat rising between you to stay put. "Guess I'll need to find another reason to cave the bloke's face in," he adds, much to your dismay. You wanted to say something then, but the professor's perfectly timed interjection to order you both to focus on your work momentarily set the matter aside. -----------------

"Are you really going to make an arse of yourself and beat up Cormac if he and I so much as exchange a glance?" You questioned Mattheo incredulously as he hastily pulled you into a nearby empty broom closet with little resistance from yourself. The door had barely clicked shut before he tore off his robe and moved on to remove yours.

"You want to fucking try something? See how that works out for you, I'll make your ass red for weeks," Mattheo growled into your ear as his hands roamed your still-clothed torso, finding purchase on your breasts as he began to knead them, growing desperate for skin-to-skin contact. Your insolence had gotten him painfully turned on, urging him to handle your attitude with touches he knew would render you pliant. The whimpers his groping solicited from you had become the answer to his prayers.

This little arrangement had become second nature to you by now. You give Mattheo lip, which gets him riled up, so you both seek a release for your pent-up frustrations by way of you taking his dick. Each time, without fail, you two agree that this would be the last time. But having 'hated' each other for so long, you know just how to test the other's patience, him becoming as weak to your taunts as you are to his touch.

"Care so much about who I'm looking at, huh?" you mocked Mattheo as he attempted to undo the buttons on your top, his thought capacity overridden by lust. "I thought you hated me," you continued to bait him with a hint of amusement to mask the genuine curiosity for what he might say. A gasp escaped you when Mattheo removed one hand from your chest to take your chin in between two fingers, lifting your head to meet his eyes that were already ruining you in his mind. He pressed his body against yours, letting you feel his hardness through his trousers.

"You know I fucking hate you," Mattheo replied through gritted teeth, his ferocity laced with arousal. "Doesn't mean anyone gets a glimpse of what's mine."

Your lips pulled into a smirk contentedly in response, not the least bit intimidated by him. In fact, you were pretty proud to have evoked such a reaction out of him. Sure, maybe you felt afraid for Cormac, but after witnessing Mattheo Riddle get on his knees to beg for your pussy, it had become difficult to take his threats seriously. The man was down bad, and you relished in the way you could reduce him to a needy mess, though he probably felt similar when you turned into a babbling slut every time he made you cum on his cock. If anything, the rage made you just as greedy for him as he was for you.

You took the lead in removing the rest of your top, freeing Mattheo so he could bury his face in your neck, latching on and sucking the skin to leave noticeable, possessive marks. He proceeded to cover you with hot kisses that trailed further down your chest, with each unclasped button giving him more space to work with until your top was fully removed and strewn on the floor with abandon. He sunk to his knees before you, letting you ensnare one hand in his hair to brace yourself as he took the peak of one of your breasts in his mouth, which brought a moan from your lips. Forgetting the animosity and allowing pleasure to take over, you've all but given up on believing that this time would be the last.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin #slytherin boys

[softpine]

shows up extremely late to the @tricoufamily cas challenge with a half baked mafia concept like just hear me out guys hear me out....

dynamic: mentor/mentee genre: crime

sim 1: DONNA trait: boisterous hair color: platinum blonde hair length: medium extra: glasses

sim 2: CHIARRA trait: jealous hair color: dark brown hair length: extra long extra: freckles

i don't know a single goddamn thing about the mob, i've never even watched the sopranos ❗❗ now that we've gotten that out of the way

it's the late 80s, and chiarra (brunette) is fresh out of cosmetology school and looking for a job as a hair stylist. she ends up renting a booth at a salon on one condition: the property owner, a man with major ties to the mob, wants to take her on a date first. she's charmed by his charisma and loves how close he is with his family, something chiarra never had much of. within a year, the two are married and chiarra has ingratiated herself in the community, however she's quite unpopular with the other ladies. she's seen as a gold digger and an outsider because she didn't grow up in this life. but her job as a hair stylist is secured permanently thanks to her husband.

this is how she meets donna (blonde). donna is kind of a big fucking deal from what chiarra has heard through the grapevine, so she gets nervous and ends up badlyyy messing up her hair the first time she comes in to the salon. she's surprised to find that donna thinks it's hilarious – but she warns her that not everyone would've taken it so lightly, especially because chiarra's husband is not an incredibly influential person to begin with, unlike donna's husband who's like. the boss. but donna takes a liking to her, something the other wives find equal parts annoying and frightening.

through the early years of chiarra's marriage, donna acts as a mentor figure and a listening ear because she's been through it many years ago. but there comes a point where chiarra discovers her husband has been cheating on her, and she's shocked when donna waves it off as something that just sort of happens to all of them. chiarra becomes furious and refuses to accept this when she's been nothing but loyal to him. but instead of confronting her husband, possibly losing her marriage and the new family she's gained, she makes the decision to follow in his footsteps. she carries out secret affairs for a while; just one night stands and brief flings, so her husband won't get suspicious. donna finds it entertaining and turns it into a game, often covering for her. she's always been a gossip, so it's easy for her to keep an ear out for what people are saying about chiarra and deflect suspicion if she needs to.

one night, while their husbands are away, the wine starts flowing and the two of them just go for it. it's quick and they don't even particularly enjoy it because the guilt creeps in almost immediately. in decades of marriage, donna has never betrayed her husband no matter how many times he's done the same. and though chiarra is no stranger to stepping out of her marriage, she hasn't had romantic feelings for anyone but him since they've been together, let alone feelings for another woman.

donna and chiarra try to put some space between themselves, but they both know it's too little too late – and considering they've been inseparable since they met, their distance draws more suspicion than their closeness ever had. without donna there to protect her, chiarra is forced to realize just how disliked she is in her community, and how much donna had been doing to bolster her image. but she doesn't just want everything to go back to normal, she wants more than that. she's determined to make sure donna knows what she's missing out on, taking every opportunity to make her jealous and push her buttons.

this push and pull between them continues until donna learns that her husband has been arrested for racketeering and other crimes -- and it seems that the charges are actually going to stick this time. worst of all, the latest gossip is that chiarra had something to do with it. but is this just chiarra's bad reputation preceding her? would she really do something so dangerous and hurtful just to get donna back? and if it's true, what is donna going to do in retaliation?

thanks for reading my wattpad story :3 r&r plz xDD

#one of my favorite dynamics is ''we had bad forgettable sex 1 time and now we can never be normal again :///'' #many such cases #ts4 #why is ts4 trending right now

[yoimix]

genshin men + sleepless nights

ft. diluc, xiao, kaveh

playlist. afterglow - taylor swift ; like real people do - hozier ; kiss goodnight - i don’t how but they found me

[ tw: nightmares, suggestive ]

✽ diluc is well-acquainted with nightmares. he often wakes up in the quiet of the night to dreadful noise inside his head, grating, punishing him for the past. but now that he instead meets your soft touch and warm breath, he finds himself calming down easier. i’ll keep you safe. he’s said that to you before, in the heat of battle. only recently did he discover you’re keeping that promise when the flames have died down. the world is cruel, but despite that, he will still love you. that is his promise to you. even through rapid, unsteady breathing, he seeks out the nook of your shoulder, pressing his forehead against your skin like you’re the magic remedy to his ailments. you shiver sometimes, mumbling that his hair tickles; it only makes him sigh in relief, and you hold yourself back from giggling maniacally at the sensation. you smooth his hair away from your neck but he only buries himself further in.

“diluc.”

“mhm.”

“now, you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”

“why would i ever do that?”

you huff and diluc smiles, lips pressing against your neck in a flurry of soft kisses.

“diluc! that tickles,” you complain, weakly pushing his head away. a deep chuckle rumbles from him and he rises to finally meet your eyes.

“can i kiss you?” he whispers, suddenly sincere.

“now you ask? after you’ve violated my poor neck like that?”

“you didn’t complain last time.” he raises an eyebrow.

“really, diluc?” you scoff. “where’s all this unbridled confidence coming from? usually you’d blush like a newly-wed bride the moment i whisper something in your ear.”

diluc rolls his eyes, a faint glow over his cheeks under the moonlight. “that’s not true. and... and i... i’m simply enjoying myself.”

you whistle. “mondstadt’s very own winery tycoon discovers the joys of teasing his lover in the dead of night. riveting.”

diluc sighs in exasperation, throwing his hands up. “can you not? you always tease me.”

“you’re so easy to tease.” you bite down your lips. it doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, his impulse fighting to take over the control he exerts.

he caves, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against your mouth. his lips linger; one kiss, two kisses, till he has you pressed against his chest, his arms secure around your waist.

you pull away, before placing a quick kiss to his nose. none of the other kisses have the effect as this one, for his ears nearly spark with the rush of heat to his face.

“are you growing a stubble?” you bite down a teasing smile. “i don’t want my chin all itchy every time we kiss.”

he grimaces. “no. i’ll shave tomorrow. it makes me look too much like my father.”

you purse your lips. it’s the same quiet of winter as the one you met him in. he was a talented boy, and you, the bane of his existence. since then, many winters have passed, some cozy, some silly, and some lonely and grieving. the winery has dimmed (even diluc), but everything is always bright in your wide eyes, from the lush grapevines to the sunset-haired man. you’re both aware you cannot win against time. and so, just like him, you keep every postcard. 

“diluc,” you call, hesitant. “it’s not a bad thing.”

“i know,” he responds curtly. 

you never learned what to say. diluc never wants you to.

he holds your wrist, lifting it up to place your palm against his cheek again. it’s quiet. he breaks eye contact.

“i have regrets, (name). and they’re all because of... my ego.”

“diluc-”

when it rains, it pours.

“if only i were... if only i were a better man... if i were less cruel,” he whispers, remorse coating his tongue like ash. 

you smooth your thumb over his cheek, till he sighs. diluc meets your eyes with the glow of embers, soft and a little lost, maybe. 

“you’re a good man to me,” you say finally. “i think that’s a good start.”

diluc sighs again, snapping himself out of his daze. “and you’re too good to me.”

“who else will buy me sickly sweet flowers and get me the best dandelion wine in mondstadt?”

diluc rolls his eyes, taking your wrists once again to plant a kiss each against them.

“thank you, (name),” he says, a smile finally sprouting on his warm lips.

“of course, diluc,” you mumble. “you mean so much to me... anyway, shall we bake tomorrow? surely you can leave the abyss alone for the weekend.”

diluc blinks. “actually...”

your smile drops and he gulps, swallowing his words.

“yes,” he answers. “my schedule is clear tomorrow. but i’m... i’m not quite proficient with baking, my love.”

“that’s alright.” you wave your hand dismissively before going off on a tangent, on a path of words diluc’s quite familiar with. snapdragon flowers, dandelion seeds, sweet flower jam—you certainly have a wide knowledge of all of these. he’s seen you collect them for hours on end, your odd little baking experiments giving adelinde a heart attack. you’ve always been this way. after all these years, the winery thinks of you as fondly as he does.

diluc tucks your hair behind your ears, running his fingers through your hair once you’re snuggled up in bed again. you’re still mumbling about narrowing down which recipe to try tomorrow morning in a sleep-laced haze. diluc can’t get enough of it.

“you mean so much to me too,” he whispers.

✽ xiao is a warrior first and foremost, and everyone knows warriors can never sleep at night. for xiao, it’s a special case. his war is not a war people can thank him for, nor does he see an end to it. it is invisible to most, and his battle scars are the only monument to his acts of deliverance. but you... you, with your curious eyes and fickle fingers, always running your mouth about his tattoos and breaks in his schedule—is he supposed to open up so easily? is he supposed to sigh in relief at your animated explanations or get so drowsy on sunlit afternoons when you’re around? is he supposed to desperately want to hold you? perhaps he is, for his eyes always seek your figure, hands itching to drop his spear and take your hands instead. if he asks for forgiveness for all that he is, would you smile at him and pretend he is as human as you? no, he’s known you for months. you’d do something outrageously stupid—and it’d be the medicine to all his ailments.

“how is it my fault?” he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“of course it’s your fault!” you huff. 

“i never prevented your... afternoon naps.”

“but you wouldn’t nap with me!” you throw your hands up, reasoning as though it’s common sense for him to know. “do you know how cold it was? i nearly shivered myself off the cliff!”

xiao feels a rush of blood to his cheeks, coughing to hide the hot discomfort.

“and now you refuse to sleep in my nice, warm bed, which i made very specifically for you. not that you care but it’s very comfortable. ahh, it’s good to be home once in a while.”

why are you advertising your bed to him? it’s not like he’s going to buy it. he doesn’t have mora anyway, nor will he ever need to carry it.

“i don’t need to sleep,” he states, re-emphasizing his point. “i am a yaksha.”

“i don’t care,” you grumble, sleeplessness clearly clawing at your brain. “you swore an oath to me.”

xiao blinks. “this was... this was not the oath. i said i’d come to you when you need me if you—”

“—call your name,” you interrupt, tapping your feet impatiently. “xiao. xiao. conqueror of demons. my dearly beloved. xiao. i need your help.”

xiao’s not sure when the terms of the contract spiraled into something like this. you are partners; a dashing young adventurer and a cynical yaksha who are already unlikely to be friends. since when have you grown so close to him? in fact, if he were to lean in...

absolutely not.

xiao straightens. he didn’t realize the physical proximity at first. 

“are you... teasing me?” he nearly spits poison with that question. though, you’d savor that poison like sweet wildberries.

“is it so strange to sleep beside me?” you take a step back, chewing on your lip. some things do deter you. despite being a hardy adventurer.

it’s already strange enough for me to sleep, he wants to say.

“will it make your night easier?” he asks quietly.

you brighten visibly. the moonlight pales when you look like that.

“alright,” he answers, staring at your brisk nodding. 

he sits hesitantly at the corner of your bed, looking up at you with innocuous eyes. you stand in front of him, lacking your usual movement like you’re still processing everything. for a moment, you look flustered. but it’s not like xiao can tell. on your face, everything looks sweet.

“i...i- uh...” you stutter. “i didn’t think i’d get this far.”

xiao raises an eyebrow.

“a-anyway. scoot. this is my favorite side.”

“you... humans have favorite sides?”

“well, some of us do. some of us don’t care. i happen to have one though so you’ll have to deal with it, mr yaksha.”

it’s not like he hasn’t dealt with worse. he drags his legs onto the bed and shifts awkwardly till he’s made space for you.

you jump into bed with the energy of a vishap hatchling, and the thought is so ridiculous he suppresses a smile. 

at first, there is peace. then you inch closer, like slower movement would fool his trained senses. he’s warned you before. karmic debt is not a trifling matter—and your weak skin and bones cannot withstand it. 

time has proved, however, that you are not as weak to him as he is to you.

“does it hurt?” you ask.

“hm?” he turns his head, caught off-guard.

“y’know...” you continue. “your fights. i’ve seen some nasty injuries. do they hurt?”

you’ve never asked him about his past. he’s numb to it now, but you never poke your head there. even if you’ve poked it nearly everywhere it shouldn’t be.

“not quite.”

not now.

perhaps baizhu has been going about the wrong way making medicine for him. or perhaps, you are an ingredient undiscovered by the medical world. 

“good.” you grin, and his heart flakes on him. all this from a smile? the conqueror of demons folding like a crumpled piece of paper? but it’s you, after all. he should know better. “if i hurt you, let me know.”

xiao chokes a little, words spawning and dying just as rapidly in his throat. what can he possibly say to you?

“maybe i won’t have nightmares anymore now,” you mumble, snuggling closer to his arm. it must be uncomfortable, xiao thinks. his arm, bone and muscle, was not made to be rested upon.

but you cling so dearly.

“you’ve been having nightmares?” he asks. he never asks you about your nights. at least directly. acute observation gets him most answers and you are not a difficult person to read. so your declaration truly leaves him puzzled.

you don’t answer immediately.

“(name)?”

“yeah. they make me uncomfortable. but nothing like a little fear to keep me on my toes, right?”

xiao gets what you’re saying, but he doesn’t necessarily approve of it. he’s not the kind to poke his nose into someone else’s business, but at this proximity your fresh, earthy smell mingles so perfectly into his own. is it still someone else’s business if you breathe as one, every exhale tangling into each others’?

“i could eat them.”

you pause to blink before snickering loudly, clutching your stomach. silence follows.

“wait, you’re serious?”

“yes.”

“of course. i should’ve known. uh... i don’t think you need to do that.”

“they don’t hurt me too much.”

“so they do hurt you?”

“...”

xiao purses his lips, trying not to meet your focused gaze. unfortunately, it lands on your sweet, plump lips. he immediately jerks his head to the side.

“i already told you,” you continue, paying no heed. “no more nightmares for me now.”

“you can’t be sure of that.”

“it’s scientifically backed,” you press, voice dropping to a comforting whisper, “that you fall asleep faster, and sleep much better with a loved one.”

does he constitute a loved one? xiao parts his lips and closes them.

“look at me.”

xiao can’t. he’s all too aware of the physical proximity, all too aware of your fingers drawing circles on his arms. you will not ask, he knows. but neither will he.

and sometimes you don’t need to.

you draw nearer to land a kiss on his cheek. it’s not a demanding touch, light as feather, in fact. but xiao feels blood rush to his head like never before.

“you- i- i think that- you look cute,” you manage to say out loud, not quite what you mean. “so... um... can you please look at me?”

xiao turns his head finally, to meet an expression he has never seen before. lips pursed, eyes flitting nervously, and chest heaving slow and unsteady. he’s seen this among mortals. never in you. 

and it’s strange to admit just how accustomed he’s become to mortal life.

xiao’s breath ghosts over your lips, hesitation still clawing at his throat. being a decisive fighter does not make him very decisive in other regards.

so, you do it for him. pressing your warm lips to his, you sigh just as he does, like the night is finally warm again. though his beating heart says otherwise, he feels so at peace for once that drowsiness settles on his eyelids and he draws even closer to you. relief is not a feeling he is accustomed to.

you pull away to place your head against his chest, squeezing his torso in a hug. he knows it’s a way of showing comfort. but he can’t possibly describe what he feels from that. can you do it again?

“will you come sleep here tomorrow night too?” a small smile plays on your lips when you face him.

“i suppose,” he answers.

“and the next?”

“mhm.”

“...and the next?”

xiao cannot help his smile.

“i swore an oath, did i not?”

✽ kaveh is too impatient to stay still in bed when he can’t sleep. he’d rather take advantage of his insomnia to work on the bubbles of inspiration that rise and fizz out as quickly as they come. but every time he’s lying beside you, he can’t bring himself to pry your arms away from his torso. it’d be sacrilege to wake you up, not when you look so quiet and peaceful, away from a world of dry commotions. and on nights you can’t sleep, he refuses to go to bed too. it is imperative to his sleep that you doze off beside him. he doesn’t need incessant proofs of his passion, and he doesn’t need the akademiya’s validation. all he wants is a life as soft and precious as you, like dew on padisarah in the early mornings he sleeps through. oh, all the things he would give up to have you sleeping soundly by his side this night, and the next, and the next. it aches to have you away.

“i can’t sleep, kaveh,” you mutter, annoyed.

“i know,” he responds, lips upturned. “this is the fifth time you’ve said it in the past twenty minutes.”

“you’re exaggerating,” you huff, tugging closer to his chest anyway. “i should not have stayed past six at puspa cafe.”

“ah. so whose fault is it that you can’t sleep?”

you scowl. “i thought the coffee wouldn’t have an effect on me. it wasn’t that strong.”

kaveh quietens, and for a moment, you worry he’s fallen asleep.

“shall we take a walk then? when i watch the city sleep, i want to fall asleep too.”

you pause before sitting up and following his lead, hand in weary hand. you make sure to be as quiet as mice, so as to not wake up kaveh’s sleeping roommate. usually, your boyfriend wouldn’t care. but it seems your considerate nature has taken a toll on him.

the smell of spices still wafts through the streets long after everyone has closed shop. the dogs have followed their owners home, and the strays are curled up by alleys and corners in a huddle of warmth. at least where you’re at, the two of you are the only souls treading the pavement, save for a few stragglers, cats prowling and students celebrating the end of finals. you can almost feel their relief, laughing with kaveh as you notice a young scholar holler in joy with his friends when an old lady immediately shuts them down to be quiet. 

“what was that about the city sleeping?” you hum, elbowing him.

“and you really thought you were immune to caffeine?” kaveh retorts, amusement playing on his lips.

“shut up.” you lightly punch his arm, which he, of course, reacts to overdramatically. to him, that’s the cutest ‘shut up’ he’s ever heard.

a fresh breeze passes by the two of you, making him step closer, shoulders touching and fingers intertwined.

“lately,” he starts, ruby eyes lost in contemplation, “my team’s been researching the lost paradise of king deshret. they say he made a contract with the god of time to build an eternal oasis, all the wonders of the land frozen in a beautiful frame for the goddess of flowers. isn’t that lovely?”

