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#fight happened which i could talk about for a while but i think i mentioned a little bit of what causes it in a few asks a bit back
wildestdreamsblog · 2 days
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Latibule Season 2: III
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)
Summary: In which he lost his latibule.
Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: As promised :) Leave a comment or reblog if you enjoy!
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Masterlist, Latibule 2.II
Taehyung looked up from his cellphone to his eldest hyung that was currently cooking their dinner. He pouted when he was not given the appropriate amount of attention he should be given. Honestly, he deserved it! After a moment when he still did not get what he wanted, he finally asked the question he had been dying to know the answer to.
“Hyung, is it always like that?”
“Hmm? Like what, Tae?” he asked while chopping diligently the vegetables the renowned doctor was preparing for a certain psychologist and his brothers that insisted they were hungry as well.
“When it ends…does it always hurt like that?”
Seokjin blinked at Taehyung’s unprompted question. He paused before he finally brought his eyes to the actor. He knew that the younger man had always been eccentric. His clinical condition definitely explained his behavior, but not this. He was never curious about the emotions he couldn’t feel, nor did he ever show any interest on understanding emotions. As the years passed by, Kim Taehyung got better at masking and pretending by learning the root causes of the emotions he could see. The brothers had always thought that this was precisely why he chose to be an actor. Everytime they watched him cried, laughed, or acted furious for his movies and dramas, they thought he was a different person.
Jin thought it was just understandable why he dropped the knife he was holding.
“What brought this on?”
“He-“ he lifted his mobile phone to show Jin the picture Jimin snapped of their Yoongi hyung looking like he had lost all his will to live. Taehyung found it so ridiculous that Jimin even made a collage of him and a cat that depicted their hyung. “-looks like breathing is a chore and is only fighting to live so he can end his enemies.”
Jin would have laughed had this happened before he met his sunshine. But now, the mere thought of her leaving set him on edge, and he knew he would be similar to Yoongi if not worse. Slowly, he picked up his knife as he carefully chose his words. He was always like this with Taehyung ever since he knew that something was not quite right in his mind, well…more than any of them, to be honest. The younger man took things at face value, and all the brothers knew to talk in a straightforward manner so there wouldn’t be any confusion on Taehyung’s part.
He kidded you not, once when they were still teenagers, they asked him to go ahead and get them a table in a restaurant. He left without any qualms only to return not an hour later carrying a big ass table from a restaurant. That was a horrifying memory, Jin thought, and that was when they all decided to change the way they talked. It was Namjoon that took it too far and enrolled the man in a body language class to better cope with society. However, it was Jungkook that forced him to take psychology classes with him for fun.
“I think it’s different,” Jin started, busying himself once again with cooking. “Yoongi never has love like that, I guess. It’s understandable that he acts like a sad lonely cat.”
Seokjin could still clearly remember how Yoongi looked at you. It was like you were all he ever wanted and more, like you were his reprieve from the darkness in his life. You were, as he called you, an angel to him. And then he lost you.
“Why?”
“Well…she’s his personal slice of heaven,” he answered, his voice contemplative and understanding of what Yoongi was going through. Jin paused in his chopping, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as he carefully considered his words. “And he’s been living in hell the very moment he was born. What do you think would happen if he was given a taste of heaven and then lost it?”
“Just like Hoseok hyung,” Taehyung nodded, slightly understanding the downfall of these strong men.
“Seriously, you are all worse than the ahjummas who love to talk about other people’s lives. Be better than that, guys,” Kim Namjoon observed with his deadpanned voice as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He took in the scene of the two men conversing and the other man quietly eating the snack Jin prepared him.
Jin scoffed as he rolled his eyes at Namjoon. “As if you wouldn’t react like that when your secretary finally resigns.”
To which, Namjoon only smirked. “Who says she can leave?”
“How will you stop her and her son if the father finally shows up?”
Namjoon, with his hand in his pocket, calmly uttered words that no normal people would believe to have any other meaning. “Well, as you said, the dead don’t exactly come back to life, do they?”
 Jin chuckled at Namjoon. Of course, he did something about that man. It was apparent, he thought. He could still vividly remember the look in Namjoon’s eyes when he told him that his secretary was pregnant and that the asshole of a father even put his hands on her. Suffice to say, it was the most unhinged Namjoon ever was.
“I think Namjoon will be the worst among us if he ever loses the love of his life,” Jin noted with lightness in his voice.
“Nah,” Jungkook finally lifted his head from his bowl. “I sincerely think it’ll be Taehyung.”
The conversation never left Jeon Jungkook’s mind. Anyway, he didn’t need anyone to tell him to do this. He did this out of the bond he shared with his brothers. Had this happened to any among them, he would have done the same.
He thought that it was cruel to let them experience the same hell he had been living every single day.
And so, he worked tirelessly and utilized every available technology and connection he had just to look for Yoongi’s angel. When he said she was alive, when he said he felt in his heart that you could have not gone where he couldn’t follow, then he’d believed him. He wouldn’t lose anything by looking for you, Jungkook rationalized. But he didn’t want to unnecessarily get his brother’s hopes up until he had evidence that you were indeed alive.
One morning, it finally happened. There you were.
Jungkook’s eyes could not have gone any bigger as he watched the CCTV of a far province in his office.
That was you, he was sure.
Without a moment's hesitation, he reached for his phone and dialed the person he knew he could trust. "Hyung, can you come to my office?" he requested urgently, the excitement and disbelief evident in his voice.
“That’s her,” Kim Namjoon validated after a moment. He was standing beside Jungkook’s seated form as he leaned in the monitor. He was ever the image of calmness with his hand in his pocket, his suit immaculate and not a crease in sight.
Seokjin raised his brows as he sat in a relaxed manner on the couch. Jungkook didn’t even call him, yet he was here because he was, per his words, bored and that a certain sunshine was not where she should be. “So the dead can indeed come back to life,” he noted with a tone the two men couldn’t understand. “Pray tell, Namjoon-ah. Should we tell Yoongi?”
Jungkook blinked at the rising tension between the two men. Whereas Jin merely looked curious, Namjoon looked like he was looking at the end of the sword with the way his jaw was clenched. He stood up straight and took a second to answer Seokjin.
“Of course, hyung. This is a great news, after all.”
“Hmm,” Seokjin smirked, his legs crossed as though nothing could have fazed him. It was moment like this when Jungkook could see the mafia prince in his usually playful hyung. Everybody knew not to cross this man despite him appearing goofy and motherlike to them.
Jungkook thought that it would only take one momentous catastrophe for him to return to his dark persona. He didn’t want to see that, though.
“He’s suffered enough, right?” Jin asked the room with a light tone, yet his eyes pierced through Namjoon’s. “Right, Namjoon-ah?”
Seven Mississippis passed before he answered. Jungkook knew because he counted, and he hated the tension he didn’t know why was present.
“Jungkook, tell Yoongi hyung,” Namjoon ordered.
—-
Min Yoongi’s brows were pulled together as he walked in a bustling street of a faraway province. He had to drive almost four hours just because their maknae told him to be here at this exact hour, claiming that he desperately needed him to be there. However, Jungkook was not answering his phone despite numerous calls from him.
Where was even that little shit, Yoongi asked himself as he surveyed the whole place.  
Despite barely getting any sleep, he found himself in a situation where he might have to scold his youngest brother for the first time. He should have been in Seoul right now, but he couldn’t exactly say no to him. He had shit ton of things to do and yet he was indulging the youngest brother.
Maybe this was exactly why he was spoiled? Ah, but anyway, he was a good kid.
So where was he?!
He walked further into the thick of the plaza, his phone plastered in his ear as he listened to the annoying and incessant ringback tone of Jungkook. Seriously, at this day and age? His eyes roamed the area of happy locals, at which he rolled his eyes.
He was on the verge of deciding whether he should just go ahead and kill Jungkook when he finally answered.
“Where the fuck are you?” he growled over the other line, his patience running thin when the man just answered innocently.
“At Seoul, hyung-“
“Then why am I here?! I swear to heavens, if you made me drive here just to buy you a weird snack then I’ll really kill you!”
“Seokjin hyung will be mad!”
Right. The eldest was protective of the youngest. What a nuisance, he thought. “Then I’ll do it in secret.”
Jungkook chuckled nervously. He couldn’t place whether he was joking or not. His money was that if his hyung could get away with it, he’d be floating in the river at this very moment. “I asked you to go there because I have a surprise for you, hyung.”
“I don’t particularly enjoy surprises-” he began, but was swiftly interrupted.
“I know, I know. But this one, I’m sure you’ll like. This is the most beautiful, most precious, most amazing surprise ever. You’ll stop sulking and looking like a sad cat and Jimin hyung will finally stop taking badly captured and cropped photos of you and make it into a collage. Taehyung hyung will stop observing your miserable demeanor for his next movie. You’ll finally stop living like it’s such a chore and-“
His back was bumped by a force. Turning around, he prepared to glare at the perpetrator only to stop because there it was.
There was you.
It was as if the universe finally said that he had enough and stopped punishing him because he saw you when he was not even looking for you. Your mouth hanged agape, your hand going to your forehead as you murmured apologies to him.
He was stunted. No, he was bewildered.
Was this real? Or was this one of his cruel dreams again, a figment of his mind playing tricks on him?
But no.
He had been living in hell, yet moment he heard your voice, all the sufferings disappeared. This was really you. You were truly alive. He was frozen as his wildest dream was brought into life. His whole body went into a state of shock, something that he never thought could ever happen.
It didn’t really matter the years he spent without you because one touch, one word- these were all it took for him to forget the bitterness your separation brought him.
With a trembling voice, Yoongi dared to call for you. “Ange-”
But before he could say another word, you interrupted, your voice light and apologetic.
“I’m really sorry, mister. I didn’t see you,” you chuckled, slightly lifting your walking stick to explain the small accident. You bowed down at the man before going your way.
And he stood there, watching as the love of his life walked away from him, unseeing. He thought he could no longer hurt. He thought that nothing could have fazed him any longer. But he was wrong. Watching you walked, unseeing as you traversed the plaza with only your walking stick pained him.
How did this happen to you?
Was it because of the incident?
Was that why you couldn’t return to him? Because you weren’t able to?
Or did he miss all the glaring signs?
Slowly, he lifted the old phone you gifted him years ago to his ear. “You didn’t stop looking for her?”
Jungkook was quiet for a moment. “Well…I would never wish this hell on anyone, much less my brother,” he stated, his voice carrying a certain tone of sadness they often heard from him. “Go get her, hyung.”
The bustling city streets faded into a blur around you as you walked, your steps slow and deliberate despite the cacophony of noise that surrounded you. Your sight may have been almost gone, but your other senses seemed to have sharpened in response, each sound and scent painting a vivid picture in his mind.
You remembered that when you were younger, you read a passage from a book entitled, ‘The Song of Achilles’. You thought it was a well-written book, a love that transcended even death. There was a line your college friends always thought to be a masterpiece. But you never understood it. The line so many people loved never really touched you.
Until it did.
Until you understood each word written in that book.
“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”
Because right now, the words made sense. You could recognize him despite your deteriorating eyesight. You knew him. He was here. And he was following you…to what exactly? Was he here to end you? Was he here to make sure that you wouldn’t tell the world of his secret identity?
Regardless of the reason, you tried to remain calm as Hoseok always ordered you to. You had no choice but to lead him back home, otherwise you were sure that he would be suspicious. The man that you used to love was perceptive, and any suspicious movements could alert him. From the moment you opened the front door to the time you closed it, you knew you only had a couple of seconds.
You fished the phone Hoseok gave you, one with tactile buttons and controls that made it easier for you to use it. You knew you couldn’t use the speech-to-text feature, otherwise he’d hear. And so, with a tense movement, you sent a message to him.
He’s here. Don’t come home. Leave with my son.
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unofficial-fanfics · 19 hours
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Off Limits
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Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Angst, blood, indirect mention of suicide, anger issues, etc. a little fluff at the end
Summary: A guy is shit talking Remus while he’s not with you and you get into a physical fight over it
Word count: A little under 1k
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You went down to the great hall with Sirius after an unusually long quidditch practice. You ended late, so most of the other students were gone already. Both of you now sat down to eat a late lunch, not even bothering to change out of your sweaters. “You smell terrible,” Sirius teased, the corners of his mouth turned upward in a smirk. He lifted his cup to take a drink of whatever was inside.
“Right, because you smell just like flowers.” You replied quickly, running a hand over your messy hair, which was still tied back behind your head. After a quick glance toward the door, you caught sight of Jason Leveret. A particularly annoying Slytherin. This year he had begun to take an interest in getting on your nerves. He walked with a small group from his house down the long hall.
“It’s shocking those four even want to be around him.” You heard him say now that he was within earshot. “Personally, I wouldn’t if someone held a wand to my neck and made me.”
He didn’t say a name, but you could tell he was talking about Remus. You tensed. It was one thing when he messed with you, you didn’t really care. But Remus was a name you wouldn’t let him put in his mouth. You tensed and ignored the look Sirius gave you.
“I mean, come on.” They were almost behind you now. He waited until he was passing you to continue. “Honestly, he needs to just take a walk out to the bridge if you catch my meaning.” Your head snapped in their direction.
“What did you say?” You were almost immediately on your feet. Sirius grabbed your sleeve but you yanked it away. Jason turned to face you with an arrogance that had you gritting your teeth. You knew he was proud that he had gotten to you but you didn’t care
“I think you heard me, babe.” He sneered. Your self control had never failed so quickly. “But I’ll say it again. Your boyfriend needs to—” Jason couldn’t get another word out before you landed a punch to his face. It sent him backward and the nearby students jumping out of the way.
You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and shoved him into the a table. Plates and silverware clattered onto the floor. “Say it again! Say it!” You hissed. He took your shoulders and rolled you over, slamming your back into the table. Your head pounded on contact.
Your size was an obvious disadvantage and you weren’t able to get out from under Jason. He got a few good punches in, causing your nose to bleed immediately. Sirius finally intervened pushing the boy off hard enough to send him to the floor. Sirius turned to grab you, but you were already on top of Jason again.
Sirius quickly got an arm around your torso before anything else happened, pulling you away against your protests. He had both arms around you but said nothing. Only a quiet “Shh” which lowered your anger significantly.
Jason was back on his feet and stared you down. Blood gushed from his nose and he had mild cuts on his face, yet he still had the nerve to say something else. “You need to get her under control.” He said through blood and gritted teeth. Sirius glared at him, tightening his hold on you.
You wanted to snap back at him but McGonagall rushed into the hall. “Leveret! Y/l/n!” The crowd that had previously gathered shuffled away quickly. “You will go to the hospital wing and then to my office immediately.”
Jason wiped his bleeding nose with his wrist. “I’m not going to the hospital wing.” He muttered, spitting out blood.
“Then you will come with me.” The professor dragged him out of the hall with her. The second he was gone you were able to relax a little and despite your protest, Sirius brought you to the hospital wing.
James had met you in the corridors and went with. Now they both sat beside the little hospital bed you were given. “Who was it?” James asked curiously, though he had a guess already.
“Jason Leveret.” Sirius answered for you. Your head ached now that your anger subsided.
“Oh, he deserved whatever he got.” James announced. “What does he look like right now?”
“Worse. I imagine he’ll be bruised for a few weeks.” Was your response. He did look worse but you probably hurt worse.
“Yeah, that’s our girl.” He said, ruffling your already disheveled hair. That put a smile on your face, which was still not tended to completely. They were reminded of this.
“We’re going to go get Pomfrey.” Sirius decided, standing with James. “Remus should find his way here soon.”
Like it was rehearsed, Remus came in quickly after they left. “What the hell happened to you?” He looked worried, which got no better after seeing your face. You moved over and patted the spot next to you, inviting him to come sit with you.
He obliged, putting a hand to your face and examining it closer. “Don’t worry about me.” You told him. “I’ve looked a whole lot worse.”
“Yeah, I know. Can you tell me why you like this now?” He questioned. You explained what happened, leaving out the specifics of what was said about him. None of it made his expression any less concerned.
“I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.” You said much quieter and his face finally softened.
“Hon, you don’t need to get into a fist fight over me.” He stated. You moved closer to Remus, settling into his arms. He planted the softest kiss to your forehead
“Of course I do.” You replied. “And I’d do it again. Who knows, maybe next time he won’t be so quick to open his mouth.”
“We both know that’s not true.” His body shook slightly with his laugh, smoothing your hair with his hand. You were finally able to relax in his arms, feeling the tension wash away. “I know he’s a prat, but why did it make you so mad?”
You sighed. “Because you, Remus, are off limits.”
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arklay · 2 years
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diana + total control <3
36. total control + diana.
words: 6.6k warnings: narcissistic behaviour, past cheating, somewhat graphic violent thoughts, insecurity, body image, chronic illness, mention of omnicide, indoctrination, flogging (for the quote at the end, not the actual fic) [read on ao3]
All he wanted was to go to bed, to finally do his routine properly for the first time in a good while then get some rest. He didn’t even have to sleep – though a few hours would be nice, even if he didn’t need as much as humans anymore – he just needed to get away from all the incessant nagging and have some time to himself.
Wesker had been working non-stop as of late, spending almost all of his time in the lab he usually shared with Diana, or in his office, and he had finally run out of steam. The last few days seemed to exhaust him, and that old friend was almost unrecognisable after so many years of vigour. But he couldn’t stay another night in his office, reminders of all the things he wished to perfect only enticing him to give up rest entirely, even if that meant he had to sit through reading another one of these imbecile’s reports.
Navigating through the facility with ease, even with fatigue threatening to dull his senses, he broke his stride when the shrill clicking of heels sounded in the next corridor. It seemed to reach behind Wesker’s eyes and make his brain bash against his skull, much like the way it used to with his migraines. But it wasn’t so much the noise as it was the cause of them, and he almost turned around to head back to his office, not wanting to deal with that annoyance at the moment.
That is, until he realised she was heading away from his destination, footsteps growing distant with each passing second, and the relief he felt from that was absurd. He rounded the corner and reached the door she had been in front of, swiping his keycard and entering the code to his room as if on autopilot; the slow hiss as it slid open was almost comforting, the promise of peace and quiet so close within reach.
But once he caught sight of Diana already in bed with her back to the door, his stomach twisted into a knot. He hadn’t seen her since she had made those unfounded claims against him the day prior, meaning he’d fumbled to give himself the last two doses of his medication, but the thought of looking for her hadn’t even crossed his mind, far too busy with more important matters than the ridiculous train of thought she had surmised.
He would have thought she was already asleep considering the way she was lying perfectly still with the covers up to her shoulders, the lights out and the scent of her moisturiser lingering in the air, but the moment he began taking off his coat, he noticed how her heart rate increased.
Then she took a deep breath.
“I think we need some time apart.”
Wesker paused in the middle of hanging up his coat when her quiet words reached him, wrapping themselves around every one of his muscles and pulling them taut. He could only look down at his hand balled into a fist around material as he slowly nodded in response, even though she couldn’t see it. He almost thought he could hear the blood rushing through his arteries and up to his head, making him feel like he was burning from the inside out.
The simple statement echoed in his mind, the words overlapping and varying in volume, taunting him at every turn alongside his own thoughts. Mocking him.
…time apart. She’s leaving. She won’t come back. Not coming back. Like Jelena. We need some time apart. It’s always been like this, me against them. We need some time apart.
But Diana didn’t stop there.
“I can’t be here at the moment. I’m going to stay with Alex for a while.” The slight waver in her voice was betraying the composure he knew she was desperately trying to keep, and he shouldn’t have felt guilty for it. He had nothing to feel guilty for.
“How long?” The words felt heavy leaving his throat, and Wesker swallowed in a futile attempt to try and fight off the lump that had taken up residence there.
The small sniffle he heard made him glance back over at Diana; she shifted beneath the covers, one of her hands coming up to her face, and he could only assume that she was rubbing her nose. Whatever anger he may have felt towards her for causing this mess, for hurting him with her accusations, it seemed to be fighting a losing battle against his love for her. Why a small sound such as that could tug at his heart, he would never understand. No one else could elicit such a reaction from him.
“I don’t know.” It was barely audible, only a whisper, and yet he heard it clear as day, as though she had spoken the words directly into his ear.
Diana pulled the covers closer around herself then stilled once more, only listening to the way his heart was pounding in his chest. Or was that hers? She couldn’t tell, but it made her feel sick to her stomach. It was foolish of her to think that he’d understand her decision, but she had hoped he’d calmed down enough from yesterday to at least see it from her perspective.
Perhaps he had simply left her alone with her thoughts for too long.
His footsteps as he made his way further into their room seemed deafening in her ears, and she wasn’t prepared for the panic that set in behind her sternum when she heard him round the bed. She had no reason to panic around him; she never had before, but the moment she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, she took another long inhale through her nose.
Wesker slowly crouched down in front of her, one hand reaching up to pull his sunglasses off while the other settled on the bed by her hip, but Diana only rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, avoiding him as best she could. The heavy sigh he let out at that had her eyes stinging and she wanted to hate him for it. She wished she could hate him.
Her name barely left his lips before Diana muttered, “I can’t look at you right now.”
“I apologise for raising my voice.”
It sounded so rehearsed. So hollow. Or maybe she was too upset to even notice how his tone had changed. But she knew for a fact that he wasn’t sorry for how he’d spoken to her. She knew. If they had a chance to redo that argument, it would all play out the exact same way as it had. She was sure of it.
Diana turned her head and looked him in the eyes. Those gorgeous scarlet eyes. “Raising your voice?” Her own mutated ones darted between his, searching for something, anything. “You roared at me, Albert. That wasn’t…” She averted her gaze when her voice cracked, and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “That was more than yelling. I have never heard such anger in your voice directed at me.”
“You have never questioned my loyalty to you before,” Wesker stated matter-of-factly, and her gaze landed on his face once more. Was he seriously trying to justify it?
She scoffed and shook her head. “So that makes it okay for you to speak to me that way?”
He tilted his head to the side and simply stared at her, one of his brows raised and the corner of his lips pulled upward ever so slightly. She could have punched him for that. This wasn’t like the times where they would laugh off what they both considered inane bickering; he had hurt her. And he hadn’t even bothered to check on her afterwards. Diana knew it was wrong to be as upset as she was when she had caused him to react in such a way, and he had every right to be furious with her for her line of questioning, but she still couldn’t believe the manner in which he had spoken to her.
Turning her head away from him again, she focused on the ceiling once more, preferring the simplicity of it as opposed to whatever look was strewn about his face. Why did he have to come to bed tonight?
The stinging in her eyes and how constricted her throat felt only served to make her feel more pathetic. She wasn’t going to cry over this. That was the last thing she wished to do.
Diana’s hands hesitantly came up to gather some of her hair and she began playing with the ends, a habit Wesker was well-acquainted with whenever she was trying to distract herself from whatever she was feeling. But he didn’t know what to do this time around. It was tough enough dealing with her emotions when he wasn’t trying to keep his temper under control, and the way she was acting like she hadn’t hurt him with her asinine remarks wasn’t helping matters.
A moment passed of neither of them speaking up, and Wesker knew there was little he could do to coax some kind of response from her when she was like this. Instead, he busied himself with unclasping his watch, the one she had bought him on their last anniversary, and he carefully set it aside before he worked on removing his gloves.
“You…” He lifted his head to look over at her due to the tremble in her voice, and he watched as she hurriedly blinked a few times, trying to fight off oncoming tears. “You humiliated me.”
Diana didn’t need to see his face to know what kind of reaction that had caused, judging by the way his hands paused in her peripheral vision, and she could have sworn she heard his jaw clench, teeth grinding together. However, the one thing she was certain of was that he was staring directly at her; she could feel his eyes practically boring a hole into the side of her head. If there had been a flash of that vivid red, she couldn’t tell, and honestly, she didn’t care. Yelling at her like that in their lab, where any passersby could have heard him – and she had no doubt some of the researchers had with the looks she had gotten last night – hurt her more than what he had even said to her.
Wesker rose from his position next to her and picked up his things, walking away from the bed, and there was no doubt in her mind that he needed to get away from her lest he say something nasty.
Diana only watched as he tossed his watch and gloves on the counter in the small kitchen in their room as he passed by it, and she chewed on her lip in an attempt to prevent a shaky breath from leaving her. The way his shoulders were tensed up to his ears and how he rubbed at his eyes as he made his way to the bathroom actually made her feel a bit sick. Why did she have to say anything in the first place?
The moment he was out of sight, she finally let out a deep breath, looking up to try and stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes again. The sound of him beginning to mutter to himself caught her attention, but he turned the shower on before she could make sense of what he was saying, the running water drowning out whatever thoughts he was angry enough that he felt the need to verbalise. The notion that she had ruined everything between them crossed her mind, that their marriage was irreparable after claims such as this, but she refused to believe it. 
Time. She simply needed time away.
She rolled onto her side, returning to the position she had been lying in before he had walked over. The photo from their wedding – well, technically, their vow renewal ceremony – that was sitting on her nightstand drew her gaze, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to look away, even though it was only making her feel worse. The miniature versions of the two of them seemed almost unrecognisable. Ten years shouldn’t have felt like a lifetime ago.
Diana didn’t know when she had tucked her knees up to her chest, but staring at that old picture of them only made her tighten her arms around her legs. They stood close, bodies pressed together while they were hand-in-hand, his other arm wrapped around her waist in a possessive gesture, but it was the indistinct smiles on both of their faces, and her loving gaze while his was obscured by his glasses, that really made her chest hurt. Why weren’t they like that anymore? What changed?
Are you done? Wesker had asked far too harshly after she made a few comments about his whereabouts or why he never came to bed anymore, implying he was occupying himself with someone else. She couldn’t even remember what she had said next, something about how it was probably Excella, or maybe even Jill, considering she was around the same age Diana had been when she had met him, but it had set him off. How dare you accuse me of this!
The venom in his voice had rendered her immobile, and she had no time to regain herself and respond before the yelling started. Most of what he had said went in one ear and out the other; she was far too stunned by his reaction for it to sink in. The promises of devotion to her, the reiteration that in over ten years his mind had never wandered, the preaching of how no one on the planet could ever compare to her; none of it seemed to matter with the questions he bellowed.
Would you like to compare me to that poor excuse of an ex-husband in another way? Do you have a plan to kill me next? Diana had only felt betrayed in that moment, negating his reverent monologue. How could he yell something so personal, something she had told him in confidence, for anyone to hear? The way he had tugged on her arm following that, pulling her close to look down into her eyes – luminescence never subsiding – didn’t make her feel nearly as small as what he had spat next. When did you become so insecure?
He had a point. He didn’t have to yell at her, or say it like that, but he had a point. When did she fall back into this behaviour? It had been decades since she needed reassurance from anyone. But this wasn’t for admiration or for her work and abilities to be recognised, it was… different. She had never questioned this before, even when that bastard had slept around for months before she had found out. She had never felt undesirable.
Diana hadn’t heard the water stop, too lost in thought to even notice, but the sound of Wesker’s feet padding across the floor seemed to pull her back to the present. Her breath caught in her throat when the mattress dipped behind her under his weight, and the small tap of his glasses when he placed them down on the nightstand made her heart feel like it was going to break its way out from under her rib cage.
She heard him shift to lie down, getting more comfortable, and her vision clouded once more. He didn’t even lean over to press a kiss into her hair or wrap an arm around her waist. Like most nights these days. Though that was a rather foolish thing to wish for at the minute.
Then he finally spoke up. “When are you leaving?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late, a tear had already escaped and rolled down her cheek, catching behind the angle of her jaw.
“Tomorrow,” Diana replied, then she cleared her throat as quietly as she could to rid the rasp in her voice. “I spoke with Alex this morning and she could use some help around the island.”
Wesker glared at the door to their room opposite the bed, trying to focus on anything other than the way the knife twisted in his heart. The fact that she had spoken to Alex about taking some time away before ever discussing it with him made him… not angry per se, but it almost felt like a betrayal in and of itself.
He couldn’t believe her. After everything they had been through together, everything he had done for her, he couldn’t understand where she got this foolish idea in her head that he was cheating on her with that irritant. It went against everything he had ever said to her, every way he had worshipped her. Surely he hadn’t done something without his knowledge to make her feel this way.
Rolling onto his back, Wesker ran his hands down his face. He shouldn’t have yelled at her. Why did he yell at her? They have always spoken about their issues, explained how one of them had upset the other, then they’d apologise and move on. Why did he yell? What had he even said to her? All he could remember was red. Everything had been red.
“Diana.”
Silence.
The thumping of her heart was overwhelming his senses, and for a moment he thought she might actually be scared of him. She had never been scared of him. The pit in his stomach only grew at that, and he clawed through the mess that were his memories to try and remember what had even happened. He couldn’t lose her because of this nonsense. He couldn’t lose her.
Wesker moved over to her side of the bed, suddenly feeling the need to hold her, and he pressed his chest to her back and wrapped an arm around her waist. But the way she tensed up against him felt like a punch in the gut. She used to love being held like this, craved it even, and he couldn’t imagine her not wanting his comfort. Perhaps it had simply been too long since he’d done it.
“Talk to me, dear,” he whispered near her ear, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up on end. Then Diana felt the press of his lips behind her ear, then to the side of her neck, then at her nape. “I’m sorry.”
He needed to stop whispering that in between his fleeting kisses across her shoulders and back, because she wasn’t that far off from kicking him right where she could guarantee it would hurt. He should be glad she hadn’t elbowed him and perhaps cracked a rib or two the moment he had moved closer towards her.
“Stop it,” Diana finally muttered.
Wesker immediately paused in leaving a trail of kisses down her spine and propped himself up on one forearm, his other hand reaching for her cheek as he hovered over her. She turned in his arms, rolling onto her back to look up at him, but that was all she did, golden eyes scanning over his features.
Diana’s heart sank once she saw the pained expression on his face; what she had caused. She wished she could swallow her pride and apologise to him for being so selfish, doubting his loyalty to her because of her own issues. She believed she deserved it then if the hand on her cheek decided to travel lower to close around her throat. He could easily snap it in one fluid motion, or perhaps he would like to crush her trachea instead, just to watch her struggle as her body realised it was being deprived of oxygen.
His hand moved higher instead, fingertips gently brushing her hair away from her face, then Wesker leaned in and rested his forehead against hers, taking her by surprise; she had no doubt her eyes had gone comically wide at that.
“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, his hot breath warming her skin, before he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I haven’t said it enough, but I do, I love you.”
