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abbyshands · 2 months

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for you

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♡ synopsis; making a home out of catalina island for years on end had been wonderful, but for most of it, you had been derived of the last piece of the puzzle: abigail anderson. you were a skilled medic, so when abby had showed up, you had cared for her, and nursed her back to the girl she was, helping her to heal, and to find home the same way you had. now, it’s abby’s chance to return the favor.

♡ pairing; abby anderson x fem!reader

♡ warnings; lot of game references, some of which include infected, the WLF, plot of the first and second game, loss, violence, etc, general angst (ish) in the beginning, but fluffy at the end, i promise, reader loses her dad in the backstory, and there’s a heavily established backstory for the reader, abby uses nicknames (my love, babe, gorgeous), reader calls abby baby, just general angst n’ fluff tbh!

♡ a/n; sooo this idea has been sitting in my notes app for the longest time, and to be honest, i’m not sure how i feel about the finished product! i don’t think it’s my best work? i don’t know. i like the idea but i’m unsure about the way i executed it. maybe i’ll revisit it at some point, but this is what i’ve got for now ♡

anyway ,, this is for my ray, n’ my ray only. happy bday, gorgeous! i genuinely can’t get enough of you, and getting to speak to you on a daily basis is such a fucking privilege to me. i’m so lucky to say you’re a part of my life, n’ i wouldn’t trade you for the world. i hope you like this, @andersonlore <3

♡ wc; 4.5k

divider creds !

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS. APOCALYPSE.

If someone had told you four years prior that this is where you would be today, you would’ve checked them for a bite mark.

Because they would have been losing their mind.

2034, and all the years beforehand, were years unforgettable. The person you were couldn’t imagine a life that wasn’t the one you had. Infected roamed, and danger lurked. But love prevailed.

And you were lucky to be a part of it.

You were born in Boston, Massachusetts in the 2010’s at an unlucky hour. To an unlucky life. You had lost your mom before you could say your own name, and the only biological family you had ever gotten to know in your life was your dad, who was the reason you were where you were today in the first place.

When you were young, your dad joined a group once asked to by the leader of it, a woman named Marlene. Since then, and for as long as you could remember, this group has been your place to call home.

They called themselves the Fireflies for the very bug they took the name from: Their goal was to spread luminescence in a world full of darkness. Your dad, who was an incredibly skilled medic, was roped into it when you were younger, for that very reason. And because of the group’s dire need for medics at the time, their leader, Marlene, who was an old friend of your dad’s, asked him to join, all but begged him to, really.

Your dad wasn’t one to deny anyone in need. It was in his nature, and it was why he was such a great medic. So, of course, he agreed.

But only if there would be a place for you, too.

Your dad raised you up as a member of the Fireflies, and then later as a medic, and it was because of him that you were who you were: A resilient individual, a survivor, and yet, a person who embodied compassion, just as he did.

The years went by hazily, the older you got, anyway. You became just as immersed into your work as your dad did, bettering your medical knowledge on a daily basis, be it by old books, rusted cassettes, or your dad himself. But all the while, you managed to balance work, love, and family, and, in a world like this one, that was a lot more than most people could say.

For obvious reasons, you couldn’t remember the 2010’s. Then came the 2020’s, which sped by your eyes. But the 2030’s as a general consensus were years ingrained into your brain. Full of friendship, family, and love? At times. But they also encompassed chaos, despair, and pressure, and changed your life forever.

And forever was a long time.

In the year 2033, all that you believed was true about the world as you knew it, crumbled to the ground. In a land following an apocalypse, it wasn’t uncommon to feel as if there was no way out, as if the life you lived had hit a place of no return.

Now, if only there was a way to fix it. A cure, right?

It was late one evening while you were working on somebody in the Fireflies’ medical center, that Marlene came into the room, expression serious, and voice showing for it. Once you had the person you had been caring for under control, you followed Marlene out of the center, and into a room of a pair of people, one familiar, and one not.

Your dad, and a man who would later become a crucial figure in this tale: Surgical expert, Doctor Jerry Anderson.

You didn’t understand what Marlene, your dad, and Mr. Anderson, as you used to call him, were getting at when you were first pulled into that room. All that they were explaining to you was blurring inside of your head.

Because it was unlike anything you had heard before.

Your ears were told a tale that you had heard on numerous occasions. A girl who was only a few years younger than you, was bitten. You weren’t sure how. But it didn’t really matter, did it? Everyone who was bitten turned into an animal in a matter of days. It didn’t matter how she had gotten the bite mark. It didn’t even matter where on her body the mark was. All you knew was that in a few days, this girl that was being described to you, would no longer be human. That she would no longer have control over her body, and she would no longer know right from wrong, up from down, man from woman. All she would know, was kill. Kill. Kill.

Unless she was one in a million.

Ellie Williams was hardly a human in your mind when you originally heard, but a God given chance, to fix the world as you knew it. You never believed you would live to see the day where a bite mark was a good thing, and yet, it was here, gazing you in the eyes.

Immunity. She was immune. The auburn haired girl had been bitten three weeks prior to the date you heard about this, and zilch. As Marlene had explained to you, it was like the mark was healing, not worsening.

And in a desolate world, where danger lurked every corner, where sorrow was normalized, and where loss was ceaseless, you were desperate. The Fireflies were desperate. Hope like this didn’t come on a daily basis, now, did it?

You jumped on the prospect as soon as you became conscious of it. All of you did.

Graciously unaware that it would blow up in your face.

In the earlier days of 2034, Ellie was smuggled to a Firefly base in Salt Lake City, a medical center, where your dad, Mr. Anderson, and several Fireflies were residing. As head medic by this point, you decided to remain in Boston caring for the members of your group back home, especially in the absence of your dad and Mr. Anderson.

It’s your life’s biggest regret.

Marlene had asked that you come to the Salt Lake City medical center as soon as you could, and to employ someone else to take over for a bit. Mr. Anderson was a good doctor, but he had decided that to perform proper surgery on Ellie, he would need a few more hands. You were honored that it was you he had chosen. To you, it was on the same level as getting an award. And so, alongside Marlene, and a few more members of the group, you made your way to Salt Lake City, your hopes in your hands, and dreams in your heart.

There was a point during the journey, however, where you ran into some trouble. Infected. And naturally, you were not just a medic: You knew how to survive in a world like this, and you knew how to hold your ground.

Splitting up wasn’t usually recommended when it came to any scenario, and for good reasons. However, it was your only choice. You and everyone beside you aside from Marlene, split up to make sure that she was the first one to make it to the medical center. You remember the last thing you said to her like a movie on loop in your head. See you soon.

And it plagues your brain like the virus that grips your world.

See you soon. You wish you had never said it. You wish you had never split up.

You wish it hadn’t happened.

You did see Marlene. But she was no longer alive when it happened. Fear grasped your bones as your body paralyzed, eyes glued to Marlene’s bloody corpse on the second floor of the medical center’s parking garage.

Tears filled your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And then, you remembered.

Dad.

You took off running, brain not even processing that you could be putting yourself in danger by doing so. Whoever had done this to Marlene couldn’t be faraway from the building for all you knew. Hell, they could even be in it. But you didn’t care.

You booked it to the highest floor, where your dad and Mr. Anderson were supposed to be, heart racing, begging and bargaining to the universe, or whatever God there was, or somebody, to ensure that they were okay. That they were just fine.

There are some days where you wish you hadn’t opened that door.

The pair of them, alongside a third medic in the room, were found by you in a shape similar to Marlene. Naturally, you ran to dad first, small, shaky hands reaching out to flip over his face down body.

But you were too late.

Your mind goes blurry whenever it goes back to recall the memory. You don’t remember much: Tears, nausea, shaking, panic. You remember screaming, loudly, at that.

And you remember passing out, before being pulled out of the room.

The second that Jerry Anderson was announced dead, all hell broke loose, and you knew, you knew, it was over. The chance that had been driving you and your family of Fireflies for the last year, was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. Unless a brand new surgeon was going to generously drop from the sky, you were hopeless.

And it wasn’t even just that.

Because the universe had taken from you the one person you held closest to your heart. To your soul.

Dad.

You had a chance. You all did.

And, then, it was robbed away from you.

You and your dying group made your way back to Boston knowing just that: That you were collapsing. The days passed by in blurs, each one gloomier than the last. You just weren’t sure what to do anymore. All hope for a cure was gone. All hope for yourself was gone.

In 2036, the Fireflies were disbanded by what little members of it were around to do so, and that was it. It was over.

Your home was paradise, and paradise was gone.

You didn’t know what to do. Most of the family you had found here in the Fireflies was leaving, searching for a life away from the one you all had known for years. You didn’t know if you wanted to do the same. Part of you wanted to follow suit and leave Boston. Renew who you were. Adapt, and move on. But Boston had always been home, and by leaving it, you were leaving a part of you behind.

But you didn’t have a choice.

It was an early morning in 2036 when you began to pack your bags, readying to go. Where? It didn’t matter. All you knew was that home or not, Boston carried way too many painful memories, way more than you could bear. Marlene was dead. Mr. Anderson was dead. Dad was gone.

You didn’t see what else Boston had to give, that it hadn’t already taken away.

But just, just, when you were about to say your goodbyes, the universe, who had screwed you over in the past, clearly had different plans.

A few members had heard word, from previous members who had left the Fireflies before you, that on the west coast of the country, there was a chance: A chance to find home again, in a place named Catalina Island, a gorgeous land in California.

Risks had failed you before, and so had second chances. But, for once, you wanted to give in. You had to.

So you did.

That’s not to say that the second you got to Catalina Island, finding home once again in your fellow Fireflies, who were just as shattered as you were, that your tale was over. God, it was really, really far from it.

Because there was one more piece to the puzzle.

Abigail Anderson.

Anderson. The last name rang a bell once it escaped her lips. A blonde woman, body bruised, bloodied, and covered from the arms down in oozing gashes. Her hair was short and poorly cut, and from the way her bones were pushing into her skin, you could tell that she was severely malnourished.

Alongside her was a boy, obviously younger than her. Tousled black hair, bruises wherever you looked, and fully unconscious. In your time at Catalina Island, and as a Firefly in Boston, for that matter, you had never seen any pair of people in worse shape.

Not unless they were dead.

You remained head medic once you arrived in Catalina Island, naturally, and you had been managing that way for the last four years. So, when this woman showed up, this young boy by her side, like this, it was you who took control. It was you who nursed them, and it was you who made their scars, in a physical and mental sense, not disappear, but easier to handle. To bear.

By looking at them, by looking at her, it was like a mirror. You saw you.

Which is why you saw her.

Now, if someone had told you four years prior that this is where you would be today, losing your dad, losing Marlene, and losing Mr. Anderson, but falling for his child, you would’ve looked for a bite mark. But now, come the year 2040, where you had made a new life, one that Abigail Anderson was a prevalent part of, happiness no longer seemed impossible.

Because it wasn’t far away anymore, slipping from your fingers, the way it had on numerous occasions.

It was in your hands.

And you were in Abby’s.

Your eyes were being covered by Abby’s large hands as she led you to a place unknown. You had to assume it was one of the several beaches on the island, sand under your feet, sounds of waves in your ears. A smile had been plastered across your face for what seemed like hours, as Abby dragged you along.

“Come on, Abby. Are you going to tell me what this is about or what?” you asked her for the second time in the last minute. You could hear her low chuckle from behind you, and the way it always happens, comfort surges into your veins.

You had learned from Abby, once you bonded over the mutual loss of your dad and hers at the same man, that once Mr. Anderson had been killed, her and her friends, a few former members of the Fireflies, joined a group named the WLF. You had hence learned that during her time there, she was commonly known as a rugged, scary person, who a lot of people in the WLF didn’t dare insult, nor disobey.

And you couldn’t lie: It was hard to believe that for a second.

You had learned from Abby, also, that her resolve began to slip when she met the young boy who she had made it to Catalina Island alongside, who you had also taken care of: Lev. To put it simply, Lev was a member of a different group, that the WLF was never supposed to come across.

Not unless it was in war.

But he changed her. He did. Some days, you could see how guarded Abby was, how she couldn’t help going back to all she used to know, which was being all but barbaric when she was in Seattle. Closed off, wary. But most days, like today? You knew in your heart, that deep down in hers, Abby Anderson was good. Not innocent, but good.

And that was enough for you.

“Just come on!” Abby chuckled as she walked, not letting up her hold on your eyes for a second as she led you along.

You smiled, shaking your head in mock disapproval. “I have work to do back at the center, and we’re not supposed to be roaming around like this. You know that, right?”

“Babe,” Abby responded in an almost firm tone of voice as her feet quit moving, forcing you to root your body to the spot. It was silent, before she pressed a series of sweet, sloppy kisses to your neck and cheeks, managing to keep her hand over your eyes all the while. She had you crumbling just like that, making you a giggling mess as her lips met your skin.

Her kisses subsided once a million of them seeped into you, and it wasn’t the island heat that had your face warm when Abby was done. “Can you just trust me, please?” she laughed, and you didn’t need your vision to know she was giving you that puppy dog look that had you falling to your knees every time. The one that you couldn’t resist if you gave it your all.

You were too easy. “Yes.”

It wasn’t long before you and Abby reached where she wanted to bring you, and once you did, she paused. She was perched behind you now, large hands over your face, the solacing sound of her sighs coming into your ears. “Okay. Are you ready, my love?”

There wouldn't ever be a day where Abby calling you that wouldn’t make your heart pound in your chest.

“More than,” you easily respond.

As soon as you said it, Abby returned your vision to you, and your eyes can’t help but widen at what you see before you.

Because you never pegged “rugged” Abby Anderson as one for picnics.

“Oh, my God, Abby,” you said more to yourself than the blonde as you slowly approached the scene. Laid out on the sand of the beach was a picnic blanket, a folded blanket, a few pillows, a basket, a few books, and playing cards.

Accompanied by a perfect view of the beach.

“Do you not like it?” Abby asked, and there’s an air of sadness to the way she says it. You turn to look at her on cue, your face one of complete, utter disbelief.

Like it?

“Like it? Baby, I love this. More than know,” you respond, meaning every word. It’s been a long time since someone has wanted to care for you. A long, long time, since you had been the receiver, not the giver.

“Abs, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You can see Abby blushing as you approach her and take her face into your hands, her freckled skin burning in heat. She leans into your touch, pressing her forehead onto yours, and holding your hands in her own.

“I just,” Abby sighed, opening her eyes once more to meet yours, solemn expression across her cheeks. “I just don’t feel like I cherish you enough, babe, show it, that is. Because believe me, I do cherish you. S’just, it’s been hard for me to show you how much. All that you did for me and Lev when we got to the island. Taking care of us. Helping us find a home here. I’ll spend the rest of my life saying thank you for it.”

You can feel your soul healing the more Abby speaks.

“I know this isn’t nearly enough to make up for what you did for us, and I wish it was. But I just figured, maybe. . .it could suffice for now.”

“Abby, baby,” you let a small laugh escape your lips as you say it. “You don’t have to make it up to me. At all. I did what I did, because I saw someone in you. I remember asking for your name, and you responded by asking me where Lev was. You didn’t even care what shape you were in. All you wanted to know was if he was okay. You reminded me of me.”

“You reminded me of dad.”

You couldn’t help but sigh, letting silence seep into the air around you as your brain battled to process what you had just said. You didn’t speak on your dad as much as you likely should: Abby knew that, and so did you. Talking about him made your chest compress, and your throat would fail you, making it feel as if you were choking. As if you were helpless. As if you were there all over again. But Abby knew as well as you did, that when your dad came into discussion, it was for a certain reason.

And for that reason, Abby didn’t speak: She hung fire. For you. For you.

“We live in a world where people combat their own morals just to survive. There’s no good guys. No principles, no rules, no laws. Anyone you come across is just as bad as you, and if not, they’re worse. But when I saw you? I knew. I knew that wasn’t you. Not anymore.”

You know you’re rambling by now, saying whatever comes to mind as soon as it does, but you can’t find it in you to care as you go on. “You want to believe I don’t know how much you care for me. But you don’t need to show it, Abby. I know you do. Right here.”

You take one of Abby’s large hands into yours, and as cliché as it is, not that you care at all, you place it over your heart.

“You feel that, don’t you? That’s all for you, baby. And it’s there that I feel how much you care about me. It’s there that I know.”

The same silence that was here before comes back. But this time, it’s not sad, or dark, or eerie. It’s solacing. It’s warm. It’s home.

And Abby doesn’t need words in order to respond.

It’s her turn to take your face into her hands as she pulls you in close. Her lips meet yours like they have so many times before, her familiar scent hitting your nose as you settle your hands onto her hips. The kiss is slow, and sweet, but passionate, and a burning desire surges inside you to never let her go, to always hold her close. To always call her yours.

You pull back from the kiss once you tire from it, gasping, Abby’s body mimicking yours as she does the same. You gaze into her eyes, the pretty blue ones that always make your heart swell, smiling up at her as you press one last kiss to her lips for good measure. “I adore you, Abby Anderson. You know that, right?” you grin.

It’s the first time you ever hear her giggle. “Me more than you, gorgeous.”

You spend hours there alongside Abby, and it’s the best time of your life. You spend time indulging in a few snacks the blonde packed for you, playing cards, and running around and playing in the sand, smiling all the way. You even get to hear Abby read to you, one of the most endearing things in the world, accompanied by the calming sound of the ocean before you. And when it came time for sunset, you sat down beside Abby, gazing on as amber, ochre, and rose faded into night.

It was perfect.

When it was nearly time for the evening to come to an end, you used the second blanket Abby had packed for your shared night to cuddle up beside her, heads rested on the pillows she had carried along as well. The side of your face was pressed into her chest as you gazed into the sky above you, Abby’s hand rubbing your back in slow circles to console you. Small suns coat the evening sky like sweet, powdered sugar, accompanied by a full moon that looks incredible over the horizon. All you could hear was the sound of the ocean, alongside Abby sighing gingerly every once in a while, or her pressing kisses to your forehead.

Not that you needed much more than that.

Suddenly, the sound of Abby chuckling in your ears snaps you out of your head, and you turn your face upwards curiously. Abby’s smile makes you smile, and it’s no surprise you began to wonder what the blonde woman found so funny all of a sudden.

“Remember how I told you Lev and I had to cross those bridges that were really high up?” Abby asked, and you had to raise an eyebrow, wondering where this was going. “Mhm,” you mumble, which is when Abby goes on.

“Well, before that, we had to get there by foot once we got out of the aquarium I told you about, the one I used to go to all of the time. That part of Seattle is overrun in rushing rapids, so a lot of the buildings around there were a lot more demolished than they usually would be anywhere else,” she explained.

“And, well. . .”

“We walked into this building, and there was a painting of these dogs playing cards. And I asked Lev if he knew our dogs could really play cards like that. Then he asked me if anyone found me funny,” Abby laughed. “It cracks me up whenever I remember it.”

She wasn’t the only one laughing. “Sounds like Lev. And like you,” you smile, and the tale makes you recall a humorous memory of your own. “Once, I was working late at the medical center back in Boston. I was doing research on this girl who had been feeling sick, but I wasn’t sure by what. Mind you, it’s late, and silent, if you don’t count me flipping the pages in my books.”

You giggle just remembering it. “It’s the weirdest thing ever, but my dad was really good at making Clicker noises. Like, really good. Sounded so real it made your heart drop. I was reading when I heard it, and I remember wondering how the hell infected had gotten inside. ‘Course I grab what was closest to me, a scalpel, and I swivel around.”

“And it’s dad.”

That one got Abby to burst out chuckling. “Oh, my God. Of all the things you could get, gorgeous. A scalpel?”

You rolled your eyes in response, playfully so. “What can I say? I’m just a medic. I didn’t carry a gun.”

Once Abby’s done laughing, which seems to take forever, she smiles down at you, pressing one more kiss to your forehead as if to make up for poking fun at you. You cuddle closer into her, letting your body relax in her embrace as a sigh escapes your lips.

You fall back into silence soon enough, eyes glued to the sky as Abby rubs her hand over your back, holding you like you would fade away if she let you go. You run your fingers through her short hair as you press kisses to her neck, jaw, and face, giving her all the love you know she deserves. Your eyes scan her features like she was molded by some higher power, and you can’t help but want to worship her, endlessly.

Not just for what she looks like. But for who she is.

“My baby. It’s like you were made for me, you know?” you whisper in Abby’s ear as your eyes pierce into her blue ones. But Abby’s head shook quickly.

You can predict what she’s going to say in response. “No, gorgeous.”

“It’s you who was made for me.”

—

reblogs are very much welcomed! <3

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

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HII!! I'm quite new to making requests, but I was wondering if I could ask for some headcanons: Percy Jackson x Aphrodite!Reader (with a sunshine personality, if that’s okay!). Please and thank you! 💞 I hope it's not too much to ask for. Also, remember to stay hydrated and healthy! And, Take your time!💗

(Quick side note: I made this pink because

I thought it looked cuter!<3 oh and, I’m not sure if you do this but if you’d like to pick like an emoji for me to use as a sign off. Then, that would be quite nice! Because I think I’ll be requesting from you quite often💞)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x daughter of aphrodite! reader hcs warning: i don't think anything?? fluff ig watch out yall dangerous stuff might make you fall in love 😬😬 author's note: hihi ! this is my first time doing headcannons as well as writing for percy. tbh, i was a little nervous because new things scare me and i don't want to disappoint but i hope you like it!! also i shall dub you...🎀 anon, bc of all the pink 😋😋

okay, mr. loverboy and ms. lovergirl are in the house yall

i know he's head over heels for you the moment he sees you, leading around some new campers, excitedly clapping your hands as to get them excited too. It works, earning a few smiles

he was so distracted, annabeth managed to get the jump on him in the middle of their training, sending the son of poseidon sprawling on the hard dirt of the arena

"get your head in the game, jackson."

"it is!"

"no, i can literally see your eyes turning into hearts right now-"

"shut up!! she might hear you!!"

he spent days plotting, trying to figure out the best way to approach the bubbly daughter of aphrodite.

he didn't want to just come across as like all the other guys who only talked to them because of their beauty. from what percy's seen, you were one of the kindest and lovely people he's known.

one day he was laying on the dock, his foot passively swinging through the water and he muttered stupid pick-up lines or other introductions, all of them equally as terrible.

"mind if i join you?" a voice questioned before a shadow blocked his view of the sun, which he could vaguely make out to be the girl he'd just been lovesickenly talking about.

"y-yes, yeah, of course!" he sputtered out, jumping up and squeezing over, making space for her. she giggled at him, taking a seat with a sideways glance in his direction.

percy felt like he was evaporating

"i like the water, the seafoam especially. because…well, you know," the girl mused, gesturing vaguely with her hand.