“what’s so lovely about building a cemetery for someone you love?”

kaveh sighs. but when he opens his mouth, there is no answer. you hide a small smile as he thinks.

“well, it was to honor her passing... but you’re right. i’d rather honor the living.”

“well, king deshret also went mad. good to see you’re still sane.”

kaveh turns red. “i’m not joking! you see the beauty in all this, don’t you?”

a smile tugs your lips as you reach out to grab his face. “yes, of course. but more so in your face. and your hands. and your mouth. and your stupid little head with all its wild imaginations.”

“you tease me too much,” he huffs when you’re done planting rapid kisses to his face. his expression is something between a scowl and pout, hands comfortably over yours as they rest against his cheeks.

“do you dislike it?”

“i’m not answering that.”

your laughter is full of heart, and kaveh can’t help but join in, throwing his head back as he does.

saturday evenings are quiet at the center of the city; but the further you branch out towards the hubs, there are lively crowds waiting to greet you. your next destination is lambad’s tavern, stopping to grab a cup of water and converse with kaveh’s old classmates from the akademiya. it must be a ksharehwar thing to seemingly never sleep. 

kaveh’s so-called remedy to sleeplessness ends up turning into a catch-up session, sleep tossed out of the window. the warm glow of the tavern, however, makes you miss his bed more. perhaps his trick did work, in a strange, twisted way. but still, you don’t appreciate the long way around.

it takes a while before you can finally walk out the doors of the tavern—and the night simmers down again when you find him. looks like your boyfriend has made friends with the wood, as he rests his head on one of the outdoor tables of the tavern, all by himself. you feel a sting of guilt for holding him back from his sleep. it’s not easy, working day to day on as little sleep as he does. 

“kaveh,” you call.

he meets you with a dazed smile, clumsy and unsteady in the way he moves.

“did you drink when i wasn’t looking?” you ask, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

he frowns immediately at your accusation, shoulders sagging. “can’t i be this way because of you?”

“well, it’s usually your drunken stupor.”

he huffs. “you’ll never know what you do to me if you keep your so-called logic wrapped so tight around your throat.”

“why? is there something else you’d rather have wr—”

“ahem.” kaveh flushes so deep, he’d put zaytun peaches to shame with that hue. “what i mean is. you don’t know the effect you have on me. it might as well be intoxication.”

you press your knuckle to your nose, trying to hide your smile. kaveh is quick to catch on, his grin widening.

“no, it must be intoxication,” he presses, moving closer to you with eyebrows furrowed. “i even get along with alhaitham these days. can you imagine?”

you giggle. “how frightening.”

kaveh leans in, his eyes shining prettier in the moonlight. if only you knew they open to reflect you. his expression eases and a smile blossoms.

“you make me see love everywhere,” he whispers, lips hesitantly hovering over yours. “and it is wonderful to feel that way. thank you.”

“oh gosh, you’re so... you say sickliest sweet things. it’s disgusting.”

before he can retort, you tug on the strawberry blond strands, pressing your lips to his. he does not let you pull away, his arm snug around your waist. with kaveh, the butterflies never die, natural when his lips taste of honey.

“for the record,” he slurs, drunk off your kiss more than any alcohol. “i would build you more than paradise. i would start laying the bricks for heaven if you asked.”

and you’d make sure he sleeps soundly instead each night he forces himself to work. he’s too sweet for his own good. in the city of wisdom, everyone knows the cost of love without labor. but your attempts to ensure his rest is your labor.

you laugh, patting his cheek. “how about you start laying the bricks to a house of your own?”

an instant pout tugs at his swollen lips. 

“oh, don’t get mad.” you cups his cheeks and pull his face to your level, pressing a feather kiss to his forehead. “i know times are hard for dreamers like you.”

“you make me sound so silly.”

“i’m sorry.” you caress your thumb over his cheek, worried you’ve overstepped in your teasing.

“no.” he smiles sheepishly. “i don’t mind being your silly boyfriend. if it makes you smile, at the very least.”

“you silly man.”

“you’re smiling.”

“is the victory satisfying?”

“sort of...” his voice drops to a cheeky whisper as he leans in close to your ear. “but the rest of the night can be... more so.”

“kaveh. we’re in public!”

“what, it’s not like it’s a secret. alhaitham and our poor neighbors are the first victims if you suddenly want to be considerate of that.”

“oh my god.”

“c’mon. kiss me. there’s no one else outside.”

“if there’s anyone who appreciates a room, it should be you.”

“mhm. yes. a bedroom, more so right now.”

you smack your hand over his mouth, unable to hold back your laughter at the flabbergasted look on his face. it slowly morphs into annoyance, and then acceptance. 

“don’t be upset,” you say, placing a light kiss on his nose. 

you know just the way to sedate him. kaveh should have you arrested for whatever violations you’re committing against him. there must be laws against the fevers you raise on his skin. right?

“shall we go home?” you smile with sleepy eyes.

and his heart melts. there’s nothing more he wants than a home with you. 

“lead the way, my love.” he grins wide, and suddenly, the marble and the cobblestones melt away, your hand over his the only stronghold left. it is not loud enough yet to leave his mouth, but the answer to the architect’s greatest dilemma—is you. 

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #kaveh x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #xiao fluff #kaveh fluff #diluc fluff #xiao x you #kaveh x you #diluc x you #genshin impact imagines #Xiao scenarios #kaveh scenarios #diluc scenarios #yoimix.hc #a yoimix post? in this economy? #dont ask why kavehs part is so long im going feral waiting for him #also: ik deshret didnt make a contract with istaroth or anything i just assume celestial nails arent common knowledge lol

[kingpreciouswrld]

If you’re still accepting Miranda Priestly x Reader fic ideas i’ve got one!

Miranda and Reader have been married or a long time now secretly of course to prevent a media mishap. The reader is a stylist who sometimes stops to visit and help with a showcase, maybe she comes in casually to have lunch with Miranda and gets stopped by Andrea and Emily who try to get her to leave as they don’t know her(only Nigel does) and they’re both trying to tell Emily and Andrea that she’s allowed back there without exposing the marriage, eventually Miranda just comes out and asks why they’re touching her wife ( or something of the sort???) feel free to branch from this

ask and ye shall receive!

I hope you like it! It's been a while since I've written for anyone but myself :3

Nobody's Gonna Know

It’s an unusually busy day in your office. The clothes you’ve ordered haven’t arrived yet and your workers seem to not know how to conduct themselves in a manner without the very needed materials. You looked on through the glass doors as your workers ran around like headless chickens, trying to come up with something to show you before you needed to leave.

As a well-known stylist, it was your job to come up with new and creative or out-of-the-box looks to those who paid for your help. You mainly helped with showcases that Runway Magazine held and the clothes you needed today were actually from Runway Magazine. Through the grapevine you’ve heard that their workers were just as clueless as yours when it came to the clothes you were seeking.

As you sat in your little office, you thought back to when you first started out. You were a nobody, hell you weren’t even a New York local. No, you came from a small town in the middle of nowhere. Having nothing to your name, you first tried making it in California. You gained some traction which led you to move to New York. At first you were against it. You didn’t like big cities all that much, it just wasn’t your scene but you knew that your talent and job called for being around big things.

A year into the job, you attended a charity event where you were introduced to the one and only, Miranda Priestly. It was hard to read the woman at first but you saw it in her eyes, she liked you or at least, your work. That’s how it all started. You started to come and do jobs at Runway Magazine while also taking some jobs on the side. Not to mention the growing relationship between you and the editor which also included the lives of her rambunctious daughters and her slobbery saint bernard.

3 years passed and Miranda and you kept things underwraps. Heaven knows you’d have a field day for Page Six and their stinging words, so you have kept your relationship from everyone. Well, everyone except those closest to you.

Sighing, you looked at the clock. It was almost lunch time and Miranda didn’t like to be kept waiting.

You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, “Annie, reschedule the runthrough until this afternoon. I’m sure Runway will do the same due to the circumstances with its clothing gone missing. I’m going out for lunch.” Your assistant nodded and frantically went to work at her computer as you passed her.

Making your way to Elias Clarke, you weaved through the small crowds before entering the building– blending in with the clackers around you. No one knew about your relationship with the fashion queen so you easily blended with crowds and you loved it. No one bothered you.

Until they did.

You had made your way up to Runway’s floors when you passed the front desk and made your way towards Miranda’s inner sanctum. You’ve been to Runway multiple times so no one blinked an eye as you strolled down the halls.

Reaching the outer office of Miranda’s, you haven’t intended to actually be stopped by her assistants.

Andy was the first to notice you as Emily was out.

“Oh! Y/n! I’m sorry but Miranda is in a meeting so you wouldn’t be able to go in right away.” 

You looked at the clock above the assistant’s desk. 11:56 am. Knowing your wife, you knew she wouldn’t mind if you interrupted her work. She never minded when you did it at home, so why would her workplace be different?

“Trust me, I think Miranda wouldn’t mind Andy. So I’m just gonna…”

You tried to step past the young woman but Andy just stepped in front of you. The assistant’s eyes widened as you tried to step past her again but she blocked your way through.

There was only so much you could do so you sighed as you looked back at the clock. 

11:58 am.

This time, you tried to listen for the soft voices coming from your wife’s office. There were only two that you could pick up on. One was, of course, Miranda’s but the other was a man’s voice. Somewhat…feminine? But not too feminine.

“Is it just Nigel and Miranda in there?”

As you tried stepping past the brunette, again she blocked your path.

“Look Y/n, if you keep this up I’m going to have to call security.”

At this time, Emily walked in and took in the scene in front of her, “Andrea? What’s going on here?”

As Andy was distracted, you tried to step past her again but only to be grabbed by the arm and pulled back, away from Miranda’s office door, “Woah! Okay, no touchy, alright? These cost more than your paycheck alright?”

Emily huffed and rolled her eyes but didn’t release you. Andy looked like she was nervous about losing her job. She knew you were stubborn and wouldn’t stop until you were able to see Miranda.

“Since you already have her, escort her to the lobby Em. She’s been trying to break into Miranda’s office. “ ‘Break into’? I’m just trying to see my– ugh, look, I’ll just wait alright? You guys don’t need to be so touchy about–”

Before you could finish your sentence, the brit was already moving towards the front desk area. You immediately stood your ground so the redhead would have a harder time moving you. You’d show them stubborn.

As the three of you were arguing and you were still struggling against Emily’s hold– you didn’t know how the redhead was this strong– you three failed to notice Miranda’s office door open.

“Look, if you let me go, i’ll make sure you still have your job at the end of the day, alright?”

Emily scoffed, “As if you’re so important here, you’re just a small town no one who just happened to meet Miranda and kiss her ass all the way till–”

“Is there a reason you’re restraining my wife?”

Both assistant’s straightened their posture at the cool voice before they realized what she said.

Emily gaped, looking like a fish out of water while Andy looked more afraid of losing her job this time.

Miranda’s eyes were still where Emily had a grip on you and she glared at the redhead, “Let. Go. Emily.” 

The brit let your arm go as if your arm burned her and you grumbled as you rubbed your arm, trying to soothe the lingering pain of Emily’s grip. Behind the editor, Nigel looked as if he was about to burst out laughing at the girls’ faces.

“Now, how about some lunch my love?”

#miranda priestly x reader #miranda priestly #tdwp

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Something old, something new

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~4.4k

Summary: New experiences

A/N: This is not inspired by anything, idk what you mean.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of kink/BDSM, smut

You take a deep breath as the car rolls to a stop at the curb. You have to remind yourself that everything is going to be fine, and that you have prepared as much as possible for what tonight will bring. You were venturing out of your comfort zone, and visiting a brand-new club downtown that you’d heard about through the grapevine. First at work someone mentioned a ‘sex club’ in the city, and you’d brushed off the idea. It sounded ridiculous, even in a city as liberal as this one. 

Then you heard about it again a couple of months later. You heard about the grand opening that was happening and how their doors would be open to anyone for just one night. Anyone who agreed to sign the many, many pages of waivers and contracts. 

The grand opening of the city’s first BDSM club was tonight, and you had somehow convinced yourself to check it out. 

You run your hands down your front with another sigh before you dare to open the door and get out of the car. You’d gotten a ride tonight because you had no idea what to expect and if you just ended up getting wasted, you didn’t want to worry about your car. 

You push down your nerves and shut the door behind you, and head straight for the front of the line as you’d been told to do. You ignore the couple of protests you hear as you take your ID out of your pocket and show it to the already frowning bouncer. When he sees it, he just smiles before ushering you inside and directing you toward one of the people inside with a clipboard.

You take the stack of papers that are handed to you and you skim them as you walk further into the club. The quiet music and the sounds of chatter grow louder as you turn to the last page in front of you. You sign your initials a dozen times then your full name at the bottom of the last page before handing it to another woman waiting at the end of the hallway. She offers you a smile, and you return it with one you’re sure is a little forced. 

“Enjoy and stay safe.” 

You nod and try not to think about how you could land yourself into trouble. You need to focus on why you’re here. 

To explore.

You do your best not to stare at any one, or group of people for too long as you glance around. You see a variety of people, in various states of dress. Someone has a woman who’s kneeling at her feet and staring up at her with a hungry look. She’s wearing a collar that’s attached to a leather leash. You look away before your thoughts wander too far, and you end up looking at the bar that has an impressive selection of booze. 

You’re tempted to try something new, but you know that you should keep a clear head for tonight. You want to enjoy it as much as possible, and you want to remember it as much as possible. 

You take a second to relax your shoulders as you slide onto a stool with a small smile. You are a couple of stools away from the closest patron, but you focus on the bottles in front of you instead of worrying about sticking out. 

You’d dressed up for the occasion, and you try to feel as confident as some of the other women around you. You know that you look good in your dress, but as it rides up your thighs when you cross your legs, you feel a hint of self-consciousness creep up on you. 

“What can I get you, hon?” 

You ask for your go-to drink and wait patiently for it to arrive. You allow your gaze to wander a bit, and you have to look away twice when you accidentally make eye contact with two women. It takes you a few more seconds to realize that there are only women in this club. 

Your drink is set in front of you and you mutter a thank you as your eyes scan the room once again. It’s a busy opening night and you wonder how many of these women are going to end up in one of the private rooms that you’d heard about. 

“You look tense. Do you need something stronger?” 

You turn around at the same time that you register the feeling of a hand on your lower back. You’re met with a pair of beautiful eyes that are bright with interest and something else that you can’t immediately place. You can’t help the blood that rushes to your cheeks when you realize that the brunette in front of you is stunning. You’re glad to already be sitting because you’re sure that you would have stumbled back, maybe swooned at the sight of this woman if you’d been on your feet. 

You completely forget to answer her question, and instead let your eyes stray over her expensive clothes and her captivating gaze. 

“Or maybe not?” 

You hear her chuckle, but it still takes a few seconds for you to tear your gaze away from her deep red suit and the gold necklace that drops low enough that you realize you’re staring at the swell of her cleavage. Your face is flushed by the time you meet her gaze again, and it deepens when you realize you’d been caught. You try to ignore the smirk you’re met with as you clear your throat and turn back to your drink. You shake your head before turning toward her with a shy smile. You lean back against her hand and hum under your breath before gesturing to the seat beside you. 

“I’m fine. Thank you though. Would you like to sit?” 

You’re surprised your words come out in the proper order because your mouth feels dry and you’re suddenly not sure what you’d planned to do here tonight at all. You suddenly don’t care if you end up sitting here all night. Hell, if you keep present company, you’ll consider yourself lucky.

“You seem nervous. First time in a place like this?” 

You can’t stop yourself from blushing slightly. Is it that obvious? You realize you don’t have to answer this question when you see the amused glint in your company’s eyes. You eventually sigh in defeat before nodding and muttering under your breath. 

“Yes.” 

When she sits down beside you, her hand leaves you and you have to remind yourself not to show your disappointment. You watch as the bartender comes up almost immediately and takes her order. She doesn’t look away from you as she asks for an Old Fashioned. 

“Well, what do you think?” 

You aren’t sure what you’d expected, but the genuine interest makes you pause. You’d thought about giving a generic answer that was only half true, but for some reason you want to be honest. She makes you want to tell the truth, despite only having spoken with her for 30 seconds. 

You glance around again until your gaze falls on a pair of women, you think at least, in a dark corner making out like there’s no one else in the room. There are hands in places you can’t see, and the way they’re moving against each other makes you think that they’ll be horizontal soon, or at least they should be. 

“It’s not what I expected, but somehow…I expected that.” 

When a drink is placed between you two, you look back toward the brunette who’s wearing a contemplative look. She’s crossed her legs and she reaches out for her drink with sigh. You watch mesmerized as she takes a sip without breaking eye contact with you. 

“Do you like any of what you saw? Does it appeal to you?” 

You finish off your drink and let your thoughts wander to the woman on a leash. That doesn’t really appeal to you, but the idea of being at someone’s mercy, putting your trust in them makes your head spin. You’re brought back to the present by a gentle touch of a hand that disappears far too quickly for your liking.

“I can tell from your expression that you do.” 

You summon your earlier confidence and lean against the bar with a smirk as you pluck the cherry from your drink. You pop it into your mouth and you smile sweetly when you’re fixed with a darkening gaze. 

“Why so curious? Are you interested?” 

You don’t let yourself hope that she is interested. You would love nothing more than to be introduced to this world by a beautiful, confident woman. You’d allow her to sweep you off your feet, or bring you to your knees. Whichever she wanted just so long as you had her attention. 

You feel your body flush with heat when your response is a low chuckle. You wait for the proposal that you know is coming. The way she rakes her eyes up and down your body makes you want to squirm in your seat. You can feel your need build as bare fingers graze yours and rest against your racing pulse. 

“You have no idea what I’m interested in.” 

It sounds like the closest thing you’ll get to an invitation; the way she emphasized the last two words. You’re not a patient person by nature, so you jump the gun and start to wonder when you’ll be able to steal a kiss. The thought makes your smile turn down into as passive an expression as you can manage given how eager you are. You’re sure she can see right through it, but that’s half the fun as far as you’re concerned. You want someone who will pay attention to detail, someone who can read you well. 

“Then why don’t you show me?” 

The next thing you know, you’re being led across the crowded club to an unknown destination. It’s not that it took much to get you on your feet. Nothing more than a heated look and a ‘follow me’ and now you’re wandering off to who knows where. You’re not concerned though because you feel at ease with the woman who seems to know exactly where she’s going. There’s a voice in the back of your head that’s warning you that you should be more cautious, but as you arrive to a dark, secluded hallway, your excitement drowns everything else out. 

Suddenly, she stops and you’re backed up against the wall before you can blink. You gasp in surprise, but the sound is quickly swallowed by soft lips against yours. You’re too caught up in the taste of her lips to respond to the soft yet possessive kiss, and by the time you regain some of your capacity for thought, she’s pulled away. 

You wait as she pins you with a hungry look as the hand that found its way to your shoulder drifts toward your neck. The silver necklace you wore that complemented your outfit briefly draws her attention. You hold your breath when she presses her fingers against your neck before they drift down toward the neckline of your dress.

“Listen…” 

When she just stares at you after she trails off you realize that she’s waiting for you to say something. You’re not sure what it is, but you go out on a limb and assume it’s an introduction. Considering what you imagine is coming next, you figure it’s the next logical step. 

“Y/n…?” 

You can see the amusement flash in her eyes, but she decides not to tease you and to focus on the matter at hand. Still, she hums in acknowledgement and lets her hand rest against your chest absentmindedly.

“Mmm beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” 

You feel the heat creeping up your neck, and try to look away to hide your blush, but your gaze is quickly guided back to hers with a firm hand on your chin.

“Listen, Y/n. I’m not looking for romance or anything like that.” 

You frown a little at the thought, but you don’t get to consider what you’re doing here before she’s clarifying her meaning. You feel your heart rate spike and your palms start to sweat at the idea of what she’s proposing. 

“I’m looking for a play thing. Interested?” 

You only have to think about it for a second. Although you’re not quite sure what it entails, your presence here at this club and the fact that this woman has held your attention from the moment you saw her, you can’t deny you’re interested. You’re pretty sure you’d do anything she asks you right now if there’s a chance you’ll get to spend the night with her. 

You nod in response and instead of the approval you’d anticipated, you receive a frown instead. She releases your chin as she shakes her head and takes a step back that leaves you cold and nearly panicky. 

“I need to hear you say it. Tell me that you want this.” 

You’re stuck on the idea of what this is as you open your mouth to respond. Can you really promise to be onboard if you don’t know exactly what will be waiting for you? While you’re becoming annoyed at yourself for worrying about semantics, you miss the brunette move toward you until she’s backed you into the wall again with her hands on either side of your head. You gasp in surprise but nearly moan when you feel her warm breath against your ear. She kisses your cheek before squeezing your hips with a sigh.