Diana almost rolled her eyes at that. The last thing she needed was for him to pity her and shower her in affection. Her hand came between them before she pushed on his chest, making him pull back, and she took note of the look of… desperation in his eyes and the way his brows were knit together. His thought process suddenly dawned on her then.
“I’m not leaving you, Al, I just need time to think,” she said while holding his gaze, one of her hands hesitating at her side as she itched to reach up and cup his cheek, but she refrained from doing so. “So please, stop doing… this.”
Wesker visibly relaxed above her, his features softening and the tension in his shoulders seeming to melt away, but his eyes remained locked on hers. She felt awfully exposed beneath him like this, and the way he was shifting to lie more comfortably against her, his warm body pressing against her side with one of his knees settling between her own, it didn’t help at all. Diana cursed the way her gaze drifted down to his lips. 
He wasn’t getting a kiss tonight.
She wished he wasn’t even lying this close to her, but something within her wanted to cling to him and revel in his warmth, savouring every touch as though that was somehow a measure of her worth.
He opened his mouth to speak but Diana already knew what he was going to say, and she cut him off, “I don’t want to talk about it until I get back.”
“We always talk.” He searched her eyes as he slowly traced a line down the side of her neck then across the length of one of her sharp collarbones. “Help me understand why this is any different.”
“Because it’s not about you,” Diana snapped, and the way his eyes widened slightly only mirrored the shock she felt at herself for how the words had unintentionally left her lips. “It’s…” She looked away from him then, but once she felt his hand find her own beneath the covers, his fingers lacing with hers, she sighed. “You haven’t done anything to make me question your fidelity.”
“I obviously have, dear, or you would not have accused me of doing such a thing.” Wesker squeezed her hand, brushing his thumb over the back of it.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Diana only muttered in response.
“Okay,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “But I must know if you’re having doubts about us.”
Diana slowly met his gaze and it really hit her then how much she had hurt him with all of this nonsense. Why the looks he’d given her or the yelling hadn’t, she had no idea, perhaps because she was far too preoccupied with her damaged pride to really consider how her accusation must have made him feel.
She scratched the tail end of one of her brows then let out a short exhale through her nose in way of a weak chuckle.
“I think we are spending too much time working in the lab, together, and it’s making us… at each other’s throats for no reason.” Wesker wanted to interrupt her and tell her that he’d never thought that way, that whenever they disagreed on a method he valued her input, even if her questioning irritated him at times. “We’ve been bickering too much over little things; could use a reset, I suppose. But no. I need to figure this”—she gestured vaguely at the side of her head—“out.”
“And I cannot help?” Wesker raised a curious brow, accompanied by the slight tilt of his head as his eyes slowly wandered over her face.
Diana pushed him away from her side with ease then, something she would have struggled pathetically to do before she transcended humanity. She pointed towards his side of the bed in some attempt to establish some distance between them, only until she sorted out whatever this insecurity was that had her turning their time apart from one another into some notion that he thought her abhorrent or something of the like, but that arrogant smirk on his face was testing her something fierce.
“On my own,” she added to her past statement, rather dramatically at that, a treacherous smile threatening to pull on her lips. He only chuckled in response, sending a knowing glance her way, and she did actually kick him then.
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“So,” Alex began as she walked over to the large leather couch with a cup of tea in each hand, “what did my dear brother do this time?”
The term of endearment said in such a mocking tone drew a chuckle from Diana, and she watched as the uncanny resemblance of her husband placed the two teacups down on the table before she sat beside her, crossing one leg over the other.
It was odd to Diana, finding out that Spencer had stolen hundreds of children from families all across the globe, and yet the idea that Albert and Alex were twins could never quite leave her mind. They looked too similar for that not to be the case, they had the same birthday – though that could have also been a lie – and he had never questioned their relations. Surely tests would have revealed to him that they weren’t biologically related. They have to be.
The question she had asked, on the other hand, was not something Diana wished to think too much on at the moment. “It’s nothing, just a small spat is all.”
Alex hummed, though she knew for a fact that the younger woman was lying. Usually she was quite good at that, but the way she failed to hide the corners of her lips pulling into a frown and how she turned her head away to look off into the distance deceived her none. What really fascinated Alex was that she could’ve sworn she had seen her eyes start to water.
“Diana?” She lightly tapped her foot against Diana’s shin, and the other woman looked down at her lap for a second before turning back to her.
“We’re fine.” The small, forced smile she sent Alex’s way did little to convince her, and Alex almost laughed in response. “Simply taking some time apart, too much arguing with work.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed at that and she tilted her head to the side. “You two do not argue.”
“Yes, well, we don’t yell either,” Diana countered, far more harshly than she had meant to.
Touchy, Alex thought to herself. However, the statement did take her by surprise. She had never seen them fight, or even disagree much for that matter, though she knew when they had misunderstandings they were resolved through discussion, not something as childish as yelling at one another. What have you done, brother?
Diana absent-mindedly waved a hand in a dismissive gesture before scoffing. “It doesn’t help how much I was reflecting on the trip over here.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” The blonde tried to keep her tone plain, but she couldn’t help the hint of curiosity that shone through her words.
Perhaps she hadn’t checked in with Albert enough if his mental state was affecting his relationship this much. He had always struggled to form long-lasting bonds, save for a few exceptions, and Alex quite liked the little viper – she had once joked he better treat her well or she might just have to steal her for herself – so it would be quite a shame if this fell apart, and she had no idea what that would do to him. Although she knew it wouldn’t be a pretty sight, judging by how hard only a few months dalliance had hit him.
Thirteen years down the drain, she mused. Their long gazes and sweet smiles that she often called “disgusting” were more tolerable than whatever this was.
“I don’t know what’s happened to him,” Diana whispered, voice trembling like Alex had never heard before.
She paused in reaching out to pick up her cup of tea and simply stared at Diana. She was looking down at her lap, toying with the hem of her skirt. Trying to keep herself preoccupied so as to not cry, Alex supposed. Then she caught sight of the tear rolling down her cheek and that made her sigh, a bit too loudly.
“Do not cry, I have never seen you cry.” Her words were stiff, almost mechanical, and it made Diana laugh as her hands came up to roughly wipe at her cheeks.
The sound of Alex shifting next to her reached her before she felt hands settle on either side of her face, lifting her head so that she was looking up at her. Alex’s thumbs brushed over Diana’s cheeks, only once, while cold blue eyes wandered over her face, seeming to inspect her as she tried to calm her heart.
Alex nodded with a slight smile. “That’s better.” She dropped her hands when she was satisfied that Diana wasn’t going to make some display and start sobbing – though that was unlikely – then she sat back. “Now, what do you mean?”
Diana took a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t know when the plans changed.”
That was peculiar. Alex was under the impression they had begun working on Uroboros to bring about a new age, to create a new world order much like that decrepit old man had intended, where there would be no place for the foolish masses, but she was quite curious by what these original plans must have been.
She didn’t have to wait long because Diana only continued, “In the beginning, it was never about this… wish to remake the world, it was…” She trailed off with this look of utter disgust on her face, like she had trod on something and it had stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
“What was it?”
“To stabilise the mutant strain within him and you, for starters, but whatever happened to our goal of immortality? Though, I suppose he already had that, and I was weighing him down more than anything…” Diana looked down at her lap again, chewing on her bottom lip before she shook her head. “We were to be gods in our own right, having these abilities that others could only dream of.” A weak chuckle spilled from her lips then. “We used to laugh at those who weren’t as smart as us, they were like a source of entertainment at times”—the small smile faded from her lips—“but now it only seems like he is intent on driving some… mass extinction event.”
Alex’s jaw suddenly clenched at that, accompanied by a sharp inhale, however, that only made it as far as the bubble at the base of her throat, her body not ready for such a sudden reaction. Swallowing did nothing to facilitate its journey, only aggravating the irritation, and the air came right back out in the form of a rather violent cough.
Diana’s head snapped to look over at Alex before her eyes darted around the room, looking for her bag as the woman next to her dissolved into another one of her coughing fits. Then she remembered she usually kept what she needed on her at all times. When Diana moved closer to reach for her blazer pocket, Alex held up a hand to warn her off and did it herself, roughly pulling her inhaler out with her other hand before she took a few puffs, breathing slowly and putting her hand on the armrest to steady herself.
“This damned illness…” she muttered to herself, but she had no doubt Diana heard her with those now heightened senses of hers. It was getting worse, but she had work to do, and she wasn’t going to spend her days lying around doing nothing. Rest only made her feel worse.
Diana reached over towards the table and picked up Alex’s cup of tea, hoping it may ease her throat some. She carefully handed it to her, and Alex gave her a small smile with a slight nod of her head, patting her hand once she’d taken the cup from her. Diana had no idea what else to do besides that, and she simply sat there, wondering if she should continue with their previous topic, or simply drink her tea and abandon it completely.
Alex watched Diana as she took another sip, taking in the sight of the object of her brother’s affection. Obsession is more accurate, she thought to herself. She was a rather clueless thing when it came to assisting others, but Alex appreciated the gesture, nonetheless.
Her eyes wandered over her then; the golden eyes that were once blue weren’t nearly as jarring to her as her sinewy arms for some reason, despite those vertical slit pupils. They weren’t necessarily muscular, simply defined more than anything, but her veins seemed far more prominent than she remembered. It was an odd sight; Diana never really had much tone, her arms used to look quite similar to her own thin ones actually, so this was perhaps a sight that would take some time for her to get used to.
It still amused her that Diana had injected herself with Uroboros on a whim, almost giving poor Albert a heart attack; the dosage was far more than her slight body could handle, and yet here she was, sitting right in front of Alex. She supposed it was only fair though, seeing as he had done the same thing to her ten years ago. Made for each other, those two.
That made her mind drift back to what Diana had said before. They were all working towards that same goal, the greatest power man could ever wish to achieve: immortality. However, she was unaware of this unnecessarily destructive behaviour Diana had spouted. It seemed like pure nonsense, but she supposed she couldn’t write it off completely. He had always been quite extreme in his methods, sure, though he knew you must control those who are lesser than you, use fear to your advantage; that is the most powerful motivator, after all, but omnicide… That was rather imaginative of him.
“It is a foolish plan,” Alex said, and Diana’s head snapped to look at her. “Albert is going to get himself killed.”
Diana let out an exhale in place of a laugh, nodding in agreement as she settled back against the couch. “He has been making many errors.” She rested her head on the top of the backrest. “He’s so… full of hatred, become so obsessed with this ideal, that he’s not—”
Alex’s eyes narrowed at the way she cut herself off. She wanted to hear this train of thought though. “What?”
He's not thinking clearly. He’s only digging himself into an early grave, and he wants to take everyone down with him. But she didn’t dare say that.
“He’s being reckless more often, and I don’t care much for it,” Diana said in a low voice, as though she didn’t really want anyone to hear what she was saying. “And this plan. I don’t understand his motive, I suppose. Perhaps Spencer still has total control over him, even after death.”
“Have you said this to him?” Alex asked as she sat up straight, quickly placing her cup of tea back down onto the coaster.
“Gods, no. We fought over an accusation I made regarding us, not work—”
“Good. You will not mention this, Diana.” Alex cut her off, and the moment Diana opened her mouth to speak once more, she beat her to it. “No, this is an unreasonable train of thought. ‘Of his own volition…he turned and shunned the world,’ just as the world did to us when we vanished as children. How do you think he would feel if he knew you were questioning his actions as simply an extension of that idiot?”
Diana’s eyes went wide at that. “That’s not what I—”
“Is it not?” Alex asked, her voice a touch louder than before and her tone resolute as she tilted her head to the side. Her piercing gaze cut right through Diana, but she didn’t avert her own eyes. “We are taking advantage of the resources he supplied us, continuing his research for our own purposes. If you believe that we were ever loyal—”
“Alex, that is not what I’m saying!” Diana abruptly stood up and clasped her hands behind her head as she began to pace.
The frustration in her voice was more at herself rather than Alex; she had always had trouble articulating what she was feeling and after the last few days, nothing seemed to be making much sense anymore. She shouldn’t have said anything at all.
The plan was almost in its final stage anyway, there was no point in worrying about such things, especially not when she knew she wouldn’t be able to convince Albert otherwise; it would only come off as though she was “against” him. But she was concerned. Even though it wouldn’t change their rate of survival when she had already adapted, and he would as well, it was simply that she wasn’t sure if this was something he really wanted, or if it was Spencer’s influence on him that was driving him to do this.
“Diana.” Alex’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts and Diana turned around to look at her once more, only to be met with a tired looking smile. “This world needs changing, surely you can see that.” She stood up from the couch and walked over to where Diana was standing by the windows. “And although I must admit, there are better methods, Albert is not in the wrong.”
Diana sighed, looking out at the elevator in the centre of the Monument, before she nodded. There was no use in fighting over this. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am. But perhaps you need some rest, yes?” Alex’s eyes wandered over Diana’s face for a moment, taking in how distressed she looked. The topic of whatever she and Albert had argued over was still intriguing to her, but now was not the time. “Come, I will show you to your room.”
She began walking towards the door, turning her head to look back at Diana as a cue for her to follow, and that’s exactly what she did once she retrieved her bag, their cups of tea forgotten and left for someone else to clean up. Alex opened the door and held it open for her before locking it behind them.
“How long will you be staying?” she asked as they began walking down the stairs, the sound of both of their heels resounding off the high walls and seemingly endless ceiling of the Monument.
“I’m not sure yet.” Diana gave her a small smile, but it was only met with a raised brow and narrowed eyes, though the expression passed almost as soon as it appeared as Alex shook her head once.
“Well, no matter. It will be nice to have you around. I would like your opinion on the trials with the new batch of guinea pigs,” Alex said, the smile on her lips rather wicked, and the glint in her eyes shouldn’t have intrigued Diana.
‘The animal wrests the whip from its master and whips itself in order to become master, not knowing that this is only a fantasy produced by a new knot in the master’s whiplash.’ — Franz Kafka
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inkskinned · 18 days
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before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.
you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"
and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.
it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.
you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.
in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.
the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.
you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.
after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.
the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.
you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.
#warm up#writeblr#this is also about being ace btw#my identity has slowly shifted over time and maybe if everyone is REAL cool i'll talk bout it#bc it's complicated and nuanced. but this is like#trying to warn u that if you find it “relationship upkeep” to have sex with ur partner#and don't actually enjoy it or seek it for urself. u might just not be attracted to them.#which is fine ! ace ppl can be perfectly happy in any relationship they feel good in!#but also i wasn't as straight as i had expected!#> the first time i saw dick i was like. huh. oh okay that's fine i guess#> the first time i saw pussy i was like. WAIT ACTUALLY HANG ON I GET IT#i just assumed sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be ya know#but also like. btw? this IS NOT saying ''u might be gay not ace''#bc tbh i'm grey ace/demisexual#it's saying u might not be into ur partner. explore urself & ur feelings. turn inward.#TAKE THIS IN THE MANNER IT WAS MEANT> GENTLE AND KIND#AND NOT IN A WEIRD INTERNET WAY PLEASE#bc the truth is that there ARE ppl who are gay who assume that they just ''don't like'' sex#and ace ppl who might need a different partner w/different needs#and i would have REALLY needed to hear ''check in w/urself about if u actually like sex''#WAY EARILIER in my life. but nobody said anything bc they assume if ur having sex. u like it.#not just the actual act of sex. not once ur turned on. do you ACTUALLY like it. or is it a burden?#even if ur gay. check w/urself. maybe ur more ace than u realized. in which case. ADDITIONAL FLAG BB#i love collecting my flags. i'm at like 354 at this point#but also btw this is about how toxic relationships are SO normalized that u can be in one#and have everyone around u being like ''THATS JUST MEN LOL''
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mvybanks · 1 year
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Could you do a JJ one where you're John B's little sister and you guys get in a fight and JJ stands up for you? BTW I love your stuff I've read like every fic!
the one where jj protects you from your brother (jj x routledge!reader)
a/n: omg thank you????? i’m smiling like an idiot here, i’m so glad you love my fics!!🫶🏻 btw i loved this request, jj x routledge!reader is my favorite concept. hope you like it!! (i kinda got carried away, sorry)
warnings: yelling, mentions of abuse, cat calling, groping
pt 2 -> the one where jj protects you from your brother pt. 2
my masterlist
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when jj arrives at the chateau he doesn’t expect to hear his best friend john b yelling so loud he can hear him from outside. john b never gets mad, he thinks, and more importantly, who could he be yelling at?
but when he sees you being at the receiving end of your brother’s anger, he steps in quickly and throws an arm in front of you instinctively.
“hey, HEY! what the hell is going on here?”
unfortunately, he knows how it feels like to be in your place and although he’s sure that your brother would never lay a hand on you, his instinct tells him to protect you with everything he’s got.
you didn’t mean to, of course you didn’t, no sane person would let themselves be fired from a job that pays well when you’re already in a difficult economic situation, but when your boss made a vile comment about you while groping your behind, you saw red. you took the lukewarm coffee that was sitting in the jug of the coffee machine next to you and threw it in his face.
he fired you immediately which leads you to your current position. you didn’t tell john b why your boss fired you but just that he had and that’s why he’s mad.
“you’re being childish and irresponsible!”
he yelled at you when you told him, yet he didn’t know the truth. he’s been yelling at you for at least the past twenty minutes, telling you to go back and beg him for your job back. but you won’t, not for a million dollars.
when jj stepped in front of you, you felt relieved to hear someone else’s voice other than your brother’s. however, as soon as he sees the tears in your eyes, you swear you can see smoke coming out of his ears.
“jj, this is none of your business, get out!”
you almost want to plead for him to stay but you know you don’t have to from the look in his eyes.
“it’s my damn business if you’re making her cry, john b. can you stop yelling at her for a second? let her speak!”
“good luck with that! she won’t talk to me! she gets fired from a job that was saving us and letting her keep only one job instead of three and she won’t tell me what the fuck she did to get fired!”
jj turns to you and his anger dissipates as soon as his eyes land on you. he wraps his arm around your shoulders and kisses your head, hoping to calm you down.
“you wanna tell me what happened, sweetheart?”
you let your head fall on his chest and finally let yourself cry. he holds you close, wrapping his other arm around your waist and you can’t see the way he looks at your brother while you hide your face but it’s one of the most intense death stares he’s ever given to anyone. he doesn’t know that your tears were not caused by your brother but by the old and disgusting man that is, luckily, no longer your boss.
you understand where john b is coming from, hell, you would be mad at him too if the roles were reversed, but you can’t tell him what happened because he’s your big brother and god knows what he would do if he found out. you just don’t want him to get in trouble.
jj strokes your back, bringing you some sort of comfort, then gently takes your face in his hands and looks you in the eyes as he gets rid of your never-ending tears with his thumbs.
concern is written all over his features and when his eyes widen slightly you know he’s got you all figured out. he’s always been able to understand you with just one look and you love him and hate him for it.
“you’re not crying because of john b, are you?”
you only shake your head and look back to your brother who’s starting to get worried and feel guilty at getting so mad at you.
“tell me what happened, sweetheart.”
and you know you can’t resist him especially when he talks to you with so much love laced in his soft voice.
“my boss, h—he said some things…about me and then he grabbed my ass.”
if you thought that the look jj had given to john b before was bad, this one means only one thing: murder. you can see your brother clenching his jaw and you’re scared of what they might do.
“what did he say?” you notice how much jj is trying to hold himself back while he asks you the question.
“he said that it was a shame i don’t ‘give it up’ as easy as other girls do around my age because he was ‘dying’ to see me naked”
“john b, grab the keys”
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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months
Text
DC x DP: Magic Older Brother
It happens the day of his high school graduation because Casper High is cursed, and the curse personally targets Danny. Danny doesn't care what anyone says. He will die on that hill.
The school is cursed, which is why he turned into a halfa in his freshmen year, throwing his life into chaos all throughout sophomore and junior year, and now that he was finally leaving it, this happens.
An attack by a ghost he has never seen or met before. She calls herself "Lady Gotham," and her name doesn't hint at her power or obsession, unlike other ghosts.
He finds it rather rude of her to burst the graduation ceremony just as they called his name.
Danny knew he could take her- she felt more like a city spirit than a ghost, which means she was terribly weak against Phantom- but with so many witnesses, he hadn't been able to transform. Instead, he was blasted with black tar paste that reverted him to the age of ten, and while he stumbled on tiny legs, she took him and threw him into a portal.
He had attempted to shift into his ghost side as soon as he landed, but something was anchoring his core. It felt like he had been hit with the Plasmius Maximus- his powers were out of reach.
He would not be able to take her in a fight after all.
Thankfully, she had been distracted by his parents attempting to rescue him, so she got trapped on the other side of the portal. Still, he felt it would be safer to get as far away from the random field she kidnapped him to before she could return.
So he was running in an unknown storm, to an unknown location from an unknown city spirit instead of having his graduation party with his friends and eating cake.
"Casper High just couldn't give up even on the last day," Danny grumbles while running through the pouring rain of a terrible storm, trying to see through the water and the howling wind. He was drenched head to toe in the water, and he could feel even his bones shaking. He hasn't been this cold since the day his Ice core materialized.
Up ahead, he spots a building. Praying they will take pity on him, he pushes himself to go faster until he's at the door, banging on it with his tiny fists.
"Is someone there? I need help!" He yells as the wind picks up again, almost throwing Danny off balance. "Open the door, please!"
The door cracks open, and one tiny blue eye peeks up at him briefly before it swings open. "Come in! Hurry!"
Danny doesn't need to be told twice as he all but throws himself into the giant building, away from what he is starting to suspect is a hurricane. He turns around to find a little boy- he couldn't be older than nine- struggling with closing the garage door. Danny is quick to help him, and together, after tucking and grunting, they get it shut.
"Thanks," Danny says trying to gather his breath. He glances around, startled to see he's in a big fancy house that reeks of money, maybe more than Vlad or Sam. It is also deadly silent and bare as if someone only attempted to make it look lived-in but forgot to get humans.
"Don't mention it." The kid says almost under his breath. Danny would think of him as shy if the boy wasn't staring at him without so much as blinking.
Kind of creepy.
"Are you here because of my poster?" The kid asks, and Danny has no idea what he's talking about, but he's not about to make the creepy kid angry.
"Sure am."
The boy beams. "This is the first time anyone has responded! Come this way. I have everything in the main ballroom!"
Danny follows eyes taking in all the tasteful decor of various cultures and the complete lack of any other person present. After getting stranded, he found a mansion tucked away from human contact in search of shelter. Strange how that has happened to him twice
The boy leads him to two large double doors which he proudly opens up with a loud "Ta-da!"
Inside the ballroom are rows and rows of bed cots, blankets, and pillows. On one side of the room are tables with water bottles, bowls of snacks, and even little goodie bags. There are board games on a nearby table and clothes folded neatly in various sizes. Next to the tables are piles of teddy bears.
It looks like a movie set of a makeshift shelter that could easily fit a hundred people. Again there is no one else but them. Double creepy.
The boy skips between the first two cots, gesturing to the room. "You're the first one here, so you can first pick! I have board games, food, and clothes for you to burrow at the front if you want! I'm sure we'll have more people soon if you come!"
Danny offers the kids a weak smile. "Thanks."
"You're welcome! I'll go wait for everyone at the door. You make yourself comfortable."
While Danny cautiously explores, the kid races back to wait at the door for who knows who. The first thing he does is change into a warm set of clothes- picking a grey set of sweat pants and long sleeve that fits his tiny limbs. He grabs a water bottle and a bag of chips before his eyes land on a pile of brightly colored posters, likely forgotten on the table.
Strom Shelter for free at Drak Mansion
Everyone Welcome!
Sleeping, clothes, food and entertainment are provided!
Kids are invited to Tim Drake's birthday party on the same night!
Doors open at 5pm.
Oh gosh. Oh no.
He looks around the completely empty room and, for the first time, notices a small corner with a very sad "Happy Birthday" banner and a few party hats. At the edge of the table sits a folded half-sheet cake with a lopsided candle in the shape of a nine.
Above that little corner is a large clock that reads ten o'clock.
He puts his things down on a random cot, carefully returning to the front door where the little boy- he assumes Tim Drake- is waiting. He's leaning back and forth on his feet, and Danny can barely pick up his soft words.
"It's okay; they're all just really late. One person came this time so more could be on their way! Don't be sad, Tim. Things are looking up!"
Bless his heart.
Danny tries to reach for his ghost powers and grins when his ice core responds. He glances back at the little boy before he slips into the ballroom. He quickly re-decorates the party corner using his ice, making it look like actual decorations.
He even goes out of his way to open bottles of colored juices- he doubts anyone would drink them- and freezes the liquid so it adds a bit of color to the room. He's left with a winter wonderland with ice sculptures of animals- kids like animals, right?- and he gathers a birthday boy.
"Hey, Tim?"
The kid hurries to his side. "Yes? Did you need something?"
"Yeah, I need the birthday boy to cut his cake!"
Danny strong-arms the kid into the room and is delighted by the absolute happiness that blooms over the boy's face once he sees the room. "Wow! Did you do this?"
"Sure did, kid."
"Are you a wizard like Harry Potter?" The boy asks, and Danny has no idea who that is, but he nods anyway. Maybe it's this world's version of Santa Claus? Who is he to deny the kid's sense of wonder.
"Don't tell anyone." He says with a wink.
"But-But- but I'm a muggle!" The boy cries, suddenly horrified. Danny wonders if that's a slur, and if so, he won't allow him to use it to describe himself with it. "You'll get in trouble for using magic before me!"
"Why?"
"Cause muggles can't know about magic unless they are family! They'll throw you in Azkaban!"
Ugh, okay, he can work with that. "Well, I guess this makes us brothers, doesn't it?"
Tim's eyes practically pop right out of his skull. "Really?!
"Yeah, I'll be your big brother. My name is Danny and we can do something you always wanted to do for your birthday. How does that sound?"
"We can do....anything?"
"It depends on what you want to do, as long as it's legal and safe."
"Will.....you read me a bedtime story? I always wanted to know what that's like."
Danny's heart shatters. "Sure of course. What book do you want to read?"
Tim's face goes slightly pink. "The new Harry Potter book just came out. The goblet of fire? Can we read that?"
Oh, so Harry Potter is a book series! "Sure, Tim. Let's cut the cake and then we can pick a cot to pile blankets on to snuggle down and read."
Danny had never seen a kid look so happy in his life "Okay!"
Later, as Tim is tucked into the crook of his neck and shoulder, fast asleep after the exciting chapter of Harry Potter outflying a dragon Danny is visited by Lady Gotham.
It is only because Tim is too comfortable that he doesn't start swinging at her. She explains Tim's life and the obvious neglect before she bends down until her forehead touches the ground and begs Danny to care for him in her stead.
By morning, the Drakes suddenly acquire a new family member, and no one notices how he appeared overnight, but he's in the system, and no one can fault the documents. Lady Gotham made them herself.
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angelfic · 23 days
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— I MISS YOU, I’M SORRY.
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pairing: theodore nott x reader
summary: you haven’t seen theo seen he supposedly left you to join the other side. now that he’s back and has revealed his true intentions to you, you’re finding it hard to be forgiving.
warnings: swearing, kissing, tiniest bit of angst, very unedited. not much else other than a whole load of waffle… my bad
author’s note: this is a sort of fix-it fic… kinda. yes I am very much stealing the essence (you could say) from marauders fics because I prefer writing those and yes it’s basically this drabble recycled and yes grimmauld place is still the order headquarters well into the war just don’t question my timeline and you’ll be fine ok ty enjoy xoxo
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12 Grimmauld place feels unsettling at the best of times, what with the portrait of Walburga Black hurling insults at you every time her curtain slips open and the row of shrunken house-elf heads mounted on the wall. The Order of the Phoenix holding hushed up meetings in the dining room while you and your friends are forced to stay upstairs isn’t anything new or surprising, but the last few days feel different.
Instead of Mrs Weasley telling members of the Order to whisper when you, her kids and Harry and Hermione are in the room, she flaps about ordering them to stop talking altogether. At first you think you’re imagining it when her eyes flick over to you every time, until you bring it up to Ginny and Hermione.
���You’re not imagining it,” Hermione mutters as she shuts the door of the bedroom and casts a quick Muffliato charm before settling cross legged on the bed opposite you and Ginny. “I overheard Mrs Weasley and Tonks in the kitchen this morning, talking about how the Order is arranging transport for some Death Eater spies to come back here.”
You gasp, pretending to be scandalised. “You mean you were evesdropping. That’s not very prefect-y of you.” Ginny snorts at Hermione’s indignant glare and you can’t help cracking a smile at the way her cheeks have slightly reddened. “Sorry, sorry, you know I’m kidding. But what’s that got to do with her looking at me like I’ve gone through a personal tragedy?”
“Your ex-boyfriend did leave you to go join the Death Eaters,” Ginny points out. Hermione gapes at her, but Ginny merely throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, he did! No point beating around the bush!”
A lump rises in your throat at the mention of Theodore. Truth be told, you’ve tried not to think about what happened since the last time you spoke about him. ‘Spoke’ being a strong word since it was mostly crying and sniffling and blowing your nose into tissue after tissue in Ginny’s room at the Burrow. Mrs Weasley had made your favourite dinner that night and brought you up a hot chocolate to make you feel better. And it really had- so much so that you refused to speak about him since.
You’re more angry than you are sad now, which makes you nod at Ginny’s words. “You’re right. He’s an arsehole, there’s no point in tip-toeing around it for my sake.” Hermione frowns a little, worry clear as day on her face, but you don’t stop talking. “Besides, we’re on opposite sides and this is a war happening. Not some silly, childish break-up. He chose to be a Death Eater and if we have to fight him, so be it.”
Hermione and Ginny stay quiet for a few seconds and watch you breathe heavily. Thankfully, before either of them can speak, Harry and Ron come bursting into the room.
“They’ve only gone and brought Death Eaters into the bloody building!” Ron shakes his head.
Harry snorts at Ron’s dramatics. “Ex-Death Eaters. Apparently. Still a bit dodgy, in fairness.”
“I thought they were spies,” you say, unable to help your curiosity as you stand up. Ginny and Hermione follow you out of the room as you all peak over the bannister to try and get a glimpse of the action downstairs. Annoyingly, there only seem to be a couple of dishevelled looking Order members milling around.
“Maybe Mrs Weasley and Tonks got it mixed up, or maybe they aren’t privy to what’s going on…” Hermione frowns, deep in thought. “I don’t think anyone but Dumbledore knows what’s actually going on.”