"yeah, that's how your mom was born, right?" percy questioned though he knew the answer, he just didn't want her to leave quite yet as he was desperately trying to remember one of the pick-up lines he'd been thinking about. but with the girl around, the only thing running through his head was her.

"born is a loose term, but yes. it's comforting…feels like home," she replied, turning her head to percy and offering him a dazzling smile that he'd pay all the money in the world to see again.

"i know how that feels, trust me," he murmured back before tilting his head at her, a smirk slowly growing on his lips, "where would you go right now if you could go anywhere?"

"easy. there's this target near chicago that always has my favorite lip gloss," the girl replied like it was the most normal answer.

"what?!" percy questioned through his laugh which then sent the pair down a rabbit hole of questions and rebuttals, neither of them noticing how much time had passed until the sun was nearly completely hidden from view, only the last few rays shooting out from behind the mountains.

"Oh, ha, look at how the time fly," the girl muttered, laughing as her eyes got caught on the dying sun

"must've been having fun then," percy replied with a blinding smile and she laughed, shaking her head at the boy.

there was a pause, the two just staring at each other.

then soft movements from the daughter of aphrodite, who gently cupped his face with one hand before pressing a lip gloss coated kiss to his cheek.

"i was definitely having fun. you're fun, jackson, we should hang out some time," she whispered near his ear before moving to stand up, leaving the boy as still as a statue. she walked away, with a few giggly glances over her shoulder.

once he was sure she was gone, percy shot up and cheered, pumping his fists and jumping about all over the dock until he caught his foot and fell in.

and yet, he couldn't seem to loose his smile, even coated in seaweed and muck from the lake.

she always had the effect on him, his bubbly lovergirl.

author's note cont. : anyways, i present ya'll with this. i'm trying to work through all my new requests rn, which is very exciting bc i've never had those before, but do not be afraid to request away still!! anyways, hope you enjoyed, anon!!

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #percy jackson #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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littlejuicebox · 2 months

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Dadstarion prompt (sorry if I missed the boat on this!) - insecure postpartum Tav, struggling with their new body. Maybe some body worship from Astarion 👀? (Personal experience - I really struggled postpartum with adjusting to my new body, it changed in ways I never even imagined). Thank you and just want to say I love your Astarion 🥰

Adore You

Thanks for your request! Not 100% sure this is what you were looking for, but I already had a mostly finished piece I was working on that definitely fits the body-worship and Tav struggling with her body parts of this prompt. It's smut, though, and when the smut gods bless, I cannot deny their gifts.

Glad you love my Astarion! I adore him. And he adores his Tav. ;)

Summary: You are struggling with your post-partum body. Astarion is here to remind you that he still adores you.

This follows my Dadstarion section of my AstarionxReader series. But no worries, you can read it as a OneShot. Here’s the gist: Astarion is mortal and you have three children together. Gale, named after the Wizard of Waterdeep and the twins. That’s about all you need to know! See my other fics for more info and storylines.

Tags/Warnings: smut with a plot, body image issues, angst w/ comfort, PiV, fingering, oral, light overstim, light daddy kink, breast milk, breast milk drinking, all the depravity i'm generally known for tbh, light creampie kinda?

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I'm an unhinged degenerate and no I won't apologize. Also women’s bodies are amazing and can produce life and are beautiful and my Astarion appreciates that about his Tav okay?

“Thank the gods for the nanny,” Astarion says with a dramatic sigh as he enters the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him, “Gale was about to make me read ‘P is for Peacock’ a third time and I was close to ripping my hair out, darling.”

You chuckle softly as your husband greets you from where you’re seated at the vanity with a brief kiss and then moves to the small table in the corner of your bedroom to pour himself a goblet of wine.

“And the twins?” He asks as his eyes watch the red liquid fall into the cup beneath it. He takes a few sips as you speak before setting the cup back down on the table.

“I’ve just fed them not too long ago and now they’re both asleep. Having Winifred to help me get them on the same schedule has been wonderful.” You respond as your husband nods and prepares a second, smaller goblet of wine, which he brings to you.

He settles himself beside you while you finish braiding your hair for bed and hums contentedly, “Perfect.”

Astarion’s hands wrap around your midsection and before you can stop yourself, you feel your body tense under his touch. The silver-haired elf pauses and frowns before retracting his hands, “Do you not want me to touch you, darling? You need only tell me.”

You sigh and shrug as you finish off the half-portioned goblet in one long drink, mostly to avoid your husband’s gaze, “It’s not that, it’s— it’s stupid.”

“Look at me, little love.” He whispers, his fingers coming under your chin as they gently coax you to face him and meet his gaze. He moves forward and presses a soft kiss against your lips before continuing, “I love you. More than anything. You know this. Now, won’t you tell me whatever is the matter so that I can help?”

Your husband waits as you gather your thoughts. It’s complicated, it’s embarrassing. You know it’s silly, and vain, and yet you can’t help yourself. And you aren’t quite sure how to verbalize it all.

“I hate my body.” You finally say, your voice cracking as you speak, and something about finally saying that evil little thought aloud causes tears to spring in your eyes.

Astarion’s mouth falls open in surprise and then he furrows his brows and quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, not knowing what to say or do apart from physically enveloping you in his love.

You continue on, speaking into his neck, sniffling as a few more tears run down your cheeks, “After Gale, I quickly returned to my previous weight. I hadn’t had any stretch marks. But carrying the twins— it’s different, Astarion. And I was expecting it to an extent but I just— I hate my body and I hate the way I look.”

There is a moment of silence as your husband simply holds you against him, allowing space for your tears. When he speaks, his voice is a soft murmur into your hair, “Not that you should care what I think, but I adore your body, darling. And I love everything about the way you look.”

You scoff and withdraw from your husband with teary, reddened eyes narrowed at him, “You have to say that.”

“I do not have to do anything,” He retorts, arching his eyebrow in a challenge, “Weren’t you the one that taught me that?”

When you don’t respond, Astarion continues on, knowing he’s won. He takes your hand in his, gently lifting it to press a kiss against your knuckle.

“I adore your hands. Which have both slain monsters and soothed our children,” He whispers before trailing kisses up your arm and to your neck where he presses another reverent kiss against those little fang scars.

“I adore your neck, which once provided me with sustenance I hadn’t known in centuries.”

Your face is beginning to grow hot under his devoted attention and compliments, and you move to shrink away from your husband, but he gently grabs you by the waist. He leans into you and brushes his nose at the meeting point between your ear and neck as he inhales the smell of your skin.

“Why are you trying to hide from me, darling?” He asks with a little sulky pout, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m not, I—“ You begin, but Astarion quickly shushes you.

“Then just be quiet and let me adore you, hm?” He asks before running his tongue against those fang marks, making you shiver.

You nod slightly and your husband grins, “Good girl. Now, come here.”

Astarion pats his lap and you slide to sit upon his thighs, forgetting your finished goblet on the floor underneath your vanity stool. He rests his chin upon your shoulder as the two of you gaze in the mirror together.

“Do you remember when I used to do this all the time?” Astarion asks, not truly waiting for a response before his long fingers trace down the side of your neck, brush along your collarbone, and then wander toward your waist, aiming to untie your dressing gown. He moves slowly and watches your expression in the mirror, waiting for you to give him any indication to stop.

But you didn’t want him to stop. Despite your feelings about your body, you still deeply crave your husband’s comforting touch.

The silky fabric slips down your shoulders and pools around your waist, baring you before his adoring eyes. The elf smiles and presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, still watching the two of you in the mirror.

“Beautiful,” He whispers as he peppers a few kisses up your shoulder and the back of your neck, igniting a trail of goosebumps across your skin.

Astarion slowly drifts his hands up your sides before moving to cup a heavy, milk-stretched tit in each hand. The sensation causes you to wriggle.

His tone is reverent, almost a whisper as he turns his head just slightly and flashes a toothy grin, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, “I adore your breasts, which have fed our eldest and now feed our twins.”

He chuckles salaciously before saying the next part, “And which, on more than one delicious occasion, have also fed me.”

Your husband lightly teases circles around your nipples as he finishes the line that he knows will cause you to blush and then gently nips at your ear lobe, earning him a gasp. You feel Astarion’s arousal pressing into your backside as he continues to caress your breasts and uses two fingers from each hand to tease and stimulate your nipples. You arch into his touch and your thighs press together as you feel a growing slickness between your legs from his attentions.

One of your breasts begins to leak milk, and when your husband feels the warm liquid dripping onto his fingers he hums and brings the digits to his lips. You watch in the mirror as Astarion dips the two fingers into his own mouth and licks them clean while continuing to tease your other breast.

It isn’t long before that one begins leaking, too, and your lover chuckles in delight as he watches the liquid gold trail down the bottom of your breast and languidly drip down your stomach.

The elf brings two fingers to slowly swipe up the stream of white liquid. Then he brings those same fingers to your lips, prompting you to open your mouth.

“Good girl,” He purrs before pressing those two digits against your tongue. Astarion lingers for a moment and you shut your eyes as you eagerly wrap your lips around his slender fingers and suck. You hear a little hum by your ear and feel your lover’s cock twitch in delight underneath you as he observes the scene.

“You are a vision, love.” He murmurs, as he slides his hand away from your lips, “Now, let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

The elf gestures for you to stand, causing your robe to completely slide off your body into a pool on the floor, before he quickly spins you and then hoists you onto the vanity desk. The smallest flicker of that arrogant rogue dances across his face as Astarion moves forward to dip his tongue into your mouth. He unhurriedly teases your tongue against his as he roams his hands up and down your torso until you're panting and moaning softly into his mouth.

When he retracts, his pupils are filled with lust. His hands come to quickly pull his shirt over his head and then undo the laces of his trousers. Before long he’s standing in front of you in only his small clothes.

Astarion grabs your hand and guides it to the bulge straining between his legs as he asks, “Do you feel what that divine body of yours does to me, little love?”

“Yes– my love, I want–” You begin as you eagerly try to delve your hand inside your husband’s undergarments, desperate to free his gorgeous cock. But he catches your wrist and stops you with a soft tut and a playful glint in his eyes.

“Soon. But not yet, darling. I haven’t quite finished adoring you yet. And I’ve got the best seat in the house.” He teases, before settling himself back onto the vanity bench and grinning mischievously up at you, “Now, be a good girl and open those beautiful, plush thighs of yours for me, won’t you?”

You oblige, and Astarion takes a moment to admire you, fully barren to him and already soaked with arousal. His arms come under your knees, spreading you wider for him, as he grips your thighs with his hands. Then he turns and begins pressing tender kisses up your thigh. He makes slow work of the task, humming contentedly on his journey toward your sex and always lingering longer in the spots where you’ve developed stretch marks.

By the time his face is right in front of your mound, you’re positively leaking for Astarion and he groans appreciatively at the sight.

“Beautiful. I will never tire of seeing that gorgeous cunt dripping for me, darling,” He murmurs and before you can respond, your husband is delving his tongue between your folds and eagerly feasting upon your juices.

You moan in delight when Astarion brings his tongue to trace around your clit, so familiar with your preferences that it doesn’t take long for him to coax you toward your peak. His tongue dances expertly around the swollen nub, each pass causing your pleasure to build. Two of his long, pale fingers slide into you, meeting no resistance, and he slowly pumps the digits in and out of your walls.

You grasp onto Astarion’s curls and whine when he adds a third finger, and he knows you’re close, so he continues his ministrations and adds more pressure as he curls his fingers just so. His other hand comes up to find your nipple and tease it between his fingers as you climb the final steps toward your climax.

A final flick of Astarion’s tongue, a final stroke of his fingers, and you burst with pleasure, whining in delight as your thighs tremble on either side of his head. Your walls spasm and send another gush of arousal onto the elf’s face. You begin leaking breast milk once again.

“Delicious,” Your husband murmurs as he pulls back slightly to admire the glistening of your sex and then presses forward and takes one more lap of your sensitive folds, causing you to buck into his mouth as he chuckles against you. Astarion languidly runs his tongue up to your stomach, lapping at the thin rivulets of milk running down your torso and covering his face in a shiny layer of your juices and breast milk.

Then he stands to his full height and finally— finally— steps out of his small clothes. His pale cock springs proudly from its confinement, dripping thin strings of pre-come from the reddened tip, just for you.

“Get over here, Astarion,” You eagerly demand, voice hoarse from your cries as you hook your legs around his torso and pull him against you.

“Anything for my little love,” Your husband responds, voice full of gravel as he runs the underside of his cock against your slit, using it to lubricate his length.

And then the head of his cock presses into you and your mouth falls open as Astarion buries himself to the hilt. His thumb comes to lightly tease your still-tender clit as he slowly rocks his hips back and forth. He’s watching your face intently as he thumbs circles around that needy, engorged bundle of nerves.

You use your legs to pull the elf deeper and he grins before lowering his head so that it’s right by your ear. He takes the lobe in his mouth and suckles gently, causing you to whimper.

“You’ll do one more for me, won’t you darling? You always look so gorgeous when you do.” He coaxes, his mouth so close to your ear his breath tickles the sensitive flesh. And then he’s pitching his hips just slightly, aiming to hit your favorite spot with the tip of his cock. He’s gasping and grunting now as his own need for release starts to overpower him.

You’re almost there. You’re keening with each thrust from Astarion and your walls are clenching tighter and tighter around his cock.

He moans in response at the sensation before pressing his thumb harder against your clit and rubbing it with single-minded intensity, working you toward release. You begin to relentlessly whimper again and Astarion smiles, his eyes locked onto yours as he watches your face contort in the feeling of immense pleasure.

“There you go, little love. Let go for daddy.” He whispers, bringing his other hand to palm the ample flesh of your ass.

And gods, you do.

The second orgasm ripples through you harder than the first, and you have to clasp your hand around your mouth to stifle your moan. Your walls are pulsing around your lover’s cock as you ride the wave of ecstasy.

You go almost slack and before long Astarion is ripping your hand away from your face and pressing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss as he begins to rut wildly into you, shaking the vanity with every thrust.

“Gods, the things your body does to me,” He growls as he pulls away from your lips, snapping his hips at a punishing pace as he chases his own release. Astarion’s hand is clutching firmly into your bottom, gripping so tightly there’s sure to be bruising tomorrow. His curls fall in front of his face and his ears begin to turn red as he continues to fuck you into oblivion.

Your husband is trying with every fiber of his being to hold on, to stretch out the delicious sensation of his cock plunging in and out of your walls, but every stroke into your tightness is pushing him further and further towards his peak. He snaps his eyes shut, shaking with the effort it’s taking him to restrain himself, to continue enjoying the feeling of your flesh gripping around his.

You are so thoroughly fucked that you cannot do anything but hold onto your lover and keen underneath him as he continues pounding into you.

“Darling— hells — my love, you’re so tight, I can’t— I’m—“

And then with a sudden, sharp inhale of breath, Astarion is burying his thick length inside your walls and trembling as his cock twitches, relentlessly releasing its spend. He gasps into your ear as he slows his hips, but continues to rut, using his still-hard length to press his seed deeper into you.

His praises come out in an incoherent string as he continues to languidly rock his hips back and forth. You cup his face in your hands as you kiss him, and Astarion smiles into the kiss, finally stilling his hips as his cock softens between you two.

“Come here, little love.” He whispers, hooking his arms underneath you. You intuitively wrap your legs around your husband’s torso and he easily carries you to the bathroom. When he finally places you down, he brushes a few strands of hair from your face and then places a tender kiss on your forehead.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He says, turning to start the tap before tossing a glance over his shoulder and chuckling lightly, “And then I have to fix your braid, dear… I’m sorry to tell you that I ruined it.”

“I think you might have also bruised my ass,” You respond, turning to flash your bottom at Astarion.

He drops down on his knees to examine the curve of your ass, one nimble finger brushing against the blooming blue marks. You let out a little whine in response, the flesh still tender.

Astarion presses his lips onto the bruise and lingers for a moment. Then he pulls away and frowns slightly, eyes glossing across the marks before he looks up at you and says, “I’m sorry, darling.”

“It’s okay,” You respond, glancing back to grin over your shoulder. You see your husband peering up at you, the picture of devotion, “I enjoyed it.”

“Did you, now?” He asks with an amused smirk, his eyebrow cocking in that signature arrogant way of his.

You nod just slightly as he places another kiss against those little bruises. His hands travel up your thighs, brushing against the wetness dripping from your sex and onto your legs. Two fingers tenderly stroke between your drenched slit.

“Hmm, and what do we have here, little love? Is this something else that needs cleaning? Won’t you let me take a look?”

You blush but oblige anyway, leaning forward over the counter and exposing your sex, leaking with Astarion’s seed and your arousal.

He grins and licks a long strip between your folds, causing you to buck slightly and whimper at the stimulation on your still-sensitive cunt.

“Too sensitive? Want me to stop?” He asks gently from behind you, one hand wrapped around your thigh.

“No, keep going.” You urge him, bending forward to further reveal yourself to him, eager to feel his skilled tongue pressed into you once more.

A small groan of appreciation from your husband is all you hear before he delves his tongue back between your legs, working to clean up the mess he made.

The bathtub overflows and spills water onto the floor before he’s done adoring you. At least for tonight.

#astarion fanfic #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #smut #bg3 smut #romantic smut #soft astarion #soft dom astarion #dadstarion #dadstarion fic #astarion reader insert

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

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gojo satoru x reader fic recs (I)

‣ now that i've got loads of free time, thought why shouldn't i use it well by showing (few of) my fave authors their much well-deserved love, respect and attention? ^_^

‣ this is merely a list of works i've enjoyed reading. kindly heed the tags and warnings in each of them and consume content responsibly, at your own discretion. that being said, i own neither these fics nor the characters nor the above gif. enjoy reading! 🥰

⌀ all that is solid [series] by GrilledTandooriSmoke on ao3

one of the best series there is. period. the fluff, the angst, the drama, the humor, the romance, the friendship, the plot, the dialogues - everything is top-notch in this series, i'm telling you. bonus points for being narrated in both reader's and gojo's pov.

⌀ The King is But a Man [series] by Petrichorium on ao3 (@petrichorium on tumblr)

royal!gojo who's terribly in love with the reader x reader who's equally (but way more discreetly) in love with gojo. add to that, the trope of childhood sweethearts reunited as adults, excellent communication between the couple and a wonderfully-crafted world and dialogues - what more could you ask from a series?

⌀ Ten to None (Soulmate AU) (oneshot) by Oreosmama on ao3

a fic which i adore with every fibre of my being. i will not say anything more about this, except to request you to go read this. you'll love it. (especially the fantabulous ending. btw, did i already say how much i'm in love with how well-written this fic is?)

⌀ Scarred [oneshot] by cainis on ao3

one of the best angst-with-a-happy-ending fic there is. i wish i could give thousands of kudos for the heart-wrenchingly amazing way the author has portrayed gojo's character here.

⌀ Mother of otherness, Eat me [oneshot] by itsbaby on ao3

one of the most beautiful works i've read so far. told from yuuji's pov, it explores gojo and reader's relationship and its nuances in a way seldom done before. however, what stole the show for me, was the soft and sweet mother-son duo the reader and yuuji grow to be in this fic. i really love this one-of-a-kind masterpiece.

⌀ something sweet [oneshot] by heresan on ao3 (@pretty-toru on tumblr)

i love love love this fic. it's so fluffy, so funny, so cute, so heart-warming... just read this fic, people. you won't ever be disappointed by the dynamics reader and gojo have in this one. one of my all-time faves, tbh.

⌀ teen dad Gojo [series] by pantao on ao3 (@seravphs on tumblr)

a sweet and realistic depiction of reader and gojo being teenaged parents to young megumi, all the while they try to figure out their feelings for each other. a perfect mixture of fluff, angst, drama, slice-of-life and romance, imo. (also, the author's notes are pure gold. whatever you do, please don't miss reading them! :D)

⌀ To see those eyes I prize above mine own (twoshot) by koyama on ao3

if you wish to watch godlike!gojo willing to let go of his powers, out of guilt and immense, immense, protective love for the reader, this is the ideal fic for you. i'm in awe of the way the writer wrote gojo's complex persona and the way the sorcerer realized his feelings for the reader. (the second chapter's the cherry on the cake. it's so good!!!!)

⌀ keeping up with the fushigojos (series) by @augustinewrites on tumblr

fluff? A+; angst? A+; drama? A+; characterization & dialogues? A+; humour? A+++++. a sureshot way to end a long hectic tiring day on a happy note is to read this series. (my go-to comfort series, ngl. :])

⌀ CAT & DOG (oneshot) by @mimiriko on tumblr

an adorable fic of gojo being in love with the reader, who knows, yet doesn't really know, much about it. plus, the feline-like features of gojo are sooo cute... and this fic is sooo sweet... the story left me smiling when i finished reading it.

⌀ surely summer wasn't over yet [3 chapters] by 3rdgymbros on ao3

an amazing fic set against the backdrop of the hidden inventory arc. the portrayal of the characters and their dynamics is simply impeccable. despite my kind-of-dislike towards this particular arc of the manga, i really enjoyed reading this one.

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk fluff #jjk angst #kit's fic recs 📚

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alexandria-millie · 8 months

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I think my biggest issue with the way that Bucky’s trauma was handled in FATWS was that it focused entirely on the bad things he did as the Winter Soldier and at no point brought up the torture and abuse he was subjected to during his 70+ years as a prisoner of war. Addressing Bucky’s feelings of guilt is fine. That’s something that previous movies established, and of course it’s a part of the healing process. The problem is that every single time we see or hear about Bucky’s time with Hydra, it only ever references the parts where the Winter Soldier did something bad.

CATWS and CACW both showed the Winter Soldier doing bad things, and CACW even touches on Bucky’s guilt over it. The difference is that they also made sure to show the abuse Bucky was subjected to (the bank vault scene in TWS and the opening scene of CW for example). So yes, we know that the Winter Soldier was a ruthless assassin, but we also know that Bucky was subjected to horrific torture and stripped of his agency in order to make the Winter Soldier be that way. FATWS just glosses over all of that. The only scene we get (and it’s a great scene, to be fair) that addresses the horror of Bucky’s treatment by Hydra is the flashback to him in Wakanda when the triggers are finally removed. But then that scene feels really out of place when the rest of the series presents Bucky’s past as though it was something he had some sort of active choice in. I mean, one of the main plot points of the show involves Super Soldier Serum, and yet never once is it acknowledged that Bucky’s serum was the result of non consensual experimentation being done on him. It’s a perfect opportunity to address the complex feelings Bucky must have about it and they just waste it.