“Tell me you want me to show you all of the pleasures submission can bring.” 

You can’t stop the moan that passes your lips and your hips move without your consent only to meet resistance as hands drop down to pin you against the wall. You’re nodding in response despite knowing that it won’t be enough, but you can’t make your brain work well enough to form words. 

“I don’t like to repeat myself, detka. Tell me.” 

You aren’t sure what you say, but you’re sure it’s something along the lines of ‘yes please,’ and ‘God yes’. When you receive a kiss to your cheek you realize that your eyes had fallen closed. In front of you in the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, but unlike before, she looks like she’s struggling with her own self-control. You only see the eagerness in her eyes for a split second before she returns to her calm self who is speaking to you about sex as if she’s talking about the weather. 

“If this is something you’re interested, we’ll need to have ground rules before we can begin to explore.”

You find yourself nodding before you can stop, but you open your mouth before you can be chastised again. 

“I promise you’ll be in good hands. I should tell you now though that I’m a jealous Mistress. I don’t like to share.” 

Your breath catches at the title and you have to bite your lip to keep from moaning again. The imagery alone associated with the name makes you weak in the knees. 

“If you agree to be mine, you’ll be mine. No one else can have you.” 

You feel your breathing return to normal as you watch her leave you to open a door you just noticed hiding within the dark walls. While wondering what’s behind the door, you miss the curious look that’s directed toward you. She can tell you’re distracted, so she decides to take a step back and address something important.

“Is this still something you’re interested in?”

“Yes.” 

She keeps her hand on the door, but doesn’t move to open it as she shoots you a smile. 

“Good girl.”

You ignore the shiver that runs up your spine at her words. You stand up straight and take a step toward her before you even realize you’ve moved. You feel like you’re in a trace, but you can’t ignore the excitement that’s causing your heart to race. 

“Will you trust me to guide you through this? To teach you?” 

You watch as she reaches her free hand out for you with a curious look, and you don’t hesitate to meet her halfway. You stop though just short of touching her when something occurs to you. From your research, you’re aware that there are many possible answers to your next question, but instead of letting your mind run rampant, you figure you should just ask. 

“I do—um. What do I call you?” 

The sweet smile you receive in response is enough to convince you that you’re making the right choice. You grasp her hand and wait as she opens the door to one of the private rooms before you follow her inside, eager to see what awaits you both in the night ahead. 

“You may call me Wanda.” 

You think that the name fits her perfectly and you smile in response before allowing yourself to be led into the unknown.

The room is dimly lit and the first thing you notice is the large four poster bed in the middle of the room. Your focus only stays here for a moment because your eyes are drawn to the shelves full of all types of toys that make your face flush. You see whips and blindfolds, and things you can’t even identify. You turn away to try and stop your imagination from running wild, but your gaze lands on a large wooden cross that’s covered in leather. The ends have shackles on them and you feel your breath catch at the sight. 

“Look at me.” 

You don’t hesitate to turn to Wanda, and you find her reaching out for you. She places her hands on your shoulders before sliding them toward your neck to bury them in your hair. She twirls several locks around her fingers as she tries to capture your attention. 

“Tell me, Y/n. What do you like?” 

In any other situation, you could have pretended like she was asking about your general interests. However, given the fact that you’re standing in the middle of a kinky playroom, there’s no room for misinterpreting her question. You bite your lip as you glance around the room again before you shake your head. You look down in shame because despite all of the glorious possibilities, you don’t know what you want. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

Instead of a sigh of frustration or perhaps even a mocking laugh, you feel Wanda’s hand brush against your cheek and lift your head up so you’re meeting her reassuring gaze. 

“Then we’ll find out together.” 

You nod in response, but you’re unsure of how you’ll be able to figure out what you want to do when you have absolutely no experience with any of this. Well, most of it. You recognize some toys. 

As if sensing your doubt, Wanda brushes a lock of hair behind your ear with a small smile. 

“Know this. I won’t do anything without your explicit consent. Do you have a safeword?”

You open your mouth to say that you do, but the one you’ve used before seems ridiculous in this setting, so you shake your head. 

“No.” 

Wanda nods before releasing you and stepping back and running her hands down her jacket as if it wasn’t already perfect. 

“Okay. Let’s keep it simple, and go with the light system. ‘Red’ means stop everything now, ‘yellow’ slow down, and ‘green’ well that’s obvious.” 

You feel comforted by Wanda’s obvious concern for your well-being. Now that you’re reassured, you start to consider what happens next. You don’t get very far before Wanda moves so she’s standing beside you, and you both take a moment to consider your options.

“Now look around, and tell me what you feel.” 

Your first thought is intimidated. You could be easily overwhelmed if you try to consider how you would be able to handle each and every identifiable thing in front of you. Instead, you focus on what caught your attention first, and held it long enough to become a distinct possibility. 

“I…excited. Eager.” 

Wanda walks over to the shelves at the far wall and reaches out to run her fingers over the silk blindfolds laid out. 

“What excites you? What is it you want, detka?” 

You open your mouth to speak, but the words are caught in your throat. Wanda doesn’t give you time to free them as she moves along the wall and runs her fingers across each item she comes to. You feel your stomach clench at the sight of Wanda playing with the coils of rope that lay beside the blindfolds. 

“Do you want to be bound and at mercy of your Mistress?” 

Your mouth feels dry all of a sudden, and you don’t even bother trying to respond as Wanda turns on a dime and reaches for one of the riding crops propped against a large throne-like chair. 

“Or do you want something in between pleasure and pain?” 

You feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of how many times you’ve wondered what it would be like to have someone spank you during sex. You don’t realize that Wanda is standing in front of you until the smell of her perfume invades your senses. You jump in surprise before you stiffen when you realize that she’s dragging the riding crop down your arm. 

“Tell me. What is it that you want?” 

You turn to Wanda and open your mouth to respond, but she shakes her head with a stern look. She takes you by the chin and turns you back toward the shelves in front of you. 

“Don’t look at me. Look and focus on how you feel. What is it that you want?” 

You don’t know what to say first as your mind fills with answers. You let your eyes fall closed as you think about what will make you feel the most. You can’t pick just one. 

“I want…I want it all. I want to try it all.” 

You feel your skin twitch as the crop leaves your arm and Wanda comes around behind you with a smile you can’t see. 

“I want to show you everything.” 

You shiver when she slides a hand up your arm and toward you neck before dropping toward your breasts. Your breath catches as she glides over your stomach and down to your thighs. Her touch sets your body alight and fills you with desire so strong you feel weak in the knees. 

“But tonight, I just want you. I want to feel you lose control.”

Her hand pushes the hem of your dress higher up your thighs until she’s revealed the lace underneath. She brushes a finger between your legs and smiles at the confirmation that you’re already soaked. You bite back a moan as you fall into Wanda with a gasp.

“Is that what you want?” 

You continue to tremble against Wanda as her other hand slides up your stomach to squeeze your breast under your dress. You let out a moan that makes Wanda squeeze harder and your eyes slam shut at the overwhelming need you feel.

“Do you want me to make you fall apart?” 

Your head falls back against Wanda’s shoulder and you let out a breathy curse. “Shit, yes. Please.” 

Wanda pushes up your dress again just enough to slip her hand in your panties. You moan loudly and arch your back while rocking your hips into Wanda’s hand. She tightens her hold around you before pulling you close. Your heart is thundering in your chest and you don’t think you’ll last very long if Wanda keeps this up. You curse when you feel fingers tease your clit, and you open your eyes to see Wanda watching you in awe. 

“If you’re to be mine, you have to  be completely loyal to me. I am your Mistress.” 

Your hips continue to jump against every touch between your legs, and you begin to feel your mind go blank at Wanda’s words and ministrations.

“I am your everything. Give yourself to me.” 

Your body betrays you, and you sag further against Wanda as she holds you tight against her as she continues to please you. You moan as her fingers curl deep inside you as her thumb circles your aching clit. You’re nearly panting as you try to keep yourself from peaking too soon. 

“That’s it. You’re close, aren’t you?”

You nod frantically but you can’t speak. Your hips lose their rhythm against Wanda’s fingers and you know it won’t be long now. 

“If you want me to let you come, tell me who you belong to, detka.” 

You don’t hesitate to respond as enthusiastically as you can without being able to think straight. 

“You. I’m yours.” 

You feel Wanda smile against your neck as she kisses you and practically growls in your ear. 

“That’s right. You’re mine. No one gets to touch you but me. You’re all mine.” 

“Yes!” 

You reach out for the arm that’s still holding you tightly, and you gasp as you feel your orgasm crash over you. You shudder violently in Wanda’s arms and you’re barely able to support yourself as she continues to ease you through it. 

“You belong to me, Y/n.” 

You barely have time to nod before Wanda’s turning you to face her, and meeting your lips in a soft yet possessive kiss. You moan against her lips and break away too soon for her liking. Still, she lets you recover as you pant heavily against her front. She’s still keeping you on your feet, but you don’t seem to notice as you wait until your limbs start to work again. 

“Fuck, Wands. That was…”

You don’t have words to describe how fantastic you feel, but you realize they’re not needed when Wanda chuckles and kisses your cheek with a sigh. She removes her hand from between your legs and you have to stop yourself from whining from the loss. 

“We’re definitely buying a membership to this place.” 

You smile before nodding in agreement as you try and force yourself to your feet. You stager a bit which makes Wanda smile smugly. It’s gone by the time you turn around and meet her lips for another kiss. You wrap your arms around your beautiful wife’s waist and sigh before nodding in agreement. 

“Definitely.” 

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #mob au #silver springs drabble #silver springs

[leftingbadly]

snow burning. pt 1 | simon riley

After a disastrous mission that goes awry, Simon Riley and Lyla come to the agreement of sleeping in each other's beds to ward off the horrors. They are the horrors.

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x OFC

-;

Loving Simon was a lot like grief, and grief, she found, was a lot like walking through snow. 

“You’re spacing out again.”

Her words drifted through the empty air between them. The metal spoon in her mouth muffled her words, and the creek of the chair shifting as she moved was the only response to her words she received. Simon Riley was a silent man outside the confines of his bedroom, beneath his sheets, and she found that whenever she would leave his room in the morning and see him in the common areas of base during the day, the shift was as jarring as the day it happened before. Over and over again. The man she knew at night, and the man she knew during the day, were polar opposites of the other. 

“Focus on yourself, soldier.”

“Oh captain, my captain,” her begrudged voice mumbled, getting up from the table and putting her dirty dish in the sink. 

Simon’s eyes followed her as well as they could without turning his head, her eyes were forefront facing and hard, not staring at him. And John Mactavish’s eyes followed them. 

He didn’t truly know what to make of their relationship. Truth be told, neither did any of the other members of the team. The dazzling woman, codename Lyla, stemming from the English rock band “Oasis” had fallen on Task Force 141 like a meteor nine months ago. It had taken her one month to grate the skin of Simon Riley with her words, three months for that to develop beyond initial irritation and snapping words to, well, John wasn’t really sure what it was between them now. They snapped at each other less, they worked better together on missions, and that meant that the team worked better on missions, so no one could complain, not really. 

The problem, though, was when that frail sense of ceasefire ended between the two of them, and it was back to square one. 

“Alright, Simon?” The Scottsman asked. He received a grunt in reply as the other man stood up roughly. John could hear the grating of the chair against the hard, stone floor, he could practically see the splinters in the wooden furniture as Simon pushed it back with his massive weight and left the room. And took the thick, tension filled air with him. 

Loving Simon was like grief in the sense that it never ended. You learnt to grow around it. You pushed through it. Because love, and grief, demanded to be felt. 

Lyla walked fast. She was a fast girl, and more than that, she knew how to hide herself when she didn’t want to be found. So when she left the canteen with the unmoving head and trailing eyes of Simon Riley on her, she knew that there was only a finite number of seconds she had to her name before he would get up and follow her after. She knew this, because she knew him. Much like in the same sense he knew her. And because he knew her, he knew that if she didn’t want to be found, she would find you. And that meant that the only option Simon Riley had was to go back to his room, shower, and wait for her to show up. And so that’s what he did. 

Because grief was a lot like walking through snow in the sense that it had to be walked through. In the sense that it was slow, and it was cold and it was hard. But much like walking through snow and walking back to his bedroom that night, at the end of it all, there was warmth. Simon shrugged off his jacket the same way he shrugged off his grief, and hung it on the coat hanger just beside his bedroom door. There, it would stay until he was ready to place it on his shoulders again. 

At least, that’s what he thought.

Because unlike snow, grief did not melt. Grief did not wane in the sun or the wind or the breeze. Grief stood there, adamant and stubborn, and griefed choked, too. Grief waiting in your gut, in your stomach, wrapping around your ribs and throat like grapevines twirling on every surface it could find. Grief toppled you over and forced your chest to rise and fall and rise and fall and rise and fall and rise–

And that’s how she found him. 

The door was open. It was always open, for her. It had been doing that strange thing for her since she and he had come back from a mission three months ago, it was meant to have been purely recon. Gather intel, get out. Simple. But nothing was ever simple in war, and they had been caught, and for a month after they had been stationed in a foreign country, on a foreign continent, with no aid or way to reach, well, anyone, really. And during those days they did what they could, and during those nights they tried to do more than what they could. The constant and continuous sounds of drones, and bombs, and rockets and every other god-forsaken piece of man-made machinery one could envision or not envision rained down on the areas surrounding them. Landing on homes, landing on hospitals, landing on schools. And they stayed there in a cave they had found amidst rubble and broken homelands, and they held onto each other. 

And they held onto each other at night every night since.

So when she came to his bedroom that night, to try and stave off those envisionings again, she wasn’t surprised to have found him on the floor with his chest rising and falling. The black and white skull-face balaclava still set on his face, hiding him from the world. He had showered, that much she could tell, but he hadn’t managed to make it into the safe confines of his bed before the horrors had found him. 

For a moment she stood there and watched, for a moment she wondered if he would have wanted her help at all. This wasn’t what they did. They didn’t help each other like this. This wasn’t part of the deal. What they did do was hold onto each other at night, what they did do was remind one another that there was at least one semblance of a life buoy, a raft, a lighthouse, that they could at least pretend cared about their survival. That was all they needed. And so she watched as his gaze turned to her. 

You’re spacing out again.

She remembers her words from earlier. She remembers it as a warning. To him, it was a warning. Perhaps when Soap had heard it, there was nothing more than an observational lilt to her voice. But Simon had understood what she meant. And he had hated her for being able to pick him apart in such a sense. Because if he was honest with himself, he hated that he needed her in his bed to sleep. He hated that he had to hold onto her to find that minute amount of peace and ease the anxiousness of the world. And he hated that she only ever knew him enough to even be able to know when he was about to crash because he allowed her to know. And he hated that he allowed it. 

And so she stared at him now, and saw that contempt in his eyes.

And he looked up at her as he held onto his throat, and begged her to help him. 

Because this is what they did now. This is what they were going to do. She was going to step towards him, and she was going to place herself between his legs on the ground, and she was going to hold her hand over his mouth and nose and she was going to force him to hold his breath. And she was going to stare into those eyes that glared at hers, and her own were going to say to his; remember that this will pass.

“Three weeks,” much later, that was his response to her unasked question. “And two days.”

Three weeks and two days since his last attack. She made a mental note of it, but she didn’t know what she was going to do with that information. 

A glass shattering brought her attention from the side of the bed, her side, always her side, where she had stepped out of her shoes. Simon was standing near the sink in his bedroom, the metal one that seemed to dent beneath the grip of his hands. 

“You’re fraying,” her words were unhelpful to him. He knew he was fraying. “You’re making it worse by not talking about it.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to talk about?” His words were laced with an anger she was used to. It was the sound of a rifle firing on civilians, the sound of a bomb dropping on hospitals. It was the sound of Simon Riley breaking. 

“I didn’t know stupid questions were on the itinerary for the night.” She shot back. Because this is what she did. This was what he needed her to do. To give him something to hate. To give him something to hold, after. When the hate grew tired. “Should we skip the cuddling and talk about your daddy issues next?”

He was on her before she knew it. Large body overshadowing hers like the moon to the sun, a total eclipse of the kindness he often showed her, during their nights. The lighthouse dimmed, and the buoy floated further away. His hand wrapped around her throat, but his other hand held the back of her head, slamming her down onto the feather pillows behind her. 

“You really fucking piss me off,” he lied. “Do you want to die?”

“Yes,” her words, however, were truthful. Broken-hearted and small. This was what she was like to him. Here, in his room, on his bed. With her head on his soft pillows and his hand cutting off the circulation to her throat. There was nothing good about the way they were for each other, but it wasn’t about being good when it came to them. It was about survival. And this was how they survived. 

He pushed off of her. His eyes never left hers as they fluttered from his left one to his right one. Simon never took the balaclava off. Not even when he slept. Not even when she had tried to rip it from his face one time. That action had only gotten her a harsh welt on the face in the shape of a handprint. It was okay, she deserved it. It felt good, to be frank. 

“Are we sleeping tonight or not?” She was becoming tired with the way he seemed to be on and off tonight. But she was used to this. She had spent an entire month locked up in a cave with him, she knew how bad he could get. And she had willingly placed her soft body in his bed every night since. Granted, he never fucked her, but maybe that was part of the problem. 

“I can’t tonight. You can just go back.”

But she didn’t move. Of course she didn’t move. An avalanche was not deterred by the sun. “Do you want me to hold you?”

He paused for a moment. Maybe. 

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

“Get the fuck out of my room, Lyla.”

“I’m good here, thanks.”

And she dug into his blankets. And she made herself comfortable on the soft pillows he had placed there for her, so many months ago. And his body sighed in relief, glad she was not deterred by his callousness. 

pt 2.

#cod mw2 #simon riley #writing #simon ghost riley #fanfiction #simon riley x oc #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost smut #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost face x reader smut #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #fanfic #cod ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost simon riley #simon riley ghost

[turbulentscrawl]

Alva Lorenz General HCs

You'll have for forgive me for any typos--this man's been on my mind for two days and I have to get these out. I'm too impatient to check everything hahah

-Alva did not actually betray Luca by passing off any pf Herman’s work as his own. Though he did always maintain some interest in the concept of a perpetual motion machine, Alva didn’t dedicate much time to working on it after Herman’s death. He did, however, start the fire which killed Herman in an outburst-fueled accident similar to how Luca later killed him. Alva, however, escaped suspicion of the event and was not legally punished.

-Alva knew Herman had a son and, though he never personally met Herman’s family, knew who Luca was through grapevine rumors. He agreed to take Luca on as his student partially out of guilt for his unexposed crime, and partially because he had no children of his own and quickly felt a certain parental urge for Luca. They shared a lot in common and got on very well, very quickly, and their relationship was great right up until the accident. The documentation that seems to indicate their relationship deteriorating is coincidental. (ex, Luca’s experiments slowly transitioning from both he and Alva signing off on them to just Luca was Alva giving Luca more independence because he trusted him, rather than them growing apart or secretive.)

-I think Alva may be autistic. He doesn’t require much in the way of accommodations, and he doesn’t have the sensory issues that Aesop does. However, his speech is sometimes overly flat, his view of the world a bit rigid, his social energy levels are low, he’s prone to bouts of depression, he fixates on his work a lot, and he often fidgets with things like pens and clothes. He enjoys touching various textures, and often expresses appreciation for the material of people’s clothes. Additionally, he’s made a living out of his special interest: inventive engineering.

-Alva is a solemn and polite man. He’s rather chivalrous, but reserved, and as a result was admired by many for his mysterious-gentleman air. “Hermit” is an apt name for Alva, however, as he rarely enjoyed the company of others. He especially felt overwhelmed in large groups. He has always preferred one-on-one socializing, and even that he had a smaller tolerance for than was typical for men of his class. Luckily, he doesn’t have much in the way of a temperament, so when he’s tired of socializing, he’s just that: tired. Sexy Old man.

-To specify, when I say chivalrous, I mean he’s the kind of man who holds doors open for others, offers his hand to help them up from a seat or down from some height, share his umbrella in the rain, and would even lay his coat in a puddle for a lady to cross over. He offers chivalry moreso to women than men, but if a man presents as meek or shy enough in his presence he will extend the gestures to them as well, hoping to make them feel more comfortable.

-Alva’s only family at the time of his death was his wife. She was barren, and they had no children, and all the rest of his family had passed due to age or illness. Luca therefore became something of a surrogate son to Alva over the years. Though he sometimes struggled to show it, Alva cared for him like blood and always looked out for him.

-Alva didn’t care much about his overall predicament, after being resurrected. His religious proclivities were more for show than anything, so being a chosen of some…eldritch-cat-god is hardly the worst of his concerns. Until the manor, he hadn’t been expected to do anything he considered reprehensible or very immoral, so he’s always been fine with just completing his orders so he could go back to his work.