Harry makes an irritated sound. “What’s new?”
“Oh, by the way, Mum sent us up to get you lot for dinner,” Ron says absentmindedly as he tries to get a good look over your shoulder at whatever is happening in the hall downstairs. “Mind you, that was before all the Death Eater business so she’ll probably send us right back up.”
The five of you quickly shuffle downstairs to get to the dining room and while your stomach is growling loud enough to forget any thoughts of Order business, Ron and Harry linger in the hall a little in an attempt to get some answers. You don’t doubt Harry will get some, being the Chosen One and all.
You nudge and elbow your way into the dining room where you’re happily surprised to see a messy-haired Tonks yawning over a bowl of soup. She smiles sleepily when she spots the three of you.
“Hi, girls,” she mumbles through a yawn. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. I keep falling asleep in my soup. Good thing it’s mushroom.” She points to her newly platinum blonde hair that matches the contents of her bowl.
“Why’re you so tired?” Hermione asks as she ladles some soup into bowls for you, Ginny and herself. Her voice is quiet as not to attract attention from Mrs Weasley with her questioning. “Is it to do with tonight’s, uh, Order business?”
“Yep.”
Tonks looks as though she’s about to drift off and Ginny seems to jump at the opportunity to gather information.
“So, what are their names?” She gets straight to the point, glaring at you when you choke on your soup a little, not expecting her to be so blunt.
You and Hermione stop eating and wait with bated breath for Tonks to refuse to answer. She merely yawns again, before talking. “You’ll meet them soon enough.”
“Meet them?” you ask, unable to help yourself. “Aren’t they… uh, you know… dangerous?”
“Dumbledore doesn’t seem to think so,” Tonks says, shrugging. You grow a little frustrated at this, since Dumbledore isn’t exactly known for having straightforward plans. While you know his intentions are good, someone he thinks is safe could very well be the opposite. While you ponder this, Tonks’ next words quickly turn your irritation into shock. “The others were understandably quite wary, what with one of them being You-Know-Who’s son and everything, but…”
You feel a ringing in your ear and every word coming from Tonks may as well be directed to her mushroom soup because you aren’t listening anymore. You-Know-Who’s son. You haven’t seen Mattheo since term ended, and even then it was only from a distance. You hadn’t spoken to him since Theo revealed his Dark Mark to you and you’d since avoided his entire friend group like the plague. If Mattheo is in the building, you can only hope and pray that Theodore isn’t with him.
Vaguely aware of someone shaking you by the shoulder, you snap out of your thoughts. “Who else is with Mattheo?” you ask Tonks, your voice sounding rough to your own ears. She blinks through her sleepiness, slightly startled awake by your unwavering eye contact. “Voldemort’s son. Who’s with him? What do they look like?”
You’re so focused on getting an answer from Tonks, and Hermione and Ginny are clearly on the same page as you now since they’re both silent and waiting for a response, that none of you notice Mrs Weasley entering the dining room.
“Tonks, is he blonde or-?”
“Enough!” Mrs Weasley interrupts you hastily, making everyone jump. She sounds panicked, but the look she throws Tonks is stern, like a warning to keep silent. When she turns back to you however, her eyes soften and her voice is gentle, albeit with a hint of annoyance. “I asked Dumbledore not to bring them here while everyone was awake. I didn’t want you all upset again, dear. Look, you can have your dinner upstairs, I’ll bring it up to you!”
You’re grateful for her concern, but it’s a little hard to feel anything other than the pit in your stomach since she’s just confirmed what you were dreading.
Ginny speaks up first, angry on your behalf. “Mum, she deserves to know if that awful git is in the same house as her! I say she ought to go and deck him in the face.”
“Ginny!” Hermione looks at her in exasperation as Mrs Weasley gasps, horrified. “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help anyone.”
“You’re right,” you mumble, getting up from your seat.
Hermione lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness.”
“I should go and deck him in the face.”
Hermione’s sputtering falls to deaf ears as you abruptly leave your seat to go out into the hall, the scraping of chairs behind you indicating that everyone is following closely.
Realistically, you have no plans to actually hit Theodore. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever successfully landed a punch before in your life. This doesn’t stop you charging into the hallway and elbowing your way through the huddle of Order members to get to the door they seem to be crowded around.
Kingsley Shacklebolt is the last of them to stumble out of your way, clearly too surprised by your sudden presence to continue guarding the door. You raise a shaky hand to the doorknob and hesitate for a second, suddenly nervous. Kingsley takes this moment to snap out of his surprise and redirects his attentions to what you’re about to do next.
“My dear, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to-”
“Kingsley, do you have any idea why I’m standing here?” you say curtly, cutting him off.
He throws a quick glance at Mrs Weasley, almost as if it’s by reflex. Clearly she’s told more people than Dumbledore to keep word of Theodore far from you. “I, uhm, I may have heard a thing or two…”
“Right, so are you going to stop me entering this room, then?” you ask boldly. Your voice catches slightly on the end of your sentence and Kingsley falters a little.
“Well, really I should-“ he begins, eyes darting to your own slightly teary ones. He sighs. “No, I’m not. Just try not to hex the boy.”
He steps out of your way and you finally barge into room, the door swinging open as you stay lingering near the entrance. The room is just as dingy as the rest of the house, lit up by some candles dotted around the room
You first see Professor McGonagall getting up abruptly from her chair where she was previously sat next to a standing Dumbledore. He merely peers at you over his half moon spectacles and raises his eyebrows.
You suddenly feel a little silly, and rude for barging in like that. “Sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I-“
You stop talking when see movement on the other side of the room from the corner of your eye. Just as Tonks had said, Mattheo Riddle, son of Lord Voldemort is standing right there, flanked by Lorenzo Berkshire… and Theodore. Your mouth goes dry.
As soon as you catch his eye, he smiles broadly at you. You don’t return the gesture, taking his appearance in instead. He’s thinner than the last time you saw him. No visible injuries, but he’s definitely seen better days. His dirty blonde hair is overgrown and unruly as it falls into his eyes which, despite brightening up at your presence, are tired.
You keep your expression as impassive as you can, slightly angry with yourself at the twinge of concern you feel. It was all well and good interrupting whatever meeting was happening in here before you came in, but now that you’re here… you have no idea what to do or say.
Theo’s smile falters when you continue to stand there with clenched fists and a stony face and you’re tempted to just run out of the room when Dumbledore clears his throat.
“Well,” your Headmaster says pleasantly, as though you were all engaged in polite conversation rather than a strained silence. “This reunion was certainly a little earlier than anticipated, but I suppose that can’t be helped. I think we ought to give Mr Nott and Miss Y/L/N a moment alone.”
“Uh, can’t we stay in here too?” Lorenzo asks with a nervous chuckle, eyes darting to the watchful crowd standing right outside the door. You can’t blame him for wary, being an ex-Death Eater in a house full of Order members.
Mattheo nods, throwing an arm around Theodore’s shoulder, ignoring the glare he receives. “Yeah. These two won’t mind a bit of company. Right?” he asks you cheerfully. You blink at him.
“Relax, Berkshire,” Professor McGonagall says, rolling her eyes at the way Lorenzo has inched further into the room. She snaps her fingers to get them moving out the door. “Nobody is going to hex you, you silly boy.”
“Can’t say the same for Theo,” Mattheo mutters as he walks past you and follows everyone out, shutting the door.
You don’t really have any choice but to look at Theo now. He tries a smile again, despite the fact you’re not returning it and he takes a step towards you.
You immediately step back.
Theo flinches ever so slightly, his eyes unable to hide that he’s hurt.
Good, you think viciously.
Sighing, he looks at you imploringly like he wants to say something, but can’t find the words. “You’re angry with me,” he settles on muttering, his voice quiet in the dark room.
You let out a derisive laugh. “Angry? You worked that out, huh? Death-Eater’s didn’t completely addle your brain then, did they?”
“Darling, please let me explain,” Theo pleads, taking another few steps towards you.
Rather than stepping back, you whip out your wand and point it right at him. He doesn’t back away, merely raising his hands in surrender and arching an eyebrow as if to ask you if you’re serious. This angers you further.
“Do not call me darling,” you hiss, raising your wand further. Theo doesn’t react, as though he knows you’d never actually use magic to hurt him. Your hand trembles with the weight of the realisation that no, you wouldn’t hurt him. That you’ve actually been more worried that becoming a Death Eater would get him hurt than him betraying you. He left you with nothing but a cold goodbye and you still can’t help caring.
Feeling stupid, and a little bit pathetic, you drop your hand to your side and allow him to continue standing before you as he lowers his hands. You grit your teeth and cross your arms. “Explain.”
Theo lets out a relieved breath. “I never wanted to leave you,” he says, and you immediately roll your eyes. “I- no, look at me. I didn’t.”
“That doesn’t explain the fact that you did,” you deadpan, turning away to leave. Theo quickly reaches out to grasp both of your arms and gently turns you towards him.
You stiffen at the first physical contact you’ve had with him in months, your body betraying you and erupting goosebumps all over your arms in spite of your anger.
“I lied about it to protect you,” he whispers, peering at you through the strands of hair that are stubbornly falling into his eyes from weeks of neglect. Theo looks slightly pained and you recognise his expression to mean that he’s desperately trying to phrase his next words correctly. His eyes flick over to your right arm. No. To his left wrist, where you know his Dark Mark to be. “You can ask Dumbledore if you don’t believe me… Me and the others only ever took the Mark so we’d be able to spy on The D- on him.”
The relief hits you like a freight train and lightens your heavy chest all in one go. You hadn’t just felt betrayed by your boyfriend leaving you all those months ago. You had felt dread at the possibility of him joining a Pureblood supremacist’s cult. Dread at the idea that the views he’d shared with you were all lies and that he was a completely difference person to the one you loved.
Despite the relief, the sting of the breakup still lingers with you.
“That meant you had to be a prick when you left me?” you ask, voice shaking against your will. His eyes soften.
“Yes,” he says weakly. “How else could I have left you without worrying that… that he could use you against me if he found me out? I never wanted to take the Mark and it killed me when I saw the look on your face.”
Your scowl, trying your best to distract Theodore from the fact that your vision has gone blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. By the look on his face, you doubt you’re doing a very good job. “Do you really think I would have cared about a fucking tattoo, if you had just told me the truth?”
“No, I know,” Theo sighs, absentmindedly drawing closer to you. “I’ll explain anything you want, but the work we did was too close to The Dark Lord to risk telling anyone about at the time. Dumbledore made me, Mattheo and Enzo swear not to say anything. It was safer that way.”
“Did you make an Unbreakable Vow?” you whisper, stiller than ever.
Theo furrows his brows. “No, but-”
You pull away from him abruptly and back away to the door, ignoring the way his hands reach out in an attempt to hold your arms again. “Then I hope the information you got for Dumbledore was worth it.”
You don’t look back at him, nor do you check to see if anyone is in the hallway as you run upstairs and into your room, slamming the door shut as you lean against it, breathing heavily. You stay there for a while, reeling from your anger and irritation at the fact you still have to stay in this bloody house while Theodore’s in it.
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The next few days are confusing to say the least. Theo doesn’t seem to have any plans to avoid you, but he respects your space.
Sort of.
He isn’t badgering you every second of the day, but somehow whichever room you’re in, he finds himself in as well. Whenever you try and reach for something, even if it’s not on a particularly high shelf, or particularly far away, Theo beats you to it, ever the gentleman.
It’s starting to unnerve you a little.
One particular afternoon, you walk into the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea in peace. At the table sits Theo, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. When he spots you, he sits up straighter and you dawdle stupidly at the entrance.
Before you can snap out of it and remember what you came in here for, Theo gets up and walks over to the mugs. “Tea?” he asks politely, and, you think, a little hopefully.
“Will you make it and let me drink it alone?” you ask bluntly.
“I’ll make it and sit with you in silence,” he offers, undeterred despite your coldness.
Narrowing your eyes, you glance at the clock and sigh. It’s too early in the morning to put off having your tea, so you allow it. “Fine. Milk and-”
“Two sugars,” he cuts you off with an annoyingly smug smile. “I remember.”
You poke your cheek with your tongue, but stay silent as he turns his attentions to the kettle. Theo’s face quickly falls when he realises he has no idea how to use it. Your impassive expression almost cracks and you have to bite back a laugh as he examines the thing. Walking over to the counter, you drag the kettle so that it’s closer to you. And so you don’t have to be as close to Theo, but that’s besides the point.
“It’s already filled with water, you just need to flip the switch so it starts boiling,” you explain, pointing to the little part. Theo places his cigarette in between his lips as he furrows his brows, clearly skeptical of the muggle contraption. You suppose you can’t blame him since you, Hermione and Harry have had to explain the kettle to countless members of the Order since it was introduced to the house a few months ago.
You still don’t know where the plug socket is and considering the fact that Grimmauld Place has never inhabited muggles, you aren’t going to bother asking.
When Theo flicks the switch and sees the light turn red, a satisfied smile graces his lips where the cigarette still hangs. You look away from his mouth very quickly and go to sit down. Unable to leave without making things awkward, you decide the only thing to do is watch Theo make two cups of tea. He doesn’t need instruction since he knows exactly how you like it, but something catches in your throat when he uses a green mug. Your favourite colour.
The only sound in the kitchen is the clink of the spoon swirling in the cups and Theo soon brings both cups over with an incredibly concentrated frown to make sure there’s no spillages as he sets one down on the table. The other he hands to you himself and you have to clench your jaw when you grab it, your own hands brushing against his, which he doesn’t seem to be in a rush to move away.
“Thanks,” you mutter, trying to use the burning heat of the mug against your skin to distract from the fact that you have tingles.
“S’alright,” he replies, a barely restrained grin on his face. You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of the mug as you sip your tea.
Damn, you think to yourself. Why is it always so good when he makes it?
The two of you settle into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you drink your tea and he smokes. The puffs are very carefully directed away from you, but you can’t help wrinkling your nose out of habit. Back when you were still together, you were always firm about him cutting down and now you have to restrain yourself from reaching over and plucking the cigarette out of his lips to throw it away like you used to do with ease. He never objected.
Theo notices your looks all the same, and it’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts. He raises a brow, almost daring you to remove the cigarette yourself. “You want me to stop?”
“I don’t care,” you say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. Shrugging, you try your hardest not to react to his obvious bait, but it’s like a bloody reflex. “It’s your lungs on the line, not mine. If you want to lose five years off your life, then by all means, go ahead. I really couldn’t care-”
“As you wish,” he interrupts you, grinning like an idiot again. The next thing you know, he’s putting out the cigarette, and sipping his tea instead. He doesn’t even like tea.
“I didn’t say you had to stop,” you grumble, slightly pleased nonetheless.
He merely hums, taking a gulp of his tea. You accidentally let out a snort of laughter when he grimaces at the taste. Theo’s lips quirk up in amusement when you laugh, unrestrained and it’s only when you catch him staring at you that you quickly stop.
The smug expression on his face quickly returns as though he knows you’re finding it hard to be fully angry at him.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you snap, drawing your knees up on your chair towards your chin. “You look stupid. And your hair is too long.”
Theo huffs out a surprised laugh. “My hair is too long?” he asks incredulously, reaching up to tug a piece down so it reaches the bottom of his nose. “Hm, you’re right. You cut it pretty good that one time. Would you do it again for me?”
“Mrs Weasley is better at it,” you say, chin jutting out stubbornly. “I’m sure she’d be delighted if you just ask.”
“The way she looks at me, I’d be lucky to get away with my head still attached to my body,” he drawls, wholly unimpressed by your suggestion. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I’m not done being angry with you yet,” you reply simply, draining the contents of your mug. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me anywhere near your head with a pair of scissors either.”
Theo nods slowly, a smile gracing his lips— strange, since you just threatened physical violence. “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re not going to be angry with me forever.”
“I- Well, I didn’t mean-” you stutter pointlessly, cutting yourself off with a sigh. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early for this, leave me alone.”
“That was the first cigarette I’ve had since before I left,” Theo says quietly, searching your face for a reaction, almost nervously.
You aren’t quite sure how to respond to this random piece of information and you find yourself floundering. “Uhm. Okay, good. That’s… Yeah, that’s great for you and your lungs, well done. Saves money too. They were actually, uh, saying on the news the other day that the average amount people spend on-”
“Darling, as much as I appreciate it, that’s not what I’m getting at,” he interrupts, the ghost of a smirk at his lips. You scowl at him for letting you go on for so long and motion for him to get to the bloody point. “Every time I brought a cigarette to my lips, I remembered you weren’t going to be there to nag me about it. It just feels pointless now.”
You stare at him. “Nice to know that my nagging was what you remembered me by.”
“That’s not-” Theo cuts himself off with a laugh that sounds halfway to a groan. “Merlin, you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
You open your mouth to respond, but before you can get a word out, Harry walks in which you find odd considering it’s so early in the morning and him and Ron are usually only out of bed when Mrs Weasley yells them down for breakfast.
“Morning,” he says through a yawn. The greeting is directed at you, but he sends an expectant look at Theo right after. “Time to leave, Nott.
“Leave for where?” you ask before you can help yourself. You realise with a start that Harry and Theo are dressed and ready while you’re still in your pyjamas. “Where do you have to go?”
“Horcrux hunting,” Harry says flippantly, as though he’s just announced he’s going fishing. Hermione had filled you in on the information Theo and the others had ascertained from their time with Voldemort, but you didn’t even consider them or Harry would actually be going with the Order to find them. “Nott and the others know more than we do, so they’re coming with.”
You level a look at Theo, who seems to be pointedly avoiding eye contact with you. “Thanks for sharing that tiny tidbit of information, by the way,” you mutter sourly.
He winces, getting up slowly from his chair. “It, uh, didn’t seem that important. It’s only a quick little task anyway. We’ll be back before you know it.”
“I’m not stupid,” you scoff, standing up so you can attempt to look a little more dignified as you confront Theo. Harry, on the other hand, looks as though he regrets his decision to enter the kitchen in the first place. Despite this, you hadn’t missed the way he furrowed his brows when Theo spoke. “Even if Harry wasn’t looking at you like you were speaking gibberish, I would know that you’re lying. It’s a Horcrux you’re leaving to get. Not the weekly food shop.”
Harry snickers at this, though quickly turns it into a cough when Theo sends him a withering glare. Sighing, you decide to ignore him for the moment and turn to Harry instead
“Be safe,” you say, gentler than before. “And don’t be a hero, just try and get out of there safely.”
“Pfft,” Harry waves you off, a sarcastic tone entering his voice. “When have you known me to do that?”
You roll your eyes, cracking a smile as he walks away, supposedly to find the rest of the group.
“Don’t I get a ‘be safe’ as well?” Theo tries for a casual, joking voice. A hint of irritation seeps through it though. You shift on your feet a little awkwardly, slightly flustered at his obvious jealousy.
“Uhm, okay. Bye,” you say stiffly, fiddling with the loose string of your cardigan sleeve so you have something to do with your hands other than ball them up at your sides. Theo seems to be satisfied with the curt response, or more likely your lack of insults, and he nods, turning away to leave. As you watch him walk away, a familiar sense of anxiety bubbles up in your stomach and you blurt out the only thing you can think of. “Don’t die!”
He slowly turns around, very clearly holding back a grin. You think you might thump the boy. “Will you forgive me if I come back alive?”
“Well,” you huff, crossing your arms. As petty as it may be, you’ve always found it hard to loosen a grudge. You settle for a shrug instead. “Come back alive first and then I’ll see.”
Theo takes two steps forward and closes the short distance that was previously allowing you to keep a cool- well, cool-ish, head. He keeps both arms behind his back, however, as he dips his head down slightly.
“My sweet, stubborn girl,” Theo says in a low voice. His proximity flounders you for a moment and you don’t even protest that no, you’re not his anything. The way your breathing turns shallow would be contradicting that greatly though. “I’ll try my best. And if I don’t come back alive, I promise you can yell at my ghost.”
You scowl, and this time you actually do thump him on the arm. “You’re not funny, you idiot. Now, go. I can already hear Mattheo irritating the patience out of Harry.”
Theo gives you a little two-fingered salute and a wink before he walks away again, leaving you alone with a funny feeling in settling in your stomach.
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You aren’t the only one who sits anxiously in the living room waiting for the group to return with the infamous Horcrux. Ron has eaten his way through three bowls of cereal and rapidly makes a start on his fourth while Hermione tries to distract herself with reading a book that she hasn’t noticed is upside down.
After another hour goes by, Ginny, who was previously pacing up and down the stairs, sighs and turns Hermione’s book the right way up which startles her, causing her to give up altogether.
You sit cross-legged and completely still, other than switching your legs every time one of them goes numb. Eventually, you get so sick of watching Mrs Weasley mop over the same spot on the floor for the fifth time that you jump up from your seat, causing her to start and knock over the bucket of dirty mop water all over the floor.
“Oh, dear,” she mutters, waving her wand and siphoning all the water up in a second.
“Sorry, Mrs Weasley,” you say, wincing. “I’m just a little stressed since it’s been ages already-”
You get cut off by Hermione gasping at the sound of the front door opening along with voices. She grips your arm tightly. “They’re back!”
Barely registering the pain of her nails digging into the skin of your arm, you waste no time in running into the hall with the others to greet everyone at the door. You can’t help the relieved smile on your face when you do a quick head count and find everyone present.
As you get closer, you see how exhausted they look. Not to mention the fact they’re dripping water all over the rug. Harry stands at the front of the group looking like he might collapse if he stands any longer and Hermione and Ron pick up on this as they rush over to help him inside.
As they stumble him across the hall, you stop craning your neck as Theo comes into view. The relief you previously felt leaves you faster than your body knows how to deal with and you have to force yourself to breathe when you take in the state of him.
At first glance he doesn’t look particularly worse than the rest. They all have a vaguely haunted look in their eyes along with a sickly pallor like they haven’t seen the sun in days.
But the way Mattheo and Lorenzo are holding him up brings attention to the fact that all of his weight is being put on one leg. The other, to your horror, has a deep, bloody gash trailing down his thigh and onto his calf. The sight of blood steadily dripping onto the floor below has you frozen, almost mesmerised in a terrible way, and it’s not until Dumbledore speaks that you snap out of it and to attention.
“Miss Y/L/N, if you could please fetch Madam Pomfrey for me,” Dumbledore asks, his voice a lot calmer than you feel. You nod, turning away quickly before Theo can see the panic which is probably clear as day on your face.
It takes a scary second to find Madam Pomfrey, but as soon as you do, she gets down to business preparing her supplies in the living room which is as far as Theo seems to be able to make it.
He lays on the sofa, breathing shallowly as Madam Pomfrey crouches down beside him to begin assessing the wound. Peering at it closely, she looks up at Dumbledore sharply. “Inferi?”
“I’m afraid so,” he replies solemnly and you let out a choked sort of whimper.
“Merlin,” Ron whispers, looking like he might be sick. Whether that’s because Madam Pomfrey is cleaning Theo’s leg, or because of the mention of Inferi, you aren’t sure. “What the hell were you guys doing?”
“All will be explained, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore reassures him, looking over his spectacles. “However, I must insist that for now we allow dear Madam Pomfrey to tend to Mr Nott’s injuries.”
“Will you be able to heal him?” Mattheo asks, swallowing hard. The concern in his voice for his best friend has your heart clenching and you look to Madam Pomfrey just as earnestly for an answer.
“Yes, I dare say I can,” Madam Pomfrey says grimly, but she pulls out a couple little bottle of potions from her bag with a frown. “That doesn’t mean it won’t be extremely painful, unfortunately.”
“Can’t imagine what pain feels like,” Theo mumbles, shifting his position on the sofa slightly and wincing. His face goes whiter than before and he shuts his eyes tightly from the pain, but he still manages to talk, however hard it may be. “Not like I’ve just had Inferi mistaking my leg for their lunch.”
“No talking and no moving,” Madam Pomfrey instructs Theo, sending him a stern glare.
“Sorry-”
“Shhh!” you hiss, giving him a glare of your own. Theo’s eyes flutter open slightly and his lips quirk up when he sees you leaning over him as close as you can get without Madam Pomfrey shooing you away.
His smile quickly drops when Madam Pomfrey pours some purple liquid into the open wound, causing it to hiss and smoke. The groan that leaves Theo has you holding your breath and you fight the urge to shut your eyes and turn away.
“Merlin, I can’t watch,” Lorenzo gags, his skin turning even sicklier than before. Turning away, he holds onto Mattheo’s shoulder to steady himself, the latter looking more interested than anything as he peers at Theo’s sizzling cut. Lorenzo shakes his head and holds a hand over his mouth every time he can hear Madam Pomfrey pouring more of the potion. “Oh, God, that’s disgusting.”
“Mr Berkshire, if you are unable to watch, then don’t,” Madam Pomfrey snaps, screwing the bottle shut and grabbing another one. She waves her hand in an impatient shooing motion. “In fact, everyone out. Now! This isn’t a Quidditch match, for heaven’s sake!”
Dumbledore starts filing everyone out and you consider staying for a minute but Madam Pomfrey’s raised eyebrows have you hurtling out of the room with everyone else. Theo starts to say something, but a drop of something else makes him grit his teeth and the green smoke produced by the potion follows you out the door.
The next hour or so is filled with Harry, Mattheo and Lorenzo being fussed over by Mrs Weasley, who insists on them going up to bed once they’ve cleaned up and changed into dry clothing. Unfortunately for the rest of you, this means you won’t be getting an update any time soon. Dumbledore is, as always these days, nowhere to be seen.
“I wonder if they found the Horcrux,” you say under your breath to Hermione as she anxiously taps her foot against the kitchen floor.
“They did,” she says grimly, glancing impatiently at the clock. She has her thinking face on, brows furrowed and gaze distant. “It was in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Harry quickly told me before Mrs Weasley sent them off. I wonder when they’ll wake up though… They didn’t look too happy, and I have a feeling it wasn’t all to do with Nott.”
You nod slowly, a weight lifting off your chest despite the last part. If, after all this, they hadn’t retrieved the Horcrux, you think you’d probably have gone to the bloody cave yourself.
“Theodore’s resting now, anyway,” Hermione adds, giving you a quick glance as though she’s waiting for a reaction. You keep your face as impassive as you can, attempting a casual nod. “Madam Pomfrey says he’s healing nicely and his leg will be fine. It’ll just be a bit sore for a few days. I’m sure he’s awake if you want to go see him.”
“I might,” you mumble, shrugging. You try to sound flippant, but the urge to clamber out of your seat probably shows because Hermione rolls her eyes at you.
“Oh, why don’t you just put him out of his misery?” she asks, her words coming out at the speed of light, like she’s been wanting to say it for a while. You blink at her in shock. Sighing, she leans over the table and her tone becomes gentle. “I know he lied to you, and you should be angry with him for that! But… well, it’s been a really awkward few days with him asking us where you are every second of the day. And, technically, he was never really a Death Eater, he was helping our side!”
Hermione takes a deep breath and exhales, slumping back in her seat as she waits for your reaction. You try not to laugh. “How long have you been holding that one in?”
“Since the second he turned up here,” she says, sagely. “Now, don’t change the subject! Go and see him. Go on, off you go!”
You stand up, swiftly dodging Hermione’s flapping hands to try and rush you out the door. “Okay, I’m going. It’s probably about time anyway,” you grumble, a fond smile creeping up on you nonetheless.
Looking satisfied, Hermione stops trying to usher you out and you make your way over to the living room again. The door is open and you sigh with relief when you notice the room is empty, bar Theo who’s in the same position as he was the last time you saw him. His eyes are shut and you wonder if he’s sleeping until you step on a creaky floorboard and he cracks one eye open.
“Hey,” you say quietly, tip-toeing into the room to perch on the coffee table adjacent to the sofa. “Did I wake you?”
“Nah,” Theo replies, moving to sit up as much as he can. You suspect he’d have the same answer even if he was asleep. He looks a lot more awake than he did before and you feel your chest squeeze tightly when you realise how glad you are. Theo seems to notice this and he reaches over to hold one of your hands, detaching it from the way you grasp them both together. “I promised you I’d come back alive, didn’t I?”
You snort, shaking your head at his ability to be so chipper. “Alive and dripping blood all over the carpet. You know if Kreacher finds out it was you, he’ll murder you in your sleep, right?”
“It doesn’t count if I die now,” Theo protests, frowning as if you’re talking about a serious possibility and not joking. “Deal was you’d forgive me if I came back alive after finding the Horcrux, remember?”
“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think deeply about it as he rubs circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. It causes you to momentarily lose your focus. “What I remember saying is that I would think about it.”
Theo shakes his head, a look of mock concern overtaking his features. “I think the stress of my injury has gotten to your memory… What I remember is you vowing to forgive me the moment I stepped foot in this place.”
“I think Madam Pomfrey’s painkillers are getting to you,” you say drily, moving to kneel on the floor next to him.
“She didn’t use any,” Theo grumbles, looking mournfully at the bandages on his leg. “She’s really sadistic, I’m telling you.”
You laugh, ducking your head so you aren’t flustered by the way Theo’s eyes focus on your smile with a grin of his own.
“You know what she told me would help with the pain?” Theo asks quietly, his enviously long eyelashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looks down at you, almost nervously.
“Let me guess,” you say, sitting up so the distance between your faces is much shorter now. “A kiss to make it all better?”
“Healer’s orders,” he says, shrugging. His breathing quickens when you don’t move away and he swallows hard, eyes dropping lower to your mouth when you bite your lip to stop from cracking a smile. “I’m not saying you have to, but if you’re okay with going directly against her orders, then-”
You cut him off by pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and he inhales sharply, unmoving for a split second before parting his lips and deepening the kiss. Theo’s hands move to your waist where he uses his remaining strength to hoist you up onto the sofa next him, one of your legs thrown over his waist as you half-straddle him.
You gasp into his mouth when he nips at your bottom lip and the sound he makes in the back of his throat has your cheeks warming up and you kiss him harder. The fact it’s been so long since you’ve even been near him has you both kissing for what feels like hours and you only pull away when you need to breathe and you’re worried you’re leaning on Theo’s leg.
Pulling away, you scan Theo’s face and pause for a second to take in his beautiful features. His eyes are blown wide like he can’t believe he’s here with you, kissing you. A warm feeling starting in your stomach spreads all the way down to the tips of your fingers as he looks at you.