At the end of the day, it really flies in the face of the foundations set by the previous movies. Bucky is a victim, that’s clear, so why does FATWS feel the need to act like he has some responsibility for what happened to him? Why did they decide that when it comes to their character suffering from PTSD, they were only going to focus on how potentially dangerous he is? It’s just flat out poor writing tbh.

#fatws #fatws bucky #bucky barnes #ptsd

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randombush3 · 1 month

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revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

the second half of this part (it didn't fit in one post lol)

words: it's over 14k. i had lots to say.

summary: the final part, which originally had a different ending but i was told it was evil so i changed it.

warnings: it's mainly just sad, there's a bit of smut though

notes: i could give you so many excuses as to why this is being posted now but no one wants to read that so i'll just say sorry x

anyway, i got very lost along the way at points and had some serious plot crises that had me tearing my hair out. i researched children's behaviour to the point of needing an honourory qualification, and i spent the last three hours ignoring my girlfriend while i finished this off.

for as much as i put these two through (and myself tbh), i'm sad to finish it off. BUT ALSO NOW IM FREE.

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

London smells of dirty rain and exhaust fumes, of a homelessness crisis and inflation attempting to impersonate that of the Weimar Republic; greyish streets, cracks in the pavement, thousands of spices from all over the world. Grubby patterns, hidden by the smudging of millions of bottoms, coloured poles that used to match the train line but no longer do. You breathe it all in, eyes closed as the motion of the underground jerks you sideways, the train leaving London Bridge just as you left Barcelona. Without looking back.

You had laughed when they told you they’d send a driver to get you from the airport. The luxury of some shiny black car held no appeal when compared to the familiar Northern line, its blackened route well-travelled and your own brick-road home.

Part of this choice to ‘slum it’ is borne of your desire to return to the past; a time before the fame and the fortune, when camera flashes came from your parents’ Sony Cyber-shot and not paparazzos with a hunger to splash you across the front page of a slimy gossip magazine. There was no Alexia, then. The extent of Spanish in your life was Anya studying for her A-levels, and you’d spend time writing songs without it feeling like pulling teeth. Without having to relive some of the worst moments of your life.

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then.

Your London shows are in Wembley. Two nights, two journeys through your album, through your heartbreak. Both are sold out.

“See it, say it, sorted,” you mouth along to the voice, pushing the handle of your suitcase upwards, rising from your seat. The doors of the tube swoosh open, the yellow line of the platform attacking your tired eyes as Highgate station is revealed to you. You hear a whisper of ‘is that Y/n L/n?’ but you don’t turn around.

The wheels of your suitcase gurgle against the bumpy pavement leading up to your house, but they grow quieter as you approach. They must sense the tension, glad to have the smoother surface of your driveway to move across as you force yourself to continue walking forwards.

A woman is standing on your porch. Her body swivels around as she hears you stop just behind her.

Leah takes in the sight of you, deciding that you definitely did not enjoy Barcelona. “I was just about to ring the doorbell, but I guess you wouldn’t have answered the door anyway,” she says with an awkward chuckle, not sure if you want to talk about how rough you look. You cried the entire flight, and refused to contact anyone once you had landed, hoping they assumed your plane had crashed and you had drowned somewhere in the English Channel.

“I got here in the morning.” Your voice is unused. It croaks, shattered.

“Let me get your bag?” asks Leah, rather firmly, leaving you no room to decline her request before she has stepped off the porch and into your personal space. She looks up at you, wondering how you manage to look so beautiful even now, hand blindly reaching out for the hard shell of your suitcase as she stares. “How’re Nico and–”

Your lips silence her before she is finished. Leah freezes, surprised this is the moment you have chosen to kiss her.

But she misses you as soon as you pull away.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and she cringes at the self-loathing that drips from your words. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you are unsure whether it falls because you have kissed her or because you want to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You must have argued with Alexia. Leah’s realisation weighs heavy on her heart. Something has to have happened for you to have made your move, because Leah had been starting to accept the idea that you were still in love with your ex and she was nothing more than a friend. She had been looking forward to your concert tonight, in all honesty, and was excited to see you again, glad to have you in her life in any way, shape, or form.

“Because,” she starts hesitantly, “because you didn’t like it? Or…”

“Leah.”

“If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Leah,” you repeat, the vowels almost failing to drop from the tip of your tongue. This is a dangerous game, but the look in Leah’s blue eyes tells you that she is happy to play it. “Leah, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you?”

“Is that a question?”

You blink. “I’m not sure.”

“If it’s a question, I’d say that the answer is the opposite. And that we should go inside.” She slides her hand over the metal handle of your suitcase, warm skin covering your fingers where your grip is still curled around it. “But only if you want to.”

Do you want to?

You value your friendship, you really do; Leah has been there for you many times since you met her, never asking too many questions. She means something more than what you crave from her, and doesn’t deserve to be the woman you use to detach yourself from reality.

But Leah is looking at you with desire that has been missed, relentlessness promised by her toned muscles. Leah is looking at you as though you are the only star in the galaxy or the sun on a rainy day. Leah is looking at you like she wants to devour you, and you, with no soul left to give, resign to letting her have your body.

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that.

“Course not,” Leah lies.

You let it convince the both of you.

Pink glitter covers the dining table at one end, and shiny green stars are scattered on top of the brown grain of the wood on the other.

“She might be at soundchek,” Alexia explains to Nico, who is finished with his Mother’s Day creation and is now intent on FaceTiming you to show you the card he has made. “And cards are supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we made envelopes!”

“But you said my card should be put in a museum,” he replies with a frown, his nose crinkling in confusion just as yours does. “So we show her now.”

“Mi amor, that’s not how it works,” laughs Alexia, reaching out to ruffle his hair. With Elena settled comfortably on her healthy knee, gleefully pushing piles of glitter around so that it mixes with the glue smeared on her card, it is safe to say that this year’s cards are going to be successes. “Mama has promised to call when she gets home, and you can tell her that you have a surprise for her. That will build up the excitement, and make it even better when she gets to open it.”

Your son has become a cynic. “And when will that be?”

“Mother’s Day is on the 19th, so we have three days to wait.” You have purposely chosen a chartered route to Tokyo that flies via Barcelona so that you get to spend the day with your children before your fortnight in Asia to end the first half of the tour. “Do you want to write the words out for Lela once the glue has dried?”

“I don’t know what Lela wants me to say,” he explains with great concern, turning to his sister with a very serious expression. He speaks to her in English, because he knows that this card is for you. He understands that there are two Mother’s Days, though he thinks it’s because he has two mothers, and that Alexia’s day is in May. When Alexia opens her mouth to speak, Nico is quick to shut her down. “Calla, Mami, no sabes nada de inglés.”

Your legs slam together but find no available route with Leah’s body in between them.

It feels… good.

Liberating.

You haven’t brought her into your bed, which she notices but doesn’t comment on. It’s excusable to be on the sofa, to have stayed downstairs for the hours she has spent trying to make you feel better, because the clock has only just ticked its way to lunchtime. You laugh to yourself at the thought of that, amused by the notion that you have already eaten.

Leah is curious when it comes to you. That much you had expected, having been aware of her lingering gazes long before the sores on your heart had calloused into tougher muscle. She has been waiting for this resiliently, and you present yourself to her as though you are a new toy she finally gets to play with. She kisses you slowly at times, to memorise the warmth of your tongue or the jut of your chin, but she often grows impatient, wanting nothing more than to end her torture and find out what it is like.

What is it like to have a woman like you? To wake up next to you, kiss you, touch you?

How does your mind work? What do you smell like just after getting out of the shower? Does your accent ever slip, or is it really that posh?

The air in the living room is hazy now, and your eyes close in bliss as you let your sweat seep into the grainy fabric of your white sofa. Leah doesn’t crawl into your open arms as you assume she will.

She wipes her mouth.

Although Leah has enjoyed this very much, she knows that this instance has not been you allowing her to start to love you. It has been for her to help you forget how much pain you are in. Somewhere deep down, she cares, but she doesn’t try to search for the emotion.

“So,” she says with a giggle, as if you are two teenage girls, best friends who have decided to kiss so that they can practise for the real thing, “do I need to send an apology present to your makeup artist?” Sitting back on her knees, she swipes one hand down to pluck her t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on top of her naked body before sending you an exaggerated smirk and prodding the developing bruise on your neck.

“Fuck,” you groan, batting her hand away. “I completely forgot I had that thing tonight.” You also need to call your children before Alexia bans your name from her household (if that hasn’t happened already).

“That ‘thing’ being your concert at Wembley?”

“I’d have thought selling out Wembley is the norm for you now, Captain,” you tease, clearing your throat. “England have done it, Champions of Europe for the very first time.”

“You’re freakishly good at a commentator’s voice.”

“Gotten used to being my own commentator. Only Spanish streams in my house – even United matches!” You smile at your own frustration but it quickly sours as awkwardness drops on top of you. You bring your arms up to cover your bare chest, but Leah clears her throat with softened eyes and you no longer feel so exposed.

You feel safe.

“What happened in Barcelona?” You shake your head at her question. “That bad, huh?” she presses.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you tell her, grey clouds hanging over you as your voice darkens and lowers. “Like, at all.”

“I think you should. It’s better it comes out now than later when you’ve had lots to drink and no idea who you’re ranting about it to, isn’t it? And it’s just me; I’m not going to judge you.”

“But you know her. You know her friends.” Your hands move to cover your face. Leah can have your body, but you don’t want her to have your tears. “Thank you for caring, babe, but I think I’m going to handle this one on my own.”

“Well, you know that–”

“You’re always a phone call away.” You smile, tears sucked back inside you, bottled away in glassware you store in crates labelled ‘VERY FRAGILE’. Desperate to change the subject, you adjust your position on the sofa, sitting up. Leah tries very hard not to stare at the curves of your chest. “You know, Lee, I never thought you’d be that good in bed.”

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice.

Her muscles contract and relax, the tissues pulling on her bone, which, in turn, pulls her. She is strung along, driven perhaps by her leap in recovery and impending comeback. She almost breaks out into a jog, but the church she has dragged herself to comes into view before she can gain speed.

She had not expected this from herself.

It’s nothing special to her, though she will admit that the architecture of the building does hold some sense of divinity, but the heavy wooden door is propped open and she is drawn inside.

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30.

Alexia checks her watch, the golden links gleaming on her wrist, catching the sunlight that filters in through the glass windows.

She catches a glimpse of white behind the doors of the Confession booth, becoming acutely aware of how empty the church is. The curtain has been pulled back, bunched to the left-hand side carefully, as though the previous handler had moved with peace.

It can’t be that bad, can it?

It’s just like therapy.

Her feet carry her forwards once more, leading her into the wooden booth. It smells old. The cushion she kneels on is blue, she thinks, but she cannot tell because it goes dark once she pulls the curtain shut.

Alexia is not a religious person. Sure, she signs the cross before stepping onto the pitch, and, like most people she knows, she is baptised, but her faith is limited to that. When she tore her ACL, she spent evenings trying to pray, trying to force her to believe in Him. It would have been comforting to know that someone had a plan for her, was watching over her carefully with the knowledge of how it was going to play out. It was to no avail.

But somehow she knows what to say, and so she does.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She recites the words like lines from a play, head bowed in shame as she writes her next sentences in her mind. “This is my first and, probably, my last confession.”

Silence.

She rests her hands in her lap, shuffling around to ensure she is not pressing down on her knee in any way that is harmful. It would kill her to have to push back her return to the pitch because of some stupid thing she has spontaneously chucked herself into.

“I messed up.” She laughs. “No, that is actually an understatement. I know this is a church and I really shouldn’t swear, but I fucked up. Father, I had Heaven in my hands and I threw it away as though it were meaningless. Was it greed? Was it greed that led me to do it?”

“Do what, my daughter?”

The priest sounds younger than she’d thought he would be.

“I had an affair with a woman whom I am certain I do love a little bit, but, by doing that, I destroyed a life that was perfect. Was it greed?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Was it temptation?” Alexia tries again, desperately. Part of her yearns for the priest to tell her it was the Devil so that she can shed the responsibility. “I love my wife. More than anything, I love her. I do not think my own life is worth living if it is not in service to her, to our children, to the smile she reserves for her favourite people. I… I didn’t attempt it, but I thought about killing myself.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Only once, but I thought it all the same. My sister called me selfish.

“It’s just – forgive me – fucked, isn’t it? I got carried away. I got lonely, I was alone. I craved something to make me forget, to pinch the gaping hole in my life shut. I relied on it to make me feel better, and it did for a time. But now it has made me feel much, much worse.

“And I am sorry! I am so, so sorry. I have grown sick of the word; I’ve used it so much that it holds no meaning anymore. It doesn’t do my regret justice, nor my quest for forgiveness, and I’m really on that quest, Father, I want to stress that to you. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said – things I don’t even believe – but I did not mean them then, and I do not mean them now.”

“You are not religious,” accuses the priest, very gently. His voice washes over Alexia’s ears like a wave of warm saltwater from the Mediterranean, and she feels comfortable enough to swim into the expanse in front of her. “Our God is forgiving, but it is not His forgiveness that you seek. I cannot give you a prayer that will make her absolve your sins, because our holy words are not spells.”

“Father,” croaks Alexia. As her lips part, she tastes the saltwater of the sea, dripping down her cheeks as though the tide has come in and there is no other option than for her to be flooded. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do.”

The priest speaks, but she assigns the voice to someone else.

The first thing you forget about a person is what their voice sounds like. It lingers like a feeling you can’t quite name; distant, distorted, enhanced by fantasy.

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice.

The realisation is crushing.

She knows his words – they are her prayers – but, like Catholics do not know the voice of their God, she can no longer hear the voice of hers.

What would her father say if he saw her like this? On her knees in a Confession booth, backed against the wall with nowhere to hide?

This is not the girl he was proud of. Alexia, of course, is not that eighteen-year-old anymore; she hasn’t been for a decade. But, recently, the legacy of that unknown Levante player has disappeared.

Alexia is so very lost.

She does not know where she is in her own city. In her home.

She does not know her place in her life, much less her place in yours – if you will still grant her one.

She has not felt the thrill of football for months, has driven herself to Hell and back, and considered giving up enough to be on the brink of actually doing it.

She has seen countless meals hit the water of her toilet, never digested, never deserving of the very thing that keeps her alive.

She has counted your sacrifices, memorising the digits of an ongoing figure so that she can punish herself with the knowledge.

She has tried to forget English, tried to improve her English, and taken vows of silence.

She has cried and cried and cried until the only thing left for her to excrete is her hot, red blood.

She has searched for a way out of the maze. She has failed every time.

Alexia is lost without you, and she knows it. Everyone knows it, perhaps even you yourself. Do you revel in that fact? Do you enjoy it?

You have a right to watch her suffer. You do, you do, you do.

Alexia runs a hand through her damp hair, sweating as she sobs in the booth next to some stranger who she will never meet again. Her mouth is dry but her cries are wet and raw, and they scrape her throat as she chokes them out, losing her breath and falling silent only to catch it and begin again. The cushion burns her knees as though she is trapped in an inferno, the darkness blazing against her skin.

The priest talks to her for a long time, not letting her leave until she has calmed down. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her palm before softly pressing her thumbs to her blotchy cheeks to clear the final tears from them.

When he is finished, he instructs her to take a few deep breaths, which she does. “You are not entitled to her forgiveness,” he reminds her. He begins the Prayer of Absolution – he insists for the sake of closure – and Alexia walks away from the church no more than five minutes later.

She is still stuck in the maze, but she has restored that voice in her head that she knows will help her find her way out.

…

“So you went to church?” Olga asks with an amused smile, taking the first sip of her latte, relishing in the gentle burn of the liquid. She needs this coffee; she stayed up late last night because she knew Alexia has been struggling. There is nothing worse than being asleep when Alexia calls her for help.

“I have no idea how I ended up there,” Alexia explains, somewhat defensive about yesterday’s catharsis. “Confession is way better than therapy. There is too much accountability in therapy.”

“You have a lot to account for.”

She huffs out a breath, taking a sip of her own drink. “I know, Olga, but I cannot change the past, so what would you like me to do?” Olga doesn’t reply. The brunette parts her lips, but promptly closes her mouth when she sees Alexia’s slight discomfort. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. I… I do too.”

Olga’s smile is big and genuine. “I’d love that,” she answers. “Eli is the best cook out of our friends’ parents. Everyone knows that.”

You’re in London, childless, and are watching the grand old Arsenal play (reluctantly, forced to by Leah if anything). Alexia has seen the pictures of you at the match on Instagram; she has already felt the frustration that you are most-likely never going to watch Barcelona play again unless it is to support the other team. Like clockwork, Alexia seeks to fill the gaping hole you have left in her life. Somewhere, somehow, the lines of friendship between her and Olga have blurred.

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack.

You appear in London every two weeks, attending meetings and events, but she has decided, once and for all, to see through your excuses. You come to London for her. She knows that, and so do you. Leah’s ego has not reached a size where she believes she is enough for you, but the facts (and Lia Wälti) tell her she is wrong.

Except, what Leah tends to leave out is that no matter how many times you let her sleep with you, she still is unable to access a certain part of your mind.

She has never been upstairs in your house because you always prefer to go to her place in St. Albans. She has never slept in your bed, nor woken up next to you.

You talk to her like she is still the same old Leah, the captain you befriended during the tournament of her lifetime, your entrance in her life intertwined with the ecstasy of winning the Euros. She closes her eyes and thinks of how you looked that summer; white England shirt, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes. Smiling, cheering. For her, she greedily claims to herself.

Sometimes, in her mind, you lift your sunglasses – you always seem to be crying when she pictures this – but Leah is only vaguely familiar with the timeline of your divorce. This is the issue.

There is a door that you have locked and refuse to let Leah find the key. It leads to heartbreak, to Nico and Elena, to a family you once had.

“I wish you would let me in,” Leah says one day. (The day she cracks.) She tears her ACL two days prior, something that makes you feel guiltily nauseous, and you have come to visit her. She knows that you had flown over the minute you had swapped custody with Alexia.

Your legs curl into your chest as you try to reduce the amount of space you are taking up on Leah’s sofa, cautious of her injured knee. Leah misses the warmth of your thighs, and wants to revoke her conversation starter instantly, pained that she has to even ignite the fire of this forbidden topic. “What do you mean?” comes your quiet reply, unwilling to disturb the peace of her living room. The peace of existing side-by-side.

“Exactly what I said.” Leah nods to emphasise her agreement with herself. “I wish you would let me in, because how do you expect me to love you if I don’t know you?”

She sees the bullet fly through the air; she sees the moment it hits you, the way you go rigid. Dead. Dying?

“It’s crazy because it usually takes years for me to feel about someone the way I feel about you, and I just… I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to let me in. I want to hear everything, to know everything.”

“Oh.” What had you expected when you kissed her? “Oh, Leah.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” She assigns your guilt, the tears in your eyes, to your distance. Perhaps you hadn’t realised, perhaps it is a coincidence Leah has never slept in the bed you used to share with Alexia. Maybe you are unaware that Leah has never heard you speak Spanish, and doesn’t know a single thing about your life in Barcelona.

You’re a busy person, after all.

“No, no,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. Leah can’t help but wonder if the paranoid voice in her head is right; has she been reading too much into this? “Fuck, I am such a twat.”

But you don’t elaborate further, asking how she’s feeling, distracting her from your realisation about her realisation. Before Leah knows it, you are making her laugh harder than she has in a month, and soon, like most good things, your visit comes to an end.

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird.

You feel as though you have done nothing but check over your shoulder the entire journey, staring the past straight in the eye and wishing you could change it.

You hadn’t meant to make her fall in love with you. (But she has. Oh, she has.)

This week’s swap is no different; the same park as usual, the same pleasant weather to undergo an unpleasant task.

On the bench usually occupied by Olga, a different, blonder head comes into view.

“Irene?” you ask in surprise, wondering if she has been sent in Olga’s stead or just so happens to have brought Mateo, her son, to the very same park. You sit down beside her, somewhat pleased to not see Alexia’s henchwoman today. “Where’s the free childcare?”

The defender’s eyes narrow, as though she is debating whether or not she should tell you.

Irene has known Alexia for a long time, and, by extension, has known you for a long time too. She is calm, level-headed, and mature, much like Alexia. Except Irene hasn’t ever thought to cheat on her wife.

You are clearly in a lot of pain, and you have a right to be; Irene does not rise to your comment. “Olga has gone on holiday,” she states with practised neutrality.

“Ah, they’ve broken up.”

Eyebrows raised, she turns to you, breaking her line of sight that encompasses Nico, Mateo, and Elena. The playground is small enough, and very safe. “They were never together.” You wait patiently for her analysis of whatever the fuck was going on between them. “Olga said she wasn’t what Alexia needed. She’s on holiday with Carla, and I guess she is quite upset.”

“And Alexia?” You know Irene does not like to gossip, nor stir the pot. So you can be nosy about how she is doing.

“I think her ego was bruised, but she sees Olga’s point. She has been… better recently. She’s focused on getting back onto the pitch, and Jona is only saying good things about it.” Irene’s eyes brighten at the thought of her captain’s recovery, and her tone soars through the air. The entire team has worried for Alexia, spending their own nights tossing and turning, wondering if the old version of her will ever return. “I know you two don’t speak, but if you did, you’d get a glimpse of what it was like before.”

You can’t help your smile, and Irene does not make you feel pathetic for wearing it. “Good.”

“I heard you were in London?”

“Visiting a… friend.” Irene is not a gossip, you remind yourself. “I think I might have to stay in this country for a bit and let things cool down over there.”

She chuckles. “Whose heart have you broken?” She won’t tell Alexia, when Alexia inevitably asks about you, that you are seeing someone. Not that you have confirmed that to her.

“I’m yet to break it,” you tell her, sighing, “but I know I will, and that is much, much worse.”

“Hey, at least you have two weeks of being endlessly busy to keep your mind off it.”

Children change a lot in two weeks, so Irene then launches into an update on school, clubs, and everything else. She gets the information from Alexia, of course, who writes out a list every time you switch over. No one has ever handed you the piece of paper before, worried that her handwriting will be an unnecessary reminder of the pain she has caused you, but, for some reason, Irene does today.

You are not put off by the swirling Spanish in front of you, instead choosing to study it. You have spent hours in Alexia’s lap as she scrawls out football notes upon football notes, scribbling prompted by footage or, freakishly, her own memory. From the lightness of the indentations of the pen, you figure that Alexia is exhausted. From the half-finished sentences, you decide that she was rushing when she wrote this.

But, as much as you delight in your brief analysis of the evidence in your palms like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, you can’t ignore just how greatly you have missed the letters that swim between the lines (and the hand from which they were written).

Irene spares you your dignity by standing from the bench and checking on the children just as your tears begin to fall.