-After joining the manor, Alva’s only real comfort is his work. In life, inventive engineering was his method of self-expression, the way he interacted with the world, his reason for living. That changed a bit when his wife came along, and then again for Luca, but with those gone he’s back to his reclusive nature. It takes a long time for Alva to make friendships in the manor. He’s familiar with Ann out of necessity, but they’re merely cordial. With time, he becomes friendly with a small handful of others, but his melancholy is still pervasive.

-Inevitably, with enough time at the manor, Alva craves reconciliation with Luca. He doesn’t entirely blame Luca for what happened. At the end of everything, Alva knows the accident was an accident as well as a misunderstanding. (And also probably some kind of ironic, cosmic retribution for him killing Herman.) The trouble is, Luca does not remember him at all, or what happened. He knows from a few conversations that the boy’s cleverness is still in-tact, but his memories are almost entirely gone. As far as Alva is concerned, this means he’ll never get the closure of genuine, mutual apologies, and he’ll never have his “son” back. Not really.

-When Luca was his student, they were a powerful duo in public. Alva, despite being respectful and courteous to individuals, has never ‘jived’ with society as a whole. He doesn’t care about public opinion and is easily exhausted from public exposure. Luca, meanwhile, is a social butterfly. They were both charming, and worked out a system for any public appearances Alva needed to make: Luca would handle most of the talking—unless Alva’s interest was specifically sparked by some topic of conversation—so Alva could do his best to actually enjoy the atmosphere. And when Luca was ready to go, you best believe Alva was ready with their excuse to bail. The two were always favorites at any party or event, and always had interested suitors close at their heels.

-Despite being overwhelmed by conversation and crowds, Alva does enjoy the set-up for a lot of public events and parties. He likes the artfulness of decoration, and always takes time to appreciate the hard work put into setting up things like that (and once again, he loves to touch, feels the textures). He especially loves flowers. He occasionally finds loud music to be a bit overstimulating. Similarly, he likes fireworks, but requires earplugs to enjoy them fully.

-Alva’s age (at time of death) was somewhere between 40-45. His undead body is no longer aging, so physically he’s the same. Sometimes Alva misses his longer hair, but unfortunately that’s not growing anymore.

#idv x reader #identity v #alva lorenz x reader #idv hermit #alva lorenz #turbulentscrawl

[satorisoup]

★ THE AFTER PARTY

⋆ 3 - PROPOSITION

to say you were nervous would be a complete understatement. the time now reads around 2:30, and in just an hour and a half, you would be meeting with the manager of the nekodani, without any knowing of what it could be about.

you probably should be getting ready now, as it was about a 20 minute drive to the location alisa had sent you.

your teeth are brushed, your normal makeup looks as is usually does, and your hair is styled presentably so. opting for something atleast a little more than casual wear, you throw on what you think is your best bet. soon enough, you’re ready and out the door to begin your drive.

you only send your friends a quick text letting them know you’re on your way there and you’ll let them know how it goes, and you’re feeling almost overwhelmed the entire drive. “don’t fuck this up” is a sentence that’s practically on replay as it skips through your mind like a beat, all the way until you’re arriving in a parking way. “you’ve arrived” sings through your car radio as your gps declares it.

exiting your car, you make your way to the office buildings door. nerves prickle at your fingertips as your hands curl into a fist, three knocks placed on the wooden frame in front of you. a latch is clicked out of place before the door is sliding open.

a woman with long, gray hair stands before you. long legs that adorn a pencil skirt and a blouse that shouldn’t look that good on anyone, her face still youthful with plump lips and rosy cheeks. she looks like a model, and you’re soon realizing, she is. you’ve seen her face in multiple stores, plastered on their posters.

“are you y/n?” she asks you, a questioning smile on her face.

“yes, that’s me.”

her smile only grows brighter before she motions you inside. “great! please, come in and take a seat!” she says.

you’re soon seated in a chair to the opposite side of her desk as she takes her seat herself. your mind still races with questions that have yet to be answered, and when she speaks, it’s almost as if she can hear your thoughts.

“i’m sure you’re wondering why i’ve called you here, so let me start with introductions. i’m alisa haiba, and i’m the manager for the band N3KODANI. i’ve heard through a grapevine that you’re a songwriter, correct?” she questions.

“yes, singer and songwriter. my artist name is vocaliz3.”

“perfect! to cut to the chase, i do have a proposition for you. if you will hear me out, as you are the only artist i’ve found so far to be fitting.” and you’re quick to answer with an “of course.”

“As a band, we take our fans into high consideration, as they are our greatest asset to being at the top of the music industry. as of recently, we’ve noticed quite a few have started to complain about the lack of new music on our part. i had a discussion with our band members, and we came to a quick realization that with the amount of work we already have to put in, and our skills in the field of writing music, we simply can’t do it ourselves. that’s where you come in.”

“how so?” you inquire.

“your artist name had circulated around and came back to us. i’ve overviewed some of your pieces, and you do have a natural talent. seeing as how i really can’t hire anybody for this position, i took you into account considering you already have a role in the music industry. what i’m trying to get at is,” she pauses before she looks at you, “i’d like to hire you as our songwriter for N3KODANI.”

there’s a silence that envelopes the room at her statement as your eyes slightly widen and your composure is almost broken, and you fight with every ounce of professionalism you have left in your bones to ask your next question.

“i understand. what would this entail for me?”

she smiles before she’s pulling out a folder from her drawer, placing it on the desk between you two.

“i’m glad you asked, as i’m sure you know it won’t be easy. for starters, i’d need you to write songs to create a new album. i would also need you to be present for recordings in the studio to help our members in practicing your pieces. within all of this, we are planning to go on tour to perform these songs in 2 months time. osaka, kyoto, nagasaki, and lastly, shibuya here in tokyo. i would need you to attend our tour. all expenses paid, of course. along with payment for your hard work. i know this is a lot to be asking, but it is rather urgent. i would need to know within the next few days if you’re willing to take up this offer.” she finishes.

“i definitely will need some time to consider this. if i may know, what is the salary? and how often would i be needing to be present?” you ask, trying to ignore the itch in your brain to automatically agree with her.

“everything is in this folder that i’ve compiled. salary, schedules, locations, you name it. please, take it with you while you consider. i’ve also left my phone number in there, for when you have your answer.” you hum in acknowledgment as you thank her, and suddenly she gasps before she continues, “oh damn! how unprofessional of me. im extremely sorry to cut this so short, but unfortunately i do have to get going, i truly appreciate you taking your time to meet with me.” she says, standing from her office chair.

“don’t worry, no problem at all. i should be the one thanking you for the opportunity. i will make sure to get back to you as soon as i can!” you say, now walking back out of the door you came in through at the start.

“it’s really no worries. i hope to hear from you soon. have a nice day!” she responds.

you now sit in your car, bubbles of excitement and bewilderment swarm through your body as you stare at the folder that sits in the passenger seat. before you know it, you’re grabbing your phone with enthralled shaking hands to make a text.

<- PREV ⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆ NEXT ->

★ FUN FACTS

⋆ alisa is still a model, following the canon timeskip.

⋆ osamu is the least humorous of the group, but he still has his moments.

⋆ TAGLIST

if your name is in bold, i can not tag you.

@bontensbabygirl @aichiomei @toomanygoldfish @withlovekiki @strwbrryeyes @lifesucksweswallow @snail-squasher @le000xxgrd

#⋆ the after party #satorisoup #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro haikyuu #kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq texts #hq drabble #hq bokuto #haikyuu texts #haikyuu smau #hq smau #hq kenma #hq akaashi #hq atsumu #hq osamu #hq suna #suna rintaro haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu nekoma

[skvatnavle]

Love Drunk

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x WSO reader

Warnings: peer pressure, Hangman being an ass, but with a purpose, mutual pining, kissing.

Notes: I had an idea, I went for it. Unbeta'ed. Probably full of errors. Gif and dividers made by @a-reader-and-a-writer ❤️

Words: 1.6K

“Four beers?” Coyote asks as he heads to the bar. Rooster and Hangman quickly chimes in, but Bob just waves him off with a soft ‘No, thank you’. Hangman just rolls his eyes at Bob, nudging his side.

“What’s up with that ‘no alcohol’ thing? One beer won’t kill you.”

“I just… don’t drink.”

Never been much of a drinker and certainly not one that can hold his liquor very well the few times he had tried it, Bob just decided long ago not to drink. Never really saw the point of it.

“Come on, Bob. Maybe it’ll loosen you up. Finally make you brave enough to make a move on Shadow.”

Hangman gestures towards the pool table, where you’re playing pool with Fanboy. As if you knew they were talking about you, you look up just in time to catch Bob looking at you. As always you give him the brightest smile, making Bob blush. There’s just something about you that makes him weak in the knees. On cue his hands get sweaty just thinking about making a move on you.

“Why-why would I make a move on Shadow? I don’t-”

“Oh, come on Bob. Everyone here can see you have the hots for her.”

“And word on the grapevine is that she likes you too.” Rooster chimes in with a smile, having overheard the conversation. Bob, finding it hard to believe that you’d want someone like him, just shakes his head. Looking back at you, he sees you talking to Phoenix, laughing. You really are beautiful when you laugh. Well, everything about you is beautiful in Bob’s mind. 

He’d been harboring a crush on you for years ever since he met you the first time at Top Gun. As a fellow WSO, you’d worked together many times and he still remembers the late nights studying, laughing and the few times you fell asleep up against him, your head on his shoulder. There were so many times he wanted to say something, but he never had the guts.

Rooster and Hangman can’t help but see how Bob is lost in thoughts of you again, so when Coyote returns to the table with the beers, Hangman takes one of them and gently pushes it over to Bob with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. 

“Here. Take it.”

Bob just shakes his head and declines with a sweet smile. But Hangman doesn’t take no for an answer and sits down beside Bob, holding the beer out in front of him with a smirk. He just holds it there until Bob takes it from his hands.

“You get a minute to empty that or I’ll go tell your little secret to Shadow.”

“But… I…”

“Either you drink until you have the courage to do it yourself or I’m gonna tell her. Your choice.”

Looking at you again, laughing with Fanboy and touching his arm, Bob swallows hard. Maybe you don’t even like him. Certainly looks like you’re into Fanboy, so he has to drink. Can’t risk Hangman saying anything. It’ll be too embarrassing. 

Already regretting it, he takes the bottle and gulps down half, coughing at the taste. Hangman just cheers him on, throwing an arm around his shoulders. This is gonna be a disaster. 

Not long after, the first beer is empty. Already halfway to the bar, Hangman is getting another round as Rooster and Coyote is keeping an eye on Bob, making sure he’s okay. Clearly beer is never gonna be his favorite and they already feel bad for him, but know too well how easily Hangman can get to you.

The second beer quickly turned into five. Hangman seemed to find it quite amusing how fast Bob was getting drunk and was really the one who kept the beers coming. 

Glassy eyed, Bob keeps looking at you through the crowd, his smile growing by the second. Feeling more relaxed than he has in years, he’s starting to feel a little braver. Liquid courage indeed. Maybe he could tell you. You’d probably shoot him down, but could he really go on not knowing?

Standing up, he stumbles slightly forward but manages to grab onto Rooster’s shoulder before he falls. 

“You okay there, bud?” Rooster asks concerned as Bob takes a few more steps forward before turning to the others, giving them a soft grin.

“I’m doing it.”

He turns a little too fast and holds onto a table as he regains his balance. Even though he’s only had five beers, the room is spinning and he can’t really see straight. But he keeps going forward, looking at you as he does his best to walk straight.

You look up and see him through the crowd, giving him a tiny wave. But your smile quickly fades, when you see how he stumbles through the crowd, his eyes unfocused. Just as Bob reaches you, he trips over his feet, but luckily you manage to catch him.

“Bob? Are you okay?”

“I had some beers.”

He never drinks, so something must be wrong. Really wrong. Even Phoenix has come over, looking into his eyes, asking Bob if he’s okay. But he just smiles, claiming everything is perfect.

“Why did you get so drunk?” Phoenix ask, as she holds onto his arm gently.

“Because I have to tell her something.”

Bob tries to whisper, but does a poor job and you hear every word. He even points to you over his shoulder as he foe-whispers to her. You and Phoenix just stare at each other, shocked over Bob as you giggle softly. Hanking up in him, you softly caress his cheek.

"Maybe we should go out and get some air? Drink some water?" You try softly, as you try to keep Bob from falling over. Rooster, who’s come over to see if Bob is okay, is quick to get some water for the two of you, while you drag Bob outside, sitting him down gently on the sand.

"Here you go."

Rooster puts down the water beside you and gently pats Bob's shoulder, making him groan. You're already sure he's gonna have the worst hangover tomorrow. As Rooster turns to leave, you stop him.

"What the hell happened? Bob doesn't drink?"

"Hangman… It's a long story."

He shrugs as he walks away, leaving you with Bob. He's hiding his face in his hands, groaning softly as he swears never to drink again. You can't help but smile at how cute he is, while still feeling a little sorry for him.

"Here, Bob. Drink some water, it'll help."

He looks up into your eyes, almost crying at the prospect of some water. Eagerly, he takes the bottle and downs half off it in one go. He leans against your shoulder and as he mumbles a soft ‘thank you’, he nuzzles into you. 

“You’re always so nice.”

“You’re nice too, Bob” you giggle softly at his slurred voice. He is quite adorable, so you soak it up since it’ll probably be the only time you ever get to see him like this.

“And you’re so pretty.”

His words take you by surprise. Having harbored a crush on him for years, you feel yourself blush as you hope it’s not just the alcohol talking. You lay your head on his, heart hammering wildly in your chest.

“Thank you. And you’re quite handsome.”

Bob shifts under you, but remains silent. For a while you sit there, looking out over the sea as he slowly drinks his water. A few times it sounds like he is about to say something, but he doesn’t. So you just wait until he’s ready.

“I… I really like you.” he suddenly says, shifting a little beside you, “Honestly, I… I think I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Shocked, you just sit there, listening to his words. He’s in love with you too. All this time, you’ve felt the same. Bob sits up, slowly turning his face to yours, his beautiful blue eyes watery.

“I know you’d probably rather be with a guy like Fanboy, but I… I just needed to-”

He doesn’t get to say anything else before you cut him off with a kiss. It’s brief, barely there, but it’s enough to make your heart flutter. As you pull away, Bob’s eyes are still closed and his lips twisted into a huge smile. 

“Please do that again.”

With a giggle, you kiss him again, savoring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. He moans softly, shifting closer as his lip chases yours. Pulling away for air, his eyes glimmer in the moonlight as he looks at you. 

“Do… Do I have permission to touch you?”

Even drunk, he’s the perfect gentleman. You can’t help but giggle, falling even harder for him and honestly finding him impossible to resist. 

“Bob, you don’t need my permiss-”

His lips crashes against yours in a heated kiss, his hand coming up to cup behind your neck. Pulling you closer, his free hand comes to rest on your hip, squeezing you gently. Your whole body is on fire by his touch, finally getting what you’ve wanted for years. He leans in closer, impossibly close, his tongue dancing over yours. With every little touch and kiss, he pulls sweet whimpers from you.

The hunger for him is all consuming and in a split second, you forget where you are, almost giving in to him when he moves to lay you down on the sand. With a gentle hand on his chest, you stop him and pull away, panting heavily.

“Maybe we should…”

“Yeah… Sorry.”

Giving you a soft, almost shy smile, he breaks away from you but not before taking one of your hands in his. With your heart still racing, you put your head on his shoulder, happier than you’ve ever been before.

“Are you even sure you will remember this tomorrow?”

“The best night of my life? Always.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

Tagging: @loverhymeswith @a-reader-and-a-writer @wildbornsiren @edwardbaldwin @chasingdreamer @mmurdock85 @lucy-sky @sweetfictionalworld @autumnleaves1991-reads @joalsglasses @srry-itshockeyszn @sparrows-corner @multifandom-fangirl4 @lorecraft @ouroborus-momento-mori @lil-medic @paintballkid711 @weasleywinchester @tipsykeen @lluckpng @blindedbyyourgrace17 @levylovegood @andshivroytoo @green-socks @weakling-grace @mayhem24-7forever @happyblogsstuff @nik2blog @serpentssss

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #lewis pullman fanfiction

[therand0mwriter]

FRIENDS-They All Know

OHSHC x Female!reader

[Unedited]

*3rd Person POV*

"Hello? I'm here to drop off the desserts!" (Y/N) called out as she entered music room 3, the room the Ouran high school host club uses. Kyoya stepped away from his laptop and made his way to the girl, "You're right on time." (Y/N) smiled at the ravenette, "Kyoya!"

Kyoya's heart skipped a beat and he fondly smiled at the girl. "Can you hold open the door for me as I bring in the carts?" She asked. "Of course," He said, doing as he was asked. (Y/N) pushed in a cart full of cakes and cupcakes, then Aiko came into view, also pushing a cart. "Ah, miss Takai, I didn't expect to see you. How are you doing?" Kyoya kindly asked the girl, putting on his host face. The bubbly girl giggled and smiled, "(Y/N) needed help bringing the carts and Murasaki couldn't miss her fencing club, so I'm here! Just for a moment though." Aiko explained.

She then looked around the room as (Y/N) brought in the 3rd cart, "Where is Honey-senpai?" Kyoya quickly put the pieces together about her crush on Honey, "Everyone is getting changed for our theme today." "Ooo, what are you guys wearing?" Aiko excitedly leaned towards Kyoya, said male sweat dropping at her close proximity. "Kimonos," He replied, thankful that the girl pulled away as she squealed in excitement.

"Alright, Aiko. I got the rest of the carts in." (Y/N) came up to the two. "What?! Already? I'm sorry, I got distracted thinking about how cute Honey-senpai is while wearing a kimono!" Aiko had hearts in her eyes as she daydreamed. (Y/N) fondly chuckled at the girl, "Daydream about him on your way back to class." "Okay! See you tomorrow, (Y/N)!" Aiko waved as she left.

Kyoya made his way over to the carts (Y/N) aligned and took in the desserts, "Everything looks amazing, as always." (Y/N) gently rolled her eyes whilst a small smile was on her lips, "You always say that." "Because it's true." Kyoya retorted. "I hope we're not causing you too much trouble with our orders." He added. "Oh no no," (Y/N) waved her hands in front of her, "You guys have helped me! Since you're ordering from us our club isn't getting shut down! Though I did hear through the grapevine that isn't the main reason why my club is staying... it's because two fellow students of high stature demanded that we stay. And I have a feeling those two students were you and Suoh."

"Are you asking or telling?" Was Kyoya's response. The sly smile on his face told her everything. She mischievously smiled, letting out a: "Hm." In response before heading to the door to leave. She opened the door and turned to Kyoya, "Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time tomorrow."

*Time Skip*

The end of the day finally arrived and Kyoya was tired. Dealing with Renge took a lot out of him. He wondered if (Y/N) was still at the school, wanting to see her.

Kyoya📓✍️🏻

Are you still at school? If so, where?

(Y/N)💛

I just got to the entrance

Why?

Kyoya📓✍️🏻

Wait for me

The girl did just that, taking a seat on the school steps and soaking in the evening sun. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as a cool breeze blew by her, making petals of nearby trees and flowers dance around her.

Kyoya exited the school and paused. In front of him was... art. That was the first word that came to his head when he saw her: art. The way she absorbed the light and the light absorbed her was breathtaking. The way the petals danced around her entire being was enchanting.

Kyoya felt a small smile grow on his lips, happy that he was the only one to see (Y/N) like this. He approached her, "You're stunning. You know that, right?" (Y/N) slightly jolted at his sudden presence. She turned to see the dark-haired boy and smiled, "I could say the same thing about you." The sun lightly dusting Kyoya's side, his now soft looking eyes, and gentle smile would make anyone stop and do a double take.

(Y/N) stood to meet Kyoya, "What did you want to talk about?" Kyoya sighed, remembering today's earlier events, "Apparently the host club might have a manager by tomorrow." (Y/N)'s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?" Kyoya gestured for them to start walking as he started to explain, "Renge Houshakuji, the only daughter of an Ootori family client, flew in from Paris to become a student of Ouran."

The two students arrived at Kyoya's car and the chauffeur opened the door for them, greeting them individually, "Good evening Mr. Ootori. Ms. (L/N), it's good to see you again." (Y/N) smiled, "Mr. Amaya, it's been too long! I hope your family is doing well." The older man brightly smiled, "They're doing amazing! My son just won his first championship in baseball! I know it's only middle school, but still! I swear, he'll become a pro-athlete one day!" (Y/N) softly clapped, "Wow! That's still amazing either way! Congratulations!"