“Any other very important requests from the Healer?” you ask breathlessly, feeling a shiver run down your spine where Theo lightly skims his fingers. A dangerous smile overtakes his face and his lips, pink and swollen from kissing you, curve up, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.
“I think she mentioned something about a sponge bath?”
You whack his arm and he yelps, grabbing your wrist to stop you assaulting him further. “Hey, I’m an injured patient!”
“Your leg is injured, not your arm.”
“It is now,” he says, pouting as he rubs dramatically at his bicep where you lightly thumped him. He grumbles when you roll your eyes and press another kiss to his lips to get him to stop pouting. “You’re lucky I love you.”
“Hm,” you hum, settling your face in his chest and sighing at the warmth of his arms, feeling him smile against your forehead where he kisses you.
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© angelfic 2023.
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rboooks · 10 months
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Child Support Part 2
Tim watched the other young heroes as they tried to look around the watch tower without seeming like they were. He's been here plenty of times, but the rest of the Teen Titans and a few of the Young Justice hasn't.
Much was due to the older heroes leaving the younger ones alone. Some not taking them seriously enough to welcome them at the big HQ as much as that made his blood boil.
They were taking the same risks. They were fighting the same good fights. Why was their age the main reason they weren't treated equally?
Some teenage heroes weren't part of a team per see, but they always answered when a call was sent. For example, Cass and Steph were present, speaking softly to Static Shock. Damian was standing next to Jon and his little friend Colin who was just getting into the swing of the hero business.
Bruce almost bit through his tongue when Damian told him Abuse would be joining Robin on parol, and he could do nothing to stop them. (Tim felt like he was watching Damian tell Bruce a paraphrased version of "But Daddy, I love him!" and it kept him smiling for weeks)
It was wild to see almost every young hero in one place. He doesn't think this happened since the last time Justice Leauge got mind controlled and almost destroyed the whole world.
"Any idea why we're here?" Kon asks to his right, lowering his shade to stare at the Outlaws. Jason's team stood to the side chatting iddly while cleaning over thier weapons.
Kon's always like their punk point of view, and he knows his best friend wants to go over there to talk to them. If it wasn't for the issue of the clone still being mad about what Jason did at the Teen Titans tower. Almost murder was hard to forgive for people outside the Bats.
"None. All I know is that John Constantine sent out a message to every teenage superhero group calling for a meet-up," Tim responds.
Bart whistles with a grimace on his right. "Must be bad if that guy is asking."
"I heard Hawkwoman tell Superman that she was worried and wasn't sure she wanted anyone of us mixed up in Constantine's mistakes." Cassie chimes in from where she leans on the couch. The three turn to her as she lowers her voice, attempting to keep the others from hearing. "Batman told her off for it."
"Batman did?" Tim asks, surprised.
Cassie shrugs, throwing a bit of her blond hair over her shoulder. "As much Batman can emote anyway."
Yeah, that sounded about right. Though it must have been something Bruce found disrespectful. His dad usually never reprimanded strangers unless they were saying something or doing something that sounded far too much like bigotry to him.
But to apply that to Constantine? Someone, Bruce generally disliked communicating with because the man tended to backstab his contacts? Yes, Constantine wasn't evil, but he wasn't pleasant either.
If Bruce had magical issues, he tended to contact Zatanna first.
Just then, the watch tower's zeta beams activate. Everyone who gathered turns to the teleporting pads where Constantine appears looking, for lack of a better word, absolutely exhausted. Even Tim knows that his eye bags aren't that bad, and he's usually going hours without sleep.
"Oh good, you all made it," Constantine says, sipping from a mug and wearing nothing but sweatpants and what looks like a nightgown. His signature trench coat was nowhere in sight. "I'm going to be quick about this. I need a team of young heroes willing to accept my son into their fold."
The room is dead silent. Constantine sighs. "Look, I've tried everything, but it's like Danny is allergic to laying low. He fought with a demon the other day over a child's doll- which you all know happens. People get haunted! But Danny refused to do it the right way, and now I had to beat off the demon's marriage proposal at least ten times. Not to mention his lack of social skills! No matter which one I stick him in, he can't seem to make friends in school. He got shoved into a locker on his first day! I thought that was an American exaggeration of the telly!"
Constantine pauses and takes a large gulp of whatever he's drinking before continuing his rant. A hand runs through his already messy hair, leaving it in bigger disarray as he speaks. "He's behind in terms of trends and technology cause his other father raised him outside of the typical timelines, so sometimes it's like talking to someone from the early two thousand, and other times it's like he's a modern Victorian era lad. His powers are also all over the place because the ectoplasm in our world is thicker, so when he breathes it in, he losses his control. Just the other day he accidentally made himself fly through our ceiling and almost reach the atmosphere before I was able to bring him back down."
A few of the fliers in the room wince. Jon nods and whispers under his breath, though his voice carries in the silence. "Yeah, been there before. Flying can be scary if you don't know how to come down."
Johns glances around at all the young people, eyes showing a tad bit of desperation. "He's sad all the time now, and I don't know how to help. If working with you could help him make friends, I would be grateful. He's a great kid. He just needs to adjust."
Tim had no idea what to do with this information; how do you respond to arguably one of the strongest Justice League Darks' heroes asking for a play date for his son?
"How old is the child?" Damian's voice rings out. Colin's hand is attached to his sleeve, a slightly nervous smile on the boy's face as he attempts to hide from the staring heroes behind his brother. Tim bets that if he wasn't wearing the domino mask, they would be able to see slight tears in Colin's eyes.
Damian's other hand goes across his body to cover Colin's hand, and Tim fights a shit-eating grin. His eyes lock with Jason, and the two send each other knowing grins. Looks like Bruce did have to worry about Damian having a secret boyfriend.
He can't wait to tease Damian later.
"He's fourteen....or well, physically?" Constantine answers eagerly.
"What does that mean?" Kon asks this time.
"Okay, so he's half human, half ecto-being. He sired him with his other father, Clockwork, which was only four years ago in this dimension, but since he was raised in the Infinite Relemas, times move differently there? " The British man says, and Raven goes rigid.
"Clockwork, as in the most powerful Ancient?" She asks, looking horror-struck when Constantine nods.
Before anyone asked what that meant, the zeta tubes activated again without permission. Someone had hacked into their systems which were ten levels bad. Everyone naturally fell into a fighting stance, only to blink when a teenage boy stepped out with a loud excited screech.
"We're in space!" The teenager runs to one of the windows, pressing his hands and face up against the glass. "This is amazing!"
Tim only relaxes his muscles once Constantine clears his throat. "Chum...what are you doing here?"
"Oh. One of your curse rocks things started proposing to me again, so I ran out of the House of Mysteries. Thought I see what you were up to." The teenager says, turning around with a smile and utterly freezing at the sight of the gathered heroes.
He had dark hair, wide blue eyes, and the most adorable face Tim had ever seen. Not as sexy as Bernard, of course, but darn close. Judging by the looks of anyone attractive to males, most heroes thought the same.
"Um...hi?" He says, offering the Godsmack teenagers a helpless little shrug. "I'm Danny Constantine."
"It is a pleasure, Constantine." Damian marches over to him with all his little twelve-year-old authority. He barely reaches Danny's chest. "I shall look forward to working with you. Are you formally trained in combat or strictly magic?"
"Um...oh, I can throw a punch or two? I'm mostly self taught. I rely on my powers a lot?" Danny fumbles to answer throwing a desperate look at his presumed father.
"No matter. I shall have you begin training. My Beloved also needs to work on his form. There is no shame in this" Damian nods, and Constantine lets out a large sigh of relief. He jogs over to place a hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a one-sided hug
"Yes, Danny, you will join Robin, Superboy, and Abuse on missions. They agree to help you settle and get used to your ghost powers." Constantine smiles. "I'll give me time to discourage all those idiots from trying to trick you into marriage."
"Oh...okay. It's nice to meet you all. Please call me Phantom on the field. Um, are you the team leader?" He asks Damian as the three youngest boys lead him further into the watch tower.
Constantine watches them go with the brightest smile he's ever seen on the man's face. He looks back to the group, who were barely starting to pick their jaws off the floor and makes a shooing motion with his hand. "You lot are dismissed."
Then the man vanishes in a green portal.
There is a ringing silence until Barts blurts out. "I'm pretty sure this is where the Phantom Fan Club first formed. A historical moment."
Tim wants to take a nap.
( Part 1 )
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lixzey · 4 days
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lovelorn
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luke castellan x daughter of apollo!reader
word count: 7004 words
summary: you and luke have been friends since the day the two of you met. you've had a crush on him since the two of you were fourteen; needless to say, he doesn't know about your feelings.
warnings?:  unrequited love, oblivious luke, jealousy, falling for your best friend, reader writes songs and plays guitar, reader lowkey hating the girl luke likes, faking, heartbreak, reader is friends with everyone and juniper the dryad, use of nicknames between reader and luke (melody and charming), swearing, will loves his sister!!, platonic chris rodriguez x reader, platonic clarisse la rue x reader, and platonic silena beauregard x reader (chris calls her sunshine, clar calls reader sunny, while silena calls her love), mention of fainting and dehydration.
a/n: take note of every little thing in this first part, because i laid clues for what's gonna happen in part two.
August by Taylor Swift is the song she sings during the camp fire.
ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR.
You smiled as you watched your best friend teach your younger siblings how to wield swords, which was futile, as children of Apollo tend to be better at archery than sword fighting. 
But Luke was patient with your siblings, which always made you smile. Maybe it was from experience. Having a cabin full of mischievous kids tends to give experience in being patient with hyperactive children.
You were sure you could stare at him forever. Bright brown eyes full of mischief paired with a contagious, kind smile.
“Y/n, are you listening?” Dawn snapped her fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your daze. “You’re staring at Luke again, gods, you are hopeless.”
“I wasn’t staring, Dawn,” You rolled your eyes, turning your full attention to your younger sister. “Now, what were you saying?”
“You were, you ain’t fooling me,” Dawn teased, a smirk on her lips as she leaned back against the hard stone walls of the arena. “Anyway, are we singing at the campfire tonight?”
You scowled at your younger sister, your gaze landing back onto Luke. “You’re annoying, you know that?”
“I know, but I’m still the best sibling you got,” Dawn grinned cheekily. “So, are we singing or not? Or are you just going to ogle at Luke the whole day?”
Your cheeks started to heat up, like being kissed by the sun in the early morning. “We’re going to sing, happy now?” you grumbled, averting your eyes away from the senior counselor of the Hermes cabin. 
Dawn smiled triumphantly, rising to her feet. “I think I’m going to join Lee and Michael,”
You raised a brow at her. “You’re shit with a sword.”
“Yeah, but it’s better than watching you hopelessly be in love with him,” Dawn jerked her head in Luke's direction. “Frankly, it’s nauseating.”
“Shut up,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes. 
Dawn snickered, starting to walk away. “I’ll leave you alone to daydream of Luke sweeping you off of your feet, leading you up the stairwell-”
“Shut up!” You snapped at your sister, who was still snickering.
“Is everything okay?” A voice you know oh so well spoke behind Dawn.
“Oh, it's nothing,” You quickly said before Dawn got another idea to embarrass you. “Dawn was just going to train with Lee and Michael. Right, Dawn?” You say through gritted teeth, making your sister chuckle.
“Yeah, I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” And with that, Dawn finally left, golden hair dancing in the wind.
“You okay, melody?” Luke asks, sitting beside you, concern etched on his handsome face.
“Yeah, I’m alright.” You smiled, trying to look genuine despite wanting to kiss him and run your fingers through his curls like it’s the end of the world. 
You never wanted to be in love with your best friend. You knew the consequences of it—thanks to your friends from cabin ten's constant reminders, but your stupid heart just wouldn't listen.
You've known Luke since the night he and Annabeth arrived at camp when you were fourteen. You'd been assigned by Chiron and Mr. D to tend to Luke and Annabeth’s wounds and bruises, being the head of cabin seven and the best healer camp has to offer and all.
Luke was charming, you had to give him that, charmed you into letting him attend training one first day despite not being healed properly yet. And then, half an hour later after he left the infirmary, one of your siblings brought him in—one of his wounds that you patched up, bleeding and was unconscious after insisting that he was okay minutes ago. Annoyed, you put him on bed rest. When he woke up hours later, he insisted to be let go—wanting to prove he can be better than that Ares kid he sparred with.
“Come on, doc, I’m okay now!” Luke raised his arm, but winced at the pain beneath his underarm. “See?”
“You are going to lay in that bed and you are going to rest. Doctor’s orders.” You simply said, humming a song as you checked his wounds for any infection.
“But-” 
“One more word out of you, and I’ll curse you with bubonic plague.” You said, stuffing a cube of ambrosia in his mouth, smiling sweetly at him.
Luke chuckled, raising his hands up—wincing through it—in defeat. “Alright, doctor melody.”
“What?” you asked, brow raised in confusion. “Melody?”
“You’ve been humming, you know, while fixing me and Annabeth up last night. And you did it again, just seconds ago.” Luke explained with a small smile. “Aren't the children of Apollo good at music too? Like, singing? Since he’s the god of music and all.”
“Yeah, he is,” You smiled, reaching to hold the sun shaped locket dangling from your neck. “Apollo, god of the sun, archery, art, music, poetry and a shit ton more.”
“Can you sing for me, melody?” Luke grinned, sitting up. “C’mon, it’ll make me feel better, promise.”
“I’m not gonna get out of this, am I?” You ask, laughing softly.
Luke shook his head. “I’m stubborn, I’ll just ask you again and again, so you might as well do it now, melody.”
You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “Aren’t you just charming,”
“I’m waiting, doc,” Luke teased. “I can’t wait for an eternity like the gods.”
You shook your head, a giggle escaping your lips. “Fine, fine, but do you promise to rest your stubborn ass for the night?”
Luke nodded. “Yes, ma’am!”
“Okay, here goes nothing,” You muttered, taking a deep breath. “And they called it puppy love. Oh I guess they'll never know.
How a young heart really feels and why I love him so…”
Luke started clapping his hands. “Damn, melody, that was amazing!”
“Oh, shush,” You waved a hand dismissively, feeling your cheeks heat up like the sun, as if your dad kissed you on the cheek. “I’m not that good.”
Luke raised a brow. “And I thought Apollo was the god of truth,”
“I am telling the truth,” You insisted, folding your arms over your chest.
“Whatever you say, melody.”
From then on, you and Luke have been friends. Never one without the other, the two of you made it a pact. 
“Michael and Lee are getting better with swords,” Luke commented as the two of you watched your younger siblings.
“Better?” You snorted, tying your hair up in a ponytail. “They are far from getting better, charming.”
Luke reached up to mess your hair. “You saying my methods aren’t great, miss melody?” he asked, feigning annoyance.
You hit him playfully on the shoulder. “All I’m saying is those kids,” you jerked your head to Michael and Lee, who were getting ready to duel like medieval princes as Dawn laughed her ass off. “Are shit with a sword.”
“Fair point,” Luke chuckled. “Let’s just hope they learned a thing or two from me.”
“If not?” You asked with a raised brow, passing him a bottle of strawberry flavored energy drink. Your hand grazed with his, sending shivers down your spine, better than any cold could. 
“At least they have you,” Luke gave you a lopsided grin, opening the bottle of red sugary liquid and bringing it to his lips to quench his thirst. You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he downed the energy drink, the beads of sweat on his forehead and neck made him even—if possible—more handsome, making you gulp and look away.
“Yeah,” You squeaked out, your eyes widening at the tone of your voice, mentally slapping yourself for it. “They’ve got the best sister.”
“Damn right, they do,” Luke agreed, capping the now empty bottle. “You are the best sister Lee, Michael, Dawn, and the rest of your siblings could have, melody.”
You smiled, pushing out a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks, charming,”
“No need to thank me, melody. I mean, it is the truth. That you are the best sister to your siblings and bestest friend to me.”
You felt your heart break a little. You wanted to be more than just being best friends with Luke. You wanted to be his muse, the girl he loves until his final breath. Maybe Aphrodite had cursed you or something, because Luke never saw you more than a friend or a sister.
“I’m the best,” You agreed, trying your best not to sound sad or anything about your feelings for him slip out.
“You hungry? I think it’s lunch time.”
You nodded, fixing your hair back up in a ponytail. “Yeah, you?”
“Starving, like I could eat a pegasus. Come on, let’s get some lunch and eat by the docks.” Luke stood up, stretching his arms and legs. “You comin’?” He asked, offering his hand to help you stand. 
“Of course,” You beamed, reaching for his hand. “Let’s.”
You followed Luke out of the arena, before yelling over your shoulder. “Dawn, you’re in charge of the boys! Don’t let them die!”
“Yeah, Dawn! Don’t let ‘em die!” Luke yelled over to Dawn with a laugh as the two of you strolled away, leaving your siblings and a few other campers at the arena.
“Race you to the mess?” You challenged, a teasing grin on your face.
“Not fair, Y/n!” Luke scowled as you started to run ahead. “I just trained kids!”
“Too bad, Lukey,” You stuck out your tongue at him. “Last one there cleans the stables!” 
“Oh no, you don’t!” Luke scoffed as you ran ahead of him, laughing as he easily caught up to you. “I’m not cleaning the stables!” He said, lifting you up with his strong arms and placing you on his shoulder, making you yelp.
“Put me down!” You giggled, playfully hitting his toned back.
“I don’t think so, Miss L/n,” Luke then ran towards the dining pavilion, with you still on his shoulder, screaming like an enraged harpy.
“Luke Castellan!” You shrieked, gripping his shirt for dear life, earning the amused looks of other campers. “Put me down, put me down!”
“Your voice sounds better when you aren’t screaming, you know that?” Luke commented, his pace slowing to a brisk walk.
You hit him hard on his back, again and again. “Put me down, Castellan! Now!”
“Ouch, woman, that hurt!” Luke grumbled, finally relenting and putting you down on the ground, just a meter away from the pavilion.
You pinched him on the side. “You son of a bitch!”
“Ouch!” Luke yelped, jumping slightly. “Violence is never the answer, woman!”
“Violence is never the answer,” You mocked him, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want, thank you very much.”
“Fine, fine, let’s just get food,” Luke placed his hands on his hips, catching his breath for a minute. “All that running with you on my shoulder got me extra hungry.”
“You’re the one who lifted me like I don’t weigh a thing!” You retorted, pushed him slightly. “I literally weigh like a minotaur!”
“Nah,” Luke dismissed, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “You don’t weigh that much. Stop thinking that you are.”
“Whatever,” you grumbled, making your way to the long table where all the food the dryads made for the day are served.
An array of food greets you as soon as you arrive at the table, Luke two steps behind you. There were bowls of fruit—strawberries, apples, and grapes—bread in all sorts of shapes and sizes, a container of mac and cheese (which you know has broccoli and carrots blended in to sneak vegetables in picky eaters’ food), and some other options.
“Look, there’s some waffles and pancakes,” Luke pointed to a platter of said breakfast items beside some yogurt parfaits and (tofu) sausage.
“You go get the waffles and pancakes along with some yogurt and ask Lily for some extra,” You pointed to the yellow haired dryad, Lily. “I'll go get the fruit and bread. You want some mac?”
“Nope.” Luke said, already making his way to the waffles and pancakes. 
You chuckled, shaking your head before heading over to Juniper, a red haired dryad in charge of the fruit and bread.
“Hey, Junie,” You greeted, smiling at the dryad. “Got something for me?”
“Just these,” Juniper pointed to the array of pastries and bread. “Mr. D allowed the Demeter kids to get some croissants and tarts from a bakery in Manhattan.”
“Oooh,” Your mouth was already watering as you eyed the lemon and blueberry tart and those flaky croissants. “Can you put some in a picnic basket? Luke and I are going on a picnic by the docks.”
Juniper smiled brightly. “Are you and Luke going out on a date?”
You choked on your own saliva. “What?”
“You know, have you told him about your feelings yet? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now? That’s what boyfriend and girlfriend do, right? Dates?”
“Shh!” You quickly shushed your friend. “No, I haven’t told him yet! He doesn’t know!”
Juniper frowned. “It’s so obvious you like him,”
“He’s stupid, I know.” You sighed, picking up a strawberry.
“Your siblings and those Aphrodite kids figured out you liked him years ago.” Juniper said as she filled up a picnic basket with tarts and croissants along with strawberries, grapes, and apples.
“Maybe one day,” You smiled, a hopeful look in your eyes. “When Aphrodite decides to reward me with a perfect love life.”
“I’ll pray to Aphrodite for you,” Juniper smiled, boosting your confidence up. “You deserve to be loved.”
“Thanks, Junie.”
“No worries, your secret is safe with me.” Juniper chuckled, she then passed you the picnic basket filled with food, looking almost like a cornucopia. “Here you go, packed and loaded for a picnic.”
You gave Juniper a grateful nod, mouthing a quick thank you before turning to go and find Luke, the picnic basket locked in both of your hands.
You walk towards Lily the dryad’s station, but Luke wasn’t there anymore. Instead, you walked around the large dining area, eyes scanning the place for your curly haired best friend.
When you finally spot him, your heart sinks.
Luke was talking and laughing with a girl. A girl you know to be a child of Athena, a sister of Annabeth Chase.
You felt the picnic basket in your hands grow heavy, along with your heart feeling like it’s slowly sinking into a bottomless pit.
Lacy Matthews—pretty, smart, beautiful, kind, stunning, intelligent. 
Nothing like me.
Luke leaned on one of the pillars of the pavilion, eyes steady on Lacy as she discussed with him about something—probably architecture, like Annabeth would always ramble to you.
Hair gold as the sun, eyes gray as stormy clouds, skin like puff pastry, and a mind sharp as blade, no wonder Luke would like her.
You contemplate, whether you walk to Luke and disturb his talk with Lacy, or just walk to the docks alone and eat the food Juniper packed as you cry your heart out. Maybe pray to Aphrodite while you’re at it. 
You sigh, taking a very deep breath, before making your way to them with shaking hands.
“Luke?” You ask as soon as you’re in earshot. “You ready for the docks?”
Lacy looks at you first, smiling sweetly at you. “Oh, hi Y/n! How are you?”
You stood there, silent for a minute. Feeling a myriad of feelings all at once, taking you over like a spirit. “I’m….okay.” you answer after what felt like eons.
“Your skin hair looks amazing,” Lacy compliments you, but it feels more like bullets on skin. “I wish I had your hair.”
You give her a tight smile, turning your attention to Luke. “Docks?” you ask, hoping he’d get the gist of it. 
“Oh, Y/n,” Luke scratches the back of his head, your heart breaking another of its pieces at the mention of your name. He always calls you melody, your name feels like poison out of his lips. “Can we take a rain check? Lacy and Annabeth need help with cleaning cabin six, you know, books.”
“Tonight, then?” You ask with a shaky breath. “After the bonfire?”
“Tomorrow, l guess?” 
“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll see you? I guess.”
You quickly turned around, the basket of fruits and pastries still in your shaking hands as you made a beeline towards the nearest exit, your heart beating fast like pegasi galloping in the wind. Your eyes stinging like a fresh cut you wanted to just drown in antiseptic.
“Y/n?” You heard a small voice from behind, you whipped your head to see your little brother, Will Solace. “I cut my hand on a sword.” he mumbles, lower lip shaking like yours.
You kneel to his level, the basket still in your hands like they had their own minds, refusing to let it go—maybe hoping that Luke would reconsider and go with you to the docks instead, but you knew deep inside that it was a long shot.
“Okay,” your voice was hoarse, as if there were thorns blocking the back of your throat. “Let’s get you fixed, is that alright?”
Will nodded, blonde hair falling into his face, blue eyes hiding underneath them, making you chuckle. At least I have something else to think about for the meantime.
“Come on,” You reach your hand out for Will to take. “Let’s get some cute band aids for that cut.”
Crying on the docks would have to wait.
Will takes your hand as the two of you head to cabin seven where you keep a box of medical supplies just in case. You didn’t feel like going to the Infirmary, you were just too tired to do so.
“Why are you sad, sissy?” Will asks, big innocent blue eyes looking up at you.
“It’s nothing, I just have dry eyes. Think I need some eye drops.” You answered the younger boy, trying not to be, well, sad.
“I can feel that you’re sad, you don’t have to lie to me, sissy.” You look at your brother, how in Apollo’s name did he know? He was only seven, and wasn't even trained properly yet.
You sighed, pushing out the hair from Will’s face. “I’m just bummed.” you answered honestly, at least you tried to.
“Why?” He asks further. “Maybe I can help.”
You took a deep breath. How do you explain to a child that you are sad and hurt because the boy you like chose a girl over you, his best friend. “I’ll tell you when we get to our cabin, alright?”
“Okay,” Will agreed. “I’m gonna do my best to help you sissy!”
You tried suppressing a laugh, but failed miserably. Will was like a literal ball of sunshine. Since he arrived at camp a little over a year ago, he’d become a beacon of hope for you. You’d cling to your little brother when shit goes wrong for comfort, and he did the same, it was like you had an empathy link with him.
As soon as the two of you stepped onto cabin seven’s premises, you let Will run to his bed—he wanted to get the macaroni bracelet he made you—while you went to get your medical supplies.
“Look, sissy! I made this for you! I made one for Dawn too, and Lee and Michael!” Will excitedly showed you a blue and yellow colored macaroni bracelet. “Do you like it?”
You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “I love it,” You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist. “I’ll never take it off.” you promised the little boy—who was smiling from ear to ear.
“Okay, so are you gonna tell me now why you’re sad?” Will asked, straight to the point like an arrow through a bullseye.
You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you dug through your medical kit for some bandaids. “Luke and I planned earlier that we’d head to the docks to have a little picnic, but last minute…he, uh…”
“He what?” Will pushes further, peeking as you went through looking for your medical kit.
“He kinda ditched me? I don’t know if that’s the appropriate word, but instead of going with the original plan, he asked for a raincheck to go and help Lacy from cabin six clean out their cabin.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Will looked up at you as you poured antiseptic on a cotton ball, wiping it on his cut. “He’s helping others.”
“Oh, sweet baby boy,” You sighed, remembering that Will was still a child. “I like Luke—no, maybe I love him at this point. And I’m sad because I’m jealous and he chose to be with her after he asked me to a picnic that I was looking forward to, because I wanted to spend time with him.” You took a deep breath. “Even if I didn’t have romantic feelings for him, it still hurt because he picked her over me, he was my best friend first before everything.”
“What do you want to do?”
“What do you mean?” You ask, brow raised as you placed a bandaid on the cut.
“Are you mad at Luke? Do you wanna prank him because you are? Or curse him to be sick for a week?” 
“William Andrew Solace!” You chastised, shocked at what he had suggested.
“What? He hurt you, he deserves it.”
“He hurt me, yes, but he does not deserve any of what you suggested, William.”
“He hurt my best big sissy, so he deserves it.” Will muttered under his breath.
“William,” You sighed, tucking behind a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What he did was wrong, as a friend. But I don’t have any right to be angry at him for liking Lacy, I’m just his friend, nothing more.”
Will’s face softened. “You deserve everything, sissy,” he then reached up, placing each of his hands on both of your cheeks. “You are the best sister in the whole world. You deserve to be loved, like the way you love me and everyone else.”
You smiled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes, your heart swelling with love from your little brother. You may not have the love of the boy you loved, at least you had your brother’s making up for it, masking up the heartbreak, even just for a little while. 
“Alright,” You wiped away a single tear. “You’re all fixed.” you pat him on the cheek, wiping the sweat away on his forehead. 
“I love you, sissy!” Will says as he wrapped his arms around you.
“I love you too, kiddo,” You chuckle, ruffling his blonde curls, kissing his forehead. “Go find Dawn, she’s at the arena. Watch Lee and Michael duel like idiots. Don’t tell them I told you that.”
Will nodded enthusiastically, before sprinting out of cabin seven. “See you later, sissy!”
You let out a shaky laugh, feeling the loneliness eat you up as quick as it left. Your eyes landed onto the basket with food still packed for two.
Luke still wasn’t going with you down to the docks.
You choked back a sob, grabbing the basket and your guitar and notebook from your bed before heading out to the docks. You might as well kill time until the bonfire, alone with your breaking heart.
You didn’t stop at anyone, walking straight to the beach with your guitar strapped onto your back and the basket wrapped between your arms. You just didn’t have the will to talk to anyone, even your friends and siblings.
The salty smell of the sea breeze infiltrated your senses as you approached the beach, the docks that you and Luke always hung out at nearing  your view. You took a deep breath, letting the soft breeze take over you as you stepped onto the wooden platform, the waves crashing beneath it. You set down the basket, sitting beside it as you pulled your guitar to the front, your fingers lightly strumming a little tune—one you knew like the back of your hand, the song Luke always asked you to play.
“'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be,” You sang, trying your hardest not to just break down despite the tears you had been pushing back were threatening to spill. “Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet and you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street,” you sniffled softly. “So I'm not moving, I'm not moving.”
You can’t help but wonder what would Luke do when you leave camp for good. Would he be sad? That you, his best friend, gone with the wind? Or would he ask you to stay?
You wished that you didn’t know the answers to your own questions your own damn mind plagues you with. You wished that he knew he was all that you think about every goddamn night, that he was the reason for those teardrops on your guitar, that he was the only thing that kept you wishing on a wishing star. 
You sighed, grabbing your blue notebook that you had slid inside the basket and the pen you had packed alongside it. You needed to let it out, even just on another tear streaked paper.
You hummed a little melody as you continued to write what you felt, your chest burning with untold stories.
“Hey, sunshine,” You heard a voice call from behind you, whipping your head around almost immediately, nearly dropping your notebook into the sea.
“Chris,” You gave him a small smile, adjusting the strap of your guitar.
“Mind if I join you?” Chris asks, walking closer to you but stops a few steps from you with a grin plastered on his face.
You quickly closed your notebook, stuffing it in the picnic basket. “I don’t mind,” You scooted to the side to give him some space to sit, your hair blowing in the gentle sea breeze. 
Chris nods at you, making his way to the vacant spot beside you. “So, what are you up to?” he asks, leaning slightly back. “You weren’t at archery practice earlier.”
You shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Just wanted some time alone, I guess.” you turn to look at the basket sitting unopened beside you, wondering if you should offer Chris one of the pastries. “What about you?”
“Luke,” Chris chuckles, he rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “Can’t stand him making out with Lacy in cabin eleven.”
“Oh.” You say, the pain and sadness slipping out in your voice, your heart, now broken completely as another fresh set of tears threatens to spill. “Well, good…good for him.”