…

You take one last look in the mirror embedded in the sun visor, ensuring your hair is perfectly in place and your earrings match your cream, sleeveless turtleneck to poise you just between casual and smartly-dressed. A quiet grumble from the backseat draws your attention away from your reflection, though your last glimpse at your concealed eyebags and red-rimmed irises leaves you feeling a little dejected and mourning the days you’d actually get some sleep. (Or wouldn’t, smoking cigarettes on the balcony while talking Alexia’s ear off.)

“Mama, we go,” decides Elena with a huff, tugging on the buckle of her car seat.

It’s Nico’s first-ever recital tonight.

He started playing the piano in September, when his teacher at school had mentioned how he boasted to the children in his class that he was a musician: ‘if I am Catalan because my mami is Catalan, then I am musician because my mami is musician’. You felt guilty. His teacher says he is naturally talented, voice lacking surprise but praiseful nonetheless, and is proud to name Nico his youngest student at tonight’s show.

The bouquet of daisies you ask Elena to hold makes her look like a miniature carnival float, and she toddles into the venue by your side while you do mental gymnastics between the knowledge that Alexia will be here tonight and the nerves for your son’s performance. It’s nothing complicated, but you worry he will hate it. This is the only thing he does that is a nod towards you; his one deviation from his worship of Alexia.

“Mami!” squeals the walking flowers as soon as you make it to the half-full hall. You direct your gaze to the three rows your daughter refers to, every seat lined with either professional footballers or family. With a sudden rush of blood to your head, you feel out of your depth.

You’re not sure whether the hazel eyes that find yours help or worsen that.

“Keep it moving,” you mutter firmly, holding her hand so she does not make a break for it and tumble right over to the cohort of FC Barcelona and Seguras. Not wanting to get too close to them, you take your seat in the penultimate row, knowing Nico will not be able to see you over the grand piano set up on the stage wherever you sit. “You can talk to her later, sweetheart.”

She is in an obedient mood, most-likely intimidated by the tension in the air. You tell yourself it’s the stress radiating from the line of performers sitting on the front row. Nico stands on his chair, waving first to Alexia and then to you (it’s your turn with them so you are a lot less exciting right now), before he is lightly scolded by his teacher and the first child walks up the steps and onto the stage.

Five uninspiring children later, Nico is finally led up onto the stage. His teacher sits down on the piano stool and nudges him forwards. He smiles brightly at the room. You reciprocate, encouraging Elena to do the same to keep her engaged with an admittedly boring event.

“Bona nit a tothom! Jo sóc en Nicolau i tinc quatre anys i ara aniré a tocar ‘Brillia Brillia Estel Petit’.” The audience melts before him. “Mama, that means ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’,” he whispers loudly.

You send him a thumbs up. He sends you a grin back, before giggling as he climbs onto the piano stool beside his teacher.

Situated comfortably, feet dangling adorably far away from the pedals, his chubby, little fingers hit the ivory keys once, then twice.

You pray this goes well.

It does.

He plays with two hands, something you hadn’t expected, and Elena holds in her noisy yawn until after he is finished so she must have been invested in the performance. Your own hands sting after you clap with such prideful force that you are the loudest in the room, and the hoots and hollers from Alexia’s territory only make Nico even happier as he bounces down the steps and back to his seat to wait for the others to do their pieces.

After the recital has finished, you walk down the aisle separating the seats in half to get to Nico, daughter-less courtesy of a squadron of football-playing kidnappers.

“How was that?” you ask him smugly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “I knew you would be brilliant, even when you were scared you weren’t going to be. Do you know how proud I am of you?”

“This much?” He holds his hand about thirty centimetres apart. “Mami says this much.”

When he widens his hands, you gesture something even bigger.

“‘Immensely’ is the word I would use.”

“Im-men-lee?”

“Es que nuestro orgullo llena una casa sin techo. Hasta el cielo.”

“Up to the sun,” you amend, ignoring the way the voice has made you stiffen. You don’t read too much into her misuse of the collective pronoun. There is no ‘our’ in ‘affair’.

Alexia’s hand hovers by your waist for a moment, muscle memory getting the better of her before she draws it back into her body. Nico gives her a matching hug, telling her how much he has missed her.

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood.

“You were amazing, petit,” Alexia says, picking him up with one strong arm and settling him on her hip. You grip the wrapper of the bouquet you are holding. “Did Mama get you a gift?”

He peers at the daisies in your hand with curiosity. Shaking his head, his confusion deepens as he studies the bouquet you are extending towards him. “They are for Mami? Flowers are for love.”

“I love you,” you tell him, not trying to make a point but instinctively prickling in the presence of Alexia.

The silence is awkward.

A few metres away, whilst entertaining the sleepy toddler on her lap, Mapi is excitedly talking to Alba. “Y/n hasn’t killed her yet,” says the defender with glee, one of your admirers. The team respected you before, never questioning their captain’s judgement nor family, but when word got out about the affair amongst the older girls, most of them began to see you as more than Alexia’s wife. A new layer to your character was revealed; you are a strong, independent, and successful woman. Football nerds sometimes forget success comes in more forms than blaugrana kits. “They made such a beautiful couple.”

“They did.” Alba watches as you talk to your son, your eyes actively avoiding the woman in front of you. “Our mother has sent Alexia over there to invite her to dinner. It killed me to see her sit alone.”

You are too used to the feeling of eyes on you that you no longer notice the weight of people’s stares, but, if this were not the case, you would know that most of the heads attached to the bodies sitting in Alexia’s rows had been swivelled towards you for majority of the recital. Pity is never a desired emotion to have offered to you, but the Barça girls can’t help but feel that way whenever they see your forehead crinkle in an attempt to understand Catalan, presuming you only speak Spanish as you have more than enough on your plate. (And, as most of the players will admit, your children speak better English than them, so one can only assume that it is your main method of communication.)

“She’s a very good mother,” Mapi comments with a small nod, sucking a sharp breath in as she begins to sympathise with you even more. Not a day goes by where she witnesses the suffering Alexia’s idiocracy has caused – as Ingrid, her girlfriend, knows very well – and does not fail to scream in frustration about her best friend’s stupid mistakes.

“She’s a very good person.”

They fall silent as they see your head tilt up, jaw clenching as Alexia begins to speak to you.

“Can you hear what she’s saying?” whispers Eli to her daughter, equally invested in the conversation. “I knew I should have sent you; Alex is too socially awkward.”

“Mami, she is talking to her wife,” replies Alba, though she remembers what happened the last time Alexia and you had spoken and the outcome of that. Maybe that commences her increasing agreement with her mother… “I guess you– Are they coming over here?!”

Even you seem surprised by how your legs carry you towards the Barcelona clan, a step behind Alexia and Nico. Hesitant would be an understatement, but most of them are too preoccupied with congratulating the four-year-old they have come to watch to notice your tight-lipped smile and trembling hands.

“Hola,” you say shyly.

Eli pulls you into her strong embrace without missing a beat. “Te he echado de menos, hija.”

You try very hard not to burst into tears.

They take you to dinner; a plan you had known about but not envisioned yourself included in. Although it’s your fortnight, Alexia (through the conduit of Alba) had previously arranged to drop Nico and Elena over to yours before midnight.

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

The restaurant is on the lower level of fine-dining. It’s chic, but it does not make your children feel unwelcome. The table is set for five places, though Alba informs you that the reason for this is because the reservation was made before she broke up with her girlfriend.

“Mama, what are you going to eat?” asks Nico, slipping back into his old life seamlessly, mixing his English with the Spanish he knows everyone can understand, his legs swinging underneath the table with an enthusiastic energy. He is still too young to pick up on how far apart his parents are sitting, or how you refuse to let your eyes linger on Alexia’s tanned skin, far too much of it shown off by the tank top she sports in the humidity of the busy restaurant.

You glance around the room, searching for those who have recognised you. Under the weight of at least four curious stares, you motivate yourself to enjoy your meal.

“Not sure yet, babe,” you answer. “Alba, do you fancy sharing something?”

“Yeah, of course.” The younger Putellas smiles. Alexia knows who has lost the war.

Dinner passes with light conversation centred on very neutral topics. No man’s land is clearly the children, and you had never expected to be so desperate to continue a conversation about school lunches until the other options are how Alexia had an affair with her teammate or that your song with her favourite singer is topping the charts and explicitly about being cheated on.

Although you and Alexia both watch how many times your wine glasses are refilled, Alba lets loose, as does Eli (probably to ease the stress on her heart that her girls force upon her). Their cheeks redden and Nico begins to yawn, Elena already curled into your side halfway between dreams and reality.

“Should we head out?” you ask it to the table, but the only functioning person is Alexia, really, and so you close your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact.

“I should probably get Mama and Alba into a taxi.”

“If you call one for them, I will call one for us?” Your suggestion is instinctive; an old habit reminiscent of many similar nights, back when there was love and happiness and a relationship that didn’t feel like walking on a floor made of broken glass. “Or did you drive here?”

“No, but you drove,” comes Alexia’s reminder. Internally, you face-palm. Parking the car before dinner seems like years ago; something feels different now. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I could drive you home. I haven’t had much to drink and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Elena is practically in a coma anyway.”

You laugh – a softened version of it so as to not rouse the dead weight of your daughter.

“Are you sure?”

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

I don’t care.

“Mama,” Alba slurs, pulling her mother in close. “The saint has given her sinner a second chance.”

It may not be as quiet as she thinks it is. Alexia, occupied, is deaf to the comment. You are not.

This is not a second chance.

This is a lift home.

The last time all four of you sat in a car together was the day you found out about Alexia’s affair.

You had suffered then – are still suffering now – but your anger was hot and sharp and new. Fresh wounds.

Now, though more scabbed-over than healed, those wounds no longer seem to gush blood; you entertain Alexia’s stiff small-talk.

She asks about the tour, never veering too far off the road of practicality and shared custody. When does it resume? Which has been your favourite show?

“Wembley is like playing El Clásico in Camp Nou,” she determines, not needing to ask about that because she knows you too well.

Your memories of the London shows involve a naked Leah Williamson. (If only she knew that!)

“Yeah, London was great.”

Awkwardness is part of Alexia’s personality; something you are fairly certain you still love. She is shy, though it perhaps comes off as stoicity, and she has never been good at making conversation. You know she hates it, and you know that her eyes, Alexia’s eyes, are gazing at you every time she thinks you are not looking.

She is weary about the desire darkening her pupils, but she does not do well to hide her hunger nonetheless.

“Go into the carpark,” you instruct as you approach your building.

Wordlessly, she presses the correct pin into the pin-pad, never having forgotten it.

She parks the car beside a new-looking Mercedes. It’s not a car for children, and she imagines it reeks of cigarettes – there is no way you have stopped smoking.

It belongs in the carpark; in your little world of celebrities and male footballers; of money and fame and fortune. (One could argue you lack the latter, what with your current situation.) Alexia’s life has never moulded with yours.

Perhaps it never will.

Perhaps she slept with Jenni because they are equals, you think. Because Jenni understands Alexia in a way you cannot.

“Mami,” cries a quiet voice from the backseat. You stop staring at the grey, concrete walls, snapping back to reality as Alexia shifts to turn her attention to the source of the whimpering. “No quiero que te vayas.”

“Lela, me tengo que ir.”

“Pero–”

“You could always come up to say goodnight to them?”

It starts off innocently.

Of course it does. Of course you are nowhere near forgiveness, more likely to forget about the crushing affair before you excuse any of her actions. Sometimes, you wish for amnesia. Sometimes, you refer to the tab open in Safari – ‘is there a drug that makes you forget?’.

Alexia is granted a tuck-in and a story for each child, glad that their rooms are separate so that her time in her home is prolonged. The walls are familiar, the floor is the same. There are new pictures in new frames, but the old ones have not been removed. If you had ever wished to take photographs of your relationship down, you have never acted on it.

She realises you must not spend a lot of time here alone. Maybe you cannot bear it. Maybe your life in London is more important to you than she had thought.

Anyway, for as much as she subtly noses around and draws out the night, she has no intention of overstaying her welcome, sure that she probably did that the minute she stepped inside.

In fact, she is on her way out, under the assumption that you will not want to speak to her.

“So you’re back to playing?”

“Sí.”

A doorway conversation.

You’re English. You’re very polite. Alexia knows this, tries to not get her hopes up.

“Does that mean you don’t want a taste of this ‘97?” You hold the bottle up to her, the cork lying on the granite worktop with the incriminating suggestion that you have already had a glass.

“We play the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.”

How many times have you said that to her before? The same tone, the same look in your eye; red tinting your lips, one hand on a lighter because you smoke when you’re drunk, even if you refuse to touch the cancer-sticks when you are sober.

“Was this a gift?” she asks, drawn into your magnetic field like a flimsy paper clip; thin, worn metal trying to piece the pages of her life back together. “Or have you been making ridiculous purchases again?”

“I can assure you that it is not ‘ridiculous’.” You moan in delight as you take a sip from a glass you subsequently hand over to her. “Gosh, that is divine, and you are simply going to dissolve when you taste it.”

Dissolve she does, but one can attribute that to the company.

The contents of the bottle dwindles quickly, paired with a vulnerable retelling of her ACL recovery (sans suicidal thoughts and huge, huge regret about the affair – she doesn’t want to bring that up, seeing as you are clearly trying to forget about it), and the warm breeze of the Barcelona nighttime. The salty air from the mediterranean mingles with cigarette smoke, though Alexia softly says that you really should stop.

You hesitate on your next puff, but you inhale it all the same. “I like my wine smokey.”

She opens the next bottle for you.

The wine glasses are soon discarded, pouring becoming shaky and difficult.

“They sleep all the way through the night here,” observes Alexia, surprised that no little hands have knocked on the glass door leading to the balcony. The last time you had reached for the wine, you’d moved closer to her. You have not yet returned to your original seat on the other side of the rattan sofa.

You raise your eyebrows, under the impression that they were both sleep trained. “They don’t at yours?”

“Elena keeps trying to sleep in bed with me.”

“Maybe she likes you more,” you suggest with a light, alcohol-infused laugh. “She must have been upset to find her place filled by your friend.”

“No,” murmurs Alexia, “it has never been filled. Though I don’t think you can say the same.”

You swallow the stickiness of the wine running down your throat.

“Not in our bed. My bed.” You fight yourself. “Our bed.”

“In Highgate?”

“Anywhere,” you breathe.

“It’s been months,” croaks Alexia, your hand pressed against her stomach as you slowly lean into the feeling only she can give you. “Months.”

You kiss her. Time folds in on itself, and you are transported back to when every touch was electric; when nothing was tainted. The pain of the past months, the heartbreak, momentarily fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in Alexia’s warmth.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, afraid that this moment might slip away too soon. The taste of wine lingers on your lips, and she craves the softness of them – she has been craving them since July.

“Well, now it has only been seconds,” you whisper as you pull away.

With a sense of urgency, she chases your mouth once more, strong arms pulling you on top of her, manipulating your body against her with no hint of uncertainty.

Alexia knows you well.

Her touch lacks curiosity and exploration. Her hands are experienced and confident in their movements, and she has hoisted you up and brought you to your bedroom without needing to have been told that this is what you want.

“Is this what you want?” she asks anyway.

“Please.”

And she really doesn’t make you beg.

Your hands roam her body with a primal hunger, instinctive touches to the most sensitive parts of her, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her back is tense, muscles flexing as she pushes your clothes off your skin, her own following their path soon after.

Parted legs and soft moans.

She slots herself between your thighs.

Her tongue is determined, fierce. Sloppier because she is drunk, but, then again, so are you.

Your fingers repay the favour.

“More,” you request just as she pulls away.

“Is it in the same place?”

You nod, panting.

There is a playful glint in Alexia’s eyes as she finds the strap just where she left it. As she secures it in place, you wipe the sweat from your brow, forcing your mind into the dirtiest of thoughts to ward off the building regret.

The room is dimly lit, and the air heavy with desire. Your heartbeat pulses in the silence, the thrum of the organ drums that guide Alexia’s slow, deliberate steps back towards the bed, kneeling atop the scrunched sheets.

She positions herself between your legs once more, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating against your skin. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck, sending shivers of anticipation shuddering down your spine.

With trembling hands, you reach out, nails digging into tanned, taut skin. You pull her closer to you, urging her to take whatever she wants.

You want her to have you. You want her to make it hurt less.

As Alexia presses inside, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body. You cry out, the sound igniting a blazing inferno within her that grows hotter the moment you ask her to move. Feverishly, her hands move over your chest, finding purchase on your breasts with a dormant possessiveness as her hips begin to drive the strap in deeper.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, encompassed by someone so divine that you begin to separate yourself from all things wrong with this situation. The headboard thuds against the bedroom wall as she pounds her thrusts into a rhythm, and you shut your eyes as you quietly ask her to kiss you.

Tears cascade down your cheeks, but you do not know to whom they belong. Her tongue smothers your moans, and her hips begin to snap into yours more urgently, with more desperation. The pressure builds inside of you, and you feel as though you might explode.

You feel as though this is the end, and you are glad that here is where your misery terminates.

You’re glad, you’re really glad.

Your back arches, your chests pressing together, large hands holding you close to her.

And then it all comes crashing down.

Everything.

You wipe your eyes once the orgasmic bliss subsides, seizing your wine haze as the tide goes out and destroying the blindfold that had deprived you of seeing things straight. Right now, with the pleasant ache between your legs, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it, but you know you will. You haven’t forgiven her; you’re not sure that it is possible.

“You can shower, but you can’t stay here.”

…

Nico knows that he is special. He is lucky, and he is loved, and he gets to go to a very nice school that Mateo (his ‘cousin’) claims is fancy.

He likes his teacher. She reminds him of someone he once knew – you have suggested the nursery helpers back when he lived in London. He is not sure if you are right, but he doesn’t remember what London was like so he tries not to think too hard about it.

Nico’s friends, like Pau who is sitting beside him, all think it is really cool that he can speak English. Pau says she hears his mother on the radio sometimes, but Nico hasn’t yet grasped the concept of fame past the annoying camera flashes and big, sold-out stadiums. He dislikes fame as he knows it, anyway, because the cameras hurt his eyes and the stadiums are so loud that he has to wear ear-defenders that squeeze his skull a bit too much.

“My mum is from Bilbao. My dad is from Barcelona,” states Paula as she swipes a crayon over the sheet of paper her drawing is on. Green wax slowly stains the white to form ‘grass’. Everyone is drawing their family today, although Nico hasn’t yet started, waiting for his teacher to circle their table so that he can ask for another piece of paper. “And this,” Paula carries on, squiggling brown hair onto a smaller version of the stick-figure father, “is Ander, my big brother.”

“Who is that?” Nico asks, pointing at the fifth figure on the page, guessing that the fourth and Pau-sized person is, in fact, Pau.

“My sister! She’s called Nerea, and she plays basketball.” Pau promptly makes an orange circle the size of Nerea’s head, which floats in the air between her and her sister. “My mum says Nere is going to be a lesbian, but I don’t know what that means.”

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to garner the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.”

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?”

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.”

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.”

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.”

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with.

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue.

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares.

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all.

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her.

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that.

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.”

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together tot el temps. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.”

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already attracted the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia is usually inviting him to training with her. Since Elena has yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, his mother misses him when it is not her turn.

You benevolently give your permission if you have no prior plans. It is upsetting that the only hindrance to extra time spent together is the little boy who once worshipped Alexia Putellas like a god.

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper.

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half.

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s.

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?”

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.”

“But now you are ripped down the middle.”

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One of his legs is on your side, the other on Alexia’s.

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.”

Alexia does, though, when his teacher talks to her that afternoon.

…

“I slept with Alexia,” you confess quietly, comforted by the sound-proofing of Anya’s home-studio. She asked for help with her album; your success might be contagious, she insists. “Last week, when Nico had that recital.” You clutch your mug protectively, as if she will strip you of the right to drink your tea to punish you for your crime.

Anya is unsure what you would like her to say. You search her face for anger, but do not find it.

“If Gio were here, she’d probably slap you.”

You snort, almost spilling hot liquid all over yourself. “You two are like my mothers, and you’re the nicer one by far.”

“God, you are such an idiot.”

“And a slag.” She waits for your next admission with excitement. “I also slept with Leah Williamson.”

“Do you think you and Alexia are just destined for polyamory?” Her amusement is quite pleasant, but one thing wasn’t dulled by the wine that night and you have been dying to tell someone about it.

Your knee bounces up and down as you gear up for it, having thought it through

“I think we are destined for each other.”

Song-writing be damned, Anya fully removes her headphones, placing the equipment beside her keyboard before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “You are in love with Alexia again,” comes her accusation, with no real malice behind it.

“I never stopped being in love with Alexia. She just made it a lot harder to love her.”

Is that an understatement?

“Hey,” you say with sudden energy, sitting upright and grasping at your phone, tea wobbling over the lip of the mug and running down your wrist. “Should we go to Bali in August?”

…

You avoid both of your footballers right until the World Cup camps roll around.

Leah doesn’t get to go, subjected to the ACL curse. Alexia’s call-up is not necessarily unexpected, but you do find yourself wondering how many more betrayals her friendship with Mapi León can handle. (Mapi is on her last straw, but she knows her friend really needed the win after her hellish year. The Champion’s League was never going to sate Alexia’s hunger to be the best at football – possibly an overcompensation for her terrible relationship skills.)

Your children, this time, are delivered to the park by their very own mother. Alexia beats Leah in this sense, because she has a valid excuse to see you without confessing feelings you do not want to hear.

“I have something for you,” she says just after she has finished her goodbyes, pressing a small box into your hands. Her voice is filled with nerves and you are intrigued, hating yourself for being so. “Don’t open it until you get back home.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. I’m sorry, they seem to say. “Alright, have fun in Bali, and don’t forget that I legally have custody but I am not going to go to court to battle you for it as long as you put them in Spain kits for Spain matches.”

She could, if she wanted to be difficult, have you send Nico and Elena to New Zealand during her weeks. It would be very unreasonable, but the contract your lawyers drew up still stands.

“They were delivered yesterday. I think it’s going to be a struggle to convince them to put on the worst kit ever.” You still don’t forgive Alexia for cheating on you, but there has come a point where acceptance replaces the animosity. Nico’s teacher has been the catalyst in this step forward. The developmental pamphlets she had thrust in your faces were enough for the two of you to come to a mutual agreement of increased civility (that maybe, maybe was only made possible by the fact that you have very recent memories of each other’s orgasms). “But, yes, I agree to your terms. Don’t forget that his favourite player is Alessia Russo, however.”

“He is in a phase where I am ‘uncool’! It’ll pass.”

“If you say so, Alexia.”