Mr. Amaya leaned in with a grin and whispered, "And guess what?" (Y/N) also leaned in and whispered back, "What?" Amaya stood up straight and tall, practically glowing, "Me and my wife are expecting!" Both (Y/N)'s and Kyoya's eyes went wide, "What?! No way! On my gosh! That's amazing! I'm so happy for you two!" She leaned in and gave Amaya a hug, "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl yet?" They pulled away and Amaya shook his head, "Not yet, but when we find out, I'll let you know! Between you and me, I'm hoping it's a girl!"

"Amaya," Kyoya called out. "Why haven't you told me this yet?" Amaya rubbed the back of his head nervously, "I just never found the right time, Mr. Ootori. You always seem so busy, I didn't want to distract you." "I'm sorry I seem like you can't tell me things. Please, from now on, don't refrain from telling me about your achievements." Kyoya said, soft smile on his face. Amaya beamed, "Will do, Mr. Ootori!"

Kyoya gestured for (Y/N) to enter the car and she did, Kyoya following after her. Mr. Amaya closed the car door and entered the driver's seat, turning on the vehicle and driving away. "Where was I?" Kyoya questions. "Renge Houshakuji." (Y/N) responded. "Ah, that's right." Kyoya pushed up his glasses and continued explaining, "Towards the end of the club, Renge arrived and pretty much declared her love for me." (Y/N) raised an eyebrow in interest, "Oh really? What did she say?" 

"She assumed we're engaged." Kyoya said, slightly grimacing at the memory. (Y/N) chuckled, "Congratulations?" The ravenette male glared at the girl next to him. (Y/N) openly laughed at his response, "Alright, all jokes aside, why does she believe you're engaged?" Kyoya pinched the bridge of his nose, "She thinks I'm exactly like this character from an otome game she plays. She's apparently obsessed with him."

"Well, it definitely sounds like you had an interesting day." (Y/N) commented, an amused look on her face. "Tell me about it... But a part of me curious to see where things go." Kyoya said, ending with a thoughtful hum and his hand on his chin. "We're here, Miss (L/N)." Amaya suddenly calls, putting the limo in park. Kyoya got out first and held the door open for the girl. "Let me know how things go tomorrow, I'm invested now." (Y/N) said with a giggle. Kyoya fondly smiled at the girl, "Of course, anything for you." 

(Y/N) leaned down to the door opening and waved at Amaya, "Goodbye, Mr. Amaya! I hope your wife has an easy birth!" Amaya gave a large grin, "Thank you, Miss! I appreciate it! Take care!" (Y/N) leaned back up and looked towards Kyoya, "Thank you for taking me home, I'll see you tomorrow?" The young male nodded, "I'll see you tomorrow, (Y/N)." Before said girl turned to leave, she paused, staring at Kyoya. He gave her a questioning look, and she gave him a large grin, slightly jumping to give him a hug. They stumbled at first, the hug catching Kyoya by surprise before he was able to stable them. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder. His arms were wrapped around her waist, and eventually, he buried his face into her hair.

After a good five second squeeze from (Y/N), she pulled away, the faintest trail of blush on her cheeks. She smiled once more, "Bye, Kyoya." She then turned and left, leaving a faint smell of vanilla and chocolate in her wake. Kyoya stood in place for a moment, trying to engrave everything he could about the moment he just had with his dream girl onto his mind. When he was ready, he re-entered the limo. As Amaya was pulling away from the (L/N) residence, he looked into his rearview mirror and saw an absolutely lovesick boy. Kyoya's eyes were half lidded and had a far away look, his cheeks and ears were a bright red. "Ah... he reminds me of when I met my wife.' Amaya wistfully thought.

The driver then cleared his throat, gaining Kyoya's attention, "Miss (L/N) is a lovely girl, huh?" Kyoya hummed and looked out the window, "Yes... she is." He placed his hand over his mouth in a nonchalant manner, but hiding underneath was a loving smile.

*Time Skip, Next Day*

Kyoya📓✍️🏻

We'll be outside in the main courtyard today. There's a giant camera crew so we'll be hard to miss.

(Y/N)💛

Got it👍we'll be there soon!

(Y/N), Aiko, and Murasaki arrived at the courtyard with silver carts containing drinks, and homemade sandwiches and desserts. "(Y/N)-senpai! Over here!" Hikaru and Kaoru called simultaneously. The girl smiled and gestured to the twins, "Come on girls, this way." Aiko and Murasaki followed their president to the Hitachiian twins, still pushing their carts.

When the three girls made it to Hikaru and Kaoru, they noticed that the boys were in basketball uniforms. "What's with all this?" (Y/N) questioned, referring to the camera crew and the boys new look. "Oh, this?" The twins started. "This is all our new managers doing," Hikaru started. "She thinks we need a movie about our 'new roles'." Kaoru finished. "We're basketball players 'enslaved enslaved in or own world', Honey-senpai is a 'baby faced thug', Mori-senpai is his 'childhood friend that's a flunkie', Haruhi is an 'honor student that's constantly being bullied', and Tamaki-senpai is the 'schools idol that has an inferiority complex'. I believe her exact words were: 'the lonely prince'." Hikaru and Kaoru explained together, their tone showing that they weren't that amused.

"Honey-senpai!? A thug?! I don't know whether to be excited or sad!" Aiko shouted in a mix of distress and excitement. "What about Kyoya?" Murasaki spoke up. The twins shrugged, "She said he's perfect just the way he is." (Y/N) chuckled, "Well here, we brought snacks. And make sure to stay hydrated." She then handed the twins each a water bottle. Hikaru and Kaoru smirked, "Oh (Y/N), you're so sweet to us, can't we take you home with us?" (Y/N) smiled at the two and simply stated, "No." The twins pouted, "Oh, boo. You're no fun." The girl raised an eyebrow at the two boys, "Then why are you friends with me?"

Hikaru and Kaoru opened their mouths to give a teasing comeback but was interrupted by Aiko, "I'm so sorry but me and Murasaki have to get to go now." Murasaki nodded, "I have to get to my fencing club." "And I have to get to my art club!" Aiko added. (Y/N) nodded in understanding, "Get there safely. And thank you for taking the time to help me transport the carts." Aiko gave a large smile, hooking her arm with Murasaki's, "We will! Tell Honey-senpai and Kyoya-senpai that we said hi and we're sorry we couldn't properly greet them!" The two girls waved goodbye, disappearing around the corner.

Hikaru and Kaoru gave (Y/N) a questioning look, "I thought they were in the baking club with you?" The girl nodded, "They are, but they're in other clubs too. They won't admit it, but I know they joined the baking club as an afterthought." She sent a very small sad, but also grateful, smile towards the place she last saw her club mates. Hikaru and Kaoru looked to each other out of the corner of their eyes and instantly knew what the other was thinking. In sync, they each took ahold of one of (Y/N)'s hands, gaining her attention again. "Worst case scenario," Hikaru started. "And they leave your club," Kaoru continued. "We'll quit the host club and join yours." The twins finished together, bringing (Y/N)'s hands up to their cheeks.

(Y/N)'s eyes went wide at the twins sudden offer, but then she fondly smiled at the two. She flipped her hands so she was now cupping their cheeks, "Oh, my kohais..." She started, her tone as fond as her smile. The way she was looking at Hikaru and Kaoru was driving them insane, making them eager to hear the rest of her words. "I can't have you do that, I would feel too guilty." The twins frowned and opened their mouths to protest but was cut off by their senpai. "But," (Y/N) started. "If you ever have any free time, you are still more than welcomed to come and join me." The twins gave a loving smile to the girl in front of them, nuzzling their faces into her hands and simultaneously responded, "We know."

Just then, a shout and loud clanging rang out, making the three jump in surprise. "What was that?" (Y/N) rhetorically asked, looking around along with the twins. At the same time, the three of them saw Tamaki run to a corner of the school. None of them could hear what Tamaki said, but when they saw his look of concern turn into one of anger, they knew something was wrong. Tamaki then ran and disappeared around the corner. "Suoh!"(Y/N) called out as the twins jumped from their seats. "Come on!" Hikaru and Kaoru shouted, running to where they last saw the blonde male, (Y/N) following suit.

The three teens peeked around the corner to see Tamaki cupping Haruhi's cheeks, concern written on his face, "Haruhi, are you in any pain?" Haruhi was rubbing his eye when he responded, "Yeah." Haruhi then pulled his hand away from his face to show something on his index finger, "It's my contact." Tamaki jolted in surprise, "Your... contact?" "Yeah," Haruhi nonchalantly started. "I guess it must have slipped out." Tamaki started laughing once he realized Haruhi was uninjured, "I see how it is! You're able to cry without using eye drops! So you're a full-fledged host now!"

(Y/N), Hikaru, and Kaoru all let out a quiet sigh of relief that nothing too bad happened. "You... you..." A female voice then gained everyone's attention. (Y/N) turned to see a girl with ivory skin, wide brown eyes, long golden brown hair, and a dark pink bow sitting atop of her head. "Please tell me you got that, cameraman!" The girl shouted, pointing at four male adults with film equipment sitting behind her. 'Ah, that must be Renge Houshakuji.' (Y/N) thought to herself. "Yes, boss!" One of the adults shouted back at Renge. "Other than Haruhi's contact falling out, that was an ideal final scene! All it needs now is a moving narration by my sweet Kyoya!" Immediately after Renge finished her spiel,  loud sound of glass breaking rang out throughout he area. 

Almost everyone jumped in surprise, looking to see what the cause of the sound was. Kyoya stood next to the, now broken, camera with a  rock in his hand. "No! What'd you do to my camera?!" The cameraman screamed in distress. Renge had a look of shock and meekly asked Kyoya, "What? Is something wrong?"

"I'm terribly sorry but I cannot allow there to be any record of a club member engaging in violence. I think you've caused enough trouble around here, Renge. Please stop being such a pest." Despite his, somewhat, kind words, Kyoya's tone was deadly serious. "'A pest'?" Renge repeated, tears immediately falling down her cheeks. "But you're supposed to pat me on the head and tell me not to worry! You're supposed to be kind and affectionate, Kyoya!" Renge sobbed. "Why are you acting so differently now?! Tell me why!"

"Because that's not the real Kyoya." Tamaki's sudden words caused Renge to pause her crying. She turned to Tamaki, a confused look on her face. She then fell to her knees and continued crying. Haruhi stepped towards the sobbing girl, "Does it really matter?" Renge looked up to the brunette as he squatted down to her level, "Who cares if Kyoya is a little different than you expected him to be? Take a good look at the person inside and get to know him little-by-little. It's a lot more fun that way." Haruhi ended with a smile. Renge stared at him, taking in his words and calming down.

"Wow... it feels like I'm watching a drama." (Y/N) whispered to the twins, them nodding in agreement. The three of them pulled back from the corner. "I'm glad no one was hurt. Well, physically at least." (Y/N) said, slightly sweat-dropping at the memory of Renge getting her heart broken. "(Y/N)-chan!" A sweet voice suddenly called out. Said girl and the twins turn and see Honey and Mori making their way towards them. "I didn't know you were here! It's so good to see you again!" Honey cheered, jumping into (Y/N)'s arms for a hug. (Y/N) laughed, hugging him back, "It's good to see you too, Honey-senpai!" When Honey separated himself from the girl, Mori came up and caressed (Y/N)'s hair in a greeting. She largely smiled at her tall upperclassman, "It's good to see you also, Mori-senpai!" The male smiled at his underclassman with fondness.

From the sidelines, Hikaru and Kaoru did not like how friendly Honey and Mori were being with their senpai. "Hey... how do you three know each other?" Hikaru and Kaoru asked, slightly on edge. The twins senpai's turned their attention to them. "Oh, we met last year, around the time I was starting up my baking club." (Y/N) stated while a smile grew on her face at he memory. Honey joyously laughed, "Yup! We've been friends ever since!" Mori nodded in agreement. The twins were not happy that Mori and Honey knew (Y/N) longer than they have, they thought they had her all to themselves.

"(Y/N), you're still here." A new voice suddenly said, gaining the five teens attention. Kyoya had just come around the corner and was surprised to see (Y/N) along with most of his club members. As he walked up to the group, she happily called out to him, "Kyoya!" Kyoya noticed how the four males surrounding her tensed up at her sudden greeting towards him. Kyoya was happy with how she called out for him, but the male was mostly feeling dread. "I'm happy to see you, but what are you still doing here? I thought you would have left as soon as you dropped off the food." Kyoya questioned, watching the other four males out of the corner of his eyes. "Well when I dropped off the carts, me and Hikaru and Kaoru started chatting. Then we heard the commotion with Houshakuji, Suoh, and Fujioka. Afterwards, Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai came and greeted me. And now were here." (Y/N) smiled and shrugged.

Hikaru and Kaoru growled under their breaths before they shouted, "Oh great! How do you two know each other?" (Y/N) gave raised her eyebrow at the twins, confused at their sudden sour tone, "We met last year in class, right after I started my club." Honey and Mori lightly frowned when they realized that their favorite kohai wasn't close with just them, but with other members of their club. Hikaru and Kaoru gritted their teeth in irritation, "Why has everyone known you longer than us?!" Honey then piped up, "Wait, Hikaru, Kaoru, are you friends with (Y/N) too?" Kyoya and the twins didn't miss how Honey didn't call Hikaru and Kaoru: 'Hika-chan and Kao-chan'. "Of course we're friends with her! We've been friends since last year! She's our senpai!" The twins shouted, getting frustrated at the thought of sharing their favorite person with others.

The twins rising emotions started to affect everyone. Honey shouted with a stutter, "Y-Yeah, w-well she's mine and Takashi's kohai!" (Y/N) turned her confused look from the twins to her senpais, "H-Huh?" She then did a double take when Kyoya also stepped forward with a glare, "She's my equal, we share classes together, unlike you four." (Y/N)'s head was spinning. 'W-What's going on?!' She worriedly thought, panic surging through her.

"Will you all calm down?!" The six teens turn to see Tamaki and Haruhi, Tamaki's hands on his hips and Haruhi's arms crossed. Tamaki was the first one to call out, Haruhi then adding on, "Yeah, (L/N)-senpai doesn't belong to any of you! Can't you see that all your arguing is making her uncomfortable?!" The five boys paused and looked to (Y/N), and sure enough, her face was contorted into one of pure disconcertment. Instantly, the five males felt remorseful at how their arguing affected their favorite girl.

Honey was the first to speak up, tears brimming his eyes, "I'm sorry, (Y/N)-chan." Mori grunted in agreement, "I'm sorry." Hikaru and Kaoru nodded, "We're sorry, (Y/N)-senpai." Kyoya clenched his fists, upset with himself, "I apologize, (Y/N)." The girl took in the five teens expressions. She could clearly see and feel the guilt emanating from them. (Y/N) sighed then smiled, "I can't be upset with you all. I forgive you." The five hosts started to smile in relief but paused when the girl raised her index finger, "But! Under one condition: please, don't fight again."

The five males all made eye contact and realized something: they all have romantic feelings for the same girl, and they all want her to be happy. So, in the end, the five of them made a mental agreement: let's get along, for her sake. The five teens nodded and smiled at the girl. 

One thing they all secretly thought to themselves, though, was: 'Just because I have to get along with everyone else, doesn't mean I can't try to win her over, now that I have competition'.

#x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #ohshc #ohshc x reader #ouran high school host club #hikaru hitachiin #hikaru hitachiin x reader #kaoru hitachiin x reader #kaoru hitachiin #kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya ootori #mitsukuni haninozuka x reader #mitsukuni haninozuka #takashi morinozuka x reader #takashi morinozuka #friends fanfic

[azrielhours]

Shackles and Release

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 6.5k

Synopsis: Enemies to lovers. Reader hired to work on mission w Az against Eris but they get off on the wrong foot despite being attracted to each other. Nightmare + slight Who Did This to You. He hurts her accidentally. He Bandages Her™ lmao. Enjoy!! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time you’d ever heard about Azriel Shadowsinger was through the grapevine at Autumn Court. Whispers about him coming to save Morrigan at the border where she was abandoned by her betrothed, Autumn’s heir. The same male you were now conspiring against with none other than the family who rescued Mor. You were set to meet the Shadowsinger this evening to be debriefed on the mission.

You were in the library, tucked behind a bookshelf reading on the floor when you heard the doors open and two male voices carrying in. “I just don’t see why we need to jeopardize this mission, how can we put so much reliance and faith in someone we don’t know?” The baritone voice was smooth and deep. You froze in apprehension, knowing what a precarious position you were in if you were caught eavesdropping. 

Before you could decide whether to make your presence known, the other male responded. “She’s an asset, Az.” Rhys. “She gives us the advantage of having worked on the inside, and Mor says Eris doesn’t know her.” You felt your heart rate increase. The other male was surely the Shadowsinger. You frowned. He doubted you? 

“I wouldn’t put it past her to double-cross us.” Your heart dropped. “We shouldn’t have to outsource during missions or breach confidentiality. I could have done this without her.” 

“You haven’t even met her, Az. You don’t have to fight every battle on your own, you know.”

“That’s not what this is. I’m just being cautious. It’s dreadful enough having to play nice with the princeling son of a bitch.” The condemning words of the male you hadn’t even met stung sharply in your chest, but you willed yourself to stay silent. Before the males could continue, you heard Feyre call for Rhys; you stayed seated in silence for a long while after both males followed her out of the library to calm down from the revelation at hand, to school your features into neutrality, and to decide to soldier on. Beron needed to be taken down. For Mor, you thought.

For me.

~

That evening, you were summoned by Rhys to meet Azriel. Taking a deep breath, you pushed down the feelings of hurt. Just make it through the mission, this was never about being his friend. You painted a cool look on your face and approached the two males waiting expectantly in Rhys’s office. Both their full attention was on you, but the Shadowsinger’s gaze was much heavier. Like he was looking right into the core of your being. Like he was the mind reader between the pair. The weight of his gaze made butterflies erupt in your stomach despite the revelation still at the front of your mind; you felt your mouth dry, though not in fear. 

Azriel was absolutely beautiful. 

Rhys smiled. “Y/n. Mor has told me lots about you. Thank you for agreeing to help us on our mission,” his low voice and calm demeanour humanized him in that moment. “This is Azriel,” he gestured to his brother. Azriel presented a cool, emotionless expression. He didn’t offer a hand to shake, not even a nod. You held his gaze unflinching until he finally looked elsewhere. Rhys went on to explain the plan at hand, which was to isolate Eris and strengthen his relationship with the Night Court as heir against the quietly growing threat posed by The Queens. If Rhys was shocked by your lack of approachability, he didn’t let on. “Right. I’ll leave you to it. I have to go over some reports with Cassian.” Rhys gave you a nod as he left the room which you returned. With the door closed behind him, you had to steel your nerves against the apprehension crawling up your spine. You turned to face Azriel again who had his arms crossed across his broad chest, shadows wisping around him with lethal promise. Of course he would be beautiful, you thought. Only a male this attractive could be so arrogant and dismissive. 

“Y/n.”

You suppressed a shiver at that baritone voice. “Azriel.” 

He sized you up for another moment, then began at long last. “Mor told me that you know Eris well. Tell me what you can about him.”

“I used to work at the Autumn Court. The servants used to talk about him and his affairs.” 

“We’ll be needing more than just servant gossip.” 

“It’s not just gossip,” you protested. “It’s also things I’ve seen during that time. How he is with his mother. He was different with her depending on whether Beron was present. Like he was putting on a performance.” 

Azriel continued to watch you with that scrutinizing gaze, and you had to resist the urge to squirm. “That doesn’t prove anything.” He shook his head minutely, like he was shocked Rhys believed in you if this was all you had to offer.

“What I’m trying to say is that lots of the females – me included – we believed that his cruelty is all for show. That’s got to mean something, and it’s no coincidence that he’s also heir.”

Azriel didn’t show if he agreed or disagreed. “Why did you leave the Autumn Court anyways?” 

You couldn’t hide your shock that time. “It’s… a long story.” You didn’t know what else to say, but you absentmindedly began touching your wrist. Azriel’s gaze shifted to your fidgeting, making you put your hands behind your back. He returned his gaze to your eyes, assessing you. You braced yourself for him to press the issue. 

“Fair enough.” Relief replaced the dread, shoulders releasing some tension. He was an entitled, privileged – and frankly, rude – male who clearly thought he was better than you, but at least he dropped the subject. You’d give him that. “The mission is simple. Eris is invited to a Court event later this week, and we need you to act as a Night Court spy alongside me.” He continued explaining the plan, and you nodded along dutifully. “One more thing,” he added as he wrapped up. “We need to go over some basic training exercises. Mor told me you didn’t receive training previously, and it's standard here for personnel hired for Rhys. Be at the ring tomorrow at dawn.” 

~

The next morning, you arrived at the training ring early to ensure Azriel didn’t get the opportunity to question your reliability, donning a leather set left in your room. When Azriel approached the ring, you stood. He didn’t acknowledge your punctuality, he simply nodded to you. That broody expression didn’t falter, neither did his standoffish demeanour.