Chris raises a brow at you, noticing the tremble in your voice. “You okay?”
“I’m okay,” You lied, wiping away the tears that spilled from your eyes, hoping Chris wouldn’t notice. “Do…do you want, uh, a croissant?”
“You are not okay,” Chris says, pulling your hand away from your face. “You’re crying, what’s wrong?”
“No, no, it’s nothing,” You sniffled, trying to assure him that you were alright, but he wasn’t believing any of your attempts to cover up what you were feeling.
“C’mon, you can tell me,” Chris tells you with a soft smile. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”
You turn to look at him, your eyes now red and puffy, tears still streaming down. You felt numb, broken, and empty. You didn’t have the words to try and tell what was happening inside your heart and mind. All you could see, against your will, was the image of Luke kissing Lacy.
You wanted to scream, you wanted to jump onto your feet and storm over to Luke and hit him for hurting you this much, and you even wanted to just jump into the ocean and let the salty water fill up your lungs so you couldn’t breathe the same air as them.
“You like him, don’t you?” Chris asks, his smile fading.
You blink back your tears, Chris’ words echoing in your head. “I love him.” you whimper, wiping your tears away.
Chris sighs, scooting closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I knew it, I figured you liked him years ago. I’ve known you and Luke long enough to know how different your looks at each other are.”
You lay your head onto his shoulder, your tears spilling still as you silently sobbed. “It’s not fair,” you mumble out. “It’s not fucking fair.”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, let it all out, it’s okay.” Chris soothes, rubbing your shoulder to comfort you. “You’re hurt, you deserve to cry.”
“Am I ugly? Unlovable?” You ask with a shaky breath.
“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Chris cups your tear streaked face in his hands. “You are not unlovable. You’re the kindest, most selfless, and loving person out there. You help everyone in need, you make people smile, and don’t get me started with how your music makes everyone feel. How would that make you unlovable? You are very lovable. You are loved, your siblings, your friends, everyone.” 
Chris pushes strands of your hair away from your face. “And you are most certainly not ugly. You are beautiful. You are beautiful like the sun, like a sunflower, especially when you smile—radiating beauty like rays of sunshine. Luke is too fucking stupid to not realize how lucky he is to have you loving him.”
“The boy who I love is now in love with someone else,” You murmur, moving your head out of Chris’ hand, closing your eyes. “He’s the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart.”
“It’s his loss, not yours.” Chris says, rubbing circles around your back. “He’s a fucking idiot, for hurting you. Even if he doesn’t know.”
“She’s pretty, I’m n-” 
“Stop it, stop,” Chris cuts you off. “You are beautiful, pretty, stunning, dazzling, whatever the hell you want to call it. Don’t you dare compare yourself to her, you are far better than her. She’s beauty and brains, but you? Beauty, brains, talent, and a big heart.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” You hiccup, wiping your tears away.
Chris scoffs playfully, shoving you slightly. “I’m trying to comfort you, woman.”
“Thanks,” You chuckle, moving your hand to the basket beside you. “Want a croissant?”
“Eating your sorrows away, huh?”
You rolled your still red and puffy eyes at him. “I’ve got a basket full of it,” You explained, bringing the basket onto your lap and opening it, the smell of the pastries mixing with the salty ocean breeze. “Luke and I planned to eat these here, but bailed on me to help Lacy.”
“That son of a bitch,” Chris grumbles, reaching for a croissant. “Wasting food and bailing on his best friend.”
“I mean, Hermes is a bitch,” You snort, picking a blueberry tart up. “So, technically…”
“Yeah, well,” Chris bites into his croissant, crumbles falling into his lap. “I’m not one to dump my best friend for a girl.”
“Not even for Clarisse?” You ask, a teasing smirk on your lips.
“Clarisse would beat me into a pulp if I did.” 
You smile at Chris. “Thanks for being here, even by chance.”
“I’ll always be here for you, sunshine,” Chris ruffles your hair, making you laugh. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Thank you for making me feel important,” You took a deep breath. “I needed that.”
“You are important, never think that you aren’t.” Chris gives you an assuring smile. “So, is the tart good?” 
You let out a giggle, your eyes going to the tart in your hands. “I think so,” You raise the blueberry tart to your lips for a bite, your eyes lighting up. “Mmm, gods this is good!”
Chris laughs at your reaction. “Good, huh?”
You nod, licking your lips. “It’s divine, better than cookies!” You say, taking another bite. “This is my new favorite dessert!”
“There’s the sunshine I know,” Chris chuckles, an amused look in his eyes. “The light in everyone’s lives.”
“Now you’re just fueling my ego,” You giggle, reaching for another tart.
“It’s true,” Chris insists. “Ask anyone—except Luke, ‘cause he’s an idiot—and they’ll say the same things I told you.”
You roll your eyes playfully, raising your hands in defeat. “Fine, fine,” You say through a bite of your tart. “You win.”
“I’m amazing,” Chris says with a cocky smile. “The best, even.” 
You groaned playfully. “Note to self, never tell Chris Rodriguez he’s right.”
“Hey!”
You burst out laughing, nearly falling off of the dock as you leaned forward if Chris hadn’t grabbed your arm. “Sorry,” You say through fits of laughter, the sadness and hurt you felt just moments ago, fluttering away. “You get…wait,” you wheeze out, clutching your stomach. “So cocky when someone tells you you’re right, but you end up looking constipated!”
Chris gasped, feigning offense. “Take that back!”
You shook your head, laughter still coming out of your lips. “Never!”
“I hate you,“ Chris fake grumbles, an amused look twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a meanie!”
You burst out laughing, again
“Yeah, go ahead and laugh your ass off, sunshine,” Chris shoves you playfully. “It’s the best medicine out there!”
Out of breath, cheeks flushed, you leaned flat against the wood platform. “Chest hurts,” You wheezed, though still smiling.
“Well, you did laugh like a fuckin’ lunatic, sunshine.”
“How am I going to sing at the bonfire tonight?” You say through breaths, mentally kicking yourself for not bringing any water—despite being surrounded by it.
“You can do it,” Chris assured you as he laid beside you, leaving enough space that you’re not uncomfortable. “I know you can. You’re camp’s best singer, you can’t fuck up the best thing you’re good at.”
“You think so?”
“You’ve been singing for as long as we’ve been friends, sunshine,” Chris yawns, stretching his arms up. “Pretty sure, you’re gonna nail this, like you always do.
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You were regretting your decision to come to the bonfire.
Here you were, sitting beside your siblings, across Luke and Lacy—arms linked together like they’d perish if they didn’t. 
The mere sight of them shamelessly flirting made you want to vomit everything you ate, and maybe even your brains out. It was sickening, how Luke smiles as Lacy whispers something into his ear, her delicate fingers around his biceps.
You wanted to walk up to him and drag him by the ribbon on his left arm—which was one of Lacy’s probably, watch him burn into ashes, but decided against it. Because, one) Hestia wouldn’t approve of it, two) well, he’s still the love of your life and best friend.
It was torture for you, watching them be happy. It makes you wonder, how the hell did they get that close. They had started talking just hours ago, but now? They looked like lovers reunited after the war.
What was so special about her? You ask yourself again, even though you knew the goddamn answer. Smart, sexy, Lacy. God, she was making you crazy. Dazzling starlet, like a Bardot reincarnate. And then there you were—messy hair, paint stains everywhere, guitar string marks, flab on your belly and arms, band aids in your pockets, basically nothing like her. 
Luke looks at her as if she was the sweetest thing on this side of hell, like she was the greatest thing to ever exist in this world. 
Like ribbons in her blonde hair, your stomach was all in knots. She’s got the one thing that you ever wanted, wrapped around her finger without even trying. 
The fire continued to burn golden-orange flames as your siblings led the song Down by the Aegean, everyone was happy and content, except for you.
Jealousy lingered around you like a moth drawn to the flame. Making it hard for you to concentrate on anything else aside from Lacy laying her head on Luke’s shoulder as he toasted marshmallows for both of them. The thought of them plagued your mind, despite trying everything to keep it away from your thoughts.
Stupid brain, stupid heart, stupid Luke, stupid Lacy, stupid love.
“Hey, sis?” A voice snapped you out of your insecure thoughts. You looked up to see Lee standing just a few inches to your right, looking at you with concern. “You okay?” He asks, his voice laced with worry. You then realized that everyone had stopped singing, and all eyes were on you—except those lovebirds who were making googly eyes at each other, as if they were the only person left on this damned world.
“Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” You say through gritted teeth, hoping no one would notice.
“It’s time for your special song, sissy.” Will nudges you from your left side.
Oh. You thought. They were waiting for you.
“Oh, right,” You chuckled nervously, reaching for your guitar from Dawn.
You didn’t know what to sing. All the thoughts and memories in your head seem to have faded into dust.
You shakily strum a chord on your guitar, your fingers gliding over the metal strings. The guitar was a gift from your dad, enchanted to play whatever you had in mind with just a few strums of your fingers. 
You sigh, letting your fingers do all the work, hoping you could give the people around you your best. 
I can see us lost in the memory,
August slipped away into a moment in time
‘Cause it was never mine. 
And I can see us twisted in bed sheets, 
August sipped away.
Like a bottle of wine 'cause you were never mine,
You sang, the words coming out of your lips so naturally, all of what you felt pouring out like water. You saw the sympathetic eyes of your friends from the other cabins—the ones who knew about your feelings for Luke.
Your siblings were trying their best not to give you the biggest hug in the whole world, especially Will, who was sitting beside you. 
Some were confused as to why you were singing about some boy because you’ve never done it before. They hadn’t thought that you had feelings, too. 
Back when we were still changing for the better
Wanting was enough
For me, it was enough
“Shit,” You heard someone curse from cabin nine. “The fire’s blue!”
You look up, blazing blue, meeting your eyes. Hestia’s fire had never burned blue before.
“Berkendorf, this isn’t funny!” Someone yells in the background, amongst the whispers.
“We’re not doing…..anything,” Berkendorf trails off, as if he had been silenced all of a sudden.
To everyone’s surprise, the blue—almost black—flames burning in the firepit started to get bigger and bigger, as if they were swaying to the tune as you played.
To live for the hope of it all
Cancel plans just in case you'd call
And say "Meet me behind the mall"
And finally, as you finished up the song, from the corner of your eyes, a sore sight to behold. Luke and Lacy were making out, and they couldn’t have waited to even be out of sight—barely a meter away—before devouring each other’s faces.
So much for summer love and saying "us"
'Cause you weren't mine to lose
You weren't mine to lose, no
You weren't mine to lose.
Luke grabs Lacy’s waist, pulling her closer. They looked happy, and it was tearing you apart. They were killing you slowly, like a dagger was lodged in your throat, and they were twisting it. 
Cause you were never mine, never mine…
You felt tears filling your eyes like a dam, and anytime was ready to explode. But, forced them back down—at least, you tried to—hoping to save a little more dignity for your name.
Lacy has everything that you have to live without. She should hold him tight, and give him all her love. Look at him straight in those beautiful brown eyes and know she's lucky because Luke was your everything—your life, your world, everything. 
As the image of them faded from your peripheral view, you stared into the blazing fire in front of you. Now, red, blue, and black flames were dancing together, almost as if Hestia could feel what you were feeling.
You sigh, placing the guitar down, feeling arms wrap around you. You look up, seeing Chris, camp necklace dangling from his neck. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmurs, rubbing both of your shoulders.
“You want me to put his head on my spear, Sunny?” Clarisse asks, sitting opposite of Will. “One word from you, and I’ll skewer him.”
“You’re overwhelming her, Clar,” Chris says. “You don’t deserve this, sunshine. Yet, he doesn’t deserve you.”
“Do you want to spend the night with us, love?” Silena asks from beside Clarisse. “A little girls' night could help.”
You shake your head, the tears you’ve pushed aside spilling like an opened dam. “I’m okay,” you say, clearly lying. You knew your friends could always see through your lies.
“Come on, let’s take her to seven. She needs rest.” Your brother, Lee, interrupts. “She looks dehydrated; why the fuck is she dehydrated?”
“Language,” you weakly say, the view of the fire blurring. “Swearing, s’bad.” 
“And delirious,” Dawn mutters beside Lee, holding Will close to her.
Before you could retort a reply, your vision slowly went dark, and faint voices were screaming before you completely passed out. 
Luke was immediately jolted awake from his honeymoon daze by the sounds of frantic screams and yells, just a few steps away from him and Lacy.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Lacy asks, her delicate hands cupping his face, lips swollen from kissing just a few seconds ago.
“You heard that?” Luke asks, pushing her slightly to the side. “I heard screami-”
Luke cuts himself off at what he sees.
Chris is sprinting to the Big House with you, unconscious in his arms. Luke’s heart starts to beat rapidly—faster than ever before—as his legs subconsciously take him in your direction.
“Melody.”
Lacy stands there as Luke makes his way to you, huffing and arms crossed in annoyance. “What the hell, Luke!?” She yells after him, but it’s like he hears nothing. 
taglist:
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807 notes · View notes
adascore · 2 months
Text
THE MISSED SWAP
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pairing: alexia putellas x england!reader
warnings: swearing. reader receives a push. jealous alexia. mentions of alexia doing her acl.
author's note: finally finished this!! love writing about the complexity of their rivalry!
part 1 | masterlist
•••••••
The press conference room was filled with all sorts of journalists; Spaniards, Brits or just avid women's football researchers who were hyped about the upcoming friendly between Spain and England.
Between Y/N and Alexia rested only a few metres, their respective coaches accompanying them. Sarina and her captain sat composed waiting on the start of the conference, while their opposition exuded a calm confidence that would have intimidated any other pair.
Despite the heartwarming interaction at the Champions League final a month prior, there was no evidence of any kind of friendship as the two star players avoided each other's eyes, and any traces of the camaraderie from Turin seemed distant.
In an attempt to break the ice, Alexia discreetly sought a glance from the striker, hoping for a sign of recognition or acknowledgment, but the Spaniard was only met with a polite smile from Sarina.
The midfielder felt almost stupid for having looked forward to this, seeing her again after Turin. She'd hoped it was the start of a change, one where they could talk to one another without the forced formalities and could even become friends.
Yeah, she felt incredibly stupid.
The moderator signaled the start of the pre-match press conference. ''Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the press conference with Spain coach and captain Jorge Vilda and Alexia Putellas, as well as England coach and captain Sarina Wiegman and Y/N Y/L. We are going to start with the questions.''
The first few minutes were standard; asking about the expectations, main thoughts about the opposition, how they were all feeling about the upcoming European Championships, etc. The four of them answered all the questions directly and in a diplomatic manner.
However, it was a certain Spanish journalist that decided to shake things up. ''Hello, everyone. This question is for Alexia,'' the man spoke up in his native language, ''after the Champions League final, we witnessed, what seemed, an emotional interaction between you and Y/N. Would you say your relationship has changed since then? Or was it just a moment for the camera's? Will it have any impact on the game tomorrow?''
Alexia maintained her diplomatic tone, carefully choosing her words. ''Good morning. The final in Turin was an intense and emotional moment for both of our teams. With Y/N, we share respect for football, the game. Now, we are here to represent our countries in preparation for the Euro's.''
The reporter, undeterred by the captain's media-trained answer, pressed with a sly smile. ''But is there a good relationship between you two? There seemed to have been a connection of some sorts.''
''I understand there might be interest in our personal relationship, but I want to focus on our match tomorrow.'' She answered with poise, not entertaining the controversy he was trying to stir.
Y/N couldn't help but smirk at the journalist's persistence. Despite not understand their language, it was clear Alexia hadn't given him the satisfaction of actually answering his question.
The moderator urged for someone else to take the microphone, quickly wanting to move on before it became more of an issue. The word was then given to an English journalist.
''Hi, for the Daily Mail,'' he greeted them, Y/N having to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the mention of for which news outlet he worked for, ''for Y/N, uh, many of the players of the Spanish team play for Barcelona, and we all saw what happened last month. Do you think their defeat had something to do with your presence or maybe that the rivalry between you and Alexia Putellas was a factor in that?''
Y/N raised an eyebrow at the loaded question, but remained composed. ''Every match is different, and Spain is also different from Barcelona. Football is a team sport, and the outcome of a match depends on a lot of different factors. I don't think it is fair to attribute the result of a match to the presence or absence of a single player. I mean- I'm a footballer, not a witch.'' She concluded her answer with a lighthearted joke, relieved it caused some of the tension in the room to disappear.
''A question for both the coaches,'' the conference moved on again, ''how do each of you feel about another meeting between Alexia and Y/N? They're not just the star players of your teams, but also of women's football. Does it add any excitement or pressure to the match?''
Sarina responded first. ''Well, every match is a great opportunity to have good battles, as a group or as individuals. They're both exceptional talents so it will be a treat to watch for all of us, but the main focus is on the team performance and preparing for the European Championship next month.''
Jorge nodded, seemingly agreeing. ''Individual matchups add excitement, but the success of the team remains a priority.''
The press conference concluded not much later, the four of them alleviated they could get up and leave.
As they exited, Y/N and Alexia found themselves walking side by side, albeit a bit awkwardly. The corridor felt like a neutral ground, free from the scrutiny of the media.
“They're always searching for stuff…” Y/N broke the silence, still somewhat frustrated over the questions about their personal relationship.
Alexia nodded in agreement, her expression reflecting a similar feeling. “Yeah, so stupid.”
The quietness returned, both women unsure of what to say.
“Congrats on winning the league again, by the way.” Alexia rambled, the words leaving her mouth like a speed train.
Y/N smiled, appreciating the attempt to continue the conversation. “Thanks, you too.”
“Thank you.” The midfielder hesitated, a subtle struggle visible on her face.
Alexia sighed, searching for the right words. “Look, about Turin…”
Y/N raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “What about it?”
There was a pause as they walked, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.
“I wanted to talk more, you know, after the match.” She admitted, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.
The England captain slowly nodded. “Ah, yeah, it looked like that, but then your coach whisked you away.” She awkwardly laughed.
“I don't know why he did that, it probably felt as weird to me as it did to you,” Alexia responded, “but I just wanted to thank you for your words, cause… you didn't have to come up to me, but you did.”
Y/N smiled warmly. “You really don't have to thank me. I know what it's like as captain, it's tough. It just felt like the right thing to do.”
“What you said about our growth and stuff, it means more than you think, you know, to the team.” The Spaniard quickly added the last bit, not wanting to get too sentimental.
“I'm glad if it brought a bit of comfort to your team. I meant it, you guys have really made a great transition.” Y/N wasn't by any means a great loser, but she would always give a team credit when it's due.
Alexia nodded appreciatively. “Thanks. I'm, uh, excited about tomorrow.”
The England captain grinned, feeling a subtle shift in their dynamic. "Yeah, it should be a good game.''
“Yes, it should. Hopefully it goes my way this time.''
Y/N loudly laughed at Alexia's words, taking the Barcelona midfielder by surprise. ''I didn't know you were this funny, Putellas.''
Alexia chuckled, a genuine smile breaking through.
“Y/N…”
The striker turned back to where the call of her name came from, and she was met with the hesitant face of Sarina.
She gave her coach a hand motion that said ‘I'm right there, let me wrap this up'. The Dutchwoman seemed to understand as she gave both players a nod.
“Uh, I gotta go- team stuff, but I'll see you tomorrow then.” Y/N bid goodbye.
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
Alexia watched her rival leave, eyes roaming over her athletic figure that was adorned in an England training kit that seemed to highlight every curve of her body.
The Spaniard had to shake herself out of her daze, not knowing what came over her.
As she turned to head in the opposite direction, she refocused herself on the game ahead and realized she had to put aside the emotions and complexities that seemed to find her every time she encountered the England captain.
It had already cost her one match, she wouldn't dare let it happen again.
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The score wasn't reflective of how exciting and high-pressing the match actually was. Neither side had scored, but there had been plenty of great chances.
It also included a lot of fouls, specifically on the English captain by the Spanish players.
Y/N found herself on the receiving end of another rough challenge, this time from Carmona.
As the referee's whistle pierced through the stadium, signaling the foul, Y/N couldn't contain her frustration. “Fucking cunt.” She muttered under her breath.
The Real Madrid defender, catching wind of the insult, didn't take it lightly. “What did you say?” She exclaimed, responding with a push.
The striker didn't budge, simply giving her an unimpressed look. “I said you're a fucking cunt.” She repeated her words, not one bit intimidated.
The tension escalated, and the players from both teams rushed to get involved.
More of the Spanish players stepped in to defend the young player, throwing insults at Y/N. While the England players tried to form a protective barrier around their captain, not shy of vulgar words themselves.
Amidst the chaos, Alexia took a step forward, signaling to her Spanish teammates to calm down. “That's enough.” She told Olga, placing herself in-between the Brit and the defender.
“Let it go, it's just a friendly. No need for this.” Her authoritative tone resonated, and she managed to diffuse the situation.
Olga, still visibly upset, reluctantly stepped back, but mumbled some more Spanish swear words that had Patri giving her a light push.
Alexia, with an apologetic look, turned around to address Y/N, but Rachel intervened, pulling her captain away from the aftermath of the chaos.
“We need to take more advantage of the counterattacks, we're just giving everything away.” Rachel immediately focused back on the game, whispering her thoughts.
Y/N caught Alexia's intention, but let it go, redirecting her attention to the unfolding match.
In a retaliatory turn of events, Georgia committed a foul against Alexia.
The England captain didn't want it to escalate the way it had only a few minutes before, so she quickly addressed her teammate.
“G, tone it down!”
The midfielder gave a thumbs up and an apology to Alexia, which the Spaniard accepted.
The final whistle blew, ending the intense encounter with a draw. Both sides were disappointed not to walk away with the win, but the result felt right to the match.
As the players exchanged handshakes and words of sportsmanship, Y/N and Alexia found themselves facing each other once more.
“Good match.” They chorused, shaking hands with a content smile.
“I guess it didn't really go your way this time.” Y/N chuckled, recalling Alexia's words from the day before.
The midfielder laughed, relieved there was no tension between them anymore. “It was tough today. Great defense from your team.”
“Thanks, your attacks warranted it.” The Brit playfully rolled her eyes.
They walked together towards the officials to shake their hands, making small talk about the match.
“Hey… your shirt…” Y/N switched topics, pointing at the red Spain jersey.
“Yeah?” Alexia's eyes widened slightly, almost beaming at the fact that the striker would want to swap shirts.
“My teammate, Katie, she's quite the fan and would you do me a favor and like, ask her to exchange kits? She didn't get to play today and it would really cheer her up.”
A tinge of red colored Alexia's cheeks as she realized her misinterpretation. “Oh, uh, yeah, no problem.”
“You don't have to, if you want to keep the shirt.” Y/N noticed the slight expression change in the opposition's face.
“No, I really want to. I'll ask her, no big deal.” Alexia quickly brushed it off, embarrassed by her own thoughts.
“Thank you so much, it will mean a lot to her. Usually she's a chatterbox, but…” The striker trailed off.
Alexia nodded, finding it a sweet gesture of the rivaling captain.
“Uh, actually, could you do the same? One of the younger girls, Claudia, really looks up to you and would appreciate the shirt.”
The midfielder saw her younger teammate lingering not too far from where they were standing, not subtle in observing the captains' interaction.
“She's the small girl that's standing behind you.” Alexia smiled, laughing as Pina pretended to look at the crowd once she caught her Barcelona teammate watching her.
Y/N followed her eyes and gave Claudia a wave, which the girl shyly returned.
“I‘ll ask as well,” she softly responded, “uh, so I'll see you in the Euro's final then?” Y/N grinned, teasingly.
“Yeah, I'll see you there.”
As they parted ways, each player headed toward the teammate they had promised to exchange shirts with.
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“ALEXIA PUTELLAS TEARS ACL BEFORE WOMEN's EUROS”
Y/N read the headline in utter shock, in disbelief that the Spain captain had tore her ACL in training, the day before the start of the tournament.
“You heard about Putellas?” Jill interrupted her thoughts, joining her in the lounge that had been set up for the team.
“Yeah.” She nodded, closing her phone.
“I feel for her.” The Manchester City player sympathized.
Y/N remained quiet, wondering how Alexia was doing- mentally then.
“Are you two friends?” Jill inquired, confused by the captain's silence.
She looked at her older friend, lifting her shoulders. “I don't know. We're not enemies.”
Intrigued by the cryptic response, Jill couldn't resist probing further. “You guys were laughing with each other after the Spain match.”
“Yeah, and?” Y/N chuckled, uncomfortable by her teammate's stare.
The midfielder raised an eyebrow. “What's the story?”
“There is no story, we just had a laugh.” The captain retorted.
“You used to shut down like a toddler whenever someone mentioned her, and now you're acting like buddies together. What happened, Cap?” Jill was properly confused on what the status was with the two football stars.
“I won, that's what happened.” Y/N opened her phone again, hoping her response was enough to satisfy Jill's curiosity.
The older one frowned. “Won what?”
“I won the final. Champions League. She lost.” It was a vague clarification, they both knew that.
“And that makes you friends?”
Y/N sighed, sensing the skepticism in Jill's tone. “You don't get it, Scott- be glad that you don't.”
“So what if you hadn't won?” Jill asked, a subtle gravity behind her question.
Y/N took a moment before responding, contemplating the hypothetical scenario. “There was no way I would have lost that final. Not in a hundred years.”
“So humble you are.” Her teammate sarcastically commented.
The captain dramatically winked at the older woman.
“But seriously… what is that?” Jill made a gesture with her hand, as if she was physically pointing between her and Alexia.
“Don't know, I guess she isn't as pretentious as I thought she was.” Y/N answered, recognizing the wrong perspective she had of the Spaniard.
Jill raised an eyebrow. “She probably thought the same of you.” She laughed.
“I guess so.” The younger player admitted. “Should I send her a message? Like wishing her well or something?” Y/N asked Jill, holding up her phone.
She looked at the striker's phone, considering the suggestion. “Why not? I can't think of one player who wouldn't be happy to get a message from you.”
“Alright…” Y/N mumbled, opening Instagram and pulling up Alexia's account.
Jill glanced at her screen. “You don't even follow her!” She scoffed.
The captain looked from her screen to Jill, and back to her screen. “Yeah, and?”
“Follow her, and send the message.” The midfielder instructed.
“Are you my boss?” Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, but followed up on Jill's instruction.
| Y/N.Y/L: hey, heard about the injury. hope you're doing alright, and know that a lot of people are behind you. take care ❤️
“Good enough for Miss Scott?” Y/N asked her teammate.
Jill nodded, approvingly. “Look at you, extending an olive branch.'' She teased.
''An olive branch? We never had any problems.'' The younger one frowned, as an olive branch usually meant for there to have been a conflict.
The Manchester City player chuckled at her confusion. ''Well, it's a nice gesture. I'm sure she'll appreciate it.''
Y/N shrugged. ''It's a serious injury, she's at least out for like 8-9 months. I can't imagine her not playing with Spain and Barca.''
Jill nodded, a similar sympathetic look on her face. ''Yeah, I just hope she comes out better of it.''
''She will.'' Y/N said, voice full of confidence.
It was still Alexia. La Reina. She would not be taken down easily.
Meanwhile, freshly arrived in her home country, Alexia finally unlocked her phone after a long and hectic day. A certain notification stood out, it couldn't be could it?
She could feel her heartbeat as she saw the message from Y/N. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to open it immediately or not. Alexia edged herself, answering everyone else's messages before getting to the Brit's.
After an eternity, she decided to open and read it as her curiosity got the better of her.
Alexia's eyes softened as she read over the words. Y/N's DM was not something that anyone hadn't told her before, but her rivaling captain had taken the time to wish her well and that meant more than Alexia was ready to admit yet.
| alexiaputellas: hey, I am back home now so doing better! thank you for your words and good luck at the tournament! ❤️
The captain stared at her phone, pondering on how their relationship had changed so much- at least to the point where they were sending messages to one another. Yet, here they were, exchanging words beyond the constraints of the game.
She couldn't deny the intrigue she had towards the striker. The phenomenon that was the England captain was unexplored territory for the Spaniard. Everything she had though before about Y/N all seemed to fade as she got more and more glimpses of who her rival actually was.
As Alexia wondered about the new dynamics, her train of thought was interrupted by a new notification.
| Y/N.Y/L: that's great to her! too bad we can't meet in the final now
The Catalan smiled, her fingers swiftly moving over the screen to compose a reply.
| alexiaputellas: yeah, maybe another time!
| alexiaputellas: if you do play against Spain, I don't want you to win, though 😉
| Y/N.Y/L: ooooohhhh, im gonna play extra harder against them now :)
| Y/N.Y/L: are you coming back to England to watch them?
| alexiaputellas: yes, after I've had my surgery!
| Y/N.Y/L: good luck with that, btw
| alexiaputellas: thank you ☺
The messages continued on for a while, mostly staying on the joking side. Alexia appreciated the unexpected distraction Y/N provided for her, her torn knee having become forgotten for just a few moments.
Their next meeting came 2 weeks later as England took on Spain in the quarterfinals. Y/N was wary about meeting their team still quite early on in the tournament, but it would be a great test for them, and not having Alexia on the pitch could only be a benefit to the English- even if it happened due to unfortunate circumstances.
The match was intense, reminiscent of their friendly match the month before. In the 54th minute, England fell behind, conceding a goal. The pressure only intensified as the entire team and stadium looked at their captain, in serious need of a solution.
Y/N screamed more motivation at her teammates, applauding and praising every pass and chance they made. Fortunately, Ella managed to equalize, and Georgia had everyone going crazy as she put one extra in the net during extra time.
The striker jumped into the young midfielder's arms, yelling inaudible things as they celebrated her world of a goal. ''You're a legend, G!''
''Come on, girls! We can do this!'' Millie exclaimed, clapping her hands to hype everyone up to keep their lead.
''Keep pressuring them! It's in our hands now! You're doing amazing!'' Y/N joined in, her infectious energy working on the team as they all nodded and got back to their spots on the pitch.
The whistle blew and the entire squad could feel a huge weight leaving their shoulders, relieved this tribulation was over and they could focus on the semifinals.
In the post-match rituals, Y/N glanced towards the Spanish team. A bittersweet realization struck her- the victory was nice, but a part of the competition was missing without the direct face-off with the Spanish captain. She almost forgot her colleague would not be on the pitch to shake hands with, or to analyze the match with.
She tried finding her in the crowd, but Alexia must have already made an escape to the locker rooms. The Brit didn't blame her, she probably didn't want to stick around to see a rival team celebrating knocking their team out. 