“Anyway,” she carries on, rolling her eyes. “Open it when you get home.” She… presses a kiss to your cheek? “I’m so sorry, mi amor.”

You blink back your surprise, but she is gone before you can reply.

The small, neatly-wrapped box sits in the palm of your hand, the corners edging off your skin and sticking out as you stare at it. Nico and Elena continue their (unsupervised) playing, but you manage to call out a warning for ‘five more minutes and then we’ve got to pack’ while you examine Alexia’s gift.

Is this how Pandora felt?

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

Alexia, before now, hasn’t actively pursued your forgiveness. She has given you the time and the space you had broken-heartedly requested, nodding as you communicated your wishes to her through someone else, never before able to confront the face that tore up your life before your eyes.

There was a time when all you ever wanted to do was talk to her, but she tried to forget about that when she realised the extent at which you went to avoid an interaction. When she had understood your desperation to be left alone fully, she began to breathe. The step backwards gave her room to examine just how royally she had fucked it all.

She now feels a bit more capable of tackling the clean-up, working with a much clearer mind. Everyone is relieved that she hasn’t killed herself, or, at least, that she is keeping those thoughts at bay.

You realise that she has bought you a ring, and regardless of whether you wear it or not, she wants to tell you that she is sorry.

...

IT'S NOT OVER YET! THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SECOND HALF

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso fanfics #randombush3 #leah williamson x reader #woso imagines #barca femeni #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 10 months

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Pairing : Idol!Seo Changbin x F!Reader TW : small car accident ; Changbin is momentarily insensitive ; angsty ; but also fluffy at the end ; Word Count : 3.2k Request : @kurolils : i'm not gonna be so specific, my delulu a*s has just been craving angst so much with changbin (my bias) or with lee know (tbh, your lee know imagine kinda calmed that craving), so you can just choose the plot, be free, just please with some fluff... cuz my fragile heart can't take too much 🥺. A/N : I FINALLY GOT TO THE REQUEST! I DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT IT, I'VE JUST BEEN FRAZZLED!! YOU SENT IT IN ABOUT 3 MONTHS AGO AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!! Also, the I found the gif on this blog!!

“You’re gonna be there, right? You’re coming?” Changbin asked as he grabbed his keys off the hook, his eyes wide and his bottom lip already slightly jutting out as he looked at you. It was the same thing every time he had a comeback show, and you gave him the same answer every time he asked the question.

“I’m gonna be there, Binnie.” You reassured him, leaning against with your arms crossed in front of your chest. He was so cute when he was like this, and truth be told, it felt nice to know that he wanted you there, he always wanted you there. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything, plus, when was the last time I’ve missed one of your comeback shows? Hmm?”

He hummed softly as he thought for a moment, and then, as if a lightbulb went off above his head, his finger began waving in your direction. “The second comeback show during Maxident. You had that really bad stomach bug and you couldn’t even get out of bed.” Your mouth fell open to protest, but he chuckled softly as his arms wrapped around you. “I know it doesn’t count. I was just answering your question.”

You rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see it considering your face was buried in his chest. “Well I’m not sick now, and I’m going to be there. You have to get there first though, gotta get all pretty for Stay.” His arms were like constrictors, keeping you close and holding you tighter when you tried to pull away from him. “Binnie~~” You playfully whined and you lightly pushed back against him. “You’re gonna be late. You need to go now… I’ll see you soon.” You tilted your head back to kiss him, smiling against his lips when they were against yours. “I love you, now go… Go, go, go.”

Not many people knew about yours and Changbins relationship, aside from the guys and a few of the staff members that would let you in the back doors for concerts and shows like this, but other than that, your relationship was completely off the grid. It’s not that you both wanted to keep your relationship hidden forever, it’s just that with the group at the peak of their fame, you didn’t want a dating scandal to ruin what they worked so hard to achieve.

That’s why you’d leave the house two hours after him, just to make sure that anyone who might’ve been watching him would have left already too. You had even gotten your own fake staff card, just so that if anyone were to ever ask, you could say that you worked with them, that you were Changbins personal staff. You couldn’t be more thankful for the ones that did know, they were doing their best to make it easier for you and Bin to be together and you appreciated it more than anything.

“Is she here yet?” Changbin asked from his chair as the makeup artist finished up what she had to do. It was clear that he was getting agitated, there was only 15 minutes left before he had to go on stage and you had never been this late before. You hadn’t even responded to his texts, you weren’t responding to the other guys either. It wasn’t like you to be like that, and the only thing he could even think to have happened was that you fell asleep. You must’ve laid down at some point and that’s why you weren’t there or responding.

That thought failed to make him feel better though. How could you just fall asleep knowing that he needed you there? Did you even care about how this makes him feel? How was he supposed to perform without you there? Why would you say you’d be there and then just… not show up? He was pissed. “Changbin, it’s time for you to go out… What do you want us to do if she shows up while you’re performing though?”

Changbin sighed, going to the door to take one last look, just to see if you had come or not… Of course, you weren’t there. Was he not important to you anymore? Do you not care that he needs you, that he can’t perform his best when you’re not in the crowd? “Tell her to go back home.” He huffed, turning away, trying his best to look like your absence wasn’t literally destroying him.

The other guys could see it though, they could feel it radiating off of him. His anger, his disappointment, his sadness. His moves weren’t as powerful, his voice wasn’t as loud as usual. The performance in general was weak, and everyone could tell that he was antsy to run off the stage once the performance was over.

“Look, Changbin… She makes it to literally all of your other performances… There’s gotta be a legitimate reason she didn’t make it to this one.” Jisung tried to calm Changbin down as he followed behind him to go backstage. “She wouldn’t just not show up for no reason.”

“She was fine when I left today. She wasn’t sick like that last time.” Changbin explained, dropping down into his chair in front of the mirror and ripping the makeup removing wipes from the bag. “If she didn’t want to come she should have just told me.” He roughly rubbed the wipes over his face, leaving his skin red and slightly blotchy when he was done. “I was shit out there… I was so upset! What is STAY gonna think? What is everyone gonna think?!”

“Calm down, man.” Jisung tried once again, patting Changbins shoulder as he sat in the chair beside him. “You weren’t shit, I couldn’t even tell that you were upset. You’re worrying too much.” He grabbed the water bottle off the table and handed it to Changbin, motioning for it to drink it. “Just take a deep breath, I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

“She hasn’t even tried to-“ His phone started vibrating on the table, the number unknown, and he was hesitant to answer it but with Jisungs urging, he answered just before it stopped ringing. “Who’s this?” He asked, his agitation ringing through in his tone, but he heard the heavy sigh from the other end and he knew it was you. “A lot of nerve you have to call after the performance is already over. If you weren’t going to come you should have told me before I left.”

“You’re just gonna jump to conclusions before I even tell you what happened?” He scoffed loudly at your question, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Jisung shaking his head. “Do you not even care what happened?”

“Do you not care about me?” He retorted, jumping up from his chair, his irritation fueling him to pace back and forth across the room. “I waited for you to show up until the last minute! You didn’t call me! You didn’t text me! Do you know how I felt?!” He practically shouted into the phone, unaware that everyone in the room was now watching him, wincing at not only the loudness, but also the lack of concern for whatever it was that you could have been saying.

“There was an accident…” You whispered, and he could barely hear your words over his heavy breaths. “I couldn’t get there… I was trying to…” You continued, and although you couldn’t see it, he rolled his eyes, throwing his one hand up in frustration before running it through his hair.

“If you loved me enough you would have found a way around the accident to get here, to be here for me.” Now that his back was turned to the wall and he was facing the rest of the guys, he could see the mortified looks on their faces. None of them were used to him being this big of a jerk, and while he wasn’t looking at himself that way, clearly they were. Not that he cared, he was pissed. To him, it was simple enough, just go around the accident, find a different route. He would have done it for you if you wanted him to be somewhere for him.

“Well I’m so sorry that I couldn’t go around the accident considering I was in it, Changbin.” You shouted back, and then the call was ended. Changbin froze in his spot, his phone still at his ear as he stared at the guys who looked just as shocked as he did even though they didn’t even hear what you had said. He immediately tried to call you back, but it kept going to the hospital line and he didn’t know your room number so he didn’t even know how to get a hold of you.

“Someone… Someone look on the news or something… About a car accident, a car accident…” He stammered, unable to get his hands to stop shaking long enough to do the search himself. Once the accident was brought up, everyone started panicking, and all the guys in the room, including the staff members who were all scrolling through their phones at once. Sharp gasps and whispered curses filled the room as they apparently all came across the headline story, and Changbin went to Jeongin who happened to be the closest, yanking the youngest boys phone from his hand to read the news.

A small fender bender had turned into a massive pileup on the highway, and while there was no set number for how many people had been injured or worse, judging by the amount of cars in the overhead picture at the top of the article, he was sure that it would be a lot. You were lucky to have made it out, to have been able to call him as quickly as you did considering how recent the accident had happened. He was lucky that you weren’t severely injured or worse.

“I need to get… I need to get to the hospital…” The words rolled out of Changbins mouth, although he wasn’t as loud now, and he was tripping over every syllable. His hands were still shaking and now his entire body seemed to tremble as well. There was no way that he’d be able to drive himself there, and there was no way any of the guys would allow him to be on the road in that state, especially considering the news story that had him wanting to rush to the hospital in the first place was about an accident.

Bangchan stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket and then walking over to Changbin, taking Jeongins phone out of his hand and handing it back to the maknae before ushering Changbin out of the room. “I’ll take you there, you need to calm down first though.” He was trying his best to calm him down, squeezing his shoulder and rubbing his back, but nothing seemed to be working. “Look, you know she’s alright. She called you. If there was anything seriously wrong, you wouldn’t have even gotten a phone call.”

And while the words were meant to be a means of reassuring him, Changbin could only shiver at the thought of something worse happening to you. What if something worse had happened? “I was so mad…” He mumbled, running his hands through his hair. “I yelled at her… I didn’t even listen… I’m the worst boyfriend in the world…” He was already worked up, but the more he spoke, the shakier his voice got, and it almost sounded like the words got stuck in his throat at one point as he started to sob. “What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if… If she kicks me out of the room? What if she sends me home?”

“Then you go home and you give her space…” Bangchan said, clearly not giving Changbin the answer that he had wanted. His head whipped so fast to look at the leader, his eyes wide, questioning whether that was something that he should really do. “Look… I know that you don’t want to go home… But you did kind of yell at her and you probably made her feel like shit, and you didn’t even listen to her… She was in a car accident and you… You were selfish.”

Shit. He was selfish… You probably didn’t want to be around him at all. Should he even go to the hospital at all? No… That question was stupid, even if you didn’t want to see him, he had to see you at least once to make sure you were okay. He climbed into the passenger seat of Chans car and slumped down as he put on his seatbelt. “What if she breaks up with me, hyung?” Changbin mumbled, his hands vigorously rubbing over his face as his tears fell slowly. “I can’t… I can’t perform without her… I can’t do anything without her.”

Chan sighed as he started up the car, driving slowly down the highway that was backed up still from the accident. He tried not to look at it, but Changbin had leaned forward to look around Chan as he drove by, his eyes widening when he saw the damage that was done, and then a small gasp mingled with a sob escaped him when he saw your car in the pileup. “She’s okay, Bin. You’ve talked to her…”

But Changbin shook his head, his breaths shallow and quick as his head fell forward. “I yelled at her… Do you see what she went through… And I yelled at her… I’m awful. I don’t deserve her…” He muttered, curling up into himself and resting his forehead against his knees. “How could I… I just assumed… Which isn’t right… I trust her… She said she’d be there and…”

He was beginning to ramble, his words barely even making sense, he was panicking both inwardly and outwardly and Chan was becoming increasingly worried about his friend. “Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be fine. I’m not gonna say it will be right now, but… She’s not going to be mad forever.” And Changbin knew that Chans honesty was, although disheartening, what he needed to hear. He didn’t want to walk into the hospital with the hope that everything would be 100% fine, it would only crush him more if you were to kick him out. He needed to he ready for anything.

Honestly, you weren’t sure why the hospital was still keeping you there. You were fine, well, as fine as you could be, but you knew that it could be worse. You were one of the lucky ones, and all you wanted to do was go home and curl up next to Changbin because, even though he was an ass, he was your safe spot, and you wanted nothing more than to feel safe after what you had just gone through.

The knock at the door had you sitting up, expecting Changbin to come in when you told him to, but instead the doctor peaked around the door with a smile before coming in fully. “How are you feeling?” He asked, and the question made you roll your eyes as your head continued to throb. “I know, it’s not the best situation but… It could have been worse. You’re lucky.” And you were, you knew that you were.

“Right… Thank you.” You mumbled, leaning back in the bed and looking up at the tv that was turned to the news station, the helicopter cameras giving an aerial shot of just how bad the accident had been. “How long do I have to be here?” You tried to sound like it wasn’t annoying to feel stuck there, but the doctor could clearly see that you were more than ready to go home.

“You hit your head quite hard, we just want to keep you overnight to make sure you don’t have any sort of concussion.” You sighed heavily, sinking further down into the bed and pulling the blanket up around you. “The nurse will be around in a little bit to check your gauze and change it. Try to get some rest or relax.” He patted the end of your bed, offering you a sympathetic smile before leaving you alone once again.

You didn’t have anything. Your phone and your purse had been left in the car when you were taken to the hospital, you were hoping that it would be retrieved and given back to you at some point, but it didn’t seem like that point would be any time soon. Another knock had you groaning loudly, expecting the nurse now as you mumbled out a “Come in…” just loud enough for the nurse to hear.

“My baby!” Changbin practically screamed as he rushed through the door, running straight to your bed and cupping your face in his hands. “I’m so sorry! Where does it hurt!? Are you in pain?! I’m so glad you’re alright!” He took a moment to look you over, noticing the way the gauze around your head was stained slightly red. “My beautiful girl… You must have been so scared… Are you okay?”

His voice softened and you felt the sudden urge to cry as you looked at him. You didn’t care that he had been an asshole on the phone, all you had wanted was for him to be there, and here he was. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, breathing in his scent and letting out the breath in a shaky sob. “It was awful… All I wanted was you… I kept asking for you, for them to get you… I needed you…” You whispered against his shirt, gripping onto it tightly.

You heard him sniffle softly beside your ear before his lips pressed quick kisses across your face. “I’m here… I’m so sorry… I know you’re probably mad at me… But I don’t want to leave you until I know you’re better.” He whispered through a shaky breath, and when he pulled back your eyes were more sad than before as you stared at him. “You’re gonna leave me?” You questioned, your eyes quickly dropping down to your hands that were worriedly picking at the fabric of the hospital blanket. “I’m… I’m not mad. I know that you wanted me there… And I would have called you to let you know what happened as soon as I got here, but my phone and my purse are still in the car…”

A quiet gasp escaped his pursed lips before he gently tilted your head up, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your nose and then giving you a small smile. “I’m not leaving you… I’m gonna stay right here…” He pointed to the floor beside your bed and then grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “We’re gonna go home together, and then I’m gonna take care of you until you feel 100% better. Then… I don’t care what anyone says, when I do shows, you’re coming with me. One scare is enough for a lifetime… and I want to spend my lifetime with you. I’m never leaving you alone again.”

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alchely · 11 days

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My Top Gallavich fics

So, under the advice of the lovely @iangallagherisadeadman I've decided to compile a favorites Gallavich fic list along with a brief rec of each, this won't be a strict top 10 cause I'm not gonna torture myself into excluding some of these stories on some made-up self imposed arbitrary rules.

A bunch of disclaimers: most of these fics are long fics, going from 30k words up, I'm not purposefully excluding shorter fics, I have read plenty of them, but they do have a harder time sticking in my head months after reading.

Most of these fics will be explicit, just read the tags on the fic itself if you want to find out more.

Some of these fics don't have links because the authors chose to lock them and as such make them unlinkable, in order to read them you will need to go through the author's page while you're logged in your AO3 account.

This ended up ballooning out of control and is A LOT longer than ten fics, I apologize in advance :p.

YOU'LL NEVER SEE US AGAIN – spoonfulstar - 231k words

Mickey and Ian have been students at Marceline boarding school their whole lives, as their time at the institute draws toward the end they will start to discover many things, about themselves, about each other and about the world they live in.

THIS FIC! I CRIED! The number of fanfiction that are able to make me cry can be counted on a singular hand, the emotional stakes get higher and higher as the story goes on, leading to a beautiful and bittersweet climax.

This story will make you think and feel deeply about topics you'd never think a shameless fic would delve into.

I am obsessed with Mickey in this fic, he and Ian grow up in an environment that could not be more removed from South Side Chicago and yet his personality is still so recognizably and distinctly Mickey.

The story goes very dark at times, and the fic itself could be considered lengthy, but I assure you the author has made sure to not make you feel it. Those 200k words flowed so well the story did not feel long at all.

HELP ME (TEAR DOWN MY REASON) – wehangout - 34k words

Mickey is a detective and Ian becomes a suspect in an investigation except Mickey already knows him because he's his favorite dancer.

This fic falls under the umbrella of fics where “Mickey is so in love with Ian he does something unbelievably crazy”.

Oooh boy, this fic, it's written in second person (yes you've read that right), tbh out of all fics I've read from this author I think this one was the easiest to adjust mentally to the change in perspective.

I loved Mickey’s “love” in this, just… This raw connection to Ian, the perfect cocktail of feelings, I could read that all day long.

IN ANOTHER WORLD – Roryonic - 249k words

Mickey does not get sent to prison at the end of S5, what happens after and how his presence influences future events (mostly Ian, but also every other Gallagher as well as his own family).

As far as I'm concerned this fic is the closest to a perfect S6 and beyond fix-it. The dialogue writing in this story is so close to canon Shameless that I could picture entire scenes in my head with the actors playing the characters, with their body and personality quirks.

Sometimes I find myself describing this fic like it's the actual show's deleted scenes, “Look, Mickey has his own storyline! And Mandy is here! And the existence of Yevgeni does not become a plot hole!”

There are some Mickey lines in this fic that to me are as canon as if they'd been in the show. Absolutely iconic writing.

I love this author so here's a rec of some of their other longfics, however I highly suggest a lot of their other much shorter stuff as well:

BATTLESHIPS AND LOVE BOATS: Ian and Mickey start their “no strings attached” kind of sex relationship a little later than canon but their attraction and love is just as strong. This is a sort of High School AU that turns into a Prison AU that turns into something else and every shift is just as lovely as the next.

YOU SMELL LIKE LOVE: Ian and Mickey are childhood friends, to the point that the rest of the Gallaghers might as well consider Mickey a seventh brother, mmmh, I sure wonder how things will start to change. Look, I never thought I'd love a childhood friends AU for Gallavich yet here I am, if it's good it's good.

ME AND THE DEVIL: Mickey unconsciously calls for a vengeance demon and Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, because Mickey is a stubborn dumbass they fall in love instead. This story has a lot of twists and turns and the premise is only the very beginning of the story. I LOVED it!

THE INCREASINGLY POOR DECISIONS OF IAN GALLAGHER – Shamelessquestions - 309k words

Ian is a dancer in a club, he accidentally gets involved in the affair of a dangerous mafia don, but the true danger is the attraction he and the mafioso’s right hand Mickey feel for each other as soon as they meet.

What. A. Classic. Truly, an unforgettable story, and I don't mean this in hyperbole, I read this story around… 2016/2017 during my second round in the Shameless fandom, then I read countless other fics in a lot of other fandom and yet this story was the only one that my mind retained from back then, to the point that I could still remember some of the finer details as well as the final plot twists when I came back to reread it.

The plot is constructed beautifully and the original characters (part of the Shamelessquestions fanfiction universe, as they come back time and time again in every one of their AU to fulfill their role in the story) are just as vibrant.

What a story, truly.

Favorite original character in this AU: Sal, his downfall is so satisfying and yet so pitiful to read.

TEENAGERS SCARE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME – Mellow_Yellow - 221k words

Ian finds something scary and calls Mickey for help, even though they had only reconnected that very day after two years of not seeing each other. Together, they get sucked into a situation they weren't at all prepared for. Can they even admit that they're in over their head?

The very beginning of this fic is SO cinematic it grabbed my interest from the very first scene and didn't let go until the end, DO NOT search for spoilers.

The only warning I'll give is that it does deal with a bit of gore and what I'm personally gonna define as slight psychological horror. That's it. Enjoy!

BROKE STRAIGHT BOYS – dancermk - 66k words

Mickey becomes a porn actor for a site where he has to pretend he's straight and not enjoying the copious amount of gay sex he's having on camera, enter Ian, another actor under the same agency and their off the chart physical chemistry.

This story has, needless to say, some really, really good smut. I especially loved their first time together, but every sex scene in this story is seared in my mind.

ETHERIZED AGAINST THE SKY – Snarfle - 213k words

So, I debated whether I should add this fic or not, but I think if there is one fic that will stay in my mind long after this Shameless binge of the past couple of months it's this one, and it should absolutely become one of those fic that everyone in the fandom should read.

After Mickey gets shot by Kash his life takes a completely different direction and he ends up in a group home where, through many difficult times, he turns his life around.

So many iconic moments in this fic, some funny as fuck, some sad, some so absurd that I'm surprised they weren't lifted straight from Shameless, one so gruesome in the very first chapter that I was surprised to have such a visceral feeling from just words on a screen. Yeah, this story will stay with me for a long time.

OLD RULES FOR NEW SIDE PIECES – Shamelessquestions - 217k words

Ian is a Fed and he spots Mickey looking suspicious in an art museum, the mutual attraction is overwhelming, Mickey is not what he seems and Ian is already with someone else, but that's not gonna stop him from pursuing what he and Mickey have.

Putting it as bluntly as I can, this fic made me face the realization that I love cheating fics (if the cheating happens to someone else to bring together the endgame couple). I have already reread this fic twice and I could probably go for another one and not get tired of it, it's that good, and out of all this author's fics it's probably my favorite.

Favorite original characters in this AU: It's a three way tie between Dre, Ivan and Carrie, they're all very captivating in this story.

Other fic from this author I'd recommend cause I really love their style:

LOST IN TRANSLATION: Ian meets a very attractive man while he's in Ukraine who doesn't speak English, a mere language barrier won't stop him from flirting for hours. (adorable)

YOU MAKE ME FEEL HUMAN – Dragona - 66k words

Ian is an assassin, he meets Mickey and thus begins a very sick love story.

To say I'm obsessed with this fic is an understatement, I suggest to everyone to just go read the original author’s own description of the fic, it sets the tone of the story magnificently.

This is an Ian Gallagher that almost resembles Jerome (also played by Cameron in Gotham) but like… a slightly more subdued and saner S1/S2 version of him. I love the layers that get peeled right in front of my eyes, the madness that creeps in a bit more every chapter. I LOVE this story.