“Alright. We’re going over basic self-defence, nothing crazy, and then we’ll call it a day.” He sounded about as excited as he looked. “First things first, fix your stance.” You glanced down to where you were stood, then looked back up at him in confusion. “Like this,” Azriel said, putting his left foot forward, legs shoulder length apart, tucking in his chin, and raised his arms in fists. You copied his stance as best as you could, but Azriel clicked his tongue in disapproval. To your shock, he approached you. You remained frozen where you were. He stopped right in front of you, and you had to crane your neck back to see his face. His expression still held some annoyance, but he cleared his throat. “May I.” It took a moment to realize what he was asking, and you nodded in consent. He then circled you, stopping behind you, and you had to suppress a shiver at the feel of his body heat. He nudged your left leg further forward, then placed his fingers gingerly on your shoulders and rotated your upper body slightly to the right. He then gently grasped your elbows from either side of you and raised your arms further. You followed the motion of his corrections despite the blush colouring your cheeks at the proximity.

He returned to his previous position across from you. He went over being aware of one’s surroundings, how to step into a blow, how to block a swing. You went through the motions he demonstrated for the better part of an hour as he watched. You may have imagined it, but you swore he finally gave a grunt in approval that felt far more rewarding than it should have. He finally asked you to begin sparring directly for practice. “Try landing a single hit,” he challenged. You had worked up a sweat by this point, breathing a little harder, but you nodded eagerly and approached him. You swung and weren’t remotely surprised when he easily ducked, nor were you surprised when this went on for the next few attempts. You swung a right hook that he easily ducked, this time also kicking your feet out from beneath you, causing you to land on your ass. He tsked when you scowled up at him. “You can do better than that, can’t you?” Was that amusement you heard in his tone? 

“Maybe I would have if I had a better teacher.” You couldn’t believe your ears at your remark as it left your lips. Azriel’s eyebrows rose in identical shock.

“I wouldn’t get mouthy if I were you.” 

“You seem to have that effect on females.” Fuck it, you thought. Someone needed to humble this male. And, yes, perhaps it was also resentment prompting you. He didn’t chuckle, but he also didn’t reprimand you. You got back up, swung once again, and Azriel ducked. This time, he pushed you into the momentum of your punch, causing you to topple over again. 

“Shit,” you gritted. He was infuriating. Still, you rose again, going for an uppercut. This time, however, Azriel blocked your swing, hitting you right on the inside of your wrist beneath your fist, causing you to gasp. Stinging pain erupted in your wrist, and you grabbed hold of it with your other hand. You froze at the feeling of vulnerability that coursed through you, and you couldn’t help but drop any semblance of cool composure in that moment. Azriel also stopped, noticing the shift in your demeanour, your wide eyes. 

“That’s not exactly how you block,” he said, voice marginally softer. He was treading lightly, trying to feel you out. You didn’t respond, feeling a sense of betrayal coursing through you despite how illogical it was to feel that. You didn’t respond. Azriel took another step towards you. “Y/n.” 

You let out a sharp exhale. “Wow. I… you’re really that petty, Azriel? You’d resort to deliberately hurting me?” You couldn’t stop the words before they were spoken, breathy and shaky, still clutching your wrist. 

Azriel faltered, his brows furrowing in alarm. “What?” 

You realized how you were coming off. And in front of the worst person to expose this vulnerability to, you thought. You shook your head, avoided his alarmed gaze, and said, “Sorry. I need to leave. Thank you for the lesson.” Mortifying. You began leaving and he didn’t stop you. 

You made it to your room and went to the bathroom to run cold water over your wrist, trying to calm your racing mind. You heard a knock on your door. Shit. You walked over to answer, knowing you’d have to face him eventually anyway. Azriel didn’t immediately enter, but you stepped aside and gestured for him to do so. In your space, he somehow seemed even bigger. You didn’t meet his gaze for a moment, then finally looked up. He still looked alarmed, so you began. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why would you ever think I’d deliberately hurt you?” he asked, his voice gruffer than before.

“I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry, I just… have weak wrists, it just caught me off guard.” You knew your response wasn’t nearly convincing enough, but you were too embarrassed to truly explain yourself.  

“It was just training. I’d never intentionally hurt you,” he pressed. He still sounded alarmed, and you felt a twinge of guilt. 

“You wouldn’t hurt me, but I know you don’t trust me.” The admission came out before you could stop yourself. That was the third time now that you felt words pulled out of you around him. You looked up and found him studying you, a troubled expression furrowing his features. 

He exhaled. “It’s not… because of you or anything. It’s just how I operate. Spies I work with are usually selected by and trained under me directly.” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the arrogance. “Don’t project your doubt onto me just because you’ve been privileged enough to make this your occupation.” Your voice was still shakier than before. You waited for him to argue but he didn’t correct you. 

He glanced at your wrist once more, then extended a scarred hand towards it. “Let me at least bandage it for you if it’s sprained.” You debated it for a beat. “Come on. This can be our truce. We got off on the wrong foot,” he pressed. You were shocked at the olive branch he was extending but decided to take it. You slowly placed your wrist into his massive hand, and you were pleasantly surprised at how gently he cradled it. 

“It’s not sprained. It’s just weak,” you explained as he softly rotated it. He inclined his head to your bathroom, and you let him lead you there. Once inside, he leaned against the counter with you a foot away from his towering frame. He held the edge of your sleeve with both hands and gently pulled it up to reveal disfigured skin there. You felt your cheeks burn and avoided his gaze when he looked at you in silent question. You knew it didn’t need to be bandaged, nor would that help it in any way, but he didn’t stop. He pulled bandages out of the drawers and began skillfully wrapping your wrist in medical tape. You were completely conscious of how close he stood. His hands were incredibly gentle, despite the scars he donned himself, despite their substantially larger size. You didn’t comment on his scars and he didn’t comment on yours; you felt yourself let your guard down at that moment. 

When he released your wrist, you rotated it a few times, and he watched your reaction as you couldn’t hide your pleasant shock at the crutch provided by the tape, which decreased the lingering pain. Looking up at him, you felt a change in the room, the tension between you as you took each other in the small space, standing so close. He continued studying you with that intense gaze, something you’d likely have to get used to, and you felt your throat dry. Perhaps you judged him too harshly for being diligent and cautious. “Thank you, Azriel,” you said, breaking his eye contact as heat rose to your cheeks. He nodded but didn’t make a move to step back or leave. Up close, he was even more handsome. Everything about him was piercing. His eyes, his bone structure. Masculinity seeped off him, and yet he had shown you such softness just moments before. You swallowed at the attraction you felt. Perhaps it would be easier if he stayed cold and distant, you thought. It was also unnerving to know his skillset made you more readable to him, and he likely knew where your thoughts went. And yet, there he still was, unmoving. 

You made yourself look at him again, and his throat bobbed as he held your gaze. This was dangerous territory. Especially with you having been in such a vulnerable headspace not even moments ago. But you couldn’t deny the change in the atmosphere, how his warm hands tended to your wrist… you let yourself move imperceptibly closer. Just an inch. He remained rooted firmly where he was. He rested his hand on the counter beside both of you, and you mimicked him by placing your hand close to his. Silent invitation. His gaze swept over your features. You tilted your chin slightly, his gaze pausing on your mouth, then went from one eye to the other, back to your mouth… you could’ve sworn he leaned lower by a hair, and then – his head turned sharply to the side, causing you to freeze. His shadows were whispering something inaudible in his ear. He turned back to you. “I have to go. Eris has arrived.” That cool expression returned to his face. He took a step back, and with one final glance your way, he left. Just like in the library, you remained frozen for long after he left. You took deep breaths in and out, clearing your head from the fuzzy haze you felt inside so strongly contrasting the cold, clear emptiness left in his abrupt absence. When you finally calmed down, you left as well. 

~       

The next day, you were to begin the mission directly involving Eris. You made your way to the study early to be there before Azriel. To your relief, you found only Mor in the room. She smiled warmly at you, inviting you to come sit. “How are preparations coming along with Azriel?” 

You felt your heart skip a beat, memories of that intense moment you shared with him the day before flashing in your mind. “Good.”

Mor laughed. “That bad?” 

You smiled at her pleasant nature. So different now was Morrigan, confident and healed, unlike the picture of obedience and quiet resignation you recalled all those years ago in your time working for Beron’s court. “He’s just… well he was colder than I expected at first, but I guess it’s a product of the occupation,” you shrugged. She urged you to continue with a nod. “I’m sorry if this is speaking out of line, but he just seemed like the typical, privileged male.” 

Mor’s mouth parted slightly. “I know he’s not the most welcoming person, but I do have to correct you there. He grew up in an environment that was… cruel, let’s say.” Her words were not unkind, though you did feel a cold pit in your stomach. You’d called him privileged to his face. You frowned at Mor’s words. She gave another smile. “It’s okay, I just wanted to give you a better idea that explains his nature so you don’t think it's personal or anything.” You nodded at her words. Mor looked hesitant for a moment but then spoke again. “I also don’t want to speak out of line, but I’ll say what is… more or less commonly known about him. He was hurt quite badly by his family.” Your mind flashed to the brutal scarring on his hands. Mor nodded in confirmation to where she no doubt suspected your mind went. Your heart dropped to your stomach. He was abused, and you’d judged him so harshly. You felt awful. Mor shook her head. “It’s okay, there was no way for you to have known.” That did little to relieve the guilt, though you supposed perhaps in continuation of the olive branch he extended the day before, apologizing would be easy enough to do.

Azriel appeared in the doorway then and informed you that it was time to go see Eris. “He’s early,” is all Azriel said as he led the way. No indication of the tension between the two of you the day before. “Just stick to the approach we went over. I’ll be there the whole time.”

“Azriel,” you placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder to stop his striding as he approached the door. “Before we begin, I want to tell you something…” You trailed off. 

Azriel gave you his undivided attention at that moment, brows slightly raised. “Can you tell me after?”

“I – Okay, yes I suppose.”

“Okay. Good.” The edges of his lips tipped up in the first smile – or as close to a smile as this was – since you arrived, so you simply smiled back nervously and took a deep breath as Azriel held the door handle, waiting for you to nod in affirmation. On your nod, you both entered. 

~

“Well, well. Tell me, what is it with you Night Court folks and only appointing attractive females to do your delegating?” The drawl came from Eris who was sprawled comfortably on an armchair, a lazy smirk on his face as he took you in. 

Azriel donned his mask of cool indifference again, though he seemed much tenser than you’d ever seen him. Gone was the tender male you saw in your bathroom. “Eris,” Azriel said curtly.

“What’s your name, love?” he addressed you. 

You opened your mouth to answer, but Azriel beat you to it. “Her name is Y/n. Keep this professional, Eris. We don’t have time for –”

“Y/n,” Eris cut Azriel off, his eyes still on you. “And I’m assuming you’re a spy for the Shadowsinger?”

“Yes. She’s mine.” Azriel’s voice was still soft but deadly. Your heart gave a stupid lurch.

“Why don’t you let the lady speak?” Eris said as he finally removed his gaze from you and looked at Azriel. You also took Azriel in; he looked calm, but his jaw was more clenched than you’ve seen since you arrived.

“I don’t need your permission either, Eris.” Thankfully, your remark didn’t sound shaky despite your nerves. You drew strength from the Spymaster adjacent to you, matching your mask of indifference to his.

Eris chuckled. “With fire like that, I would’ve guessed you belonged to the Autumn Court.” Your throat dried at the comment. Surely he didn’t suspect you, did he? 

Azriel stepped in thankfully. “As if you lot give your females the freedom to be so vocal.” 

Eris didn’t falter at the comment. You took the opportunity to bait him as Azriel planned with you before. “Unless of course, it's females being vocal behind the High Lord’s back. Say, for example, his wife and son.” 

To his credit, Eris only faltered for a second before regaining his composure. “And how, pray tell,” he drawled, “would you come to suspect such a thing?”

“We’re just warning you as allies to do your part against the queens to ensure that information like that doesn’t reach the wrong High Lord’s ears,” you finished. 

Eris’s eyes glimmered for a moment. He stood and sauntered over to you, smiling wickedly. “I wonder if this boldness carries over in other circumstances,” he said, voice dragging. Maybe he was baiting you back, maybe he was just leaning into the mask you’ve seen him put on and take off. “Speaking of which,” he continued, “perhaps you’d like to demonstrate just how free you are to be vocal.” He touched his fingers lightly beneath your chin, tilting your face up. 

Before you could react, Azriel shoved Eris back forcefully enough to startle you. The High Lord’s son stumbled back but didn’t fall, and before he could respond, Azriel stalked forward and clutched him by his collars. He spoke with a commanding tone that made you shiver; “Don’t you fucking touch her.” 

Eris gave Azriel an audacious smile. “Ah. A new plaything, then? Is that it?” 

You had to consciously force yourself not to look alarmed as the scene unfolded. “You’re an insufferable prick, Eris,” you chimed. Azriel slowly released Eris and walked back over to you as if he didn’t just put his hands on Beron’s son. You looked at Azriel whose jaw was visibly clenching and unclenching. 

You absentmindedly touched your bandaged wrist, and Azriel tracked the movement. He then turned to Eris once more. “This meeting is over. Go back to your room.” Azriel turned to leave the room before Eris could respond, and you followed him out. Once outside, Azriel didn’t slow down his strides.

“Azriel,” you said hesitantly. He slowed, breathing hard through his nose, not meeting your eyes. 

“I didn’t mean to get physical,” he said suddenly. 

“It’s okay.” You didn’t know what to say, if you should comfort him or leave him alone. He fully stopped and faced you, still looking bothered. You decided giving him space to cool down was a better choice. “It’s okay,” you repeated, shaking your head slightly. “I’ll just – I’ll see you later.”

When you went to walk by him, he gently grasped your elbow. “Wait,” he said, his voice softer. You paused. “You said you had something to tell me before.”   

You met his gaze. “Oh, yes. I wanted to apologize to you.”

His brows knit together. “What for?”

“Well,” you glanced around nervously, unsure how to broach the topic, especially with him in such an intense state. “I talked to Mor earlier, just about how things were going…” He gave you a nod to continue. “I wanted to apologize for calling you privileged earlier. I wasn’t aware that you… that your family, um –” you glanced at his hands for a split second. Before you could continue, you saw the change happen as it unfolded. He removed his hand from your elbow, shoulders tense, and his brows furrowed in an expression that made your stomach run cold. Shit. 

“Hold on,” he said taking a step back. “Is this pity?”

Horror coursed through you. This was going so wrong. It came out so wrong. You frantically shook your head. “No. No, that’s not what I –”

“You learn about my past and come to offer me your pity?” 

“No, Azriel. I just meant that I misunderstood you.”

“Do I look like some charity project? You think just because we’re working together that you need to know me?”

Though your cheeks burned with shame, you felt anger bubbling up at his coldness. “No, but I guess you’re not used to collaboration, what with you thinking you could’ve done all this without me. That you shouldn’t have to ‘outsource during missions’ and whatnot.” 

Shock cut through his quiet anger for a moment at what you revealed. “So you heard me and Rhys that day.” 

“You weren’t exactly being subtle for someone worried about confidentiality. I guess it was my mistake trying to understand you better.”

“You’re right. This was never about being friends.” That stung more than you were prepared for, and it likely showed on your face. You crossed your arms across your abdomen, feeling vulnerable. 

“I don’t know why I’m even working with you lot. I might as well go back to Autumn with Eris,” you lied. 

Azriel scoffed. “If that’s what you want, Princess, be my guest.” 

You huffed in frustration. “God, you’re so entitled.” 

“And you’re so aggravating.” He kept his body completely still and his voice didn’t raise once. “You know,” he took a step closer; you took a step back. “It’s not too late for you to go run after your little princeling.” 

“Maybe I’m just waiting for night to fall,” you retorted. That muscle ticked in his jaw as he glared down at you, and you glared up at him. He took a deep breath through his nose, taking another step closer to you. You took another step back and let out a small gasp as your back hit a wall.

“Good,” he said.

“Good,” you repeated. The burning in his eyes matched the burning you felt inside yourself. You were a fool to think someone as cold as he was would truly be civil.

The intensity of his stare had you faltering for a moment. He was a foot away at this point, his body completely turned to you, both of you breathing audibly. That tension from before crept up on you, electrifying the air once again. You swallowed to suppress the confusion you felt, the anger that contrasted the physical awareness you felt so vividly. “You know,” you began, and it came out softer than you intended. “You’re no more than a self-indulgent male who refuses to grow past your victimhood.” 

“Is that so.” His tone matched yours. He raised his arms slowly, slowly. He braced his hands on either side of your waist on the wall behind you. You had to nod instead of verbally responding because the tension was choking you. You both continued to silently stare at each other. His throat bobbed once. “I’m glad you could work all that out in your pretty little head,” he said, his voice so low, so gruff that you felt it course through your belly. 

“So am I.”

You felt every instant of that moment, and then just as quick as he had you against the wall, he dropped his arms and walked away. 

~

You tossed and turned for hours that night, uncertain how to face Azriel again after the encounter you had. As regretful as that interaction had been, as cruel as both of you had been to each other, it was underscored by that… craving, that pull that drew you two together. Such a contrast, and yet it also came so naturally. Thoughts of that ebb and flow eventually lulled you to sleep. 

Your dreams were of a hazel-eyed male, his brooding, his tenderness. You beckoned for him but couldn’t reach him. You called for his name, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of shackled limbs clanging, the noise growing as the steps advanced your way til it became suffocating; images of a consort with bruises that could be easily covered, her high lord with his tyrannical rule that was less subtle, male anger, abandoning the prison sentence that was Autumn court, and –

You gasped awake. Sweat beading on your forehead, you had to fist your sheets until your heaving calmed down. Nightmares were a common occurrence. You could still feel the lingering aches from your dream, and you touched the phantom pain in your wrists until you were certain nothing was there. You took deep breaths and decided to go distract yourself, lest you fall asleep and fall back into the same nightmare. 

You padded quietly through the halls of the House, not knowing where exactly to go. The only residents staying the night were Cassian, Azriel, and – Eris. You halted your steps, having forgotten Eris was here. Unease crawled up your spine. You’d stopped fearing the heir since you began seeing his hidden tenderness with his mother, but with your nightmare still so fresh in your mind, you couldn’t help but shudder at the reminder of your past. You turned around to put physical distance between you and the prince, and for good measure, you headed to Azriel’s room just in case.

You walked until you made it there, then you stopped yourself. What the hell am I doing? This was the last place to go. In fact, if he sees you here, there’s a very high chance he’ll think you did seek out Eris like you said. That thought had you turning around just as quickly as you came. You decided the kitchen was a safe zone to calm down and get your head on right since it clearly wasn’t all currently there. 

In the kitchen, you braced your hands on the counter and took deep breaths to ground yourself., until you heard a throat being cleared behind you, which had you turning around. Azriel stood in the doorway taking you in. Neither of you said anything for a moment until you spoke. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

Azriel looked at you for another beat before shaking his head once. “No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“How’d you know I was here?”

“My shadows.” They wove around his hands as if in emphasis. “They told me the second you left your room.”

“Ah.” You shifted your weight between your legs and played with the hem of your sleeve under his gaze. When you looked up again, he was still studying you, that chronic intensity enduring.

“Why didn’t you knock?” He asked suddenly.

“What?”

“When you came to my room. Why didn’t you knock?” 

You blinked, dumbfounded. “I don’t know,” you said softly. A sense of exposure from the nightmare spread through your abdomen. There would be little to no hiding behind any bravado this time around, and at this point, you were too worn out to try.

“You’re shaking,” he said quietly. You glanced down, and sure enough, there was a slight tremor in your fingers. “I’m sorry. About earlier.” That had you glancing back up at him. He finally entered the threshold of the kitchen. 

“Is this pity?” you joked, offering a small smile in truce. He didn’t return the smile, still looking concerned.

“I’m sorry for lashing out at Eris, and for getting angry at you after. I was just… never mind.” He broke your eye contact, shaking his head a bit.  

“Tell me,” you whispered hoarsely.

Azriel looked at you in silence before speaking. “I was mad at the idea that you could want Eris.” 

Your brows turned upward in shock and snorted lightly. “Are you out of your mind?” Azriel didn’t respond. “Azriel.”

He shook his head again. Then he walked towards you. He grasped both of your wrists in each of his hands with such gentleness that it made your chest ache. He pulled you to the table and guided you to sit in one of the seats, so you did. Then he turned away, putting a kettle on the stove. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making you some tea,” he said. You watched in silence as he worked, admiring the way he moved so gracefully even at night, even when he’d likely just been woken up as you suspected, despite what he claimed. 

Once he was done, he brought two mugs to the table and sat across from you. You thanked him and took yours in unsteady hands. “You had a nightmare.” You nodded in confirmation. He didn’t pry or suggest that you speak, likely because you looked as distraught as you felt inside. “You did really well today, you know.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “The authority and the timing were well done. We could still make a spy out of you yet.”