Half an hour later, Alexia watched Irene stroll into their changing rooms- one of the last players to arrive, holding a white England shirt in her hand.
Her curiosity got the better of her and she approached her fellow captain on the other side of the room. ''Irene, who did you swap with?'' She asked.
Irene grinned, unfolding the jersey as Y/N's name and number was displayed in front of Alexia's eyes. ''Our favorite girl,'' Irene sarcastically said, the England player had caused a lot of damage to both of the women, on club and international level, ''she asked me. You just can't say no to that face, can you?'' The defender chuckled.
A subtle flicker of disbelief crossed Alexia's features as Irene continued chatting about the exchange. The realization that Y/N had chosen to swap shirts with the older woman stung a bit, sparking an unfamiliar emotion in her. Perhaps, it was a fleeting sense of envy for the seeming connection that her and Irene had. The Spaniard had played against the Lyon striker numerous times during her stint at PSG.
Despite her attempt to keep a neutral expression, Alexia's reaction was far from enthusiastic. ''Oh, that's great.'' She replied, her tone a bit more dejected than she had wanted.
Irene noticed the shift in her teammate's demeanor. She raised an eyebrow and shot a look at Alexia. ''Something on your mind?'' She questioned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she sensed there might be more to the midfielder's reaction.
''No, nothing at all. Just… surprised.'' Alexia forced a smile, attempting to downplay the jealousy. However, her eyes betrayed her.
The defender raised an eyebrow, her grin only widening. ''Surprised? Why? We've known each other for a long time, played against her a bunch of times.'' She responded casually, enjoying whatever was happening at the moment.
''Yeah, true. Well, good for you.'' Alexia nodded, trying to mask her unease with a nonchalant tone.
The Barcelona player chuckled, starting to recognize what this might be about. She held up the England shirt, a teasing glint in her own eyes. ''You want it? I still have a Lyon one from a few years ago.'' She playfully extended the jersey towards Alexia.
The midfielder shook her head, again forcing herself to laugh. ''No, no. It's all yours, don't even want it, anyway.'' Alexia waved off the offered shirt with a dismissive gesture.
''Alright, whatever suits you.'' Irene smiled, placing the shirt in her own bag.
She left the blonde alone, walking back to where she had settled before the defender had waltzed into the room.
Alone with her thoughts, Alexia couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling. Watching Irene prance around with Y/N’s shirt left her with a strange mix of emotions that she hadn’t dealt with before, or at least not when it pertained to her teammate and rival.
What puzzled her even more was why Y/N had never asked her for a shirt swap. She wondered if their rivalry and everyone’s comparisons of the two, overshadowed the possibility of something more- whatever that something more was. Did the England captain only see their interactions through the lens of competition?
Alexia grappled with a simple yet difficult question: did she want Y/N to ask for a shirt swap or did it bother her more that she didn’t seem to be considered for one?
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792 notes · View notes
normansnt · 2 months
Text
The Prince pt.2
(Alastor x prince of hell! Reader)
Warnings: couple fight, kinda depression but nothing major, ehhh I think thats it.
Also Alastor might be a bit OOC but like who cares let me be delusional🫡
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It has been two months now since you and your dad visited your sisters hotel and you met Alastor.
Since then life has been amazing. You and Alastor continued to meet up in coffee shops and bars.
Of course you didn't tell your father since he would freak out.
However is has happened don more than one occasion that you spent the night in Alastors room at the hotel telling your father that you were just visiting Charlie.
Nothing happened of course since Alastor was asexual, and it took quite some time to get him comfortable with physical touch in general.
After he got used to it though it turned out he loved it. Only with you, but he loved it.
One of your favorite activities together is, in fact, cuddling.
Which you were doing right now as well you sitting in his lap in one of his arm chairs both of you reading books.
Alastor stopped reading for a second, and looked at you.
Since the meeting at the hotel a lot has happened. A lot that surprised even him. He has no idea he could get into e relationship let alone with someone as amazing as you.
Around the beginning of the second month into your relationship you got into a fight.
You wanted him to drop the act and open up to you because if he doesn't this relationship will never work.
And obviously he didn't want to. He has spent years building up his very carefully crafted facade. And who knew if you would still love him.
After that argument you didn't see each other for a week. Which was hell for alastor. Yes, he lived there but being away from you showed him what it was like for other people.
The pain in his heart was something he has never felt before, perhaps when his mother died but that was so long ago he could barely remember.
He woke up with that blinding pain in his chest and he thought is was just a temporary thing, so he went along his day.
Only to notice that the pain did not lessen or go away. It was there constantly and got worst whenever someone mentioned you.
After 3 days spent like this he could take it no more he went to you fathers house and requested to see you.
He knew that Lucifer didn't know you guys were together but he didn't care at this point he needed to see you and frankly he refused to do it over a little buzzing box.
Your father was of course as confused as one can be. What the fuck was the radio demon doing here wanting to talk to you.
They were about to get into another fight when you turned up.
Alastor froze when he saw you.
You were, even nicely speaking, a mess. Your hair was not as well kept the sleepless nights could be seen in your eyes, and you were wearing your pjs, which was one of Alastors shirts, from the few he owned.
Alastors didn't even spare another glance at your father he pushed him out of the way took your hand and led you to your room where you guys talked things out.
He didn't open up fully, but he stopped grinning. Which was already a huge step for him.
He promised, though, to open up to you more and more he just needed time.
And you were ok with that.
After he finished his sentence you leaped into his arm and kissed him which he eagerly returned. Missing the feeling of your lips on his.
"Alastor?"
He was staring at you. For a long time now and you were getting worried.
"Are you ok?" You asked while cupping his cheek.
He took the hand that was on his cheek and kissed your palm that put that hand on his chest where his heart would be if he had one.
"Oh, I'm quite alright dear, just thinking." He answered than leaned in for a kiss.
Your lips met and this kiss was not quite like the others.
Alastor but all the feelings he couldn't say into that one kiss stealing your breath. You felt the things he was to closed off to share and you understood why it would take him time.
After you parted you gave him another quick kiss which made him chuckle.
"WHERE IS THAT RADIO DEMON SON OF A BITCH"
Oh, yeah when Alastor visited you, Lucifer found out about you two, and since than...well lets just say Alastor enjoys tempting him with it to no end.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
YOU GUYS ASKED FOR A PART TWO, AND I DELIVERED😎
No cuz in all seriousness my hazbin fics have gotten so much love and I just wanna thank you guys so much😭🧡🧡
I hope you enjoyed your reading Ladies, gentleman and other, good afternoon good evening and good night.🦖🧡
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poisonous-honey · 2 months
Text
Fontaine Is Committing Childe Slander fr
Spoilers For The 4.2 Archon Quest
Content: Sagau reader insert (not the cult au), a lot of swearing
Note: Wrote this a while ago, just didn't post till now. This was written because of how frustrated I was with Childe's treatment in the quest. They did him so, so dirty.
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
Hearing your scream, Neuvillette, Aether, and Paimon nearly flinched and gave themselves away if it wasn't for Skirk quickly turning around and staring them dead in their eyes.
"AFTER ALL OF THAT, WE DON'T EVEN GET TO TALK TO HIM? WHAT THE HELL"
They never liked hearing you get upset, but since this was a scripted event, they could do nothing but play their parts. Aether wanted nothing more than to jump in and find Childe for you, if even just to get you to stop yelling, but his hands were tied. And seeing the intense look the lady across from him was giving, he doesn't think he'd be able to get away with it even if he tried.
"No 'hey, how're you doing? What's up? Where the fuck did you go? How did you end up fighting a god-damn space whale? I was worried.' We really get to say none of that? Skirk just throws him away like he's yesterday's trash? At least, I think that's Skirk... Okay, fine, whatever."
The group notices a slight twitch in Skrik's expression, as if she was annoyed, but it's gone not a moment later.
"Skirk I hope you're kinda funny cause this is a terrible first impression."
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 
Skirk watches as Neuvillette sends the traveller topside, hoping that he starts the scripted conversation without any hassle.
"Was it necessary to throw him so aggressively into the portal?"
Of course, that's not what happened. If Childe's mad ramblings were anything to go by, all of those that become the players "characters" seem to grow inexplicably attached to them. She didn't hold his words in high regard since he was insane, but seeing the hydro sovereign already taking a liking to you gives some weight to his words.
"He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle."
Neuvillette, still looking troubled, tells her that you really wanted to see him again after nearly 2 years of nothing.
"Didn't you also upset the player when you pounced on him and sent him to prison for no good reason?"
Neuvillette gave a slight wince, "I had no other choice. The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale gave the sentence and the law must be upheld."
Skirk doesn’t look amused, Neuvillette just sighs "... And the action itself was scripted. I had my hands tied."
"Then you have no right to look so troubled over my actions. It was simply scripted, nothing deeper. I would not intentionally go looking to upset the player, especially since they can control whoever they want. I have no desire to go back to the surface, which I would be forced to if they ever felt like messing with me."
He hums, "The player has much less control than you think. Even if they wanted to take control of you, they wouldn't or shouldn't be able to do so for quite a while. Falling into their good graces is the only way to get chosen, and you seem to have only just piqued their interest."
Neuvillette was just stating facts. He heard you crying about how your latest wishing session for Furina took everything you had. He doubts even if Skirk’s banner was a couple patches from now you'd have enough to get her. Skirk herself looks a little frustrated at the mention of gaining your favour, but quickly lets it go. 
"As long as I have time to prepare, I suppose. Anyway, We should have our scripted conversation before time runs out. Unless you want them to start freaking out again."
"Of course not, let us continue."
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 
"The fuck do you mean he's already in Snezhnaya."
Lyney's eyes slightly widen in shock, not expecting that visceral of a reaction. Aether slightly shakes his head to try and get him not to worry about it while Paimon starts her bashful idle as a way to look elsewhere without arising suspicion.
"We don't even get to say goodbye, what the heck. Wait, we never even figured out what was going on with his vision either. They actually just threw him to the wayside! If he doesn't show up in the next interlude, I'm going to be ☆mad☆"
Aether tilts his head down as he starts to ponder. He was also a bit frustrated with how little they learned about what was going on with him. Obviously the whal- Narwhal was involved in someway, but nothing is explained outside their connection. He's suddenly ripped from his thoughts as you pick his next dialogue option and continue the story.
The story continues for a little bit as Arlecchino arrives to join the conversation. You add in some quips of your own as you're watching, but are mostly silent. They just take it as you being tired from the whirlwind of emotions the quest put you through.
Aether then realizes the next actions he has to take and struggles to keep a straight face.
*Actually, I just remembered something... Please help us deliver this.*
"I swear to god, don't give her Childe's vision. He hates her. He trusted us."
Aether can no longer hold back his wince as he holds out Childe's vision for Arlecchino to take. She almost looks amused as they hear you sigh.
"Goddammit."
🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 
Childe was in agony.
This pain went far beyond his physical injuries. The last words he heard from you were you crying out to him. It frustrated him to no end that by the time he gets to see you again, he passes out. He can barely remember your words of praise and cooing about how cool he was for fighting such a creature. Your worry and the fact he doesn't even get to talk to you after all this time hasn't left the forefront of his mind since he woke up. Injuries be damned, he wanted to find the Traveller. He wanted to get something out of that vacation, more than just one conversation, getting arrested, and an incomplete fight. He thought that as long as you still had his vision, he would surely see you again and his vacation would end smoothly, but of course the story seemed to have it out for him. All he could do now was lay here in pain, stuck in his mind while his family is off doing something else.
He's upset he didn't get to finish his fight and that you had to finish it for him.
He's upset his foul legacy has taken such a toll on his body, he can't do anything.
He's upset that his family has to see him in such a state.
He's upset he missed your first encounter with Skirk.
He's upset he didn't even get to talk to you again.
And more than anything, he's upset he can't be there for you.
As he was about to continue wallowing in self-pity and regret, he suddenly finds himself fully geared, standing in front of the Abyss, with no injuries.
"Such bullshit. I loved the story quest, but why was Childe pushed to the side. It's almost like they had no idea what to do with him after they got him to the whale. Oh! It's just one of the creatures he's been wanting to fight for nearly all his life. Do we get to know how he feels about it? Nooo of course not. My man just wanted to go on vacation, and he had to deal with all of this."
Hearing your voice almost washes away all his stress, and hearing you complain about how he was treated washes away all his sorrow. It pleases him to know you hated what happened to him just as much, if not more, than he did. He could tell from your ranting and the fact you've already gotten 36 stars that you were going to fight just to let off steam. That's perfect for him. Killing something is just what he needs to take his mind off of recent events, killing things with and for you makes it even better. He'll be sure to make the best of this before you log off for the day, and he's back to being bedridden.
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chaoticbardlady99 · 3 months
Text
I Wondered If I Could Come Home? (Astarion x F! Reader)
Synopsis- It’s been 4 months since you last saw Astarion and 3 months since you killed the Netherbrain with your other companions. Shortly after, you settled down in Silverymoon to begin a life out there and try to push Astarion out of your mind- except it can never be that easy. You shortly discover you are pregnant with his child- a child that could kill you during childbirth. Scared and alone- Shadowheart stays with you to help you deliver the baby and keep you alive.
While out at the local market, Shadowheart runs into Gale and invites him over for dinner. Gale has unexpected company.
CW: Pregnancy, mentions of potential death during birth, mentions of nudity, mentions of NSFW smut
To my fellow DND fans- no this is probably not canon compliant, yes I’m upset about that, but look I really needed to write this so sue me I guess
Author note- Self indulgent, I have baby fever, but don’t want a baby fic. I’m unsure of how long this will be or if it will have more parts-it depends on how angsty I feel, but I need to have like six different ideas to think about at a time soooo 😂
*This hasn’t been edited ✨well✨so please forgive me
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*again, no fucking clue who’s picture it is, but it sure as shit isn’t mine so if it’s yours- reach out so I can give credit!
You keep yourself propped up against the sink in the kitchen as Shadowheart holds your hair out of your face and dabbing away the cold sweat that drips down your neck.
You are really sick of being morning sick. It’s absolutely the worst thing in the world- well besides your potential death from carrying your little girl inside of you. You sometimes think Astarion may get his wish- you may just die screaming.
You dry heave one last time- not a single thing comes up because you haven’t kept a single thing down since two mornings ago. Your morning sickness is inconsistent and comes on with little to no warning.
It’s been five months since you conceived this fricken kid, but it was like all the symptoms hit after you killed the Netherbrain.
A part of you really wishes you had somehow known before then- maybe it would have changed the cruel fate that ended your relationship with Astarion. You were literally pregnant in the middle of fighting Cazador. You think about what he last said to you all the time and just sob hysterically- like it happened yesterday.
A deeper part of you feels abandoned, but you blame yourself for him leaving. You should have been more convincing or maybe you shouldn’t have flat out told him no and explained why in the hells you didn’t want him to ascend.
For example- you didn’t want to lose him to some evil version of himself.
Ironically, you lost him anyway and are pregnant with his fucking child who insists on occasionally making you miserable.
Despite your inherent sadness, anger, and sickness, you find you are actually quite excited to meet her. You haven’t settled on a name yet and Shadowheart has been very helpful in regards to making sure you are healthy and strong for delivery. She’s your best friend and you could not be more grateful for her.
“I’ll go back to the market today and get you more of those herbs,” Shadowheart says quietly when she talks to you, “they seemed to help last time?”
You nod- exhausted and your head is pounding. You and this kid are going to need to have a serious conversation. You will not be letting a second Acunin make you miserable before she is ever born.
Shadowheart guides you to your bed upstairs, standing behind you in case you get hit with a wave of vertigo- which usually happens post vomit episode.
You pull your curtains closed- thankful that the desperate hope in your heart led you to buying black out curtains. You close your door and lay down on your bed- tears spilling down your cheeks freely.
You miss him terribly. You shouldn’t. You should positively hate him, but everyday of this pregnancy makes you ache for him. You should be doing this together.
You know it’s hormones- the weepiness, the intense longing, and the Gods awful horniness. Dreams are the worst. You wake up a squirming disaster at least three times a week with your skin burning hot with memories of Astarion touching you.
You are happy that isn’t the case currently, but the weepiness sucks too. Remembering how he used to curl around you, the way it felt to have him kiss you on the forehead, and all those late night conversations with (now empty) promises. You curl yourself around your pillows, willing your imagination to pretend it’s him, and you sob until you fall asleep.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Astarion tries to contain his excitement and fear as he follows Gale and Shadowheart to your home. Finally, after searching for literal months, he was going to see you again.
Astarion has been haunted by the last words he had said to you for what feels like eons now. He hadn’t meant it at the time and he certainly doesn’t mean it now.
He had been too afraid to come back to you after everything he had said. Astarion decided you probably hate him anyway so he tried to move on.
He tried being with other people (it always failed miserably because they weren’t you), he drank until he couldn’t remember a damn thing, and when all else failed, he began his search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.
After the nightlife of Baldur’s Gate lost it’s appeal and he finally found a ring location, Astarion found himself in front of Gale’s door in Waterdeep- begging him of all people to help him.
The wizard had been puzzled and melancholy when he realized Astarion was at his door. Astarion told him every little piece of how he feels about you, how much he misses you, and how he wants to be able to give you the life that you deserve. Astarion was practically on the verge of hysteria while trying to make his case.
Thus began the search for the Ring of the Sunwalker.
They were able to locate and obtain one after a grueling three month long journey and some help from one of Gale’s old friends. Then, they headed straight to Silverymoon- your last known whereabouts.
Running into Shadowheart had felt like a miracle, but to also have her living with you had made the trip even easier. Except Shadowheart was being really really weird towards him.
When Gale first asked if Astarion could come along too, Shadowheart had asked Astarion why he wanted to come and see the person he “hoped died screaming?”
Astarion had flinched at the anger and venom in Shadowheart’s voice. He figured the others would be mad, but he was hoping maybe Shadowheart would give him a little easier time like Gale had. Astarion was genuinely surprised by how quick she was to be defensive of you and your whereabouts. When Gale confirmed that Astarion was telling the truth, Shadowheart reluctantly said he could come.
The three arrive at the front of your shared townhome- it faces the beach and has the perfect amount of windows for the sun to light up the house, but one of the rooms is hidden from sight with heavy, black out curtains.
Shadowheart turns to both of them, “Tav might not be able to join us… she’s been sick for a bit now and is… recuperating.”
Astarion feels his heart drop to his stomach.
“Sick? For how long?”
Shadowheart shifts on her feet uncomfortably, “5 months, but it got worse around 3 months.”
“Tav has been sick for that long?” Gale exclaims, “why didn’t you write!? I could have helped.”
“This particular affliction is one you wouldn’t understand,” Shadowheart says with a finality that suggests the conversation is done as she leads them into the kitchen.
Shadowheart immediately gets fussing with the herbs while Gale looks around the house. Astarion is still unsure of what he should be doing. The house engulfs him in your scent and he feels positively intoxicated. You must be really sick though because your scent smells different- not bad at all, just different.
Does he talk to Shadowheart? Does he look around with Gale?
Or does he sneak off and find you? Astarion doesn’t want to waste anymore time than he already has. Slowly, he creeps towards the stairs.
“Don’t even think about it, Astarion,” Shadowheart warns.
Astarion looks at her and then back at the stairs. He does this a couple times until Shadowheart appears to be annoyed enough that she’s let her guard down a bit.
Astarion takes off up the steps and he hears Shadowheart and Gale coming up right behind him.
Astarion hears a dry heave from down the hallway and he goes racing for the door.
If you are as sick as Shadowheart has suggested (5 months is crazy long), Astarion may not have much time with you and Gods he needs to take advantage of the time he does have.
Shadowheart be damned.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
You wake up feeling even worse than you did when you fell asleep. Your headache feels like it’s taken on a life on it’s own and Gods you are going to vomit all over the floor if you don’t move NOW!
You get up with an impossible amount of speed for how dizzy you are and you grab the pail on your nightstand and heave painfully.
You are rocking back and forth, groaning as more stomach acid comes up because again, not able to even keep anything down.
You hear a pair of footsteps and then Shadowheart screaming after-
“ASTARION! THEY ARE SICK! YOU NEED TO WAIT!”
“I have been looking for them for months now,” you hear him hiss, “if they are sick, I need to see them. If this has lasted five months- then who knows how much time I’ve wasted!”
“Will you stop being selfish for five minutes!? It’s not about you and who even says she wants to see you!?”
Shadowheart and Astarion are yelling in front of your door now. You feel tears prick your eyes- Astarion is here. Here here. A flurry of excited kicks from inside you catches your attention and a feeling of blissful happiness comes over you. Oh look, the nausea is gone. Of course it is.
“Traitor,” you whisper before laying down on your bed for a moment.
You are very happy that your unborn daughter appears to be pleased and feels good about her dad being on the other side of the door. You, on the other hand, are less than optimistic.
Wasted time doing what? And why did Shadowheart say I was sick!? In what world was that going to keep him from going upstairs!? Especially if he, your mind pauses, cares about me? Again?
Which you hope he does- you would hope Shadowheart wasn’t so sick of taking care of you that she brought him here to finish the job. Maybe this is all one big show.
Another, “I WILL DO WHAT I PLEASE” from Astarion, a “YOU SELFISH BASTARD” from Shadowheart, and a “Please can’t we all just be nice, catch up, and get along?” from Gale finally gives you the motivation to get up. The arguing feels far too much like being in camp again. You pinch the bridge of your nose, willing the growing headache to go away.
It doesn’t so you change into a pair of longer cotton pajama pants, a t-shirt that is unfortunately showing off your bump more than you’d like, and then you swing open the door in tired annoyance.
You are met with Astarion looking at you- his eyes scanning up and down your body- settling on your stomach. His expression is unreadable- it’s somewhere between lust, love, grief, and heartbreak. Embarrassed by Astarion’s intense gaze, you look over at Gale who is all smiles for you.
“Congratulations Tav!!!” Gale practically yells, making you wince, “the father is a lucky man.”
“I don’t think he considers himself a lucky man,” you say pointedly before turning to Astarion, “or do you?”
Astarion’s face changes entirely with your words. His eyes look at you, round and soft. His eyes are full of adoration and need- a look you never thought he would give you again. You have to fight the urge to grab him and drag him into your bedroom. You will not let the hormones win- you will be strong.
“I- it’s- I mean,” Astarion is fumbling over his words, “you are carrying my child?”
“Yes,” you say grumpily, crossing your arms,” and she’s been giving me nothing but trouble. Thanks to your genetics, I’m sure. This is day two of not being able to keep a damn thing down and this fucking headache is UNBEARABLE so please for the love of every God keep the arguing down.”
Astarion is still looking at you with a mystified expression- taking you in as if for the first time in his entire life. You look back towards Gale and Shadowheart- you are entirely too self-conscious and way too excited to see him for him to be looking at you like that. You are trying to be mad dammit!
Shadowheart gazes at you and your surely red tipped ears with amusement before she says, “I’ll go and get the potion ready for you- that should hopefully help.”
“I will- uh,” Gale says awkwardly, looking between you and Astarion, “join you! I might need to know which herbs to use… in the future?”
“Planning on getting pregnant Gale?” You say with a smirk.
Gale snorts at you, “Dear friend, as wonderful as you look right now- none of the side effects sound appealing.”
“Oh they most certainly aren’t,” you say,” but thanks for thinking I look ‘wonderful’. I feel, well, disgusting.”
“Gods, how could you even think that?” Astarion blurts out, appearing shocked that he even said it, “you look like…. A vision. A wonderful, stunning vision, Darling.”
Shadowheart and Gale excuse themselves as you struggle to find the words for Astarion’s comment. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire and you feel yourself begin to melt a little bit. You feel your emotions bloom into something resembling spring as he steps closer to you- looking at you with pleading eyes.
You clear your throat, “would you like to come into my room and talk?”
Astarion nods eagerly, following behind you so close that you once again have to remind yourself that ripping off the clothes of someone who literally told you they wanted you to die screaming was not healthy- at least not until you get a proper apology.
You sit against your headboard as Astarion walks around your room- running his fingers along the bassinet and rocking chair in the corner. You still can’t get a read on him.
“A girl?”
His question breaks the air.
“Yes,” you smile at him, “no name yet though.”
“I’m sure you’ll pick a nice one,” he says with a smile, but his tone is entirely too melancholic.
A painful thump in your heart fills your body with sadness. He doesn’t want to be involved. Of course he doesn’t want to be involved. You are his knocked up ex-girlfriend. What were you expecting? The lump forming in your throat is unbearable.
“You don’t want to be involved?”
Oh good Gods you are crying. Astarion rushes over to you the minute your tears begin to fall- sitting in front of you on the bed. He reaches out and gently wipes your tears away as he speaks.
“I want to be involved so badly it hurts,” his voice comes out scratchy and emotional, “but that is your decision, not mine. You have been on your own for months, my Love. Instead of trying to come back and make it better- I pushed it off until I thought I could give you what you deserved- a life in the sun.”
You almost whine in protest when his hands leave your face. He twists the ring around his index finger before continuing, avoiding your gaze, “But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what you deserve is a person that isn’t so damaged. Someone who can give you what you actually deserve which is a loving partner who hasn’t hurt you over and over again- a man worthy of being a father to ou- I mean your child.”
His confession and the tears that are streaming down his face are enough for you. Yes, you absolutely want to scream and yell at him, but you also ache for him. You can’t fault the man for being a slave for 200 years and then not taking it very well when you told him what to do. You always knew you would forgive him if he came back- you never thought he would, but here he is and like he said- there is no reason to keep wasting time.
“She is our child, Star,” you whisper and guide his eyes to look at you, “I want you to be involved. I don’t care what you think I deserve either. I have missed you so horribly since you left. It’s almost pathetic really. I’ve tried to blame it on the hormones, but… I don’t know. The picture has felt incomplete up until now.”
You absentmindedly put your hand on your stomach- receiving a kick. You glare at the place where your hand is resting.
“Will you stop kicking me for five minutes!?” You scream, “I WAS IN THIS BODY FIRST!”
Astarion looks at you bewildered and confused, but quickly realizes you aren’t talking about him. The smile that spreads across his face is wide and Astarion gingerly moves closer. You are still a little cautious- needing to protect not only yourself, but also your unborn child. He moves to the right of you and goes to move you just slightly so he can slip in behind you.
“Could I? I mean if it’s not crossing any boundaries!”
Astarion is on edge- you can tell that much, but he doesn’t look at you like he did that last time you saw him- Astarion is looking at you like you are the most precious individual who has ever walked this earth.
You nod shyly, and then Astarion slots himself behind you, your back against his chest, his face in the crook of your neck, and his legs on either side of yours. He cautiously puts his hands on your stomach and is immediately kicked.
Astarion laughs with joy, “she’s strong!”
“Strong willed and strong physically,” you shake your head and you are laughing a bit now too, “you may just get your wish yet.”
“What wish?”
It had slipped. You hadn’t meant to bring it up again- or maybe you did. You want to know for sure if he still feels that way, but the confusion in his voice says he doesn’t. You go rigid and go to dismiss it when you feel his posture change behind you, his grip loosening ever so slightly.
“Right… that.”
The silence is nerve-wracking. You’ve lost him again, you are sure of it. A stray tear begins to roll down your cheek.
“Astarion-“
“No, let me think, Darling. I want to make sure I say everything I want to say correctly.”
You continue to sit there in silence, he places soft kisses on your neck. You feel him smile against your skin at the needy moan that escapes your lips. You absentmindedly reach out for one of his hands and begin to play with his fingers while he thinks. Astarion used to let you do this all the time while you were traveling- it helps you feel grounded.
“I was so consumed by all that power in the moment,” he says slowly, “I wasn’t thinking. By the time I had realized what I had done, I felt like it was already too late- you most likely hated me and moved on.”
You have to bite your tongue- you want to scream. Hate him? Never. You had been miserable without him around for that last month of traveling. Your heart had felt like a dead weight in your chest and you had been moving around like a zombie.
“So I tried to move on… I even tried to be with others, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s selfish, but I want you. I never want anything bad to happen to you- I certainly don’t ever want you to die screaming. I don’t want you to ever carry a child that is not mine.”
You are surprised by the warmth in your core when he says his last sentence. There is something so primal there that you have to really focus on what he is saying next.
Astarion clears his throat before finishing speaking, “I don’t want to be without you anymore- four months is too long. I don’t want to miss out on anymore of your pregnancy and I want to be here for you- with you- doing this together like we should have been doing this whole time. I was a horrible fool- please give me another chance. Please, Darling. I love you- so so much more than I ever thought anyone could ever love someone.”
Astarion’s words hang in the air and you are trying not to begin crying for the 15th billion time. This is what you had wanted to hear all along. You can feel his tears on the collar of your shirt- the way he inhales as if to memorize your scent like this is the last time. Astarion is not expecting you to say yes- you know that because he’s starting to loosen up, pulling away from you so that he can respect your decision.
“I love you too,” you whisper, “I don’t want to be without you anymore either. I forgive you- please stay.”
“I won’t be going anywhere unless you want me too, my Love.”
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bellaveux · 8 months
Note
hi! could you please do one about reader x wanda on college where reader cheats on her boyfriend with wanda but wanda genuinely loves reader so much that she can’t help but want more?
DREAMING OF YOU | wanda maximoff x reader
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pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader
genre: angst w/ happy ending, fluff, smut
summary: while being constantly ignored by your boyfriend, wanda decides to keep you company for the night and eventually, for the rest of the weeks that follow, wanting more than just sex with you and vows to show you the kind of love you truly deserve.
content warnings: minors dni! angst with happy ending, some fluff, college au!wanda maximoff x reader, artist!reader, wanda is in love, cheating, mentions of drinking, toxic boyfriend named tyler bc i didn’t know what else to name him, one smut scene; top!wanda, bottom!reader, oral and fingering (r receiving), praise kink
word count: 12.9k
note: i’m so sorry for the long wait, it was not supposed to take a whole month for me to write :( i also did not mean for this to be so long, i kind of got carried away, but i hope you like it!!
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There used to be a time when your boyfriend would always tell you that he loved you, no matter what the conversation or situation was. You would always ask him why he did certain things for you; give you flowers, take you out to dinner, wanting to do everything with you, or even things like fight with you, annoy you. He would always say ‘Because, I love you,’ no matter what. And, you missed those times. You missed when he felt like he was a part of you when you were his top priority as he was yours. Now, somewhere down the road, you lost all of that with him. He only has the time to take you to parties, as a sort of accessory to keep by his side, then refuses to talk to you, and ignores you half of the time. 