DRIED INK - 87k words

This fic combines my two favorite Gallavich-specific tropes, one being ‘Mickey comes back from prison after s6, Ian is with someone else’ and ‘Ian cheats on that someone else for Mickey’

I love the Gallaghers in this and how unsurprised they are at Ian going back to Mickey right away. It's a little jewel of a fic.

Mickey tries SO hard to stop himself and Ian in this but their love is too magnetic, they're irresistible to each other.

THE QUESTION OF NORMAL – blue_newman - 92k words

Ian is a prison counselor, Mickey is in prison, they fall in love and it's beautiful and Ian is incredibly devoted to Mickey in this fic and I fell in love with them both in this.

KINDA RAW – catgrassplantdad - 6k

Quite simply this is my favorite short pwp fic.

Illustrating those “five times” in one night that Mickey references in 11x01.

This fic is so hot, I love it <3

QUATERVOIS – DodgerBear - 51k words

Soldier Mickey gets stationed in the middle of nowhere and meets a farmer called Ian who makes him question everything.

Falling under the same umbrella of “Mickey does something crazy for Ian” fics and this is why it stuck in my mind even if it's been a while since I've read it.

I LOVE this story, their dialogues and everything that happens in it. The setting is lovely and you will fall in love with the description of Ian’s farm.

Other fic by the same author that I also loved:

BURDEN OF PROOF: Cop Mickey gets caught in a legal battle between the two oldest Gallagher brothers, something doesn't feel right though…

THE WORDS HE DOESN'T SAY: Mickey is released before Ian in s10 and has to meet a court-mandated therapist. The story is from the therapist POV and goes AU from the beginning of s10 in that Mickey gets involved back into Yev and Svetlana’s life, the dialogue is, quite obviously, the main attraction of the story and it's really well done. (Also, written in first person).

THE MENAGERIE – CrossMyDNA - 147k words

Ian decides to re-explore his bdsm preferences at The Menagerie where he meets sub extraordinaire Mickey on his very first visit.

Shameless is undoubtedly the fandom that opened my eyes to what bdsm could be back in… approx 2016? When that other popular bdsm fic was still around *ahem*.

So it definitely feels like a sign that coming back into the fandom this fic now exists and is SO GOOD.

Obviously it's very explicit, the smut in this fic is one of the best I've ever read.

The chemistry between Ian and Mickey sizzles off the screen and can absolutely be felt even in moments not of the nsfw variety, absolutely recommended!

MICKEY MILKOVICH’S GUIDE TO FLIRTING – whatwouldmickeydo - 40k words

An s2 “missing moments” between Gallavich, completely canon compliant, all under the pretense that Mickey is following a step by step guide to flirting.

I wish this fic was describing canon moments, not kidding a single bit, I wish I could somehow magically manifest these scenes into existence they're that good and fit that well into canon.

M8TE – gallawitch - 53k words

Omegaverse fic where Ian and Mickey both start using an app and end up matching with each other, even though a connection is made almost instinctively, coming to terms with it with a sound mind will take a bit longer…

Hey,had to have at least one of these on here lol

I love omegaverse and this was everything I wanted from it, couldn't have asked for anything better really <3.

SHACKLED – MyRelapse - 19k words

Ian has a change of heart and he decides that Mickey IS the one he wants, even if he's still in prison, so he keeps in contact and goes through every hoop imaginable to have him back as soon as possible.

Reading this made me so happy like I could burst, love it.

WAITING ON MY OWN TOO LONG – Ride4812 - 266k words

This rec more than any other on this list is what I'm gonna consider self indulgent because it covers the trope I always craved to read in such a satisfying way: Canon AU where Mickey comes back from prison after 8 years, Ian has found someone else but the moment the two meet again they fall back into each other right away.

The series is made up of 4 smaller fics:

One more night

Something more this time

No more lonely nights

Ain't this life so sweet

(I will point out here and nowhere else that the last installment of this series has some segment that probably needed to be re-read a couple more times, but by that point I was too invested, and the quality fluctuates a lot only in certain parts)

The writing style is very direct and to the point, which I love, the smut is very present and written beautifully and most importantly never boring.

Ian is a MESS in this fic and had me Stressed™, mostly cause for some reason I can't handle too much casual depiction of drug abuse and addiction (I know, ironic considering the fandom).

Conflicts and resolutions are never clean cut, they don't necessarily resolve quickly or definitely or the way you probably imagine they should and I find this level of realism very satisfying.

Taking a bit of space here at the end to also rec a couple other Ride4812 fics that I also loved:

COUP DE FOUDRE - A model/photographer AU where Ian and Mickey fall in love the instant they meet and do some crazy things because of that.

HOPE HE MIGHT - A lawyer AU where Ian and Mickey are on opposing sides for the same client, an interesting murder mystery steeped in a religious cult.

Generally I feel like this author is really good at depicting just how unapproachable Mickey can be to anyone that isn't called Ian Gallagher and I eat it up every time.

WHAT THE NIGHT DOES TO THE DAY – andchaos - 9k words

A Gallavich childhood friends AU with a quite original arrangement for the story and the various segments of their lives. Very satisfying read.

RANSOM – BeckyHarvey29 - 112k words

Terry sends his sons to kidnap a Gallagher child to force Frank into paying back the money he owes, unfortunately for him Mickey and his brothers kidnap Ian, and a whole other kind of story unfolds.

Mickey and Ian falling in love in this fic is such a good read. I don't wanna spoil anything of how that or the kidnapping plot goes, since the two are so intertwined. Just know that it will be worth it.

UNDER LOCK AND KEY – Suzy_Queue - 106k words

Ian is assigned the night shift at his new job where he provides spare keys to his fellow college students stuck outside their dorm rooms. To make matters worse his shift coworker is the oh so infamous Mickey Milkovich.

I am magnetized by the way this author writes their pining for each other, their attraction and obsession, how it blooms and unfolds. This fic in particular had me develop a very bad case of tunnel vision, couldn't really turn away until I finished reading it all.

I still haven't read everything this author has to offer, but so far I also loved:

INHUMAN: A mysterious force starts attacking people close to Mickey and it all seems to lead to a mysterious redhead Mickey is oh so coincidentally obsessed with. Very cool paranormal story.

THESE FOOLISH GAMES: Mickey takes over as the boss of the local branch of a trampoline park, where Ian is one of the employees, they annoy each other to no end but what they don't know is that they're secretly texting each other.

IS THERE SOMEWHERE – andchaos - 48k words

Mickey is born with no words on his skin, convinced he's going to live a life of misery cause no one will ever say the words he's destined to hear, he's not a very happy guy. Here comes mute boy Ian who crashes into his life and won't let go.

A classic Soulmate AU, I love that like in a lot of other Gallavich fics their physical connection and compatibility usually comes before their emotional one, it is one aspect that I feel distinguishes their relationship to many other fandom’s ships.

LAST NIGHT AT THE VERONA GRAND HOTEL – the_rat_wins - 27k words

Mickey starts working at an ancient hotel who's supposedly haunted. Mickey doesn't believe in ghost stories, he is much more interested in this one guest he meets at night during his shift.

What a cinematic experience this fic is! Absolutely recommended, the length of it makes it so you can read it in the same time it would take to watch the same story in movie format.

Other fics by the same authors that have impressed me:

FADE THIS ONE TO BLACK: Ian dies of overdose in a pile of snow outside the club, when Mickey finds him there he vows to do anything to get him back.

I don't know why but this fic in particular gives off the vibes of being a pilot for a ya urban fantasy TV series, except we gotta imagine everything that comes after the first episode lol

NO LIE: Ian and Mickey are Soulmates and as such they can't lie to each other. This series is short and sweet and full of feelings, perfect

PARAGRAPHS – pink_ink - 100k words

Ian becomes a reading tutor for ex-convicts, Mickey is among them and Ian starts paying him more and more attention.

This is a story where they meet under very different circumstances and where they've lived slightly different lives compared to canon and yet they're still able to find each other in the end.

Also, sign me up for every fic where Ian has to work just as hard to help Mickey and care for him as the opposite, where Ian's brand of stubbornness is the only way to get through to Mickey.

I'm also adding a couple of ongoing fics, just two to not overwhelm too much.

NONE THE WISER – Loftec - ~218k words

Ian starts visiting Mickey’s diner, it takes a while and yet no time at all to warm up to each other.

I'm captivated by the author's writing style. I love Ian's and Mickey’s relationship. I love how they sort of take their time and yet pine helplessly for each other.

I'm obsessed with the fact that the whole point of the fic doesn't appear until two thirds of the way in cause the diner scenes were just too good to pass up on lol (and I 100% agree with them).

INTRO TO QUANTUM DATING – spoonfulstar - ~563k words

Canon Mickey and Ian meet in University. A college slice of life but drenched in the casual (and not so casual) darkness of canon shameless.

The dark humor in this is fenomenal and left me gasping laughing so many times.

Unexpectedly Ian in this fic is pursuing a linguistics oriented degree, which was what I studied when I tried university, the topics are explained in such an accurate way I have to assume the author studied them themselves and that this story is somewhat a reimagining of their own college experience because if not this would be an absurd amount of accurate research to make.

Reading this fic feels like living through the American college experience from the comfort of my home lol.

As I said before, this author's way of writing does not weight you down even with its length, the story flows perfectly from one scene to the next and before you realize it you've reached the end and you have to accept that 500k words weren't even enough.

Let's end this list with some quick recommendations

WHILE WE'RE MAKING OTHER (PEOPLE'S) PLANS - kyasticlikestea

Mickey is volunteered to organize someone's else's wedding after he managed to salvage his own so well, he'll do it, but his own Southside way.

THIS IS THE ROAD TO RUIN - bricoleur10

Ian and Mickey never go to rob Ned, the story unfolds differently from there. A fix-it with a lot of Gallavich longing , very good smut and some really good dialogue.

HEY, HONEY MINE (I WAS THERE ALL THE TIME) - serveteas

Mickey talks about his crush with Iggy and accidentally pronoun-slips. Short, to the point, funny af and I just really love it. Takes place after their fight at Kash’n Grab in s2.

AGAINST GLASS - AllThatMatters

Ian gets traded from one club to another as a dancer (and more) and ends up in the Milkovich family's club. This is a Mafia!Mickey story with some pretty tight sub-plots, I love his brothers in this.

ONE OF A KIND - fckyeahgallavich

Mickey breaks his finger and it has to be set in the hospital, chaos - of the homophobic kind - ensues. Protective!Ian, I wanna hug Mickey in this.

IAN THE FRIENDLY GHOST - Ravenheart

Ian is haunting an apartment and Mickey starts living in it, Ian is maybe starting to have a crush on him. This isn't angsty!

BLOOD IN, BLEED OUT - brewrosemilk, Whatsastory

Historical AU. Perfectly innocent bystander Ian Gallagher is thrown into the affairs of the Ukrainian Mafia back in 1954, his relationship with Mickey will span decades and he won't remain innocent for long, the mafia can corrupt anyone.

TEENAGE RUNAWAY - sadwhales

Ian comes to live and finish high school with his half siblings on the South Side, he's immediately captivated by a boy sitting under the bleachers, maybe his North Side naivety will catch his attention too.

GARDEN SONG - melwrtiesthings

A glimpse into their lives in their West Side apartment, a lot of initial angst due to a manic episode and then a lot of recovery and healing and learning more about themselves.

#gallavich #shameless #Gallavich fic rec #fic rec #ao3 #fic rec taken wayyy too seriously #jesus what is wrong with me #f*ck it I'll just tag this now and deal with the links later #if anyone wants to contribute to the list through tags or comments you are WELCOME ❤️#my post

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juyeonszn · 7 months

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REFLECTIONS

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.07k

GENRES smut lol

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, fawn writing about jacob bae yet again but i swear this time was necessary!!!, porn without plot but also if u squint there’s a little bit of plot, roommates/best friends with mutual pining, i mixed so many tropes in here tbh, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (pls be safe), mirror sex, soft? dom!jacob, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY the two times jacob bae derails your saturday night plans.

MORE FAWNTOBER DAY 2 IS A GOOOOO 😈 i’m actually doing pretty well timing wise and as far as im concerned, i’ll actually pull this thing off 😭 anyways.. enjoy!! pls remember to reblog if u liked what u read! and stay tuned for the rest of the fics coming out this month <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble

If it were up to you, you would just stay home for the evening. You’d kick your feet up into the ottoman and put on a random movie, latched onto Jacob’s side like a little leech. You were lucky your roommate was just as much of a cuddler as you were. It’d be kind of awkward if he wasn’t.

Unfortunately, your Saturday night plans would have to be postponed.

“It’s gonna be fun, N/N, I promise,” he tries to convince you, hands clasped together. “Sangyeon even said he’d pay your tab.”

“But I’m tired, Cobie,” you pout, knowing full well that your puppy dog eyes would always be his weakness, even if he’d never admit it to himself. “I don’t wanna go out tonight.”

He must’ve really been looking forward to going out and meeting up with the guys if not even your guilt-tripping face worked on him. He goes off on a tangent about how you always stay in, and despite loving that to an extent, sometimes he wants to enjoy a night out. You were still confused as to why he didn’t just go by himself. Why did he have to bring you along with him?

It’s not like you were dating or anything. You were just roommates. Really close roommates. Roommates who cuddled every other night. Roommates who often found themselves sleeping in the other’s bed rather than their own. Roommates who were so undeniably attracted to each other but masked it by pretending they weren’t.

Couldn’t you have been sucked into a different trope?

“I just think you’re not giving the idea enough credit,” he raises his hands in surrender. “Besides, wouldn’t you feel left out? Wouldn’t you get major FOMO?”

You sigh. He had a point. Even if you didn’t really want to go clubbing, knowing all of your friends were there without you would make you sad. Imposter syndrome came way too easily for you. “Fine, I guess I’ll go.”

Jacob fist bumps the air, dragging you from the couch to your bedroom so you could start getting ready. He knows you take a while and the arranged meet up time was two hours from the current time. You move as quickly as you can, because even if you were only interested half heartedly, you didn’t want to be late. Especially because Jacob had a knack for constantly being punctual.

You kiss your teeth as you stare at your closet after you’ve finished showering and doing your hair and makeup. You felt like there was nothing good enough to wear. This wasn’t just a bar that you usually frequented, so you couldn’t dress casually. But it also wasn’t so fancy that you had to go over the top either. And for some reason, none of your clothes could fall into the perfect in-between category.

There was one dress.

You hadn’t worn it in a while, mostly because you never found the occasion to and it brought bad memories. It was a confidence booster, that was for sure. A tight black dress that stopped just below your ass and showed the perfect amount of cleavage. The moment you put it on, it’s like you’re a new person.

Staring back at you is someone you haven’t seen in a couple years, someone you shoved into the recesses of your subconscious. She used to party every night until she was black out drunk, making out and sleeping with random strangers until she was satisfied. She was stuck in a loop until she became friends with Jacob Bae, eventually moving in to get away from that lifestyle.

You never tell him how grateful you are. Part of you wishes to keep your past buried, hidden from the light of day so you never have to face your mistakes again. But at the same time, you could never tell him thank you enough. For saving you in a way, for helping you close that chapter of your life.

There’s a knock at your door, and you call out a “Come in” before your brain catches up with you. You make eye contact with Jacob in the mirror, watching his expression shift slightly. It wouldn’t have been noticeable if you were anyone else, but you knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. Maybe better.

He walks up behind you, brushing your hair behind your shoulder with a featherlight touch. “I haven’t seen this one on you in a long time.”

He’s so close to you, it’s kind of driving you crazy. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to keep your voice steady. “Should I wear it?”

His fingers start at your waist, trailing down to the hem of your dress. His knuckles skim across the bare skin of your exposed thigh, provoking your body to shudder. “Hmm, I’m not too sure,” Jacob rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. “Seeing you in this is making me rethink going out tonight. Kinda wanna keep you here, all to myself, like that night at Hyunjae’s party.”

Okay, so perhaps you might’ve skipped a tiny detail in the retelling of your first encounter with Jacob Bae.

The reason you two became friends was because he actually happened to be one of those random strangers you slept with. It was a stroke of luck that you kept in contact with him after that night, considering he was supposed to be nothing more than a nameless face. But he was cute and he was funny, so when he asked to hang out a few days later you couldn’t help but cave in.

“Jacob…” You breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. “D-Don’t you wanna see the boys?”

His lips press to the juncture between your neck and collarbone, a soft kiss that already packs your head with cotton. He hums into your skin, hands bunching up your dress around your hips. Someone was impatient. “Not important. We can reschedule.”

You didn’t want to reschedule. You wanted to get out of this apartment, fully clothed, with an excuse to ignore the hammering of your heart in your rib cage and the fluttering down there. If you stayed here any longer, Jacob would successfully charm his way into your pants. (Dress?) And you didn’t want to think about the consequences that may come with.

But it’s not like he gives you much of a choice, invading your headspace with every nip and suck of your jugular and jaw. His slender fingers run a line down the front of your panties, a small groan leaving the back of his throat when he feels how wet you are for him. With heavy eyelids, you watch the entire thing in the mirror, lips parting with a gasp at the sight.

“Fuck, baby,” he curses in your ear, pulling you backward so the two of you are sitting on the edge of your bed, still facing your mirror. “You want me just as bad don’t you?”

You whine, squirming as he dips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, collecting your slick and smearing it all over your lower lips. He helps you shimmy out of your panties and dress, leaving you completely nude for him. His fingers resume their previous activities, easily pumping the ring and middle digits in and out of your cunt. His free hand grips your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on his movements.

“Cobie,” you whimper, spreading your legs wider to give both of you a better view. “Feels so good…”

His thumb circles your clit, mouth beside your ear to whisper all the filthy things he wants to do to you. Your toes curl at the same time his fingers do, brushing that sweet spot in your pussy. A strangled moan escapes you as you hit your climax, walls tightening around his fingers and back arching into his chest.

“That was so hot. You did so well for me,” he praises, thumb rubbing lazy patterns into your clit to bring you back down. “I just need you to do that on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod, hands reaching behind yourself to free him from his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper in your haste. “Need you inside of me already.”

You hope Jacob doesn’t have high expectations for you since you came so quickly with just his fingers. You’re not sure if he’s anticipating you to last longer with his cock. From what you remember, he wasn’t the longest, but he was definitely the thickest, and that’s what scared you the most. You were afraid of how full he’d make you feel.

Once the clothes from his bottom half are removed, you risk a glance at his dick in the mirror, your pussy clenching around nothing. Despite not knowing if you’d be able to take him without turning into a blubbering mess, you really wanted to try. You wanted him to fill you up like a plug in a bathtub drain.

He takes his girth in one hand, sliding his dick through your folds languidly, lubricating himself with the wetness of your cunt. He groans in your ear again, squeezing your hip to steel himself. “You ready for me?”

Your head bobs up and down quickly, patience wearing thin. He chuckles before impaling you on his cock, both of you moaning from the feeling of one another. The stretch burns, but it’s fucking heavenly, your pussy feeling so stuffed you can barely think. (Not that your thoughts were coherent beforehand anyway.)

“You’re— oh god, Jacob— you’re s-so deep,” you mewl, hands supporting yourself on his thighs. “I feel so full.”

He keeps his grip on your waist, fucking up into you as slowly as he can as to not disrupt your adjustment to his cock. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, lips parted with a gasp every time he thrusts into your tight pussy. He shakes his head, urging you to stay upright.

“I need you to keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. Watch me fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” Jacob commands, voice as deep as his dick inside of you.

You comply, hooded eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you take in the sight of him bouncing you on his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, lip splitting from the force in which you’re biting it. He looks so hot, focused on getting you both to that peak you desperately need to reach.

It’s such a stark contrast to the sweet Jacob Bae you’re used to, this one pounding into you without mercy, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. That first time you had sex, years ago, was pretty vanilla thanks to you both having a little too much to drink that night. You don’t even think you remembered most of it. Had you known he was such a freak, maybe you wouldn’t have pretended your attraction to him was nonexistent. Maybe this would’ve happened a lot sooner.

You don’t dwell on that regret much longer, Jacob yanking your attention back in by rubbing your clit with his middle finger. The amount of overstimulation fogs your vision, voluminous, pornographic level moans reverberating around the room. The words bubbling past your lips don’t make any sense, reduced to babbling until an encouragement is uttered into your ear.

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,”

A cry is ripped from your vocal cords, your body writhing above him and continuing even after he’s orgasmed inside of you, fucking his cum into your cunt as he calms you down. You whimper when he grasps your jaw once more, egging you on to stare at the mixture of your cum running down your legs.

You both look absolutely feral, skin sticky with sweat and chests heaving up and down as if you’d ran a marathon. Jacob makes no move to pull out, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, back and shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut as a wave of exhaustion rushes over you.

“I think you’re pretty close to succeeding in your mission,” you say hoarsely. “I can hardly function right now.”

He laughs, such a melodic sound it almost doesn’t belong in your current setting. “Yeah? Do you wanna help me pass it?”

And in spite of being on the brink of passing out, who are you to deny such a promising offer?

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz jacob #tbz jacob #jacob bae x reader #jacob bae smut #jacob x reader #jacob smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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wheresmymilliondollarman · 1 year

Note

THE AARON WARNER X READER FIC OMLLLLLLLL I NEED PT. 2 PLEASEEE

aaron warner x ferrars!reader pt. 2

aaron warner continues to make way into your life, and it's only a matter of time before you grow fond of him too.