You gave a small smile. “I’ll only take you up on that if we have trust between each other.” 

He looked at you. Then he cleared his throat. “What Mor told you was true… about my family hurting me.” He clenched and unclenched his fingers, looking down as he spoke. “It was my own brothers that hurt me. They burned my hands.” Your throat dried, and he met your gaze again. You dared to reach out and grasp his hand. He maintained eye contact, and finally squeezed your fingers. 

Touched by him opening up to you, you decided you’d use the given space and time between the two of you to reciprocate the sentiment; the kind of honesty and faith that came easier at night. “When I worked at Autumn, they caught me doing extra favours for Mor than I was allowed. I snuck meals into her room so she could avoid having them with Eris, warned her of his schedule so she could try to avoid him, lots of things. Some courtiers figured this out and reported me to Beron. They put shackles on my wrists as part of my punishment. It made washing dishes and basic movement very painful.” You rolled up your sleeves to show him the scars he’d already seen. “I have nightmares about the punishment, the confrontation with Beron, the fear I felt working there anyways.” You glanced at Azriel. He was tense with anger despite his silence as he listened.

“That’s why you left,” he said finally. You nodded. “You don’t plan on going back, do you?”

“Not since committing treason.” You smiled, feeling lighter. He barked a laugh.

“Perfect,” he said.

“Perfect,” you repeated. His eyes twinkled, chuckling as the heaviness from your confessions was released. “I might have to look into permanent hiring.” 

“I know a guy.” You laughed easily now.

“That’s a lot of honesty for a Spymaster,” you teased.

“One for one,” he grinned deeply.

“Alright. Let me hear another.”

He still had that glint in his eyes, but his smile faded a bit. “You are wildly beautiful.” You felt your eyes widen and cheeks flush. His smile returned at your reaction. “I thought it from the start.” He swallowed once and nodded at you. “Your turn.”

You cleared your throat. “You are disturbingly and insufferably attractive. It’s making me feel insane.” He laughed again, and it was a sound you never wanted to stop hearing.

Your hand still held his, and you ran your thumb lightly over one of the raised scars. A declaration of your oneness in that moment. The release of your past, of your pains. He didn’t stop you. His eyes tracked the movement, and when he looked up at you again, that wild focus reappeared. The hunger. You swallowed, still unused to his unyielding intensity. “Let me walk you to your room.”

He stood, and you held his gaze as you stood as well, hand in hand. He led you to your room, both of his hands behind his back holding one of yours. With every step down the halls, you felt warmer and warmer in your lower stomach. As if every step forward had the two of you wading into thicker air, where the tension was slowly swallowing you two whole. Him holding your hand and guiding you in the dark felt as intimate as when you bore your past to him in the wake of your raw vulnerability. Yet, instead of fear, all you felt was trust. 

Once you made it to your door, he turned to face you, and you craned your neck to look up at him in the dark. You felt your heart rate increase. That ebb and flow between the two of you made itself known again, like a conversation between your spirits. Neither of you made any attempt to break contact. You tugged down on his hand, pulling him down to you, and he didn’t hesitate to deliver what you wished. He bent down immediately and kissed you with all the fervour you felt inside that had been brewing for the past few days. He kissed you with the same intensity that you regularly felt in his gaze, one that you could always count on finding. He removed his hand from yours to put both his hands on your head, thumbs beneath your jaw as he tipped your head further upwards to kiss you deeper. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out at the force, and you drank up every drop of what he gave.

When he broke away from the kiss, you felt drunk. You finally opened your eyes, both of you breathing hard. He looked at you in silent question. You nodded. “Yes.” He grabbed the door handle to your room behind you, turned it on your nod as you began walking in backwards. “Yes.” You grabbed his hands in both of yours and pulled him inside. Yes. Azriel took one giant stride towards you and hauled you into his arms with alarming ease. 

“You’re mine,” he said. 

“Good.”

“Good.” 

#Azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel/reader #az #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine #acomaf #acowar #acosf #rhys #cassian #feyre #mor #azriel fluff #enemies to lovers

[freddie-77-ao3]

For The Children That’ll Never Grow (Hope Should Have Left Humanity)

(clips)

In the Gardens of Bacchus, long after Reyna has left them, Octavian and Jason stay, drinking cold hot chocolate. Jason is putting on a show, making lightning mimic campers. At one point, he loses control, and a grapevine catches fire. They watch as it burns to ash. 

Octavian traces his spine with a finger, pulls in for a kiss, and whispers in his ear, you are capable of such beautiful destruction. 

From Octavian, it must be true. 

~~~~

On the way to Orthys, Octavian insists on sitting by his side. Jason leans into his touch. This may be the last time he sees his… his Octavian alive. 

Jason murmurs, “What if we fail?” against Octavian’s skin, barely audible in the frenzied sedan. But the way Octavian tenses means Jason knows that he’d heard it. 

Octavian swallows a lump in his throat. “It’ll end in fire. But, Jay, we won’t be the ones to burn.”

They’ll be dead. The Twelfth legion will be dead long before the mortal world begins burning. Jason’s throat bobs. “Yeah. I, uh, I love you, Tavi.”

“Love you too, Jay.” They sit in silence the rest of the drive.

They stay in silence after the drive too. When the fourteen year old is made Praetor, raised on the shield, still covered in the sticky ichor of the titans and the blood of the last Praetor. 

When Octavian has to guide him away from the bunks Jason has lived in since he was five. Has to wrangle him into the shower, carefully caressing scabs and still open cuts. 

Because these two boys are fourteen, and they love each other. These two boys are fourteen, and they have no idea what’s coming.

~~~

Sometimes, Jason likes it when he cries. The tears blur his sight, until he can pretend even airplanes are shooting stars across the night sky. 

When he wishes on them, it’s always for the same thing. For a family. For a sister (his sister, buried beneath tree branches, untouchable and locked away). A mother and a father too if he is lucky. 

~~~

Octavian lays down next to him on his bed in the Praetor’s room. He traces the nape of his neck. “You, Jason Grace, have been cursed with a great raisin d’etre. But it’s okay. You’ll live, you’ll survive.” Octavian doesn’t add that he only knows that Jason will survive longer than he will, and that Octavian will likely be dead before two years are out. Doesn’t add that from what Octavian has seen of Jason’s death, it is creeping closer, closer, close too. 

~~~

When Octavian gets cold, he gets cold. He gets cold deep in his bones, where it doesn’t leave for weeks. Jason found it funny, once, back when they were ten or so, because Octavian looked like a goddamned marshmallow, wrapped up in three pairs of pants, 2 shirts, a sweater, and a jacket. (And don’t even get him started on the socks). 

The point is, it was funny once, how much Octavian dreaded the cold. Once. Just not anymore. Because Octavian doesn’t care about the cold. Jason can see him shivering on his father’s altar at all hours of the day, but when Jason tries to persuade him to come down, he just… doesn’t. He says there’s no time.

Time for what? He had asked once, laughing. War’s over, Tavi. We have nothing but time. 

Octavian had scowled. Had told him he didn’t know what he was talking about. Then, he had pressed a knife into Jason’s hand, and told him to go stay in his room. 