You never liked the parties your boyfriend always dragged you to. They were loud, too crowded for your taste and your boyfriend always ended up finding some kind of excuse to leave you alone all by yourself as he mingled around. You feel lost and disconnected in places like this while your boyfriend revels in the chaos of social interactions, all while seemingly drowning himself in beer and alcohol. 
Your likeness for him had slowly dwindled down over time, and you wondered what had happened between the two of you for him to change so much from the man you used to be so fond of. 
And, no, Tyler didn’t always use to be such a jerk to you. In the beginning, he was kind, and gentle and seemed to be interested in whatever you were interested in. He was the kind to buy you flowers when he would think of you, take you on romantic dates in the city, and tell you he loved you every day. You liked him in the beginning, maybe even fell in love with him at some point—well, you couldn’t remember what that felt like with him anymore. 
Now, he barely even replies to your texts, answers your calls, ignores you when you try to talk to him, and leaves you alone at a party full of people you don’t recognize, just for him to go and play beer pong and chug an unhealthy amount of beer with the other guys on the football team. He even lets these random girls feel up on him and openly flirt with him from time to time now, forgetting all about the girl he dragged along with him, who was now glaring at him from across the room. He doesn’t even do anything to stop them, which only fuels your anger even more. 
It wasn’t like you weren’t used to him being this way. This behavior had gotten quite frequent as time went on, and you’ve always thought about breaking up with him. But, each time, he’d fool you with those sweet words and apologies, and tell you he’d be good for you, do better for you, tell you he loved you, and tell you that he wouldn’t know what to do without you. 
And, for some reason, you always fell for it.
You don’t know if it’s because you so desperately want to cling to the past — the past that you remember being so good and lovely. The times when he treated you right was like a dream and you always wanted to believe it could be that way again. Somehow. Because, you liked him. At least, you did then. It was hard to know because everything felt awkward, everything felt insincere. You knew that when the next morning comes, he’ll buy you flowers once again, tell you how sorry he was for accidentally leaving you, and give you that lame excuse that he couldn’t find you in that crowd of people. 
“I wanna leave, Tyler,” you told him, after tapping his shoulder to get his attention.
He turned to you and glared, stepping away from the circle of people that wrapped around the beer pong table, “Are you fucking kidding me? We just got here. Fuck. Go find something to do. I’ll take you home later.”
Truthfully, you were over it. You didn’t even bother talking back about it anyway, having done so plenty of times already and it always had the same outcome. 
After a while, you found yourself in the kitchen of the sorority house, holding your third cup of some cheap alcohol you found and poured for yourself, not really sure of what else you could do but drink. The living room had that lingering smell of weed and warm bodies, and it was beginning to hurt your head the longer you stood in there, making you retreat to the back of the house where the kitchen was. The fresh smell of some brownies in the oven filled the air, and it was much better for your head than everything else outside of this room. They were probably weed brownies, but they smelled better than what was out there. 
The thought of leaving by yourself had crossed your mind several times already, wondering if your boyfriend would even notice if you’d be gone. Who are you kidding? He wouldn’t. You liked to think he would sometimes—that he’d rush right after you when you stepped out the door, grab you by the wrist, and ask where you were going without him as if he cared. But, that would’ve been too good to be true. 
And, you were too caught up in your thoughts to have noticed the figure that walked up next to you.
Wanda leaned over against the counter, standing quite close to you, nudging your shoulder lightly. You could smell that faint scent of alcohol from her lips even though she hadn’t spoken yet. She wore a big suit jacket over a plain shirt that fit loosely on her and held a red solo cup of her own, shaking it slightly as if she was checking if there was anything still in there like she couldn’t remember if she had drank what was in her cup yet. 
Wanda saw you the moment you stepped into the sorority house, always cautiously watching the door for whoever walked in. After all, she lived here. She practically had her eyes on you all night, first noticing that bored look on your face when you walked in with that jerk you called your boyfriend. Then, she saw the rising anger fuming in your eyes when he walked away and left you alone to go hang out with his friends and other girls that he didn’t seem to mind. 
She never really understood what you saw in him. From all of the stories she’s heard from mutual friends to what she has seen now, he was a complete asshole. Sure, when she met you for the first time, you were a happy couple, and he was good to you that time ago. But tonight, it was different. He was different to you and it only seemed to further her opinion of him. 
It was maddening—the way he treated you. Wanda always found herself caught in a bittersweet daydream, one where she yearned to trade places with him, to be the one who could treat you with the love and care you truly deserved.
She had always loved you. From the moment you two met in your first year of college, Wanda had always loved you. With every interaction, every shared laugh, and every stolen glance, her feelings for you only deepened, growing into an unshakeable love that blossomed silently within her. You were perfect in her eyes; you were beautiful, kind-hearted, and talented, but you failed to recognize the fact that you deserved way better than what that stupid boyfriend of yours does for you. The love Wanda held for you became a quiet force that fueled her determination to be there for you, to support you, even if it meant remaining in the shadows.
And, deep down, you’ve feel as if you had always felt it. That love she had for you. You felt it when she would look at you, when she talked to you, and at first, you couldn’t tell what it was. She was a private woman, always so reserved, and never really dated properly within her time in college, other than a few flings and hookups here and there. 
But you saw it firsthand each time she smiled at you. 
Undeterred, Wanda angled her body towards you, the corners of her mouth turning upward in a determined smile. She positioned herself delicately, her face mere inches away from yours, so that you could hear her easily under the booming music, “What are you doing here alone?” 
“Nothing,” you shrugged, taking a sip from your cup, not even bothering to look up at her. “Just felt too crowded in there.”
Wanda nodded and glanced out of the doorway, the first floor of the house practically flooding with people left and right. She noticed that solemn look on your face when you answered your question.
“Isn’t that Tyler outside?” She asked, even though she already knew the answer to that question. She watched you nod, your eyes staring down into the liquid in your cup.“Shouldn’t you be out there with him?”
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you sighed and shook your head, “No, he’s… He’s playing. I wouldn’t be much help… It’s whatever.”
“It’s not whatever,” Wanda countered, the levels of her own annoyance rising. “He’s being a shitty boyfriend.”
You didn’t say anything else and instead chewed on your bottom lip as you let her words sink in. He was, indeed, a shitty boyfriend, but hearing it out of someone else’s mouth felt bitter. Like you had to defend him in some way even though he treats you like shit. You knew that Wanda's assessment held a grain of truth, maybe a lot more than a grain, but your heart stubbornly clung to the remnants of love and loyalty you still felt for him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—“
“No, it’s fine,” you tell her, immediately shaking your head as you glance out of the kitchen window, seeing your boyfriend down his drink in the backyard. “He’s just… busy.”
Wanda glanced out the window once more, eyes landing on your boyfriend. He was cheering, having won the same stupid game he was playing since he got here for the third time already, and he was probably drunk out of his mind right now, clearly not caring about the woman he had brought along with him. That woman being you. 
And she could never understand it. 
Wanda turned away and looked over at you. You stared down at your shoes out of boredom, seemingly waiting for something to happen at least. You wondered when your boyfriend would notice the fact that you’re even still here, waiting for the past hour and a half for him. But, every time you looked at him, he looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. 
“Do you want to go somewhere quiet?” Wanda leaned over and asked, scratching the back of her neck. “There’s less people upstairs… And it’s quiet in my room.”
Wanda didn’t know if it was the tiny bit of alcohol she had talking for her, but she couldn’t help but ask—not when someone as beautiful as you stood alone in her kitchen. 
“Your room?”
You took a moment to look past her shoulder again and over to the man you called your boyfriend, only to see him cheering on in front of the beer pong table with some other woman leaning close to him on his side. A sigh fell past your lips before turning back to look at Wanda. 
As your gaze shifted from the window to meet Wanda's eyes, a sudden hush fell upon you. Your heart skipped a beat as you found yourself caught in the vortex of an unwavering stare, one filled with undeniable affection. She was looking at you the entire time. She looked at you like you were the only one there—as if every person, every object, every sound had faded into the background, leaving only the two of you inside this house. An unexpected wave of shyness washed over you, a blush creeping up your cheeks, wondering about what you should say next. 
The gravity of Wanda's invitation to her room weighed heavily upon your conscience, knowing that accepting would lead you down an unfaithful path. A sense of moral obligation tugged at your heart, reminding her of the commitment you made to your boyfriend, who had now abandoned you once again. The knowledge weighed heavily on your heart, like an anchor that tugged at your sense of loyalty. You knew the dangerous allure that waited for you in her room. You very well understood the consequences, and how your heart might sway towards infidelity if you surrendered yourself completely to Wanda. 
With each passing second, your internal struggle intensified. But, why were you so worried about loyalty when the man you once loved seemed to have none for you? You recognized the injustice of your situation, feeling a bitter taste of resentment rise within you as you thought of your boyfriend's indiscretions, allowing himself to be swayed by the company of random women at a party. It was a betrayal in its own right—a crack in the foundation of your relationship.
You decided you didn’t want to see him anymore tonight. And Wanda had the power to do that for you. 
“Lead the way,” you said.
The woman’s eyes before you lit up at the sound of your words and with a tender smile, Wanda reached out, her hand extending towards you, a silent invitation for her to take you away from everything that worried you. You slipped your hand into hers, and with a gentle yet steady grip, her fingers interlaced with yours, beginning to pull you away and up the stairs. 
Wanda maneuvered through the crowd, sidestepping intoxicated individuals who seemed oblivious to the world beyond their own indulgence. Laughter and music washed over you as you reached the second floor and down the hall toward Wanda’s room. 
Your senses heightened as Wanda let you step into her private space, and you found herself instinctively pausing to take in your surroundings. Wanda made sure to not let your hand go, her thumb soothing over the back of your hand as you looked around. She stepped up behind you, gently resting her other hand on your hip as she pressed her front to your back softly. Your eyes swept across the room, drinking in the carefully curated collection of treasures that adorned each shelf and corner. The gentle hum of the music playing downstairs was muffled by the thick walls of Wanda’s room.
“Do you play?” You ask, eyes settling up the guitar by the side of her nightstand.
“Hmm, a bit,” she smiled as you raised your eyebrows, impressed at the fact. “I can show you any time you want. I can teach you.”
Her fingers brushed along the side of your waist, dancing along the fabric of your dress slightly as if she were forming guitar chords. Eventually, you let Wanda’s hands turn you around to face her, the soft scent of lavender filling the air as she leaned into you. 
“You look so pretty tonight, (Y/n),” she whispered, shamelessly staring at your lips.
Her gaze shifted from your mouth and into your eyes, and there you saw the gentle look she held solely for you. Wanda gently lifted the hand she held, guiding your fingertips to her lips, pressing light kisses against your knuckles. 
“Can I kiss you?”
“You already are,” you told her, the corners of your lips threatening to curve upwards.
Wanda smiled in return and brought her other hand up from your hip to your face, cupping your cheek and letting her thumb ghost over your bottom lip, “I mean… here.”
Her fingers trailed down to your jaw, “And right here.” To your neck, “And here.” Then, to your collarbone, “And… here.”
You sighed at the feeling of her feathery touches, closing your eyes as you relaxed in her hands. 
“Can I?” She repeated.
And for a moment, you took a second to look at the moment before you, your cheeks getting warm from Wanda’s actions. The warmth of her breath mingled with the sweet touch of her lips against your fingertips as she waited patiently for your answer for the second time tonight. As the words hung in the air, Wanda's gaze remained fixed on you, captivated by the emotions flickering across your face. In that moment, you appeared more enchanting to her than ever, having you so close to her for the first time, wanting to kiss those lips she’d been dreaming about for so long. 
“Yes, please,” you said. 
Wanda leaned in, closing the distance between the two of you, and softly pressed her lips against yours as she moaned. Every brush and hum of your lips sent shivers down Wanda's spine. Time became a distant concept as you lost yourself in her kisses. 
She slowly led you towards her bed, lips still pressed to yours. She had waited, with hope and uncertainty, for this moment to come. And finally, it was here. She’d show you. She’d show you how well she’d take care of you—how much better she could be than that boyfriend of yours. She’d give you everything you deserve. She’d prove it to you—change your mind, if possible, and have her be the only one to have and love you from now on.
Wanda pulled back after laying you down on her bed, staring down at you. She settled herself in between your legs and sighed at the feeling of your soft thighs under her hands. The sight of lips parting to catch your breath, your chest rising up and down, and your hair all over her pillows drove her crazy. Fuck. 
“Are you sure about this?” Wanda asked.
“Please.” You nodded, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeezing them, “I want you, Wanda.”
Once she was positive that you were positive, Wanda pulled her shirt over off, shuffled closer to you, and gently brought your hands up above your head. She leaned down and placed a chaste kiss against your lips once more before traveling down to litter soft kisses against your jaw and your neck. Her body hovered over yours as you squirmed underneath her touches, whining slightly as she sucked on your skin. 
“Wait, Wanda,” you called out and she immediately stopped to look at you, patiently waiting for whatever you had to say. “Don’t leave any marks.” 
Wanda blinked, feeling a sense of disappointment wash over her chest. She was excited to mark you, litter hickeys all over your skin as a reminder that you were hers for the night. 
But she only bit her lip and nodded in return, “I won’t.”
After a beat, Wanda started kissing you once again. This time, her hands traveled downwards, running them along your thighs and up to where they met the hem of your velvety dress. She pushed the fabric upwards, your skin meeting the cold air inch by inch. Wanda was quick to provide warmth, squeezing the softness of your push thighs. 
Her kisses eventually made their way down to the valley of your breasts, letting one of her hands grope your tits. Wanda groaned into your body as you let your hands run through her red hair, tugging at them slightly when she squeezed your tit with her palms. 
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered against you.
Getting to worship you like this, manifesting your true desires to her, and her alone, felt like a constant dream. She had always imagined what it would be like to see you like this; a hot mess underneath her, moaning for her to touch you. And now that it was here, she never wanted to let it go. 
She’d imagine all the ways, all the positions she’d take you in, and make sure to take good care of you both always. She couldn’t wait to make you feel good. God, it was driving her insane. She couldn’t wait to have you. She wanted to make you see how much better she would be for you. And if there was one thing she wanted more than this; it was time. She wanted this to last forever. She wanted to eliminate all of the chances that could make you slip away from her grasp. 
But you were here now, and she vowed to make it the best you’ve had with the time she was dealt with. 
Her hands squeezed your thighs slightly as she stared down, “Spread those legs for me, sweetheart?” 
Wanda kneeled and leaned down the moment your knees parted, the sight of your drenched laced panties coming into view from underneath your dress. Without a second thought, Wanda pressed the pads of her index and middle finger against the soaked fabric. With half-lidded eyes, she couldn’t help but lean down, pressing her nose against your clothed pussy.
“How are you this perfect?” Wanda sighed against your cunt, her fingers moving the fabric to the side to look at your wetness. 
“Wanda…”
She looked up from in between your legs and licked her lips eagerly, “Yes, baby?”
“Hurry, please,” you whined. You couldn’t wait anymore. “I need you.”
Wanda felt her knees go weak when she heard those words. The sound of your voice, her name coming from your mouth, your hands in her hair… It was all too, perfect—you were so perfect.
After moments of admiring the sight of you in her bed, Wanda finally hooked her thumbs under your panties and dragged them slowly down your legs, making sure you were watching as she did so. The moment they came off, Wanda dove head first in between your legs, dragging the flat of her tongue through your folds. Firm and long licks switched into quick, fast kitten licks against your clit that had your thighs shaking around her head in a matter of seconds. You threaded your hands into her hair, moaning at the suddenness of her attack against your cunt. You dripped your sweet juices onto her tongue, causing her to moan softly against your clit, sending vibrations through your body. 
“Tastes so fucking good, baby.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Wanda rolled her eyes to the back of her head, the taste of heaven filling her mouth. She moaned, lips and chin covered in her spit and your slick as she continued to eat you out. 
“Wanda!” You whined as she wrapped her mouth around your clit and sucked. 
The sight of your jaw dropping and your eyes rolling to the back of your head when she introduced her fingers into the mix was something she wanted to see over and over and over again. She carefully prodded your entrance with her middle finger, sucking onto your clit gently, teasing you by slipping barely an inch into you then pulling back out to rub you softly. As she did so, she could feel your hips buck and your legs tense up around her head as she hummed against your clit with a smile on her face. 
You were soaking wet, dripping your juices all over the covers of her bed. Carefully, she slipped a single finger into you all the way down to her knuckle. She then curled it, emitting the loudest whine you let out for her tonight. She continued to curl her finger over and over, occasionally giving your clit some attention, sucking slightly and licking it gently as your orgasm started to build. 
“Mmmph, fuck, Wanda, I—"
Her green eyes watched as you withered against her bed, because of her mouth, to taste you like this, and hear your delicious moans fall past your lips. She slipped a second finger into you, your velvety walls wrapping around her digits, coating them with your slick as you moaned into her pillow and pulled at the sheets. 
“That’s it, (Y/n),” she stared up in awe as she watched your head fall back into the pillow, moaning at the feeling of her digits moving inside of your pussy. “Keep on making those noises for me, beautiful.”
Her two fingers that were swallowed inside your warmth began to speed up the moment she wrapped her lips around your clit once more, and sucked as hard as she could. You screamed into her pillow, trying to close your legs shut, engulfing her head with your plush thighs. Wanda decided that this was the best way to go; suffocating between your legs with the taste of your juices on her tongue. 
Soon, your voice faded out and your moans became more like gasps and hiccups for air. Wanda closed her eyes, her mouth pulling away to move up your body, resting her lips against your neck as her breath fans across your skin. You whined and clawed at her back deliciously as Wanda pumped and pumped her fingers in and out of you at a faster pace. She could hear all of your juices squelching down there because of her fingers and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes back and moan at the sounds filling her room. She felt as if she was in heaven. 
Wanda’s eyes, her pupils blown out from lust and darkened in desire didn’t help either, as the wetness between your legs only seemed to pool more and more as she fucked into you.
“I’m gonna cum, Wanda—“
“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?” She whispered in your ear, grunting against the side of your face as she pumped into you harder with her thumb pressing harshly in circles against your clit. 
Your orgasm hit hard, a sharp cry coming from your throat as you came, arching your back as Wanda slowed her movements. The sound of your cry sent shock waves straight down to her own core, and her eagerness to move inside of you, pressing against that spot in your pussy caused you to gasp and cry out again, shaking violently as you came around her fingers.
“Oh, fuck,” Wanda groaned against your neck, breathing heavily against you as you trembled in her bed. God, she wished she could make love to you forever. 
And knowing that she couldn’t, Wanda made use of the time she had left for the rest of the night and fucked you for as time would allow her until the two of you grew tired and passed out on her bed. 
Wanda held you close, pulling her blankets over you, naked bodies pressed together as you slept for the rest of the night. She savored the precious moments the two of you shared, knowing that her time with you was fleeting and she might not get a chance as good as this. She took some time to watch as you slept for a bit, her heart swelling with the feeling of you against her. It felt perfect, like you were made to fit right into her arms. 
But a bittersweet reality loomed over Wanda's thoughts, a reminder that you belonged to another, your heart already spoken for by a distant boyfriend. The one person she envied, deeming him unworthy of your love. She wondered what it would be like to claim the entirety of your heart, to be the one who could provide solace and security for you in every waking moment, and not just for tonight. 
Wanda's eyes traced the delicate curve of your cheek, her fingertips brushing against the soft strands of your hair. With a tender touch, she brushed her lips against your forehead, pressing a small kiss on your skin before falling asleep herself, while listening to the soft sound of your breathing. 
She wished that this was forever. And she wished you wanted her the same way she wanted you. 
A soft rustling sound reached Wanda’s ears, like the delicate whisper of fabric against fabric. Fluttering her eyes open slowly, Wanda could feel the subtle shift of the mattress, the gentle weight redistribution that accompanied your movement. Through half-closed eyes, Wanda's gaze settled upon your silhouette as you leaned down to pick your clothes up. You were in nothing but your underwear and you sat there for a second to look down at your phone, the glow of the screen casting gently upon your face. 
“Hey,” Wanda whispered softly, propping herself up on one of her elbows, eyes still struggling to keep open.
You looked up in surprise, turning to see her rubbing her eyes as she looked at you, “Hey…”
“What’re you…” Wanda yawned and ran a hand through her hair. “What’re you doing? Are you leaving?”
There was a slight pout on her lips that you didn’t fail to notice. You watched her eyes lazily dart to the digital clock on her nightstand, furrowing her eyebrows slightly before turning her drowsy gaze away to look at you again.
“It’s six in the morning… on a Saturday,” she said as if it was obvious. 
“I know,” you nodded and looked down at your phone, the screen completely filled with texts and missed calls from that boyfriend of yours. “I just… I think I should really get going, Wanda.”
There was a moment of silence. 
“Oh.”
Wanda sighed and sat up properly, grabbing her shirt from the floor to put on. A very big part of her wanted to ask you to stay, over and over again, so that she could wrap her arms around you, underneath the covers, have you lay your head on her chest, and sleep peacefully with you for as long as she could. 
But there was a slim chance you’d take that offer.
“I’ll drive you.”
“It’s fine,” you said, fixing your dress as you stood up from her bed. “I really don’t live that far.”
Truthfully, you did live quite a few ways away, but you wanted to sort out everything that was running through your head, and the time it would take to walk to your apartment might just let you do that. 
Wanda bit her lip, wondering if she had done something wrong. She thought that maybe you were regretting the night before, thinking that one of the best nights she’s ever lived through was possibly a mistake in your eyes. 
She hoped you didn’t think that. 
“Are you sure?” Wanda grabbed her keys from her desk, just in case you change your mind. “I’m not tired.”
“I’m positive, Wanda,” you smiled lightly, knowing very well she wanted to back to sleep. “It’s okay.”
As you gathered your belongings, your movements deliberate yet tinged with a touch of haste, Wanda's gaze lingered upon you, committing every detail to memory. The way your fingers deftly secured a strand of hair behind your ear, the determined set of your jaw as you walked towards the door, the fleeting glances you stole in Wanda's direction—each moment etched itself in Wanda’s mind. 
Time seemed to stretch as Wanda observed your preparations, each passing second amplifying the ache within her. She longed to reach out, to intertwine her fingers with yours and convince you to stay for a little while longer. 
But the choice, ultimately, rested with you, and Wanda knew that she had to honor that.
“Wait,” she called out suddenly, her tone infused with a soft concern that you couldn't ignore, just as you had placed a hand on the doorknob. “One second.”
You watched her step away, rushing over to her closet near the corner of her room, then pulling out some brown jacket. With a tender smile, Wanda approached you, her hands enveloped in the folds of her own jacket.
"Here," Wanda murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she offered the jacket to you. "It's probably cold out there." 
There was a vulnerability in her eyes, a hidden message that spoke of the lengths she would go to protect and care for you, even in the smallest ways. Your eyes widened slightly, surprised yet touched by Wanda's gesture. A myriad of emotions flickered across your face—gratitude, a touch of longing, and a hint of reluctance. You hesitated for a moment, torn between accepting Wanda's offering and the weight of your own conflicted feelings.
“If you’re not going to let me drive you… at least take this,” Wanda said, sensing your inner struggle. “You can return it whenever. Or don’t. Whichever is fine.”
Your hand trembled ever so slightly as you reached out and accepted the jacket. The fabric felt warm and comforting against your skin, as though it held a piece of Wanda's essence within its fibers.
“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of gratitude and unspoken emotions. 
Wanda watched as you slipped into her jacket carefully, letting it fall gracefully upon your shoulders. It was a tad bit loose on you, and Wanda only found it adorable, nonetheless. It was her first time seeing you in one of her clothes and she had to bite back that smile that was threatening to show on her face. With a gentle touch, Wanda adjusted the collar of the jacket, ensuring it provided the utmost comfort and warmth for you. 
You left soon after, leaving Wanda alone in the silence of her room. 
The crisp air brushed against your cheeks, its touch a gentle reminder of the outside world. After walking out of the neighborhood, the city streets unfolded before you as you ventured forth, enveloped in Wanda's jacket. It was warm, you thought, like her. Wanda was warm. You felt her warmth the night before as she held you delicately like she was afraid of breaking you. 
The weight of your actions pressed upon you, the guilt of infidelity intertwining with the intoxicating sensations that Wanda had awakened within you. Thoughts of your boyfriend, once a source of comfort and affection, mingled with memories of last night.
As you walked, the city whispered its secrets. The laughter of strangers, the busy morning road full of people heading into work in the early morning, the flickering lights of cafes and bars, and the intertwining streets became a chorus of reflections, mirroring the complexity of your emotions. 
You wondered what your boyfriend was up to now, probably sleeping, and if he even thought of the possibility of you cheating on him. Would he even care at this point? You had always been a loyal girlfriend before your relationship had started crumbling, always being there for him as much as you could, trying to make him happy, just as he did for you. But, now, everything seemed to be thrown away, and it was like you didn’t even know him anymore. 
Instead, you let your thoughts shift to Wanda—sweet and gentle Wanda. You couldn’t help but compare your boyfriend to her. In the course of a single night, Wanda had unraveled layers within you that had remained untouched for so long.
As you finally reached your apartment, you stood before the threshold, your heart heavy with the weight of your choices. With a deep breath, you stepped inside, the door closing behind you. The echoes of the city receded, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the echoes of conflicting emotions. You can’t help but think of the night before when Wanda showered you with that love and affection you’ve been craving. It was all you could think about. 
And in this moment, you felt that you missed Wanda more than you did your boyfriend. 
The entire month came around quickly, and the world around you sprang back to life, bustling with the rhythms of college life. The campus hummed with the energy of students making their way to their classes. As you made your way to the art building, you found yourself clutching a bouquet of vibrant flowers, another peace offering from your boyfriend, a gesture meant to make amends for doing something that hurt your feelings. Again. It was typical.
Yet, you didn’t feel anything as you looked at the flowers. The colors of the flowers seemed muted, the petals lacking the vibrancy that you craved. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment, a sense of disconnection that overshadowed any gratitude you should have felt. You couldn't shake the nagging sensation that something essential was missing.
And Wanda felt the same thing, if not, more. God, she missed you the moment you slipped out of her arms that morning. Just the thought of you in her bed, moaning her name just like you did that night sent her into orbit. She wanted you all over again. She needed you. And she just couldn’t help herself. Not when she got the taste of what it would be like to have you in that way. You were addicting. She wanted more. So much more. 
So, then, it happened again. And again. And again.
For the past month, you’ve betrayed your boyfriend, seeking solace and love in the arms of Wanda. Every stolen moment, every secret rendezvous, ignited a passionate flame within you that you had never experienced before. She made love to you every week that passed. You’ve been having frequent late nights in Wanda's room, hidden within the walls of the sorority house. She made love to you every week that passed, stole you away from your classes to make out with you in secret, wanting to have her hands all over you as much as she could. A lot of the time, it would happen on nights when your boyfriend would drag you to another party and he was too caught up to notice that you’d disappear, stolen away by Wanda so that she could keep you all to herself. 
On one hand, you felt guilty. But on the other hand, your heart yearned for Wanda and her touches, her gentle words, and the way she looked at you. With Wanda, you felt seen, heard, and cherished in a way you had never experienced before.
As your mind wandered through the labyrinth of your thoughts, everything around you seemed to fade into a blur of colors and shapes. But just as you were lost in the depths of your reverie, a soft but distinct knock echoed through your ears, jolting your senses.
“What are you painting?”
You snapped out of your trance and took in your surroundings. Unbeknownst to you, your art class, your final class of the day, had ended, and the studio was empty. Startled, your gaze shifted abruptly towards the door frame behind you, where a familiar figure stood, their presence bringing an instant surge of warmth to your heart. It was Wanda, the one who had occupied your thoughts so incessantly. She was leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded. 
“What are you doing here?” You stood quickly, eyes flickering with a sense of surprise and worry.
“I missed you.”
You rushed out of your seat, quickly making your way over to where she stood. Wanda shifted under your gaze the moment you reached behind her to close the studio door before grabbing her arm and pulling her further into the room in case anyone saw her. Caught off guard by the sudden pull, Wanda stumbled slightly, her attention instantly captured by the sight of you.
You stood before her, clad in an artist's apron, tiny smudges of paint adorning your cheeks and hands. Your shirt, with its sleeves carefully folded, revealed glimpses of the same colors that lived on your canvas. And Wanda couldn’t help but smile at you.
“What are you smiling about?” You rolled your eyes, shyly tucking your hair behind your ear as you turned around to avoid her stare.
Wanda shook her head but kept the smile on her face, following closely behind you as you sat back down on the stool in front of your easel, “Nothing.”
“Seriously,” you say, rolling your eyes before picking the paintbrush up from your table. “What are you doing here?”
“Um,” Wanda struggled to find an excuse, “I was walking by and thought I’d come see you… just to see what you were up to.”
It wasn’t a total lie. But she missed you so much that she practically ran across the whole campus just to get to this building. And to be honest, she couldn't stop missing you if she tried. A month has passed since you left her bedroom that night, and the following weeks spent sneaking around with you almost felt both unsettling and heavenly to her—she had you, but at the same time, she didn’t. And, she hated it. 
In truth, Wanda's last class was located on the other side of the campus, far from the art studio. But the distance mattered little to her. She had to see you, and now that she did, fighting the urge to touch you was practically unbearable.
“I’m working on my final piece,” you told her, staring down at the palette box on the wooden table, using a palette knife to mix your oils. “It’s just some finishing touches. It won’t dry soon enough if I do a thicker layer… even though I should, but it has to be done by next Wednesday…”
You went on rambling quietly about what else you needed to do as if you were not only talking to her but also reminding yourself, which was cute, Wanda thought. She listened intently, slowly making her way closer behind you, peeking over your shoulder with a curious smile as her hand slowly rested against your hip. 
“What’s on Wednesday?” She asked, her front now pressed against your back as you continued to paint. 
Your breath hitched at the contact, but you made no move to back away. She was warm—and you learned that you loved that about her. You could feel her face next to yours, closely observing each stroke of your brush, watching how your fingers danced over the canvas.
“Well, it’s due Wednesday and there’s, uh,” you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling nervous and fuzzy in your chest knowing she was so close to you. “An exhibit. It’s on Friday, actually, but they need to finish preparing for it by Thursday. The art professors are choosing some students to showcase their portfolios at the museum down the road. It’s funded by the university.”