(taken place during unravel me)

continuation of the hcs from this piece!

a/n: hey y'all.... the long awaited pt 2 is finally here. so sorry for the wait, but i had some major writer's block with this at first, and tbh life has been a lil hectic rn with classes n stuff, so thank you for all the love and support on the first headcannons, and thank you for being patient with me! i truly cant express enough how happy i get when you guys compliment my work <3 as usual, hayden is my personal fc, imagine who you like !

side note: i know reader might seem kind of useless at times even tho she has powers, but it's because she doesn't have a full control of her ability yet, still learning how far it goes, and she doesn't have much practice on defensive uses of it, since a lot of her training is about learning about her powers. hope that makes sense LOL. some big events are going to be briefed over bc i didnt wanna bore y’all with stuff you alr read in the book and wanna focus on warner & reader interactions👍

word count: 8.2k

warnings: some plot changes, vague taylor swift reference, mentions of injuries and blood, some violence

after receiving the note, you immediately crumped it and stuffed it into a random drawer with your clothing. you hadn't told a soul about the message, you feared it would only make the implication of meeting warner again true.

thinking about the note was a pipeline to thinking about aaron warner. thinking about him meant flashing back to the last moment the two of you shared.

his lips on yours, his confessions of his infatuation, and of course, the way your shot him in the chest. you hated how the memory was brung a warm and unfamiliar feeling in your chest, especially thinking back to the kiss.

you told yourself it wasn't a big deal. maybe another member at the base decided to play a prank on you, or perhaps it was just an empty threat. there was no way warner knew your location, so there's no need to tell anyone about the silly note.

but to be extra cautious, you laid off going on missions to the outside for a little bit. plus, it forced juliette to interact with people that weren't you on missions when you weren't there.

you went along with your routine as usual, training with castle and kenji, and hanging out with juliette and adam.

you didn't hate castle by any means, but you find his underlying scrutinization of both you and your sister at times to be bothersome. his constant pushy treatment to juliette never sat right with you either, but since he was the leader of omega point - you knew you had to still show respect for him.

although, you started to notice a strain between the couple recently, mostly from adam's side. there was obviously something he was keeping from juliette.

you comforted your sister to the best of your ability, but you knew not knowing was starting to affect her. kenji also seemed to know whatever this secret was, but was adamant on keeping his lips shut.

however, once castle took adam away in the middle of you guys eating lunch, juliette demanded answers since it was obvious adam himself was struggling to reveal it himself.

this time kenji was helpful and guided you and juliette to the research labs. there you both saw castle engaging adam in some sort of tests, and it sent your sister into a fit of rage, mainly aimed at castle. which then resulted in her angrily punch the ground, causing for a large earthquake that shook the entire establishment.

juliette was passed out for three days before waking up. you worried for her endlessly during those days, it was the one of the only times you intentionally listened for her thoughts, to ensure she was alright, but it was scarily silent. you knew adam also was quite worried for juliette, but castle made sure he kept his distance.

after that, her and adam were on some sort of unofficial break up, and you knew better than to get involved. juliette was also now required to join you and kenji in training, which made for a chaotic, but fun trio.

your powers were getting easier to control, you were working on levitating heavier objects every time. you've practiced mental manipulation on insects and small animals, so you had a gist of to what extent you could control a mind. the most you've done so far was send simple commands like jump, sit, move, etc. kenji always offered to be a test subject for this, but you always declined, not liking the thought of possibly controlling the mind of your friend.

now that you could control when to apprehend thoughts, it made it much easier to make friends without disrespecting people's privacy. while sara and sonya were always kind to you, others had made it sort of clear they wanted to keep their distance to prevent their mind from being read by you. being able to now reassure others that their thoughts weren't being heard made it easier for people to approach you.

much like juliette you found new friends in brendan, with an electric ability, and winston, who had a stretchy ability and also designed the suits for both ferrars.

days at omega point were serene for a bit, everyone following routine and members continuing to patrol areas for any threats of the reestablishment. but it was surely disrupted with the arrival of threatening news.

it was in the middle of the night when you were dragged away from your bed by kenji to castle's office; juliette and adam following suite. he claimed it was an urgent matter that required the presence of the four of you.

there, castle revealed the return of the supreme commander, also known as warner's father - that was big news to you and juliette. it explains how warner was able to be out with his men in the sector so often.

however, news worsened when you found out brendan and winston along with emory and ian were taken by the reestablishment during their patrol. at their missing location was left a note, with specific instructions on how to proceed.

you were shaken by this discovery, it had been only less than 24 hours since you had last spoken with either of them, both you and juliette had had breakfast with brendan and winston.

that wasn't even the end of if, castle instructed that all four of you were to go to this meeting destination.

all of you were taken aback by this, you had initially assumed castle would be the one to see the supreme, since has is the leader and all.

adam and kenji were at the head of the protest against this plan, not wanting to easily comply . both you and juliette remained silent, still taking in all the information given.

you without a doubt were ready to head in for the safety of your friends, but you also didn't like the unpredictability of the situation you all could possibly wander into with the commander.

"the two of you may opt out as you like, but i am requesting the aid of both ferrars, seeing as they are the ones very explicitly instructed to see the supreme - a sort of exchange, them for the hostages. "

again, everyone in the room was stunned with confusion. all having the same question, why would he need both sisters there?

you didn't know the room could've possibly erupted into more chaos than right now. adam was now furious, kenji not too far behind with questions of his own.

you couldn't help but think back to the note you found in your pocket, "see you soon." is this what he had meant? had he known this would occur that long ago?

again, you shook the thought from your mind. aaron warner wasn't the one who sent the order, it was the supreme, so it's possible warner will not even be at the location the four of you are suppose to go to.

no need to think about warner, you told yourself. no need to remember how he kissed you with ferocious passionate intent.

with this newfound knowledge, you knew you couldn't back away from this, not when there were lives at stake, and you didn't have to be familiar with the supreme to know he would not hesitate to take the lives of omega point members.

you looked toward juliette to inquire her thoughts about the situation. you understood from the look on her face that she had a similar plan of action to you. a telepathic (without actually reading her mind this time) message was communicated between both of you, making a mutual agreement.

"we'll do it." you announced over the arguing.

castle was pleased with this decision, but immediately adam objected, and even kenji was hesitant for you both to go through with the plan. however, stubborn as ever, both of you committed to your decision.

preparing for the meeting with warner's father was nerve-racking, worried for the safety of your team, and also the hostages. you and everyone knew this had to be some sort of trap set up by the commander, but there wasn't much you could do besides arm yourself and comply.

the four of you were gathered in castle's office. castle made sure all four of you were equipped with necessary gear for the mission, including having weapons with you.

you attire was the same as usual, a red leather corset-styled top, a matching leather coat-like jacket, black pants in a stretchy material, accompanied with black fingerless gloves and black knee-high boots - except now you had the addition of a harness and holsters up your leg to hold any firearms given to you. the coat did well in concealing a lot of the guns.

luckily, you had a good amount of practice with a gun since the warner incident. you were no james bond, as a man kenji liked to reference, but you had enough skill to defend yourself and others in the face of danger.

"why does warner's father need both sisters?" kenji humorously asked castle, "can't we at least keep one of them, one for the reestablishment and one for omega point."

you scoffed with a grin, entertaining the joke. "i'm sorry, who exactly are you willing to sacrifice to the reestablishment kenji?"

"well, with that attitude i'm starting to lean towards you."

castle goes through the plan once more before having to leave with the rest of omega point. they had to be stationed around building near the meeting point before the four of you arrived.

the time finally arrived for all of you to begin the journey to meeting the commander. since you all were traveling on foot, adam and kenji leading the way, you needed to leave at least an hour before the designated time.

adam was able to successfully turn off his protective shield for kenji to make all of you invisible. it made the journey easier; being able to wander through the land unseen.

after kenji misguided you to the wrong house, you all rushed to get to the correct address, 1542 sycamore. with 50 seconds of time, you all arrived.

juliette made the quick decision to tell kenji and adam to stay hidden, that it was better if warner's dad thought we were alone. in the case of an emergency, they could jump in.

kenji and adam gave a few last words of reassurance, before turning back invisible. then, you and juliette stood in front of the door of meeting house, holding hands before entering the house.

warner's dad did the job of opening the door for you both, inviting you inside even though it was more a of demand, and commenting on your impeccable timing.

once inside, you got a good look at the man. you shouldn't be shocked he was also quite handsome since he is warner's father, but you were still thrown back by his unexpected attractiveness.

unfortunately, you didn't take him his appearance for long before he abruptly & forcefully pushed juliette head against the wall behind her, momentarily knocking her out.

you didn't even get to process the action before you were pushed roughly against the wall, the commanders right forearm holding you down by the throat, while his left hand was disarming you.

almost as if acted on instinct, you pushed him back with a scarlet force, sending him back first onto a nearby table.

you took a second to get react, unsure of what happened, before rushing over to your sister. juliette didn't seem to be bleeding, luckily, but you figured she might have a concussion. much to your surprise, she sat up straighter attempting to act unfazed.

you were roughly yanked away by your wrist and away from juliette. you attempted a second self-defense act, but the commander was first and pulled out his gun, pointing it to your sister.

"try anything else, and i'll shoot her before you could blink."

your silence was a sign of defeat. you stood still as he unarmed you, even taking off your coat for good measure.

he released you finally then went on to do the same to juliette, who was still recovering from the slight blackout she faced from the collision with the wall - he repeated the threat to her, gun pointing in your direction this time.

you swore if you made it out of here alive you were going to learn more defensive uses of your powers to never be in a position like this again.

juliette must've been refocused on the task at hand because she starting asking the commander for the location of the hostages.

you stomach dropped when he disclosed his army is equipped and ready to take down any omega point members who are lingering by.

he went on to elaborate his plan to eliminate the "freaks" that made up the rebellion. but what got your heart beating faster was the mention of warner.

he directs his talk to you, "i admit, your sister, juliette, had piqued my interest quite a bit with her ability and history, i'd never paid much more than a glance in your direction. but what really astounded me, was when my son begged me to spare your life." he smiles, in a terrifying manor, "i just had to meet this girl whose bewitched him and spelled him into such a lovesick fool."

you felt physically stuck to your place as you listened. you didn't have to look at juliette to know she was also frozen.

'did aaron really do that?'

he turns in your direction, "i have every intention to use you to teach my son a lesson, and that will just have to include your death much to your misfortune. i really do hate to waste a pretty face." you face pales at the mention of your death.

then he faces your sister, who had taken a sudden step in front of you, "but that doesn't mean the older ferrars has to suffer the same fate and couldn't prove to be useful to join me in the capitol."

"i'd rather jump off a very steep cliff, thanks."

you wanted to laugh at your sister's retort, but you couldn't help but worry that he'd kill her for her denial. you'd rather be the sole target of his persecution than drag your sister down into it as well.

you reminded yourself adam and kenji were still around, they would surely arrive in time before either of you could be dead. you hoped.

the commander, however, does laugh at your sister's rejection, "a stubborn one you are."

"son, would you come in here, please?"

your eyes widen, warner was here this whole time.

you and juliette glanced at the same time, both being shocked at his presence.

when he appears in the doorway, all the memories of the event in his room come back to haunt you.

his face was void of any emotion, but his stare directed intensely toward you.

there was no time for small talk, because warner's father handed him a gun, meant to kill you. he places it in aaron's hand and aiming it to your head, dishing out the command to 'clean up his mess.'

you wouldn't be surprised if he had intentions to shoot you, you quite literally had shot him the last time you'd seen each other.

juliette let out yells of protests, telling warner to put the gun down.

you were preparing ways to defend yourself, mainly involving levitating an object and throwing it at either person with murderous intent toward you. but you weren't sure how you could hide the movement of your hand, and red glow of your eyes, when the attention was all on you.

but you couldn't help solely stare back into aaron's emerald green eyes. you wondered if this would be your last sight before death.

no, you refused to succumb to death like this, you wouldn't give anderson the pleasure.

you stared back into the green eyes, daring him to take a shot. this could be really courageous or terribly stupid.

then in the next instant, the gun had a new target, his father.

his father didn't look too fazed, confident that his son wouldn't shoot him, even patronizing him for it.

you didn't wait to find out if he would go through with it because now that the attention shifted, you could execute your plan of action.

the supreme and warner were both knocked down by the large heavy table being thrown at them. granted, aaron wasn't your target, but it didn't hurt to knock him down in case he intended to shoot you.

juliette took the opportunity to get the firearms the commander has taken at the beginning, and use the gun to shoot him in the leg. both legs. multiple times.

you were about to reel her back, when kenji appeared out of thin air, literally, and held juliette back from further injuring anderson.

suddenly, you remembered warner was still in the room. you looked around to find him passed out on the ground, a syringe, you guessed kenji used, next to him.

kenji tossed you as roped and told you to bound his arms, so, you knelt down on the floor next to him, carefully shifting him to place the rope.

as you did this, you noticed his features closely, how different he seemed unconscious, at peace. it kind of made him more beautiful.

out of your better judgement, you reached out slowly to touch a lock of his blonde hair, soft.

you immediately pulled your hand away when you thought you felt a stir, but you looked back to his face and he was still unconscious.

maybe, if you had looked a little closer you'd notice the ghost of a small smirk on his lips.

"we're going to take this kid hostage."

you were brought to your current situation with that statement.

"wait, what!" kidnapping wasn't on your to-do list for the day.

however, the most shocking news to be said in this room, was when adam dropped the bomb that the supreme command, warner's father, was his dad - making warner his half brother.

in the midst of all this chaos, omega point had already set off the call to attack, and now were battling against the reestablishment.

there was no time to think about events because kenji was rushing everyone out the door to get back to the safe haven.

the four of you needed to a large distraction so castle could draw back before major disaster since anderson was down and you now had taken warner. juliette promptly stepped up with an idea and create a part two of her earth-shattering ability. - which it turned out working really well because you all were able to make contact with castle.

adam and kenji did the heavy lifting of carrying aaron's heavy body while you and juliette had the task of finding a tank for the four of you to head to omega point in.

once that was settled all of you clambered into the tank, kenji taking the wheel and adam acting as second in command - that left you and juliette in the back with warner.

who was currently to the left of you, slumped against the window side of his seat, and juliette being on your right.

you weren't thrilled to have him smushed next to you. not when you were close enough to smell his cologne and feel the outline of his muscles through his jacket.

a part of you thought he would maybe wake up somewhere during the ride, but his eyes remained close. you know because you were staring at him more than you'd like to admit.

you reminded yourself what he had put you and juliette through, the asylum, the imprisonment, and the tests. it was enough to reel you back in and continue your dislike for warner.

although he was asleep, the bumps on the travel to the underground base made for a lot of jolts of movement and in turn caused warner's body to tumble onto you.

his body was heavy, but somehow it was heavier whenever you had to push him back to his side. it was like a force was trying to keep him on there.

his head somehow always slumped into the hair on the crook of your neck, and at some point, you could've sworn you felt him breathe in through his nose, like a sniff. but you wrote it off as the movement of the vehicle.

you must've passed out at a point because when you opened your eyes, you were lying against warner's shoulder.

your face was a flush of scarlet when you realized your position, but luckily juliette was fast asleep, and the two men were occupied in the front, likely going over today's events. thank god.

not long after, you all arrived at the destination and made it out of the tank.

kenji helped pull you out of the tank, not before leaving a teasing comment.

“have a nice nap, did you?”

you ignored him, but your face went red in embarrassment. he would never let you live this down.

you took a rest for a whole day before interacting with anyone. you weren't sure if you could handle any other sudden revelation without rest, especially if it involved warner.

castle came to you and juliette to discuss further the plan with warner and such. and you were reminded of the fact adam and him were technically brothers, which was kept a secret between all four of you still.

then castle gave you both the most ridiculous task; to be in charge of the questioning and occasionally visiting the prisoner. his reasoning being you both were the most acquainted with warner, and he'd be more willing to comply with at least one of you.

you wanted to decline; you didn't understand why castle always sent everyone else to do work for him - but you knew your sister was happy to finally have a real assignment for omega point; she wanted to be useful.

so the following day, you began your "mission." you sisters went to where they were holding warner, a room much like where you and juliette slept, but the difference was it closely guarded, not letting the person inside leave.

you greeted the guards, and they had looked very relieved to see you there. apparently, warner has been less than pleasant as an inmate - throwing things and demanding to speak with you, and they informed him the two of you would be arriving to calm him down.

you stepped into the room and noticed the lack of furniture, probably because he was throwing, then you saw warner sitting on a mattress on the floor, indulging himself in some sort of journal that you didn't get to get a look at before he put it away.

he looks up at your arrival with a grin, "hello amor, a pleasure to see you again at last." he scanned your attire, "i have to say, this new look on you has you looking rather ravishing."

you rolled your eyes, fighting the butterflies because of his comment. "how you manage to be a prisoner and still keep that stupid charm goes beyond me."

"i did say i'd see you soon didn't i?"

juliette gave you a confused glance, you hadn't told her about the note, nor the kiss.

you ignored what he said, trying redirect the conversation. you glanced down at his chest, "nice to see you've healed from the shot, for a moment, i thought i'd killed you."

"takes a lot more to kill me i'm afraid, however, if it's by your hand i'm more than willing to greet death like an old friend."

before you could bite back, juliette interrupted your banter with a cough, meant to serve a reminder to you to stay on task.

"right, forgot you were here juliette, perhaps you'd like to step out so your sister and could properly reunite."

god, you hated his suaveness. you hated it even more when it worked in making your heartbeat pick up.

juliette took charge of the conversation and started asking questions relevant to the establishment, but warner would either change the subject or give vague answers.

you both decided to leave after growing tired of the lack of information. you ignored warner's pleas for the company and walked out.

the next day you both tried again, meeting in from of his room. juliette, however had decided a change of tactics.

"i think you should go in without me."

you turned to her confused. she explained he would likely be more cooperative with your presence alone, his actions from yesterday proving to be in support of that.

you denied it, even if part of you believed it. you weren't sure you were ready to be in a room alone with aaron.

nonetheless, juliette left you to your own devices and rushed off, probably to find adam or kenji, before you could protest further.

you cursed her, but prepared to enter the room in front of you.

aaron was lying down, resting an arm behind his head and using the other to throw and object up and down. once he noticed you he sat up in your direction.

he noticed the lack of presence of juliette, and you could tell he was more than pleased.

"finally, i was starting to think your sister would chaperone us forever."

"don't be so eager to be alone, i could shoot you again."

"and i'd willingly take another bullet if it meant another kiss."

you couldn't help the annoying pink tint on your face that came up with the mention of the kiss.

you changed topic, "how were you able to send me that note?"

he smirked, "well for one, i noticed you after our eyes met briefly during your first time outside in the sector. after that, it was blatantly obvious who you were; that disguise did nothing to hide your gorgeous face, unfortunately for you. and then it wasn't hard to order a civilian to drop the note in your pocket while you were distracted."

you were stunned; you really hadn't thought to think he recognized you. you thought you blended in pretty well on those missions.

"okay, stop distracting me, what are your father's plans."

"hmm, maybe if you ask nicely and give me a kiss - i'd be more willing to comply."

you left shortly after that, knowing you weren't going to get much out from him.

it continued like that for a few days; you'd walk in, try to get information, but then he'd turn it back into a way to flirt with you or bring up the kiss.

this time when you walked in, you saw him reading the journal from the first day, and you were able get a better look at it. it was yours.

"hey, what are you doing with my-"

"dear diary, today i checked out a book from the library, there was a rather intimate scene between the main charact-"

you immediately recognized the writing as your own and strided across the room to aaron to snatch your journal back.

warner was quicker, standing up in a snap, keeping a distance from you as read aloud more pages.

you yelled at him to stop, catching up to him, but now he held the book to the ceiling, making it harder for you to reach because of his tall body.

you, much to your embarrassment, jumped up and down to reach the journal, wanting this humiliation to end.

"aaron, just give it back!"

all of a sudden, aaron stopped his teasing and looked down to you, a lopsided smile on his face.

"you called me aaron."

you eyes opened in horror, you just called him aaron, not warner. and he heard it.

"no. no. i said warner, you misheard." it was a terrible attempt at lying.

he smiles even wider, his dimples prominent. he reaches a free hands to lift your chin.

"please, keep saying my name, i do love how it sounds coming from you."

you felt you were gonna explode from all the emotions you were feeling, the room was getting hotter, and your heart was pounding in your ears.

you couldn't get a solid sentence our without babbling in embarrassment. so you took the coward's way - bolting out the room, abandoning the mission to retrieve your journal.

you avoided visits a few times after that incident, you were still cringing at the flashbacks, it worsened when you also remembered he had the contents of your journal and all the embarrassing things and darkest secrets you'd written inside.

unfortunately, that didn't stop you from running into warner.

you were eating lunch with kenji, he was currently explaining some princess film you'd never seen.

"wait, so how did this girl even find out when her birthday was?"

"well, obviously, mother gothel told her."

"why didn't she just lie about her birthday, or not even tell her what a birthday is?"

"i don't know, i didn't make the script."

"also does the ending mean she has power still, or was it the last of her ma-"

"oh my god, can you shut up and just appreciate the greatness that is tangled!"

"hey! you're the on-"

"well, isn't this a surprise."

you turned to the new voice that entered the conversation. aaron warner stood in front of your table, hands behind his back, and castle behind him, likely guiding him somewhere.

then you remembered your last conversation with the leader and came to the conclusion aaron was on his way to be tested, probably like adam had.

castle remained unaware of the blood shared between the two, but you did let it slip you were unable to read your mind, and he was able to make skin contact with your sister.

"well if it isn't my favorite ex-boss." kenji spoke with a mouthful of food.

aaron ignored kenji, much to kenji's offense. "amor, here have you been these days, you left quite flushed after our intimate moment in my cell."

kenji spat out his food at that last bit.

you body was filled to the brim with utter embarrassment and hate toward the way he phrased his wording to make it seem what it wasn't.

you turned to kenji who was coughing continuously, "nothing even happened!" you gave warner a glare, "stop making it seem so.. so-"

"so what, amor? i'd love to know what you think i meant by intimate."

"you are so insufferable."

castle then dragged warner along to the testing area. you couldn't deny you weren't curious to find out if he shared a gift similar to adam.

you were planning to engage with warner the next day, but his guards had come up to you during your training session demanding your presence because apparently warner was in a fit of rage.

worried, you rushed over. entering the room, warner was sitting against the wall, face in his hands. the room was in disarray, broken items of what was already so little, scattered all over the room. even his floor mattress had been tossed.

he barely acknowledged you, so you took it upon yourself to kneel down in from of him, silently asking what happened.

"castle..he told me it's possible i have an... ability. he told me i could change," he laughs humorlessly, "that there was potential for me to be.. different... possibly better."

you stayed silent, unsure of how to respond, as he bitterly ranted about his talk with castle.

"what do you think?”

“what?”

“do you believe i can change? i’d love to know what your opinion is on this, amor.”

you weren’t sure how to respond. “i believe… everyone can choose what they want to be. it’s up to them to decide, even if everyone tell tried to tell you who you are.”

this time, he was the one silent, looking down at his lap, likely in thought.

you took the chance to take in his attire; some black sweatpants, grey socks, and no shirt.

you probably would’ve been flustered to see him shirtless if you didn’t notice some peculiar marks peaking from his shoulder.

silently, you slowly crept to the side of aaron, still distracted. you slide far enough to get a good few of his back.

you internally gasped. his back was littered with lines of scarring - likely whipped. your stomach churned at the thought.

you also notice a big tattoo in the upper middle of his back, in all caps ‘IGNITE’.

you must’ve said it out loud because aaron’s head whipped in your direction. he turned his back away from you once he noticed where your stare was directed.

“no need to say anything, i already know how hideous it looks.”

unsure how to respond, you blurt the first thing out of your head - “i think they look cool. kind of like an abstract piece of art.”

yeah, comforting people wasn’t your forte.

luckily, aaron seemed intrigued by your statement. so you took the chance to request something further.