Why? Tavi, we’re fine. War’s over, we survived. It isn’t over, he had responded, not yet.

~~~

"I need to sleep." Reyna admits, because she's always been able to advocate for herself. It's also her saying that she's overwhelmed, not that Octavian would judge her for simply saying it. "But call if you need me."

He won’t. Jason Grace is missing– possibly dead. But Octavian can’t tell Reyna this. Can’t tell anyone. Because that makes it all real, and if it’s real, Octavian can’t stand himself. So it isn’t real. Simple as that. 

#pjo hoo toa #riordanverse #pjo #pjo series #pjo fandom #snippets #my wips #wips #wip snippet #jason grace #octavian pjo #reyna ramirez arellano #jason pjo #jason grace pjo #jason/octavian

[stealingyourbones]

This time I choked on a cookie, what do you know.

So I'm not exactly high cultured on the Batman/Dc lore, heard stuff through the grapevine and the occasional clip watch so if I make any assumed mistakes feel free to correct me.

So in short, instead of biologically connecting Danny to Bruce or any other Batkids.

Why not the Joker?

It doesn't even have to be close, something like a faraway cousin.

The crazies are obviously there in Jack and Maddie- Even if it is dedicated to science.

I don't know enough to make an actual connection that may work, but it's what the cookie says.

Hmmmm. Ok so like Joker before he became criminally insane or after? I’m takin a fat guess for after.

I know that Joker has had children in the comics. He had two perfectly normal kids when he sorta mentally hid himself in his own brain and adopted the name Joseph Kurr after Batman ‘died’. He was a normal man with a normal life, normal job, normal wife, and I’m pretty sure two kids. He turns back into Joker the second he finds out that Batman is back and all that, but it shows that he can indeed have two kids unaffected by his chemical alterations.

(Oh also the idea that the vat of stuff that joker fell in was actually pure ectoplasm and stuff to that degree of purity made him gain an obsession but no core is p cool. The obsession obvs being Batman.)

I haven’t read The Three Jokers comic (nor do I want to. The entire point of the joker is that he is unknown and doesn’t have an in depth backstory and that ruins it for me.) so I’m unsure any past connection he could possibly have with Jack or Maddie besides…

Hold up.

Wait.

You know what Joker is a master of that absolutely isn’t talked about enough in comics?

Chemistry.

The Joker is a fucking genius at chemistry. Dude makes his own Joker Gas, various joker bombs, and other forms of chemical warfare that he repeatedly uses on Batman and the citizens of Gotham City.

If you really wanna fuck with the plot and everything, maybe Joker was an anonymous endorser for the Fentons who are trying to figure out the chemical composition and possible artificial replication of ectoplasm.

Joker helps them in their studies and even comes by to assist on their research. One day he has a request: Raise his child. He knew that Maddie and Jack wanted another kid but we’re too afraid of the possible repercussions of a fetus absorbing harmful ectoplasm radiation in utero.

The Joker’s request wasn’t out of kindness. It was out of mania and a well thought out plan to prank this couple for all their hard work.

He injected the child (is it actually Joker’s? Is it just a kid he stole? Honestly you can choose cause both are pretty to par with how he acts) with the Fenton’s first batch of synthesized ectoplasm. It was a failure but still had some odd qualities that were akin to the undead goo. This sludge would later be known as Joker Venom.

This child will grow up and become his ‘son’. Insane and filled with a green tinged madness that couldn’t be controlled that those who afflicted would fully embrace their madness. (Ey yo this could actually be pretty sick for Dan.)

The child that Maddie and Jack agreed to take in and raise as their own had a corrupted madness hidden inside his heart. Any experience of great grief would cause this madness to spread through his entire being and change him forever.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc comics #writing prompts #dp x dc prompt #bones replies #vortexbox #joker is Danny’s son in the ‘I created this’ rather than ‘this is my bio kid’ if that tracks. Dan is ‘born’ from Joker Venom

[hargrove-mayfields]

It’s Disabled Billy and Steve Week

Day 1- Music

My prompt: Harringrove- Dancing to music at their wedding

-•-•-•-

In 1996, Billy and Steve get married.

They didn’t want to wait an unknown amount of time just for a legal certificate that wouldn’t mean much anyways, so they each picked a ring from one another’s jewelry boxes, bought some thrifted suit jackets, and set the date.

Mrs. Byers was more than happy to lend her back yard to the event, as long as her kids agreed to help her with the load of work setting up and decorating would create. They got help from their friends, and through the grapevine that led to Carol, a now professional interior designer, getting her hands on the theme and decorations. Control, drama, whatever, it’s all in Carol's wheelhouse, but Billy’s just grateful she involved Steve in choosing the theme.

Steve had had a stroke and lost 90% of his eyesight in the aftermath of the Starcourt attacks. In the years since it’s never returned, the old nurse's promises of magic recovery all hollow attempts at making him feel better, so it meant a lot when Carol went out of her way to get tactile decorations for Steve to enjoy in his own right.

Massive fake flowers, braille signs and table settings, even the cake is textured with sugar pearls and rolled chocolate to give Steve something to touch, a way to build his own image of his special day. The cake came courtesy of Jonathan and Tommy, a more than unlikely duo who came together for their friends, and because of their mutual artistic interests.

Nobody expected Tommy to become a baker of all things, but damn if he doesn’t make the best tres leches cake any of them had ever tried. Though to be fair, the majority of their Midwestern friend group couldn’t say they had tried one before. Argyle and Billy had bragging rights on culinary experiences growing up in a more culturally diverse region.

Jonathan on the other hand had become a painter, and done the decorations for Tommy’s cake. After all the monster encounters, flashing lights and loud sounds weren’t really his thing. Photography just wasn’t his passion anymore. Art was still a big interest of his though, and it was actually Heather who introduced painting, since she took lessons as a little kid.

Heather, who is the stand-in bridezilla. Both Billy and Steve are calm about their wedding, caring more about what it means to each other than the actual event. That isn’t that case for miss Heather Ernestine Holloway-Buckley. She wants everything to be perfect. Absolutely. Everything.

From the tablecloths being the same color as Billy’s white and gold suit jacket, to the flower petals scattered in the neatly trimmed grass matching the crown of flowers in Steve’s hair. She demands everyone get matching dresses or suits depending on their preference, so the pictures will turn out perfect. In Jonathan’s place, El takes the photos, taught by her older brother about the craft and determined to capture as many memories as possible.

The rest of the smaller details are kept secret from the boys. Things like who will officiate, the food, how the backyard will be set up, and the music are all a total surprise to keep things exciting.

With everything in place, all they need is to be there. To say their vows and dedicate the rest of their lives to the one they consider their soulmate.

But Steve is terrified. Having nightmares every night leading up to the wedding because he’s scared his blindness is going to ruin something. Even Robin, who has been with him every step of the way, has been warning him numerous times to be careful on that night.

The wedding will be by daylight, made even brighter by small candles on the tables, and fairy lights strung in the trees, but that only means Steve can see basic, blurry silhouettes. If he trips, or runs into something, or someone, on his wedding day, he’ll never live down the embarrassment.

There’s only one day left until the ceremony when he brings it up to Billy, trying to be subtle about it and failing hugely.

At the breakfast table, over pre-game chocolate chip pancakes as Billy called them, Steve asks him, “Are you nervous?”

Even at this stage, Billy gets grumpy in the mornings. He cooked breakfast, sure, but he might as well still be asleep until noon. Usually, thanks to his pain meds, he might take a few half hour power naps up until then. Still, his answer and its gravelly delivery are playful and unserious, “Nah. I’m just eager for the honeymoon stage.”

Only, Steve’s nerves are so wound up, he can’t find it charming like usual. A simple, quiet, “Oh.” is his only response.

Right away, he can tell from the shift in his partner's energy that Billy knows what that means. Some part of Steve is glad he can’t look into Billy’s face and see the pain in his features, from knowing Steve isn’t perfectly alright.

That’s something Steve forgets sometimes, that just because he can’t see someone, doesn’t mean they can’t see him. Every emotion he feels is expressed freely in the look on his face, revealing the anxiety, and the bubbling uncertainty that makes this so hard.

Billy encourages him to talk about it, “Come on, Stevie. Spill. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

Something tells Steve to lie. Maybe it’s the pressure of the wedding being just a little over twenty four hours away at this point. Probably that. His entire life he grew up thinking there was nothing more important than marriage, and now that he has the chance, he’s terrified of things going poorly. So he assures Billy, “Nothing! I get to marry you! What could be wrong?”

“Darling. I see those gears turning. You’re thinking something.” Billy sees through it. Of course he does or he wouldn’t have ever broken down Steve’s mask personality enough to one day become his husband. Billy must worry that he hasn’t done exactly that, because he asks, softer and more quivery than his other words, “Getting cold feet?”

“No! Oh, god Billy no. Never ever.” Steve promises passionately, reaching over to the spot where Billy is for his hand, the responsibility of actually placing their hands together and sharing touch placed onto Billy. Squeezing it gently so he knows he feels him, Steve tries to explain his feelings, “I just. I feel wiggly.”

“Can you tell me what wiggly means?” Billy asks, always asking questions to make sure he understands Steve’s needs enough to help. It’s no mystery why he loves him so much.

That said, it takes a moment of thinking for Steve to put it into words, “Like everything’s shaky and bad. And I’m scared and nervous. And kinda shy. But the bad kind of shy.”

“All that about the wedding?” Billy’s definitely worried about him. Scared that maybe marriage, even if it’s not technically official, is possibly too much pressure for him.

Steve eases that quiet nagging with his response, and takes the blame too, “More like about messing up the wedding.”

Trying to soothe what little tension there has become, Billy softly comforts Steve, “Honey, you’re not going to mess up. There’s no right way to get married.”

“But not everyone who gets married is blind.” Steve mumbles, and Billy realizes it’s that kind of wiggly.

Ever since losing his sight, Steve’s been a bit more quiet. It’s not like he changed, but Billy had a suspicion there was something brewing under the surface. Now that it’s been confirmed that Steves worries come from that, and since fear of the changes disability brought to their lives is something Billy is familiar with himself, he thinks he knows how to help.

“I'm in a wheelchair maybe four days a week, and the others I’m in bed. That’s not exactly typical either.” Is his choice of words.

It seems to work for a moment, since Steve relaxes a bit, but then his mind starts going again and he fishes up a new fear to bring to Billy.

“But you have special braces and stuff if you want to stand up for pictures and dancing.. I can’t just put in a new pair of eyes.” He sounds almost sad.

Billy wants to make sure he knows he doesn’t have to feel that way.

He asks, “Is that what you’re worried about? Dancing?”

Steve shrugs, still physically expressive as a habit despite his inability to see those mannerisms, and says quietly, “A little.”

Billy seems to think that’s a fixable issue, even offering up a quick solution, “Chrissy did cheer for her whole life and she’s married to a paraplegic. She can totally help us with a dance.”

“She’s also very pregnant. I don’t wanna bother-“ Steve denies right away, but Billy’s already wheeling over to the phone before he can really stop him.

“Too bad. I’m already calling her.” Billy’s tone of voice just sounds like he’s smiling mischievously, which has Steve rolling his eyes without meaning anything by it, especially when Billy greets their friend by saying, “Hey, Chris! Got a second, toots?”

•-•-•-•-•

Before Steve knows it, it’s the next day, and the time for practice is over.

Instead of a wedding march, the soft strum of an electric guitar signals Steve to come down the aisle, which is really just a bolt of soft fabric rolled out over the grass and weighed down by dollar tree candles.

He’s not sure who’s playing, but it’s sweet, the soft version of a Cinderella song Billy and Steve both love. It brings a smile to his face, but doesn’t cancel out the clammy feeling he gets when he realizes it’s time to step forward and actually walk down the aisle.

It’s only the officiant at the other end, Billy still inside getting ready for his entrance after Steve’s, so he’s not sure why he’s so scared. With Dustin and Claudia on either side of him, and a hand on the harness his guide dog wears, he should feel stable and supported.

But every step forward makes that intensity of the butterflies in his stomach only grow stronger.

Until something cuts through, the voice of the officiant;

“And here we have Groom number one. Led by the one and only, Miss Peanut Butter Cup the Beagle. She’s feisty, she’ll bite your ass, and she loves to cuddle. Sounds like a great honeymoon.”

Talking like an infomercial, or some kind of weird radio announcer, Murray fucking Bauman is the man who will marry Steve to the love of his life. At least half of his fears dissolve on the spot. This isn’t some all serious, super tense event like his biological parents would have planned for him.

This is a celebration, and all of his friends and family are going to stumble their way through it, so why shouldn’t he?

Him and his Henderson entourage keep walking to the makeshift altar, and Murray keeps talking, “Oh yeah. And the rest. You all know him, you all love him, it’s Dustin! Here to impart his uninvited wisdom unto the newlyweds. And what’s this? A Jewish mom who will adopt any roughian street kid she sees? That’s right folks, it’s Claudia Henderson, and with her she has- her newest adoptee!”

“Stefan Harrington! And today is his big day. Everybody give him a hand. He can’t see your stupid cheeseburger smiles. Give him the entrance you’d give the president if he walked past.” Murray laughs at himself in the midst of the lengthy introduction, “Actually, no. Please don’t do that. Just clap for him.”

All of this makes Steve giggle his way down the aisle, largely forgetting about his fears of ruining the ceremony. After all, with Murray in charge, there are no rules to abide by.

When he makes it to his spot, and Dustin and Claudia step away, Steve has a one-on-one with Murray, “How you doing, kid?”

Recognizing there’s no time to dive into the nuances, Steve says simply, “I’m okay.”

“Just okay? This is the real deal! You gotta be pumped!” Murray encourages him, which makes Steve remember that there’s something holding him back.

“I’m too wiggly.” He sounds defensive.

Murray on the other hand just sounds happy, and eternally positive, as he suggests, “Shake out those wiggles. C’mon, I’ll do it with you.”

Together the two of them shake and flap and wiggle, a moment that never would’ve happened without the support Steve has gotten from his family. There was a time when, although he wasn’t very good at masking, he’d have been too ashamed to openly stim in front of an entire wedding party of the most important people in his life. Now though, by the end of this, he’s giggling and smiling and having the time of his life.

Checking in again, Murray asks him, “That better?”

“A little.” Steve shrugs, struggling to assign any qualities to the big big feelings he has. Feelings are so hard right now.

He’s getting married.

“C’mon, what can I do to make it best?” Murray keeps trying, something of another parent to Steve. Even making another joke, “I mean, I can start taking my clothes off, but I don’t think Joyce would be too happy.”

A little bit haunted by that mental image, but mostly amused, Steve shakes his head, and gives his best response, “Just, can you read slowly? And not tease me so much during the real thing?”

Instantly Murray agrees lightheartedly, “A deals a deal. Smack me in the head if I screw it up, alright. This is the only time I’ll ever tell you that because I am perfect otherwise.”

It’s the guitar melody rising up that cuts off their conversation, and suddenly Steve’s heart rate is picking up again. This is really happening.

Murray puts it not so gracefully, “Oops. I’ll stop running my mouth now. Looks like your other half is coming.”

Since Steve can’t see what’s happening, Murray goes back into his narration mode, which Steve appreciates a lot.

“Coming up next folks is our half off sale. That’s right, now you can get two for the price of one. Just add a wedding band- Sold separately.” Murray jokes, earning a little scoff from Joyce, which makes Steve laugh softly.

He’s grateful for the dry, cheesy sense of humor Murray has, otherwise he might be totally panicking right now.

“What’s this? We have a flower girl, people. Leading the way is miss Chrissy with her lovely paper flower petals. Behind her, to match her developing appreciation for all things butch, Heather does not have flowers. Oh no. She has seashells. Imported from the fine beaches of the dollar store they were purchased at.”

It’s probably rude, but Steve loves the mental image it gives him. He can imagine Heather in her suit, and Chrissy in her flowy dress, decorating the aisle with delicate little pieces of Billy and Steve’s love. The best part is he can hear them laughing at the jokes about themselves, so he can imagine the smiles on their faces.

His favorite part is the next introduction, the one that refers to his culture most, “Last but not least, Jane brought some sea glass, since there will be no stomping of any glass until our two grooms get some functioning body parts. Since that will never happen, join me in telling the Jewish ancestors to suck it and deal. But not groom number two. He’s too catholic.”

The trio of groomsmaids stand off to the side, their shoes crunching on the grass, and Steve knows what that means. It means Billy is coming.

“Speaking of, and without further ado- escorted by his creepy little sibling Max, here he is. Come on down William.”

The walk is slow, with Billy using his limb braces and forearm crutches instead of his wheelchair for this special moment. Steve can be patient. He’s wanted this to happen since his third date with Billy, when he brought training treats for Peanut Butter Cup and a sensory necklace for Steve. What’s a few more minutes?

The pacing does however warrant more Murray monologuing, which is something of a treat anyways.

“Ooh, not too shabby for a man with no usable limbs. Speaking of, why exactly did we just turn the aisle into a safety hazard? Oh well. At least if he falls on his ass, he’ll look good doing it.”

The comment must remind him to give a description of Billy for his sightless groom to be, “A diamond earring, tons of mascara, way too much hairspray in that fluffy perm- I’m starting to feel underdressed.”

And then he’s there. Steve can feel his energy, the radiant, sunshiney happiness Billy always produces. Since there are no rules, he decides to reach out his palms, the sign that means he wants to hold Billy’s hands. The weight and warmth of the touch when Billy obliges adds more butterflies to Steve’s chest.

He’s smiling like an idiot, and if he had to guess, he’d say Billy probably is too.

After a few moments, they’re interrupted by Murray clearing his throat, “That’s it? No hello?”

Steve can practically hear the eye roll Billy gives as he speaks, “Hi Murray. Don’t forget this is my wedding.”

“Ohhh. And here I thought this was a bat mitzvah. Don’t panic, but I think I grabbed the wrong book.” Murray pretend-whispers, letting the imaginary tension build before he pats them both on the back, and assures, “Kidding. Sure I was the worst choice for this, I don’t know shit about romance and never will, but I can do my job.”

The guitar music ends, and the residual chattering and laughing stops too. It’s time. Steve’s hands are shaking. Billy squeezes them once reassuringly.

“Once upon a time, William Reuben Hargrove met Stefan Mihai Carson Harrington; They fought, they fucked, blah blah blah, they caught feelings- and a monster possession- Oh, whatever. Point is, they’re getting married now! Two souls united and all that jazz. So are you ready to say ‘I do?’” Murray rushes through a fake service, earning groans from much of the audience.

And from Steve, who whines, “Murrayyy!”

“Fine, fine. But you're gonna pay me after this, right? I’m a licensed therapist now. My services aren’t free anymore.” Murray snarks, totally playful and unserious.

He’s not the only one who can do sarcasm, since the entire wedding party starts to boo. Steve is pretty sure he hears Carol, his strongest advocate since they were kids, shout the loudest to, “Get on with it!”

•-•-•-•-•-•

An hour later, they were married. Mister and mister Hargrove.

In the style of a picnic of sorts, everyone had brought food to share. From Claudia’s mac n cheese, to Heather and Robins take on a vegan sushi, their newest cooking experiment, to Sue Sinclairs potato salad that she sent with Lucas even though she couldn’t be there herself- there was a little something for everyone. Steve personally loved the Zeytoon Parvardeh that Joyce had made from an old family recipe. Billy preferred the ceviche Argyle brought, so he’d fed Steve all his olives, a nice romantic moment that had Steve blushing.

By now the actual party aspect of the day has begun, after the cake had been cut and the wine poured. Joyce limited the amount of alcohol allowed to be served to two bottles, one white and one red, to respect the boundaries of those like Billy recovering among them. Tommy and Robin probably have drunk the majority of that portion, and the two of them are tipsy, pestering Eddie over at his makeshift music booth.

While all the noise and everything started picking up, Steve had settled into a little corner by himself to stay calm. He hears someone approaching by the sound of footsteps, and turns his head their way, to make sure he can hear them properly.

Turns out it’s Joyce, who enthusiastically says, “Congratulations, sweetie!”

Steve thanks her, and reaches for her hand, to make a connection that will make communication easier, “Thank you, Mrs. Byers.”

Joyce rubs his knuckles, her tone soft and kind, “I hope Murray didn’t ruin your ceremony. Would you believe me if I said that was the toned down version of his original plan?”

Steve brushes it off in stride, “Somehow, yes, but we loved it, Mrs B. Billy hasn’t laughed like that in a while.”

“I’m glad. This was your day. All about you!” Joyce enthuses, sounding a little relieved to hear her friend hadn’t messed anything up, “I bet you feel so happy!”

Steve just nods, and flaps his free hand, the words escaping him but the physicality of happiness easy to express.

“Can I hug you, sweetie?” Joyce asks, delighted by Steve’s own happiness.

Now, Steve isn’t the most hug friendly person, but today, a nice tight embrace from Joyce Byers sounds like a much needed break. A respite and a safe place.

He tells her, “Yes please.”

And so she wraps her arms around him and squeezes the life out of him, gushing, “Oooh, I’m so so proud of you! You’ve come so far!”

All Steve can say is a bashful, “Thank you, Mrs. B.”

The hug lasts maybe a few minutes, of Steve taking deep breaths of perfume and cuddling soft brown hair, just savoring the whole thing and the therapeutic effect it has on him.

But all too soon, his worst fear is reality- It’s time for his first dance with Billy.

Eddie announces it, since he’s something of the coordinator now, “Looks like it’s time for a sloooow dance. Where are my two grooms?”

Joyce sounds thrilled on the other hand, “Are you ready, dear?”

Steve physically winces, “Actually…”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll do just fine. Just breathe.” Joyce puts her hand on his back and helps him catch his breath for a second, before offering sympathetically, “He’s waiting for you, sweetie. Do you want me to walk you to him?”

Nervously, Steve nods. Earlier today, he married the love of his life. That was the easy part. Dancing in front of literally everyone he’s ever cared about is not easy.

Joyce is kind enough to walk him to Billy, leaving Peanut Butter Cup asleep under Steve’s chair. Letting him do it himself would’ve probably ended in him knocking Billy over, since his braces are all that’s holding him up. Instead he gets to settle into Billy’s embrace, with Joyce’s help to sturdy them both.

His head rested on Billy’s shoulder, and Billy’s arms around his waist, toes together, they started to get into the music.

Their dance song is fitting, a song Billy had learned marching in the streets for the rights of the disabled like them. On Being Special by Sue Napolitano. A beautiful poem all about family and love.

It sets a rhythm good for swaying, and soft little shuffles. Getting lost in it, Steve closes his eyes, blocking out what little light gets through, and lets his husband guide him. Billy knows the song by heart, and, pressing his lips to give a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead, he mumbles the lyrics against his skin.

Even though there’s a lot of their friends there, in that moment it’s just them. Center stage, dancing on scrap lauan in Mrs. Byers’ backyard to the gentle crackling and crooning of a beat up old stereo, since Eddie and the band didn’t think they could do it justice.

Not even the thunking and clacking of Billy’s hardware is enough to take anyone out of the moment. This is them. Their reality.

Their disabled love story.

Steve is thankful he had Murray and Joyce and Chrissy and Billy to ease him through the nerves that led to this very moment. He did it. He had his first dance, with the love of his life, on his wedding day. Steve is maybe crying happy tears by the time it’s over, but he can hear from the general sniffles that a few other people are too.

When the song ends, there’s a beat of silence where nobody really knows what to do next. Steve can tell just from the energy shift that they’re wondering if they should help the newlyweds off the dance floor. But Steve doesn’t want to let go yet, and since they don’t move, that must be a cue for some folks to join them in dancing.

Or, that’s what Tommy interprets it to mean, because he’s stomping over towards them and shouting, “Let’s fucking goooo!!”

Steve guesses he dragged Carol along too, because she’s shriek-laughing his name, “Tomàs!!”

Their boldness inspires other couples to join in. Jonathan and Argyle, Chrissy and Eddie and their little two year old, Heather and Robin, even Hopper and Joyce, after a little coercion to get the grumpy old cop off his ass to have some fun too. The kids all come up together, leaving just a few stragglers, one being Murray. His dance partner of choice happens to be miss Peanut Butter Cup, bribed with a few blueberries he’d grabbed from the snack table.

They’re all together, and they’re all happy. So fucking happy.

•-•-•

A few songs in, Billy taps on Steve’s cheek, after giving him a small little kiss, to alert him to a conversation.

He asks softly, “Sweetheart, Patrick is dancing all by himself. Haven’t talked to him in a good while either. D’you think I could-“

But Steve doesn’t even make him finish that justification. He’s overdue for a break, and loves their friends just as much as Billy, so he’d actually prefer it if he did go to Patrick for a bit.

He tells his husband, “You don’t have to ask, babe. Go see your friend.”

“You’re sure?” Billy checks in again.

Steve nods, and gives him another small kiss to seal the deal, “I need a rest anyways. Big feelings.”

It’s still hesitantly that Billy pulls away, and only after a tight embrace, but he lets Steve go get his dog off of Murray and take his seat back in the corner. On his way away, he hears Billy call playfully, “Hey, McKinney! Get your ass over here!”

•-•-•-•-•

Out of nowhere, Steve hears the tapping of little feet running right towards him.

He’s already deduced who it is, based on the fact that there’s only one little tyke here, but the bubbly excited voice that falls to him gives it away even more, “Teevee!!”

Little Jackson is an outgoing boy, his enthusiasm curbed by nothing. Except maybe bumble bees, since he’s afraid of those, but there’s no buzzing demons around, so he’s all giggles as he pulls on Steve’s jacket sleeve.

On instinct, Steve picks him up, and blows a raspberry on the toddlers chubby little cheek, “Jackie!! There’s my favorite little groomsman!”

Jackson kicks his legs as Steve tips him onto his back, tickling his tummy and laughing along with him. Chrissy tells him he’s not as open with other people, but Steve has always been good with kids, so maybe it’s true.

Something about their pure hearts reminds him of who he’s always wanted to be. Their wonder and their fascination with everything just lifts his heart up. And at the moment, gives him the courage to get back on his feet and have some more fun.

Together with little Jackson, he twirls and spins, earning an endless stream of giggles from his friends’ baby boy.

“Wheee, you like to dance, huh?” Steve asks him, and immediately gets a very enthusiastic response.

“Yah!!!” Jackson even claps his little hands, a stim he’s clearly picked up from Eddie. Their little one is autistic and has adhd just like his dad, which probably also has to do with why he loves Steve so much.

And also why he has an abrupt energy crash and falls asleep without warning, his curly head laying on Steve’s shoulder, drooling down his back. They got their pictures already, so he doesn’t mind the mess. He just quietly takes Jackson back to a seat and cradles him softly, listening to the ongoing party and reveling in that bliss.

At some point, Billy snuck up on him, announcing his presence with a soft pet name, “Sweetheart.”

“Yes, my love?” Steve hums, turning his head in the general direction of Billy.

He’s not expecting what Billy is about to say.

“What’s the next step after marriage?”

Because of how random it seems, Steve has to think about what he’s asking, taking a moment before he remembers the old rhyme from childhood, “Uh-uh. No baby carriages yet, bubs. Give it at least a week.”

Billy is persistent, if only playfully, suggesting, “There’s always the honeymoon.”

Patting little Jackson’s back, Steve just responds vaguely, “We’ll see.”

All of it is lighthearted teasing, and a little bit of their classic pigtail pulling. They’ll talk about their future seriously when they’re ready.

That’s something Steve loves the most about Billy. He always considers him first, not societal conventions or outrageous expectations. Just Steve, and what he wants or feels comfortable with. Soulmates, he’d decided.

After all, internalized ableism be damned, what could be better than marrying his soulmate?

~~~~~~~~

Hi all! If you’ve read this far, please don’t click off!

As both mod and contributor to this event, Ive been inspired to use my fics to boost charities that aid the disabled community!

For this day, I’ve chosen the Friends of Disabled Adults and Children.

This is a charity that has a mission of “[assisting] individuals with disabilities… [by providing] free or low-cost wheelchairs and other home medical equipment.” This includes cars, tubs, power chairs, stairlifts, and more.

While founded as a religious organization, they serve all disabled community members with no limitations, and have a board of 35 members that work together to provide the best care.

They accept online donations, mail-in checks, purchases from their thrift store, or donations of gently used mobility equipment.

Friends of Disabled Adults and Children is based in Tucker, Georgia and can provide assistance to disabled individuals within a 25 mile radius of their facility. On their website, you can find statewide partners of FODAC for more resources.

Here is a link to their site: https://fodac.org

#disabledbillyandsteveweek #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #disabled steve harrington #disabled billy hargrove #jewish steve harrington #there’s so many other characters I’m not gonna tag them all but know it features lots of background ships and characters #my writing #ej writer

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The myth of Dionysos (4)

The Dictionary of literary myths does not have just one article about Dionysos… But two! And since I translated the first, let’s journey through the second: it is titled “Dionysos: The evolution of the literary myth”, and it was written by Ann-Déborah Lévy-Bertherat.

According to the imagery of the Ancient Greeks, Dionysos is supposed to be a young god – he is often depicted as a teenager, sometimes even as a child. This perhaps explains why his Greek name was thought to be the counterpart of the Phrygian “Dioskouros”, “the boy of Zeus”. However, it seems more plausible to link Dionysos’ name to Nysa, both nurse and homeland of the god. But no matter which of these explanations is right: both highlight and insist on a foreign origin for the god. A foreign origin that we know to be purely mythical rather than historical – indeed, the Mycenaean texts proved that the cult of Dionysos was implanted in Greece since a very, very old time, and was not a “recent importation” as classical Greeks believed. But then, why make Dionysos a “foreign god”? Maybe because, in a symbolic way, it is important for Dionysos to be a god that “comes and goes”, a “god that arrived” – or maybe, it was a much needed element to explain his strange, bizarre and frightening character.

I/ Births and rebirths of Dionysos

Semele, a mortal woman loved by Zeus, died because of Hera’s jealousy: she asked her divine lover to appear before her in all of his glory, but this resulted in her death struck by his lightning. Removing the child she was bearing in her womb, Zeus placed the unborn into his own thigh, where the baby completed his growth. As such, Dionysos knew a double-birth, and his cult was deeply marked by this. One of the Dionysiac rites is the ritual of the liknites (child in crib) – where a child has to disappear and be searched by women in vain, for he will only reappear one year later.

The Passion of Dionysos: The myths of Dionysos’ childhoods and wanderings depict him as a persecuted god. One time he is dismembered, boiled and devoured by the Titans before being resurrected by Demeter. Another time Hera curses with madness Semele’s sister, Ino, first nurse of the god. In a third tale pirates kidnap the child to sell him as a slave. Homer, in the Iliad, retells of how Lycurgus, armed with an axe and a desire to kill, hunted down Dionysos and his nymph-nurses – the child had to throw himself into the sea, where he was saved by Thetis. The true “passion” of Dionysos (in the Christian meaning of the term) always suffering, always dying, but always resurrecting, seems to be a symbol of the vegetal cycle. As a result, it is no coincidence that the four great holidays of Dionysos are all placed between the end of December and the beginning of April – aka, between the winter solstice and the arrival of spring.

Ivy and vine: Legends insist on the ties between Dionysos and other vegetal deities, such as Cybele or Rhea – two incarnations of the great Earth-mother, two deities that shield Dionysos from Hera’s revenge. There are the agrarian nymphs that constantly surround the god; there is his lover, Ariadne, that was originally a Minoan goddess of vegetation; and there is of course Demeter, to which he is tied through the Mysteries of Eleusis (and Pindar even goes as far as making Dionysos and Demeter a couple). Dionysos is also called Bacchus (a named which, according to Euripides, comes from “bacchos”, the “branch” the “bough”) ; he is said to be a “ploutodotes”, a “wealth-giver” ; he was believed to give strength to plants and to help them grow ; and among his numerous attributes, his most prominent ones are the ivy (of which he is crowned) and the grapevine (which he offered to the world). These two plants have always a savior role in his myths. It was said that the child Semele bore was protected from the lightning by ivy ; the pirates were frightened when ivy and vine started growing around their ship’s mast ; a nymph hunted by Lycurgus turned herself into vine to choke the murderous king… And yet, these two plants are such a contrast they can only make the god ambiguous: ivy is coldness and sterility, where the grapevine is warmth and generosity. Dionysos is almost most famed as the god of wine: it is the wine that symbolizes the presence of the gods during festivals; during the Lenaia festival (January-February) the new wine is offered to the god (symbolized as a bough-decorated mask). Dionysos “polygethes” (joyful, happy) is said, according to Euripides, to have the power to “laugh and put to sleep all our problems”.

Fertility and fecundity: This god, friend of the nymphs, who found a home with Thetis at the bottom of the sea, whose statue is ritually plunged in water at Halai, who was said to have entered Athens on a naval chariot, has too many affinities with water and humidity (an universal symbol of fertility) for his power to limit itself just to plants. Indeed, let us take a look at his cohorts and parades: w find in there donkeys, goats and bulls, usually painted in an ithyphallic position; and he is surrounded by Satyrs and Silenes whose lubricity and lust are meant to parallel the chastity of the Maenads. Dionysos himself, during the Anthesteria festival (February-march) knows a physical and sexual union with the Basilinna, and by doing so ensures one year of fecundity for all of Athens. The exaltation of fertility in Dionysos’ cult is most expressed through phallophoria – but the particularity of Dionysos is that he depicts a complete and “full” fecundity, with both its masculine and feminine attributes. Dionysos, in his myth like in his cult, is surrounded by women: Aeschylus calls him “effeminate”, explaining his youthfulness (he hasn’t grown a beard or body hair yet), and his clothes (he usually wore the women’s peplum). Some even depict him as an androgynous figure, and the ambiguity of his sex reminds the one of the hermaphrodite and their “ideal fecundity”. The French poet Baudelaire will even interpret the thyrsus, a long, leafed staff held by the followers of the god, as the union of the masculine symbol (the straight staff) and the feminine one (the curvy boughs wrapped around it). Dionysos is “polygethes” and “ploutodotes” – but reducing Dionysos to this sole role would be removing from him his “dark side”, the eviler part of his power. For Homer calls him “mainomenos”, the “demented one”. He is a god that disturbs, he is a god that break the order.

More about this next time, in “The Frenzied God”!

#dionysos #dionysus #the myth of dionysos #greek mythology #greek myths #greek gods