#the prompt is supposed to be angsty but <3 look at these two <3
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"if you can't figure it out by now, then i don't have anything else to tell you."
This would be perfect for Andrew to say to Neil
“If you can’t figure it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you,”
(aka an Andreil “what are we?” conversation.)
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“Allison hasn’t stopped calling you my boyfriend since we got back from the cabins.” Neil was sat parallel to Andrew with his arms wrapped around his knees in a meagre attempt at keeping warm, next to Andrew’s outstretched legs. The air on the roof of the dorms was crisp with a fresh Spring breeze, the wind swirling debris in little whirls around them. “I haven’t told her to stop, but I will if it bothers you. ”
“Is that what you’ve been thinking about for the last twenty minutes?” Andrew asked, a rhetorical air to the question he didn’t really want answered at all. The smoke that left his lips disappeared quickly in the wind, miraculous that his cigarette was still burning. He brought it back up to his lips and inhaled before turning to look at Neil. He didn’t say anything, and his bored gaze didn’t say much either.
“It’s Allison.” Neil settled for, as if it were explanation enough. He sat up straight to match Andrew’s eye-line. “It’ll catch on.”
Andrew regarded Neil for only a second longer before turning back towards the view in front. “She has never strayed far from being a tabloid princess. It’s nothing more than front page news to her.”
“I told you she was betting on us,” Neil said, but Andrew held up a finger to stop him. “What?”
“Their poor choices in gambling are not my business.” He said, stubbing out the finished cigarette next to him and flicking the butt over the edge. His hands found rest in his lap, interlaced into each other. “They chose a horse in a race and think that they’ve won. I don’t care.”
“Tell me to ask her to stop, then.” Neil looked away as well, arms crossed over his chest, close to asking Andrew to go inside. They could talk in their dorm, except for the fact that Kevin had surprisingly invited Matt over to discuss his playing strategy, and this was not the kind of conversation Neil wanted to have with company. They could speak in German; but he’d made a conscious effort to speak in English in front of his teammates since he promised not to keep secrets from them anymore. “Say the word and I’ll tell her, because I don’t care.”
“Evidently not.” Andrew said. “Why bring it up if you didn’t?”
“Well, does it?” Neil didn’t want to indulge in his desire to dodge his questions by changing the subject. “Bother you, I mean.”
“Irrelevant bullshit doesn’t bother me.” Andrew pedantically emphasised the word bother with quotation marks in the air. “You’re asking stupid questions.”
“Valid questions.” Neil corrected.
“Needless questions.”
Neil sighed and extended his legs. He had to brush the hair from out of his eyes to look over at Andrew, reminding himself that he needed a haircut. “I’ll tell her to stop, then.”
“That is not what I said.” Andrew brushed him off with a wave of his hand.
“So are you my boyfriend?” Neil wasn’t sure why he cared so much, or if he even cared at all, because he knew in truth he would never go out of his way to call Andrew his boyfriend anyway. But in some ways it felt important to understand what was really happening, and how exclusive was their nothing? In his own mind, never to be spoken aloud, did Andrew even believe that they were a thing?
Andrew looked at him, his gaze falling from the top of Neil’s head to the bottom of his chest and back up again. He tilted his head, and landed on Neil’s eyes. After a small inhale, he nodded forward, “No.”
Even expecting it, even knowing that was what he was always going to say, it still felt like a surprise punch to his stomach. That’s what Andrew had done to him, he’d turned him soft, he’d turned him into someone with an interest in normality. He’d turned him into someone who longed for a boyfriend and a life, a home, a future, even if his stomach twisted at the thought.
He pushed down the tiny feeling of disappointment that radiated through his gut, and smiled, “Okay.” Andrew didn’t look away, but he remained silent, and Neil filled the space with a question he knew he shouldn’t ask, but had to ask anyways, “So what are we?”
“You are living inside a movie.” Andrew didn’t laugh, but Neil was sure that the desire to was buried somewhere beneath his stoic expression. “Is that how far removed you’ve become in your freedom, that you think that is something you have to ask me?” He shuffled himself over so he was better facing Neil, and he glanced between his eyes. “We are nothing.”
“A truth?” Neil tested.
“Fuck off,” Andrew poked Neil’s chest hard enough to hurt. “That is the truth.”
“So I’ll tell Allison to stop.” Neil’s head bowed in an over exaggerated nod of understanding. “I’ll tell her that you are not my boyfriend, and you don’t want to be called that. I’ll tell her you said that.”
“I hope that is not supposed to be a threat.” Neil had hoped his response would be more telling, but Andrew continued with, “Would you like to be called my boyfriend?” His tone was less inquisitive than it was mocking, the slightest grimace in his face telling Neil that he hated even saying it.
“I don’t know.” Neil reached a hand out towards Andrew, pausing for a silent glance of approval from him before he placed it on his chest, playing with the strings of the black hoodie he wore. “I’m mostly tired of not knowing what I mean to you.” Andrew’s expression hardened into something resembling annoyance as he continued to speak. “I’m not asking you to call me your boyfriend, okay? I just want to know if you‘re going to meet another guy, and think it’s okay to get him off, because we’re not together.”