Wanda’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “And you got chosen as one of the artists? Out the whole art department?”
You laughed and shook your head, “Don’t make it a big deal—“
“But it is a big deal!” Wanda turned her head to look at you, her eyes watching your features closely. “It’s amazing. Really.”
Your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched in your throat as you turned to face Wanda, the tips of your noses brushing against each other, causing you to pull your head back slightly. Your eyes widened, taking in the breathtaking proximity of your faces, your breaths mingling in the shared space in between. And you began to notice things you’ve never really taken the time to admire.
Wanda's bright green eyes, like emerald gems, sparkled with a mixture of affection and curiosity. The strands of her tousled red hair tumbled slightly, probably from wind from outside, framing her features with an effortless charm. You drank in the sight of Wanda, committing every line and curve to your memory.
“I think you’re amazing,” Wanda whispered, her eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips.
You watched her eyes as she did so, your cheeks flushing slightly—usually because of the fact that she always wanted to kiss you. 
Your voice trembled with a mix of uncertainty and longing as she began, “Wanda, wait… I don’t think we should—“
But before you could complete your sentence, Wanda tilted her head and closed the gap, her lips meeting yours in a gentle, yet fervent, kiss. Your initial protest was lost in the softness of Wanda's lips against your own as your eyes fluttered closed. Wanda's lips, warm and tender, spoke volumes of the love and adoration she held for you, and you couldn’t help but kiss her back. 
The kiss deepened, Wanda running her tongue along your bottom lip, wrapping her arms, and running her hands around your waist from behind you as you welcomed her into your mouth with a soft moan. She had been wanting to kiss you again since the last time she saw you, and now that it was finally here, it felt like a dream come true. 
You made out with Wanda until you felt like you were about to faint. You pulled away to catch your breath, keeping Wanda still by holding her shoulders in place as she continued to chase for your lips.
“Wanda,” you breathed, your mind filling itself with conflicting thoughts. 
“No one’s going to see,” she tried to reassure you, her lips brushing against yours.
“T-That’s not what I’m worried about,” A sigh falls from your mouth, turning your head away from her before she could lean back in.
Wanda's eyes tried to search yours, filled with a mixture of determination and longing, wanting nothing more than to press her lips against your mouth over and over again. Her voice trembled with a blend of frustration and vulnerability as she asked, “Then, what are you worried about?”
“I-I’ve been wanting to talk to you. This whole month with you… It’s been amazing. You’ve been perfect. Truly. But, I… I don’t know if this is a good idea… anymore… and I’m still with Tyler,” you finally let out, struggling to find the right words to say.
She paused, suddenly feeling tense after listening to you. 
“Then, break up with him,” she said softly, eyes gazing into yours, concentrating on what you had to say. 
“Wanda…”
“You said it’s been amazing. I don’t…” She shook her head, furrowing her eyebrows for a split second. “I don’t understand why this isn’t a good idea anymore. I don’t understand why you won’t break up with him. Do you even still like him? Do you not like me?”
You stood from your seat and walked a couple of paces away from her. “Of course, I like you.”
Wanda clenched her jaw, watching you carefully as you ran your hand through your hair, “You know what I mean.”
And for a moment, you don’t answer. It wasn’t because you weren’t sure of what the answer was, it was because of how sure you were. Wanda had given you so much love in one month and within this hour than Tyler could’ve given you in the past year. You couldn’t love Wanda even if you were tired. 
You closed your eyes, and sighed, “I do, Wanda.”
“Then, why are you still with him?”
“I don’t—I don’t know…” You stammered, frustration washing over your entire face. “I-I’ve been with him for so long and I’ve seen all of the good and the bad and I just can’t stop thinking about things like… what if he changes? I want to believe that he can, and lying to him constantly is starting to take a toll on me.”
“How long are you going to hold on to that ‘what if’? Hm? It’s been a month and he still hasn’t done anything to make you happy! He’s not just going to change overnight and besides, you’ve been constantly trying to talk to him about what’s wrong or what’s bothering but he doesn’t even seem to care!” She yelled, shaking her head slightly, “And what if he never changes? What if he keeps treating you like this? What then?”
Your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you listened to Wanda’s voice, tinged with a mixture of heartbreak and determination. Love, fear, loyalty, and doubt waged a fierce internal war within you. You knew deep down that Wanda was right, that your relationship with him was eroding your own happiness.
“Well, what are you asking me to do?” Wanda asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
“I-I don’t know—“
“If you’re going to ask me to just be friends with you, I’m not doing it,” she said, shaking her head, the thought of it waking her heart. “I can’t… I can’t just be friends with you.”
Your eyes softened at her words, “Wanda…”
“And, I know it’s scary. I know… It’s not going to be easy. I know you really liked him at some point back then, and that it’s hurting you that he’s like this,” Wanda said with a heavy heart as she watched the first of your tears run down your face. It tore her apart to be the one to make you cry, but she knew that you needed to hear it. “But, I really like you, too. And, I want to do things right with you. I want to take you out on dates and share the things I have with you. I want to kiss you. So many times. I want to worship you. I want to give you all the things you deserve. But, I don’t want to do any of that while you’re suffocating yourself in this relationship... You’re not happy with him, (Y/n). Not like you are with me.”
Your gaze faltered, torn between the love you felt for Wanda and the lingering ties that bound you to a toxic relationship. Fear and uncertainty swirled within you, clouding your judgment and eclipsing the clarity of your own desires. 
Wanda furrowed her eyebrows again, her gaze landing on the flowers on the table, “Are these from him?”
The fact that you don’t say anything else answers Wanda’s question. She nodded, pain filling her chest as she stared at your back. Feeling like you ripped her heart right out of her, jealousy filled her veins and she grabbed her bag and made her way to the door. 
“He’s a dick, (Y/n),” she started, halting in her tracks before she could walk out. “Love isn’t about hiding behind a bouquet of flowers to avoid talking to you. It’s not about waiting to see if things get better when all he does is give you a five-dollar bouquet as his way to apologize. He should be on his knees begging for your forgiveness. Because, if I were him, I’d do everything and anything to make sure you’re happy. I hope you know that.”
Then, she left.
You don’t see her for the next several days, not after that argument. She doesn’t text or call you and she doesn’t visit the art building anymore. 
Days turned into nights, and you found yourself anxiously waiting for a message, a call, or any form of contact from Wanda. But the silence remained unbroken, leaving you to question the depth of the chasm that had grown between you. Your heart longed for Wanda's presence, for the sound of her voice, and the comfort of her embrace. 
You replayed the argument over and over in your mind, dissecting every word exchanged and every emotion unleashed. You understood Wanda's frustration, her desire to be together with you, free from the toxicity that clung to your current relationship. And yet, fear had clouded your judgment, chaining you to a life that no longer brought you happiness. 
The nights turned into weeks, and your heart grew heavier with each passing moment. You yearned for the sound of Wanda's laughter, the warmth of her smile, and the unwavering support she had always offered for you. The absence of her presence was a constant reminder of the choice you had made and the potential consequences of that choice. Two weeks had passed since the argument, and the silence that lingered between the two of you weighed heavily on your spirit.
And soon, Friday came: the night of the exhibit. A mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through your veins. The gallery buzzed with activity, the air thick with the scent of anticipation. Your artwork adorned the walls along with several other students, each stroke of your brush conveying emotions you had kept hidden for so long.
As the guests began to trickle in, your eyes scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of strangers. Each passing moment filled you with a sense of anticipation. You wondered if Wanda would come, and if she remembered it. The murmurs and laughter of the attendees swirled around you, blending into an indistinct background noise.
As the minutes ticked away, each second seemed to stretch into eternity. Your heart raced, your palms clammy with nervous anticipation. And then, in the midst of your restless thoughts, about an hour into the exhibit, a figure appeared at the entrance of the gallery. Wanda's presence filled the room, her vibrant aura commanding attention.
You approached her, but you couldn't help but notice the subtle signs of conflict etched upon her face. Wanda's eyes, usually filled with a gentle glow, held a mixture of hope and trepidation. It was clear that she had taken a risk by attending the exhibit, despite the wounds of your recent disagreement.
The room seemed to quiet around the two of you as you inched your way closer, as if the universe recognized the significance of this moment. Your heart swelled with a mix of gratitude and remorse, realizing the depth of Wanda's love and her willingness to be there for you, even when it felt like she hadn’t spoken to you in ages. 
Wordlessly, you stood beside Wanda, your shoulders almost touching, as you both gazed at the art that surrounded them. As the colors of your artwork danced across the gallery walls, you allowed yourself to hope, to believe that perhaps forgiveness and second chances were possible. And standing beside her, Wanda silently promised to be there, ready to support and love you, no matter the outcome.
“You came,” you breathed out, once you were close enough for her to hear. “You… you didn’t have to.”
Wanda turned at the sound of your voice, taking a moment to admire the way you looked tonight. The sight of you only made her curse under her breath, questioning why you had to look so damn good all the time. 
“Of course, I came,” she said, subtle eyes skimming over the dress that wrapped around your curves. “I wouldn’t miss it. But, I am a little bit late… I didn’t know when it was starting.”
Your eyebrows twitched upwards as you listened to her words, pursing your lips as a way to hide the pain you were feeling in your chest, “No, it’s okay. I–I’m glad you’re here. I’m really happy you’re here.”
You hadn't expected Wanda to come, not after the fight and the painful silence that had ensued for the past two weeks. But she came anyway, to one of the most important nights you had been preparing for throughout the year and you were beyond grateful. You could kiss her right now. 
But the pain you felt in your chest mostly stemmed from the fact that seeing Wanda here tonight made you recall what had happened between you two in the art studio. For the whole week, you thought you wouldn’t see her again, and it hurt to think that when that was all you wanted. 
And not only that, but you were also disappointed in the fact that you couldn’t see Tyler anywhere. You wondered if he was going to come tonight, or if he even remembered. But, that doesn’t even matter to you anymore. It hurt, of course, but it was a typical feeling you grew tired of. She was right. And deep down, even though you chose to do the opposite of what she said, you knew she was, too. You felt guilty for hurting Wanda, and for trying to believe in your boyfriend when she had been telling you from the start that he wasn’t going to change. 
“Um,” you started, trying to find the words to say. “How do you like it so far? The exhibit? Did you get to walk around a bit?”
Wanda smiled lightly, noticing that this was your way to have a conversation with her, “Yeah, yeah, I did. It’s amazing. Everyone did a great job. You’re all really talented.”
“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, turning away to hide the blush on your cheeks. 
“Your paintings are breathtaking, (Y/n),” she said, her eyes tracing the strokes of your artwork with admiration. “Almost just as stunning as their maker.”
“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes playfully, nudging her shoulder a bit. You knew it was a way for her to lighten up the mood on a night that was so important to you. 
“I’m serious,” Wanda smiled gently. “You look beautiful. Really. That dress… You’re stunning.”
A blush tinted your cheeks as she glanced down at your attire, a mixture of gratitude and unease evident in your expression. "Thank you, Wanda."
You were grateful. You really were. Tears of appreciation welled up in your eyes, reflecting the flickering lights of the gallery, as you thought about Wanda. You felt as if you didn't deserve Wanda's unwavering support, but you also couldn't deny the overwhelming gratitude you felt.
While your eyes occasionally darted to your phone, a sense of resignation had settled within you. You had sent countless messages to your boyfriend, seeking his whereabouts and wondering about his presence, but with each unanswered text, the realization began to crystallize in your heart. He would never change for you. He would never prioritize your happiness or love you the way you deserved.
As your eyes swept over the crowd, you struggled to find your boyfriend anywhere. His absence spoke volumes, a stark reminder of the shortcomings of your relationship and the love that had dwindled over time. But, Wanda's presence radiated with unwavering support and affection, reminding you of the love she had found in the midst of chaos. 
“(Y/n)!” Another student called out for you. “Professor is looking for you. Some other teachers are asking about one of your paintings.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” you told her, biting your lip as you turned back around to face Wanda. “I… I have to go. But, if it’s okay, do you think you could… I’m allowed to leave in about thirty minutes—The students just need to be here for the opening since that’s when all of the critics and important art people and professors come in… And the gallery stays open for the rest of the night anyway, but after that, I’m free to go… So I was wondering if you could… I mean, if you even want to—”
“Yeah, I-I’ll wait for you,” she said with a smile, nodding her head eagerly without a second thought, interrupting your adorable ramble before you could even ask your question. 
You had to fight a smile that was slowly making its way onto your face, “Okay, I-I’ll find you.”
Reluctantly, you stepped away to find your professor, who gestured toward a group of important art figures gathered nearby. You made your way towards them, your mind divided between the conversation that awaited you and Wanda. With each stolen glance, you couldn't help but notice the softness in Wanda's features, the way her eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions that mirrored her own.
Engaging in polite conversation with the art professionals, your attention wavered, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Wanda. You wanted to go back to her. As you listened intently to the conversation before you, your eyes would inevitably wander back to Wanda, who moved quietly, her every gesture captivating and graceful as she looked around
Yet, you knew that this conversation with your professor held importance for your artistic future. So, you remained present, exchanging pleasantries and discussing your work, all the while feeling the pull of your emotions toward Wanda, who appeared lost in your own thoughts as she explored the gallery.
When the conversation drew to a close, your professor commended you on your talent and potential, expressing a desire to further support your artistic journey. Grateful for the recognition, you excused yourself, your steps immediately directing themselves toward Wanda, who stood near a captivating sculpture. Your heart quickened as you made your way through the bustling gallery, your mind consumed with conflicting emotions. 
But before you could reach her, your eyes caught the sight of a familiar man standing passed the glass doors of the gallery. He stood out by the entrance, a bouquet in his palm as he was about to step into the building. 
Without wasting another second, you rushed over to where he stood, to try and keep him out because you felt that he didn’t belong here anymore. 
“What are you doing here?” you said quietly, your voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and frustration.
“(Y/n)! I’m so sorry for being late. I-I got caught up with work. You know how it is, and—and I couldn’t find the building and there was so much traffic when I was driving here,” Tyler said, muttering excuses after excuses. He held out the bouquet, his expression filled with contrived sincerity, “These are for you. I know how much you like them—”
“Tyler, I don’t want the flowers,” You shook your head, not even batting an eyelash at the way his arms dropped to the side after you said that sentence, gripping the plastic of the bouquet tightly in his hand. “I don’t want you here. I want you to leave.”
Confusion flickered across Tyler's face, quickly replaced by defensiveness. “What? I just fucking got here. I-I came to support you—”
“I am not going to do this with you again,” You rolled your eyes and glanced to the side, too furious to even look at him.
"Do what?"
“This, Tyler. I’m done. I’m done embarrassing myself. I’m tired you of treating me like shit. I can’t believe I spent so long trying to believe you’d change for me, but I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m done,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat as tears welled up in your eyes.
Anger flashed across his face, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "What the fuck are you talking about? We've been together for years. We can work through this. It’s just a rough patch."
“No, Tyler. It isn’t. I’ve already tried talking to you about this! So many times! But you just ignore me, you don’t talk to me, you don’t pay any attention to me, you flirt with everyone else and all you do for me is buy me so many goddamn flowers like they mean something for you!”
“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as he turned to look away.
“I’m unbelievable? Are you kidding me?”
“Yes, you are! You’re always so fucking boring! Always sitting alone at parties, always wanting to leave early, and you never want to go out��“
“How is this my fault?” You cried out in frustration. “You… You don’t even love me anymore.”
“What, and you do?”
The argument spilled onto the streets, voices raised and emotions running high. Your heart ached as the realization hit you with crushing force—this was the end. The end of a relationship that had long been tainted by neglect, disrespect, and a lack of true connection.
“I’m not doing this again, Tyler. We’re done. You can go find some other girl to give those stupid flowers to. Because, it’s not going to be me.”
Without saying more, you stepped back into the gallery and rushed through the gallery, heading straight into the office room where you kept your things. You closed the door behind you, tears streaming down your face. You leaned against the table, your body trembling with both relief and sadness. The echoes of the breakup reverberated in your mind, reminding you of the pain you had endured and the weight that had been lifted from your shoulders.
As you allowed yourself to surrender to your emotions, you were unaware that Wanda had been watching when you ran into the room, seeing the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks as you walked. But she waited. Wanda understood the need for you to process your feelings in private, respecting your space while patiently waiting for you. 
Minutes passed and you wiped away your tears, taking deep breaths to steady your trembling form. You decided that you felt like the building was suffocating you and that you needed to leave, but you remembered Wanda. With each passing moment, your heart began to steady and you slowly grabbed your things before heading out again. You knew that your decision to break away from Tyler was the right one, even if it meant venturing into unknown territory with Wanda. 
As you finally gathered the strength to leave the room, you slowly opened the door, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the gallery once again. And there, standing just a few steps away, was Wanda. She gave you a small smile as you slowly made your way towards her. 
“Hey, is everything okay?” Wanda watched as you tried to avoid her eyes as a way to hide the fact that you were crying. But she saw right through you.
You finally spoke, your voice trembled slightly, "I, um, think I need to get out of here, away from all this... everything. I know I asked you to wait—."
“No, it’s okay,” Wanda nodded immediately, her expression filled with empathy. "I’ll drive you home."
And normally, you’d protest and say you can go alone instead, but Wanda made no room for you to argue when she already started making her way towards the doors. Your eyes flickered with gratitude as you leaned into Wanda's presence, following closely behind her. 
You stepped outside, the cool night air embracing the both of you as Wanda led you to her car. She opened the door for you, gesturing for you to slide into the passenger seat. You settled into the seat, glancing at Wanda as she made her way into her own, your eyes shimmering with vulnerability. Starting the engine, Wanda guided the car onto the open road of the city, leaving the gallery and its lingering shadows in the rearview mirror. The world outside the windows slowly became a blur of city lights and passing landscapes as time passed. 
The drive was quiet. The soft hum of the car engine filled the air as she drove you home in a comforting silence. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, your gaze fixed on the passing streetlights, getting lost in your own thoughts. But Wanda stole glances at you whenever she could, her eyes tracing the delicate curve of your profile, sitting so pretty in the passenger seat of her car. You wore a jacket over that gorgeous dress you wore, and every fiber of Wanda's being yearned to reach out, to hold your hand, or put hers over your thigh. 
But she restrained herself. 
The car eventually glided to a stop in front of your apartment, the engine purring into silence. Wanda turned off the ignition and her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she spoke softly. 
“We’re here,” she said, rubbing her hands against her jeans nervously. 
You pulled yourself out of your trance the moment her words reached your ears, glancing out the window for a moment before looking back at her. She was waiting. You met Wanda's gaze, a flicker of a smile gracing your lips. She was waiting. You nodded once again, but you didn’t move to get out or anything. 
Instead, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”
Wanda's eyes widened, eyebrows twitching in surprise, her initial shock giving way to a glimmer of hope that danced in the depths of her gaze. A gentle smile curved Wanda's lips, the subtlest of nods conveying her agreement, even fighting the urge to say ‘please.’
“Yeah.”
It was quiet when she entered your apartment, following behind in soft footsteps as you led her through your front door. She’s never really been inside before—all the secret nights you spent with her were in the comfort of her own room in the sorority house. She liked having you in her bed. Then again, she would love to be in yours, if you’d let her. 
The air felt heavy with unspoken words, tension lingering from the events that had unfolded at the gallery. She followed closely behind you, her footsteps light and cautious as you led her down the hall to your kitchen. The atmosphere in the apartment seemed hushed, almost as if it was holding its breath, mirroring the uncertainty that lingered in Wanda's mind. Her mind raced with thoughts of what she could say, how she could comfort you, or how to even begin talking to you. 
Leaning against the kitchen table, Wanda's gaze fixed upon your back, watching your every move as you prepared tea for her. Nervous anticipation coursed through her veins, a gentle thrum of excitement filling her chest as she stared at you. She found herself entranced by the sight of you before her. The dress hugged you in all of the right spots, every line and curve fitting you perfectly. And Wanda couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly the fabric draped over your frame, molding itself to you, as if it had been designed with you in mind. Wanda didn’t know how long she was staring. Her eyes traced the gentle sway of your hips as you reached for a teacup, and she wanted nothing more than to pull you close to her.
“I broke up with him,” you blurted out suddenly. 
Lost in her admiration, Wanda's breath hitched ever so slightly at the sound of your voice, pulling her out of her trance. 
“I-I feel more relieved than sad actually… It’s like… I don’t know,” you sighed. “Should I be feeling guilty for being happy that we broke up? I feel like should be crying right now, but I feel… thankful.”
Wanda watched as you continued to make two cups of tea, your back turned to her, listening to your words carefully. 
“I just don’t know if it’s okay for me to…”
You sighed again, and even if you didn’t finish your sentence, Wanda had a feeling she knew what you were going to say. She could sense the guilt and uncertainty that weighed heavily on your mind, knowing all too well the thoughts that plagued her.
Just as you were about to voice out the rest of your thoughts, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist, holding you softly as her front pressed against your back, “Is this okay?”
For a moment, you don’t say anything, and Wanda wonders if she should pull away and keep her distance until you decide what you feel is right or wrong. But her thoughts dissipated when she felt you nod. She sighed in relief, letting her eyes flutter closed as she brought her head down to your shoulder, kissing your skin there. 
“I heard,” she started, mumbling into your shoulder so quietly that you almost didn’t hear. “When Tyler came. I just… I wanted to make sure he wouldn’t do anything.”
You stayed quiet as she spoke, slowly stirring the tea in the mug in front of you. Gently, she slipped her hand into yours, intertwining her fingers softly with yours before bringing it up to her face to kiss the back of your hand.
“I’m proud of you. Really. I am,” she said, rubbing the pad of her thumb along your skin.
“You were right,” You sighed and smiled gently, using your hands to run them over hers, the ones that rested against your stomach, holding you close against her, “I knew you were right. But, I should’ve listened to you sooner… I’m sorry.”
“No, no, you don’t have to apologize,” she said, shaking her head against your back. “I knew you were nervous about it. And that you were scared… I knew. But I pressured you about it anyway, even though I knew you weren’t ready yet.”
You turned around to look at her, your hands landing on her shoulders, “Wanda—“
“I would have waited either way. I already have been. I would still wait for you if you need me too,” she said, more sincerely than you’d ever heard anyone say anything before. “I would do anything.”
You stood there, your heart momentarily caught off guard by the surge of emotions that flooded your being. Wanda's words lingered in your mind, filled with a depth of sincerity that you had never experienced before. The toxic grip that your ex-boyfriend had held on your heart suddenly seemed insignificant, overshadowed by the overwhelming love you felt from just looking into Wanda’s eyes alone. You smiled sadly, slightly mad at yourself for not dropping everything to be with her sooner. 
Bringing your hand up to her face, you smoothed your thumb over her cheek as a way to calm her down, “You don’t have to wait anymore, Wanda.”
Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her eyes widening in surprise and hope. She searched your gaze, her heart pounding with anticipation, trying to find any signs of regret or disapproval. 
“Please tell me you’re saying what I think you’re saying,” she breathed, waiting for the response that would shape the path ahead. But as she looked into your eyes, she saw something that sparked joy within her.
You brought a second hand up to cup her face and leaned in to press your lips against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the contact, the soft kiss did well to erupt butterflies in her stomach. Wanda sighed and dropped her head to hide her face against your neck after you kissed her, her breath tickling your skin slightly as her grip around your waist grew tighter. The corners of her own lips curved up into a smile that she 
couldn’t fight, a soft chuckle bubbling in her throat as she breathed you in.
“Do you really want this with me?”
“I love you,” you said, more certain than ever, watching as Wanda’s breath hitched at the sounds of your words. You smiled needily, entirely in love and filled with so many emotions you couldn’t contain them all at once. “I want everything with you.”
It was finally here—the moment when she could finally call you hers. Heart pounding, she reached her arms around you again keeping herself in your embrace and wanting to be as close as possible to you.
She hid her face again by tucking it into the side of your neck, nuzzling as close as she could, “I can’t stop smiling.”
Gently scratching the nape of Wanda’s neck to grab her attention, you urged her to bring her head back up. But the moment she did, you felt her lips press against yours. Her patience had worn thin, wanting to taste you after what felt like forever of not being close to you, not being able to touch you, hold you, or kiss you. Wanda sighed into the kiss, her hands sliding to the small of your back to pull you impossibly close to her while you let yours run through her hair. She moaned into your mouth when you tugged on it slightly.
Wanda smiled against your lips, thinking about all the ways she would love you, treasure you, unlike him. Her mind wandered in between the time she kissed you, the addicting taste of you on her tongue was making her feel weak in her knees. She found her hands slowly traveling down to your hips, then lower and lower, up until they rested on the lowest part of your back, her fingers bunching up the fabric of your dress. 
“What are you doing?” You pulled back with a giggle, looking at her, acting innocently curious.
“Kissing you,” she said, dragging her lips along the skin under your jaw, kissing you softly there as you tilted your head to the side to give her more space. “Can I help you out of this dress? Please?”
You shuddered at the sound of her low voice, your hands gripping her shoulders like your life depended on it. You nodded, about to say yes, but Wanda was quick to put her mouth on yours the second you opened it, slipping her tongue past your lips. 
The entire night she had to see your figure so beautifully displayed in this little black dress and ignore it. But it was damn near impossible now with you so close and moaning into her mouth. Wanda was at a loss for words. She just didn’t know how to say it. Everything was perfect now. You were perfect. The way the straps of your dress fell off your shoulders was perfect. The way you smelled and tasted. The way that Wanda could call you hers now, keep you all to herself.
And finally, her chest heaved only for a moment before she chose what to do and you closed your eyes and welcomed something you had long dreamed of. 
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inkskinned · 3 months
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she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.
in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.
it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.
i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.
sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.
and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.
once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?
i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.
my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."
the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.
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siriuslysmoking · 2 months
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omg the theo idea!!!! do it!
Sent Not Received
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Summary: In which Theodore Nott did not receive the letters you sent.
Warnings: major miscommunication, Exes to lovers? Yelling, kissing
All year you had been trying to contact all of your friends from Hogwarts and you heard back from them- well most of them.
Pansy would write you almost every day, Blaise would update you on everything happening back at Hogwarts, Enzo would ask how you were doing, Draco would write maybe once every other week. Even Mattheo would write you back.
It shouldn't have surprised you when you didn't hear back from him. You had left after a big fight- left meaning you were forced to go.
Your parents were strict, they didn't think Hogwarts right place for you anymore, not after the war, after the leadership changed. They made you move in with you aunt who lived in France, so you could get a proper education.
Theo thought you had left him, he distanced himself from the group, with them all talking about you he couldn't stand it; not after everything. It took you so long just to get you were in your relationship and you threw that away, for what France?
He hadn't heard from you all year, he didn't reach out, he didn't need to, he knew what you wanted, and that was not him. He's accepted it, after ten months he's accepted it.
Pansy doesn't mention Theo in her letters, she knows it's a sore subject. But neither do you.
When your parents contact you for the first time in months you're nervous, wondering what they want. But when they let you know that you're permitted to return back to the United Kingdom, you're ecstatic.
Before you even reply to your family, you sign a letter to McGonagall, asking permission to arrive through a portkey to Hogwarts, to surprise your friends.
She sends a package with a silver goblet after three days. She signs it with one word: Portkey
You don't even think twice, before grabbing your trunk and the portkey. You get dizzy when you arrive in the Headmistresses office. "Hello, Ms. L/n."
"Hello, Professor." You smile and she quickly returns it. She gives you the password to the common room and sends you on your way.
You make haste running down to the dungeons, you leave your bags in Mcgonagall's office so you don't have to lug them wherever you go.
The common room is empty when you arrive, dinner is almost finished so you sit in the window sill in the corner, out of site. You enjoy the emptiness of the room, missing the atmosphere of Hogwarts over the months you've been gone.
The bustiling of students piling in the room knocks you out of your head. "I'm just saying, if she didn't want to be pushed, she should've gotten out of my way."
"You're an idiot." Replies Blaise at Pansy's everlong spew.
You watch as the group stuff themselves onto the couch, continuing a conversation. "I can't believe I'm friends with you."
You silently laugh at Draco, "Something never do change do they?"
The group goes silent as you make your way out of the window sill. "No!" Pansy gasps, standing up and nearly tripping over Mattheo's feet that are resting on top of the coffee table.
Pansy engulfs you in a hug, basically jumping on top of you. "You're here!"
You reply to Enzo with a hug.
"I missed you so much!" While you were giving hugs you noticed the lack of an aura in the room, one you had grown accustomed to over the past couple of years.
You make eye contact with Blaise and he nods to the stairwell to the boys dormitory.
They're in the same dorm they were last year, when you knock Theo is slow to answer the door. "What do you want."
"I wanted to say hi."
"Well now you did." He goes to close the door but you stop him.
"This is not how it was supposed to go." You step into the room and he lets you with a sigh.
"What?" He asks you, not understanding while he was standing in front of you after all this time.
"It was supposed to be me and you."
"Well, that's not how it turned out to be, that's life for you."
"Why didn't you try?" You sigh, "You just gave up."
"I didn't do anything." Theo snaps, "You left!"
"I didn't want to-"
"You left me for what- france?" He laughs sarcastically, huffing and turning from you to run his hands through his hair.
"I explained what happened." You say softly, trying to lower the tone of the conversation.
"Oh, really? Cause I didn't hear shit."
"I wrote you, you never replied to my letters- everyone else did, but you-" You feel tears trying to claw their ways out of your eyes, but you refuse to cry, you've cried too much after his absence.
"-What letters?" He quickly turned to you.
"w-what?" You stutter out, not understanding
"What letters?"
"The-The letters I sent you all year that you ignored!"
"I didn't get any letters." He shook his head, with an expression that told you he wasn't lying.
"I sent dozens of them."
"I didn't receive them." His eyes are wide, "I didn't get the letters."
"I sent them as soon as I got there, I explained that I didn't want to go, that- that I missed you and even if you didn't want to see or hear from me that I loved you."
"Loved?" He pauses, meeting your eyes.
"Love, I will always love you, shit like that doesn't go away." You laugh softly.
"I love you too." He seems to melt, meeting his lips with yours in a passionate kiss.
A kiss that you had missed over the past few months, his body heat warming you, his cologne surronding you.
God, how you've missed him.
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Reblogs and Likes are appreciated <3
Taglist: @crimsntwlip @leonesimp
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