“can i touch your, erm, back?”

aaron was hesitant for a few moments, but then sighed and turns his back toward you.

you delicately pressed your fingers along the canvas of his back. you could feel every ridge and texture of each scar as your fingers glided over.

aaron flinched at first content, then progressively & visibly melted into your touch.

“why ‘ignite’?”

“why not?” you really hated his vagueness.

an idea popped into your head. you pulled a pen out of your jacket pocket, testing it on your own skin a few times before you started drawing lines on aaron’s skin.

“amor, what are you doing?”

“hang on.” he could feel the ink of the pen etched on his back.

“you know, my original plan was to seduce you with my perfect abs, but i guess luring you with my scars works as well.”

“shut up.” but you were smiling while saying it.

you finished connecting a few lines, “there, perfect.”

"i think you've forgotten i dont have the neck of a giraffe to twist around."

"oh, my bad." you said sheepishly. "do you have a mirror?"

"i did, then i broke it. pieces should be in a corner somewhere."

you mentally scolded his carelessness.

you managed to find a piece big enough for him to see your creation upon his skin.

"i drew a star." you wanted to facepalm at how silly it sounded.

star was a bit of a stretch, you connected lines scarred on his bank to form a lopsided and wonky-shaped star.

he just stared at it, not uttering a word. you moved to try to wipe off the mark, but he grabbed your wrist before you could.

"no," he grins, "i adore it. do more of them."

you did. it was a whole galaxy of stars embedded on him.

he stayed mute as he watched you through the shard of mirror while you doodled, but suddenly he spoke and gave you details as to what his knew of his father's plans and the location of brendon & winston.

"why are you suddenly telling me this, why now?"

"it's what your here for, isn't it."

you rushed over to castle immediately and repeated everything aaron told you. he thanked you for the information before he called in others to draw up a plot of attack. you all were to leave immediately the next day.

castle called a meeting in the lunch hall a few hours later; everyone at omega point was gathered there.

he briefed them on the commander's plans or what the plan was supposed to be so far. of course, people were suspicious of this information coming from warner, not trusting him at all; not that you could blame them.

"he's immune to both of the ferrars abilities, he can touch juliette with no issue and y/n can't get into his head. after this reveal, we did some test, and we've come to find out he's gifted like the rest of us."

the room exploded in chaos, gasps, yells, and protests coming from all different directions. a lot of ongoing looks toward your table. castle raised his voice to calm everyone down.

you and juliette didn't stick around long after, for one you already knew the information being given , and two, the stares and questions were getting annoying and uncomfortable.

however, adam shortly followed the two of you out, desperate to speak to juliette, and you knew why - warner being able to touch her.

they began talking intensely as if you weren't there. you watched from the sidelines as juliette explained her side and adam getting more frustrated.

you butted in at a point, you felt bad for the guy, but your sister came first. “adam, maybe it's best you leave to cool down.”

but your voice of reason only irritated him. “how about you stop inserting yourself into your sister’s affairs and let her speak for herself.”

"what is your issue?"

"this is between juliette and i; she doesn't need you speaking for her."

"you hypocrite, that's what you're doing right now!"

"why don't you go fraternize with warner, that's all you seem to be doing these days." adam venomously spat at you.

as if the mention of his name made him appear, warner's presence made it known. he stepped in front of you, dividing you and adam who got closer as the argument headed.

"kent, you've really got an attribute for being infuriating and vexing."

that set off the fire for an intense standoff between the two. adam, already mad at aaron, started the verbal feud.

it got so heated, kenji inserted himself between the two - trying to stop the commotion. you even grabbed aaron's arm to pull him away.

it was all happening so quick; one moment, they were shooting insults back and forth, the next instant kenji was dropping to the floor clutching his head in pain.

juliette immediately called out for help, finding castle, who brought in sonya and sara to take kenji to the medic.

adam and juliette went trailing after them, but you stayed there stunned. what did you do?

you had a flashback to the experiment - kenji reacting, in the same manner, those soldiers had after you freaked out.

you felt extremely horrible for kenji and you prayed he would be alright.

but you hadn't intended to hurt kenji nor did you exert any force in using your powers. you had better practice with your energy, so it didn't make sense.

aaron, still beside you, reached out to you - but you instinctively took a step back. you weren't sure what was happening to you, and the last thing you wanted was to hurt someone else accidentally.

"probably better you stay back," you looked down at your hands in fright, "i don't have control right now, i'm don't even understand how i did that to kenji."

"because amor, you didn't injure him. i did."

your confusion only deepened with that. then he brought back the mention of his gift, and you put the puzzle pieces together as he spoke.

"so you can basically can absorb someone else's power and use it?"

"a little more complicated than that. i can sense people's energy, like right now i know you're confused and worried for your friend, but also scared of yourself for what you did, or thought you did."

he elaborated, saying he unintentionally manifested your energy when you touched him. when kenji grabbed his arm, in an attempt to pull him away, that was when he projected the energy on him and hurting him in the process.

"wait, so does that mean you have my ability to read minds too?"

"hmm, i haven't given it a chance," he smirks at you "would you like to be my test subject?"

"absolutely not."

later that night, you check with sara and sonya on kenji's condition. they informed you that he was alright, but just needed some rest. after, you met up with castle in his office, finalizing plans for the morning - the beginning of the battle.

before you said goodbye, you had a question that had been crossing your mind.

"why do you trust ar-, er, warner, what's to say he won't turn his back."

"well, i guess i can't say for sure that he won't. i just have to have faith in mr. warner that he will make the right decision for himself. and with your added presence, i'm sure he's more open to that than ever."

"what do you mean?"

"surely you realize he's in love with you. he's even told me himself."

"he..he told you he was in love with me?"

"yes, just after i was discussing his gift with him." he said it like it was the most casual thing.

you stayed to chat briefly after. you directly headed to aaron's room, no longer littered with guards since he was considered a "member." you were able to walk in with no issue.

aaron hadn't been asleep yet when you got there, he was sitting up on his bed, which had a frame now, reading a book.

you didn't give him a chance to react to your sudden intrusion before you started speaking.

"why would you tell castle you're in love with me"

he furrowed his brows, but you kept going - you were set on getting answers.

"how could you just.. say something like that, what is your motive? are you trying to get to me?"

"amor, calm down. i have no motive." he said, standing up and walking toward you.

"then why would you even say that."

"isn't it clear?" he gets nears, a hand going to cradle the underside of your face, "i meant what i said."

"you can't love someone you barely know."

"but that's just it. i do know you. i've read your mind on paper, and experienced you for myself the moment i met you. i know that you hate to be wrong, you want to clench your first when you lie, although juliette is older by a bit - you feel the need to protect her, you're afraid of the dark, but never admit it, you hate yourself for loving your powers, and you want so badly to be accepted here because of your lonely childhood. shall i go on?"

you were flabbergasted by his word, and you couldn't even deny that they weren't true.

"how do you know this?"

"because, as my dear father put it, it seem you've bewitched me, my mind, and my body."

then he kissed you. and you let him.

and you very much liked it.

it was a longing, messy, kiss - he had you against the wall, lifted by your hips to his height. you wrapped your arms around his neck kissing him deeper, not letting any thoughts or worries flow from you for the moment.

the doors opened. "y/n? are you her-" then a gasp.

you recognized the voice - juliette.

you immediately panicked and pushed aaron away, attempting an explanation yo your sister, but she was already turning her feet and running away.

you gave warner a glance before you ran off in her direction.

you caught up to her, "juliette, please, wait!"

she abruptly stopped her feet and turned to you, "what are you doing y/n? kissing warner, are everything he's done!"

"it's just... i didn't... it's not like-" you struggled to put it into words.

"so what, you- you like the guy who kidnapped us? the one who shot a guy in front of us. experimented - borderline tortured us? he made me hurt a child, y/n. a child! and now you're making out with him."

you were at a loss for words, tears starting to build up at her harsh words.

"you're an idiot if you think you could love him, and even stupider to think a cold heartless person like him could love you. and i won't have anything to do with you if you keep him in your life." and with that she waked off, leaving you in the hall.

you didn't go back to warner after your fight, nor did you go back to your room immediately. you shamefully found an empty closet to cry into for a while. once you were able to breathe normally, you went back to the shared room - luckily everyone was fast asleep.

by morning, everyone was preparing for the rescue of brendan and winston. you and juliette exchanged no words; you attempted - but was shut down every time. she had never been this mad at you. so you just suited up and went to find kenji. kenji sensed the tension between you sisters, but didn't push for information.

you came to found out from castle, aaron warner was gone - he escaped omega point. likely on his way to the reestablishment.

you didn't want to focus on why a part of you was hurt when you heard that.

the battle was not a scene for the light-hearted - anderson's men had already begun gathering civilians and spewing blood. if you didn't have a strong stomach, you'd already be spilling your guts.

midway through dodging bullets and soldiers, you felt a shift in the already dire environment. there was something wrong, and you sensed it.

you urged kenji you felt the need to return to omega point - there was something wrong. he wasn't too convinced by your vague intuition, so you sought off on your own, doing your best to avoid the battlefield.

you ran into juliette at some point, not caring for your argument at the moment, and told her your inkling. she also brushed you off, telling it wasn't a time for your dramatics.

even with no support, you went back - you couldn't ignore this feeling.

you were maybe 200 ft away from omega point when it happened. bombs were dropped on the territory - causing the destruction of the building and any remaining members who stayed behind.

the explosion was powerful - even from where you were standing, it sent you both painfully flying back. you blacked out before you could react to the tragic ending of omega point.

you regained consciousness after consecutive kicks to your ribs and a voice telling you to wake up.

in front of you stood a crippled anderson, standing with he support of a cain. his composure was calm, but you could see the hatred behind his eyes.

you painfully stood up, surveying the area. you were in a house - similar to the one from last time.

you felt weak, dizzy, and the world was a bit blurry. you were leaning on a mantle to support your standing.

"ah, the fatigue your feeling would be my own fault. had those lovely sisters inject you with something. it will incapacitate you enough that you won't be a threat. can't have you flipping tables again."

you were barely registering his words, but when he mentioned sisters it gave you a bit of a jump start. he had sara and sonya.

your words felt faint, but you demanded to know where they were. he assured you they were unharmed, but it did nothing to ease you.

midway your conversation, warner enters the room - shocked to see you there. you probably would've reacted if you weren't so dosed on drugs.

"now that we have this reunion out the way, i'm going to be generous, something you ought to appreciate. you can tell me where your sister is and where the rest of your band of freaks are. you can aid me in destroying them and only after will i grant you the mercy of joining the reestablishment."

"what do you want with juliette?"

"she did this to me," he gestured to his legs, "and now i want my compensation."

no matter the situation with your sister, you'd never give her up.

"go to hell."

he sighs, "a disappointment once again, miss ferrars." he turns to his son, "this is why it's important i teach you this very valuable lesson son."

warner goes rigid, "what do you mean?"

warner pull out his shotgun, "justice, should always be served - even if it has to be by your own means."

then you were shot right in the chest.

you blacked out, then started slipping in and out of consciousness. all you remember is blood spilling from you at a rapid pace, and aaron crouched in front of you.

you remember voices - aarons, sara, and sonya's talking in rushed voices - then it was only aaron.

"hey cmon, amor, stay with me."

"wow... getting in the chest really sucks. i feel really bad about shooting you now." you spoke deliriously.

"it's alright, i just need you to hold on a little longer." his voice strained, holding back anguish.

but you didn't; you passed out, your last thoughts hoping juliette would throw you a nice funeral, enough though she was upset at you.

#aaron warner x reader #aaron warner imagine #aaron warner fanfic #aaron warner #aaron warner anderson #shatter me #shatter me fanfic #unravel me #juliette ferrars #kenji kishimoto #adam kent #x female reader #x y/n #x reader #reader insert #reader imagine #headcannons

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bella-rose29 · 28 days

Text

April Fool's! ~ a DTH special

here's the first of (I'm sure) many Deck the Halls specials! in honour of April Fool's Day I figured it was the perfect occasion to write a lil something about our Schmoopies (who love to prank each other)

I did take a teeny bit of inspiration from @tangledinlove's heart eyes series (which if you haven't read then go now! also I recommend everything on love's master list) and wrote this special through the eyes of Holly, George, and Lucy!

edit: I should add in now that you probably could read this as a standalone? there are some references in there that might be teeny spoilers but tbh DTH is pretty formulaic so you could figure out the plot just from the summary 😂

Warnings: one or two swear words, and I think that's it? maybe a spoiler in the form of Holly being there?

Word count: 1.7k

anthony lockwood master list

enjoy the pictures of lockwood and Cameron being silly boys!

“Where is he?”

Holly looked up from where she sat at the kitchen table writing a shopping list to study the girl who stood in the doorway. Y/n had her hands on her hips and a frown on her face, and Holly felt sorry for whoever she was looking for. No doubt it was Lockwood, having forgotten an important anniversary or something, who was provoking the glare that had settled over Y/n’s features.

“Lockwood?” Holly asked, returning her attention to the shopping list. She tapped the pencil against her temple while trying to think of what she was missing.

“Yep. Have you seen him? I’ve got a bone to pick with him, the little shit.”

Holly snorted, then a thought popped into her head. She wrote down ‘tomatoes’ in neat print with her pen. “What’s he done this time?”

The other girl huffed and moved further into the kitchen, pulling open cupboards with a little too much force. “He’s pranked me! Hid all the toothbrushes in the house and now I can’t brush my teeth!”

“I- he did what?” That was such a random thing to do, and yet it was very perfectly Lockwood. “Why would he prank you?” Holly’s colleague stopped in her tracks, arms spread open with the cupboard handles in each hand, and slowly turned around. Instead of the initial frustration that had been on her face there was now confusion.

“You… you do know what day it is… right?” Holly shook her head, brows creasing. “It’s April Fool’s Day? First of the month?” Realisation dawned, and she rushed to stifle her laugh when Y/n started glaring again. “Why is that funny? Lockwood hid all the toothbrushes, Holly! How do I brush my teeth now?! I had Weetabix this morning and my mouth feels all gross,” she complained.

“I think he went out for a walk or something,” Holly answered, finishing up her list. “That was a while ago, though, so he should be back in a minute.” No sooner than she’d stopped talking the sound of the front door opening made both girls look in the direction of the hall. Shuffling noises followed while the person moved around, then footsteps grew louder and the kitchen door was pushed open to reveal the head of the company.

Anthony Lockwood was many things: a great boss, slightly suicidal at times (although the number of occasions that he threw himself directly into danger had decreased significantly after the Christmas holidays), an excellent swordsman, and a loving boyfriend to Y/n.

But as Holly watched Y/n she knew that he was also in a lot of danger.

“Ah. Hello, Darling. Holly.” He was wary, gaze flicking between the two girls as he stayed holding on to the door handle. Y/n’s eyes narrowed, and Lockwood’s attention was suddenly solely on his girlfriend. His smile faltered slightly, and there was a split second where both he and Y/n sort of… hovered, the tension in the room palpable.

Then the chaos started.

Lockwood turned and fled the room, footsteps heavy on the stairs, and Y/n was hot on his heels, yelling as she thundered after him. Holly could hear their laughter echoing through the house, and she let out a chuckle of her own as she stood up and folded the shopping list, putting it in her pocket.

Her boss was going to suffer dearly for the rest of the morning for withholding the toothbrushes, but he wouldn’t be physically harmed.

A thump sounded on one of the upper floors, something that sounded worryingly like a body hitting the ground, and pleads of mercy followed immediately while mixed in with laughter.

She was tickling him, then. Going for the feet if she wanted maximum effect or sitting on him and going for his sides if she was smart and didn’t want him wriggling away.

Holly picked up a bag and her keys in the hallway, and made for Arif’s. Hopefully Lockwood would no longer be a hostage by the time she got back.

~~~

George Karim was normally quite forgiving when it came to Y/n, but printing out tens of pictures of Penelope Fittes was a step too far for him.

“Why do you even want to do this anyway? I thought after the whole… ‘fake-dating-turned-real-dating’ thing over Christmas you weren’t fighting anymore.” He was spread in front of the printer in his room, blocking his friend from accessing it. Since getting back from her family’s house in the middle of nowhere a few months ago, after snowstorms stretched out their Christmas, Lockwood and Y/n had been annoyingly cute and coupley.

“He hid all the toothbrushes, George. He’s having a nap right now because I tickled him into exhaustion, so I’ve not got much time before-” she broke off when George tackled her to prevent her from using the printer.

“Okay… well why does that mean you’re printing loads of pictures of Penelope Fittes? The head of the company we hate?”

“… Because I’m going to cut them out and replace all the photos in the house with them.” The pair of them stopped squirming and George pushed his glasses back up his nose to stare in shock and confusion at her.

“You… what?”

“It’s April Fool’s. I’ve got like… two hours left before midday. Please, Georgie. I have to get revenge.” He sighed, then released his grip on her.

“Fine. But when he gets annoyed, you are not linking this to me. I’m not getting dragged into all of this.”

The two of them spent the next fifteen minutes printing photos and cutting them out, and when it sounded like Lockwood was stirring, Y/n sent George to keep him distracted. He penned his boss in the library where he’d fallen asleep earlier, spewing facts about the next case they were going to go on to keep Lockwood there while Y/n snuck around the house. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been waffling on about murder victims and Type 2s, but when Lockwood’s girlfriend tentatively peeked around the door he had to stop himself from visibly sighing in relief.

“You alright, Schmoopie?” Where the nickname had come from, George had no idea, but Y/n was the only one who used it and specifically only when she wanted to piss off Lockwood. Lockwood himself knew this too, and George could immediately see the suspicion creep in.

“… yeah. Are you?”

“Hm? Oh, yep!” Her grin was wide, and looked rather like a shark, and George wondered why Lockwood was staring all heart-eyed at her despite being suspicious. “Just been… finding toothbrushes.” It was Lockwood’s turn to smile now, boyish delight making him perk up.

“Get any?”

“Eventually. Took me a bloody long time though,” she mumbled the last part, but the boys still heard. George snickered. Lockwood’s smile grew. “Anyway… tea?”

“Alright then,” Lockwood replied, stretching out a hand and moving over to the doorway. Y/n took it, planting a kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek before pulling him out the room.

She sent a wink over her shoulder at George as they turned the corner and disappeared.

~~~

So far, the pranks were one each.

Lucy had noticed Y/n putting photos of Penelope Fittes in all the picture frames around 35 Portland Row, and when her friend had explained why, she had gladly joined in. Any opportunity to mess with Lockwood was an opportunity that Lucy took.

Around half an hour after Lockwood had reappeared from the library, he still hadn’t noticed that all of the photos had been replaced. He’d spotted one or two maybe, but that was it. Some were more sneaky than others, and Lucy knew that Lockwood would be finding Penelope Fittes photos for weeks after today.

Now she was sat in the living room with George, Holly, and Y/n, sketching in her pad. There was near silence in the room, the clock ticking and what sounded like suppressed snorts of laughter outside the door the only noises. Lucy frowned, glancing at the door every few seconds. After another minute or so of stifled laughter Lockwood appeared, mouth pinched to hide the smile on his face as he walked in and sat on the arm of his normal armchair where Y/n was sat.

“…Lockwood?” Lucy asked. “Why are you wearing a hat? You’re… indoors?”

“Oh! Just felt like it! Thought it would be nice to wear something a little more fun. For morale, you know?”

Y/n looked up then, and gaped at the top hat perched on her boyfriend’s head. “You’re ridiculous, Anthony.”

“Yep. We’ve had this conversation before, Darling.” All talk died down after that, Lockwood occasionally murmuring a word or two to help Y/n with her crossword, and the members of the agency were at peace. At some point Lockwood excused himself to the toilet, and when he came back around five minutes later (they’d all heard the toilet flush) there was something slightly off about him. He still had the top hat on, but something was bugging Lucy.

The same process repeated, Lucy looking up at him every now and then to try and figure out what was different and Y/n doing the same (the two girls had shared multiple confused looks), and then Lockwood excused himself to get a plate of biscuits. When he came back, Lucy once again felt something was off. The biscuits were passed around, crossword helped, top hat still in place, then Lockwood came up with another reason to leave the room.

It was the fourth time he returned that Y/n appeared to realise what was happening. “Ohh, I see what you’re doing, Anthony Lockwood.”

“Do you?” he asked, innocent as a child. “I’ve noticed the photographs - don’t think I haven’t.”

“Oh, have fun finding them all. Why do you have multiple sizes of the same top hat?”

Lockwood shrugged. “Disguises. Why did you have so many photos of the head of the Fittes company?”

“Does it matter? You’ll be finding them for weeks.”

They finished their friendly bickering in hushed tones, Y/n standing up to let Lockwood sit down and balance her on his lap, and Lucy smiled softly at them.

After wrangling the whole story of what had happened over the Christmas holidays out of the two of them, Lucy had spent roughly the last two and a half months teasing the living daylights out of the couple for their antics, but she couldn’t deny how cute they were together.

She just hoped that the current poking in the sides they were doing didn’t turn into decking each other instead.

Cut scene (alternative prank):

Now she was sat in her room in the attic, one leg hanging off the edge with the other folded underneath while she drew in her sketchbook. The creaking of the steps up to her floor alerted her to someone’s presence, and after a few seconds Lockwood’s head appeared, followed by his body. “Ah, Luce, thought I’d find you here.” He had something in his hand, shiny in a crinkly plastic bag. “I need your help to-” he broke off, mid-movement while he peered at one of the pictures on Lucy’s bedside table. It was of the five of them, Lockwood, George, Holly, Y/n, and herself, except in the place of Skull sat on the sideboard was Penelope Fittes’ face. “Oh for fuck’s sake. Did she put some of these up here, too?” Lucy struggled not to smile.

“Must have done it when I was in the kitchen earlier.” That was a lie, Lucy had done it herself. “What did you need me for?”

“Ah!” He lifted the plastic bag and grinned. “Doubloons. Not real ones, obviously, I bought them from a cheap party shop down the road. I’m going to hide them around the house.”

Tag list:

@strawberryloveyyy, @chameleon021, @genderfluid-anime-goth, @cottagecore-babe, @anthonylockwoodandco111, @a-taken-url, @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @rhysand-devorak, @a-candle-maker, @h0lyheck, @apple-bottom-jeans6, @icantwaittoliveandlearn

@neewtmas, @bobbys-not-that-small, @avdiobliss, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @maraschinomerry, @lewkwoodnco, @uku-lelevillain, @oblivious-idiot

as always, if there is anybody who wants to be added to my lockwood tag list, then please go here!

#deck the halls (and not your partner)#deck the halls specials #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you

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