Andrew didn’t move to reciprocate the touch Neil had given him, but raised an eyebrow at the hypothetical. “It sounds like it would be a problem for you if I did.”
Neil matched his stare and coolness in his response, “And what if it is?”
“This is an entirely unproductive conversation to have,” Andrew rested a wrist on Neil’s shoulder and brushed a piece of hair back behind his neck. A small but meaningful gesture that perhaps was given in lieu of ensuring Neil that his example would never happen. “I will not give you the pleasure of reassurance. If you haven’t figured it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you.”
“How can I figure it out, when you keep telling me it doesn’t exist?” Neil’s voice was low, and Andrew’s sigh meant he heard the gentleness in it. He heard the way Neil hadn’t meant to sound so pleading, the words leaving his lips in such a way that felt like a desperate whisper for answers. “I want to hear you say it.”
Andrew looked down at the hair by Neil’s neck. “You know that I won’t.”
“Then tell me that we’re not just fucking for fun.”
Andrew dropped his hand and pushed Neil off, seemingly thrown by his bluntness. His laugh was a single short breath, not a semblance of a smile or humour in it. He shook his head as he took a cigarette from the packet he’d pulled from his pocket. Once the cigarette was placed between his lips, he stopped with the lighter a few inches away from his face, pointing the fire starter at Neil. “Well, we’re certainly not fucking for love.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Neil watched as he struggled to ignite the lighter, hand cupped around the flame, the wind set on blowing it out. After the third unsuccessful try, Neil reached forward to help him shield it with both his hands, until three short puffs in from Andrew told him it was lit. Andrew leaned back and exhaled. He watched as Neil pulled his hands away.
“You want to know if I’m going to get bored of you, then.” He said through smoke. Andrew adjusted himself to tuck one of his legs beneath the other, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You want to know if I have feelings, is that it?”
Neil shrugged his shoulders and looked at his hands. “Maybe.”
Neil listened as Andrew let out another smoky exhale. He cleared his throat, and when Neil thought he might speak, he instead filled his lungs again. There was no need to flick off the ash as the wind did that job for him, but from instinct he did it anyway. He let out another humourless laugh, two short puffs following in order to keep the stick lit. Andrew was not looking at Neil as he lifted his eyes to watch him, Andrew’s hazel gaze fixed on something in the distance. Using the thumb and index finger of his free hand he wiped the sides of his lips, tensing his jaw like the words took it out of him just to say. “Fuck you for even asking.”
The tug in Neil’s chest was impossible to ignore. It felt wrong to hear Andrew’s voice wrapped around those words, words that separately read like an insult, yet meant something different to their original form when he uttered them. Like watching a fish out of water, like listening to a mime sing; to have these moments of vulnerability from Andrew were as beautiful as they were rare. He hadn’t intended to steer their conversation to the place where it had landed, and part of him felt guilty as he watched Andrew silently struggle through the side of himself he swore did not exist. The side of Andrew that kept itself buried six feet below, hidden from anyone who asked, except for Neil, who’d been digging a hole for months trying to find it.
“When you put a name to something it gives it permanency, yet an opportunity to end,” Andrew sat up and moved closer to Neil, finding his position with one knee in between his legs, sitting back on a spot on the lower half of Neil’s thigh. He threw the cigarette somewhere behind him as he settled. Taking Neil’s hair into his fists, he examined the look on his face with his lips slightly pursed. He considered his words and took one hand out of Neil’s hair to hold his chin up, making sure he was listening. “You label it however you wish. I will not. Do you understand?”
Neil nodded, afraid to speak, as if any words insufficient would cause Andrew to change his mind about where he rested his body weight. It was reassurance enough that he’d found his way there, and that he remained, comfortable by his own volition.
“And for the record, Abram,” Andrew leaned in close, wisps of his hair tickling Neil’s face, his breath hot as he left a gentle kiss on his jawline. Neil shut his eyes and breathed in the moment, hiding his fists in the pocket of Andrew’s hoodie. “To answer the question you so annoyingly want answered,” He left another kiss higher up on his jaw, brushing his lip against his ear lobe as he moved, slowly, so gently Neil was both afraid he would fall apart, or that he would be able to feel his quickly beating heart through his skin. The hand that had sat in his hair moved to cup the opposite side of his face, the other tucking Neil’s hair behind his ear and holding him by his neck. Neil couldn’t help but shiver as he whispered in his ear, “I will not be fucking anyone else, and I am not just fucking you for fun. Happy?”
Neil nodded as he turned into his lips, melting into the kiss that warmed him up as the wind persisted. His hands pulled out of the hoodie pocket, and he tapped Andrew’s neck for permission to hold him. When Andrew hummed with a barely there nod, he hooked his hands around the back of his neck and pulled him closer.
There were a million things Neil could label Andrew;
Terrifying but caring. Gentle while violent.
Beautiful, like something that deserved to be hung on a wall, yet so precious Neil wished nobody else could see.
Rough. Jagged.
Talented. Human.
Misunderstood, perhaps. Genuine, most of the time.
When he thought about Andrew, there were a million things he could identify him as before landing on Neil’s boyfriend.
He would not tell Allison to stop, nor correct Nicky when he joined in. He would not say it out loud, either, as if their nothing that is something was so sacred it couldn’t be uttered. It was a relief of course to know that Andrew was his, and though he felt embarrassment rush through his blood at the idea of it, he was certain that what they had both found in each other was glaringly rare and hauntingly perfect. He noticed how perfect they fit together in each others space, lips on lips, hands on skin, and wondered how he ever doubted this was it; that this was real.
He was sure that no one else could experience such a thing.
#this got a little too long but I could keep going#the prompt is supposed to be angsty but <3 look at these two <3#look at how they love each other#I hope this is okay! I hope you enjoy!#I love these funky little guys#Neil josten#Andrew minyard#aftg#all for the game#andreil#andreil fic
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hi do you take requests?
if you dont, feel free to ignore, but if you do..
imagine dr ratio having a wife/husband(reader), or lover whatever. they've been married for a long whike now on a really healthy relationship. reader is a opposite to ratio, a calm collected individual who doesn't lash out
but what happens when ratio became so stubborn the reader snaps and calls dr ratio by his full name? especially in front of people?
kinda want to know your perspective and jow you write this
(i love ut writing :3 its still okay to ignore though)
彡prompt: you love dr. ratio, you do. but sometimes he can irritate the shit out of you.
彡warning(s): swearing. sorta angsty, but it’s somehow fluff. probably ooc! ratio?
彡notes: dividers by cafekitsune.
Y’know, usually date nights with a loving partner are supposed to go well. And yours with Veritas did, but only until you two started having a back and forth on paying the tip.
“Veritas, please. It’s only 100 credits.” You pinched your temple. Seriously, the waitress was nice! She wasn’t too pushy, there wasn’t any attitude. One small tip wouldn’t hurt.
“What is there to tip the woman for? For doing her job right?” He crossed his legs. “Darling, you must understand that a waitress who isn’t unbearably contemptible isn’t one deserving of a tip.”
“For fucks sake…she’s gonna come over here in less than five minutes. If you don’t want to pay her, I will.” As soon as you took out your wallet, Veritas just shook his head.
You were endearing and your emotional intelligence was admirable. But for goodness sakes, you seemed just a little too insistent on spending extra credits for somebody just doing their job.
As if it was right on cue, you gave the waitress the bill, along with a 100 credit tip with a smile.
It wasn’t until you stopped the waitress from leaving to give her another 50 credits that Veritas just huffed and snatched the money out of your hands.
“Okay, that’s enough. She doesn’t need anymore money than you gave her.” He put your credits in his wallet, glaring at you. “Don’t be so careless with your credits.”
The nervous waitress looked at him, then at you. Her nerves only increased as she saw your eye twitch.
You raised your voice. “Veritas Ratio, quit being prudish and give her the credits!”
It wasn’t the yelling that made him recoil, it was the anger in your tone and voice. Frustration wasn’t new, but you were actually mad at him.
Noticing the eyes on you, your boyfriend, and the poor…poor waitress, your anger subsided.
“Uh…Please. Please give her the credits.” You spoke softly now, mumbling a softer ‘thanks’ as he handed her the money.
However, the waitress took a deep breath, and spoke up. “I can assure you 100 credits is more than enough for me. But thank you.” The waitress smiled at you and walked off with the check.
You picked at your nails, lip quivering as you thought about what you should say to your boyfriend—who was several steps ahead of you.
Noticing this, he looked at you as he continued walking. “If you feel guilt–ridden because you think you’ve hurt my feelings, then banish the thought immediately.”
You rushed next to him, looking at him with lingering feelings of doubt and regret. “Yeah well, I’m sorry for yelling at you and making a scene.”
God, what’s wrong with me? You thought to yourself.
He frowned, watching tears brim your eyelashes. “It’s not like you weren’t provoked.” He sighed before continuing.
“But, in all honesty sweetheart, I thought you were being too benevolent like always.”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you stared at your shoes.
“Though, your attempt at trying to put me in my place made me reconsider something.” He stopped, eyeing you.
“I considered you to be someone who’s too kind for their own good. That was one of the things I wanted you to work on.”
And you swear you saw him smile for a second. “But, you’re still capable of standing your ground, so perhaps I misjudged. Apologies.”
Embarrassed, you scratched your cheek. “That’s sweet of you, Ver–ow!”
He pinched your cheek with his fingertips. “Though, the next time you want to raise your voice at me, I’d prefer you do it in a more private setting.”
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absolutely NEED "hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them" with jason todd PLEASE (when you have the chance/motivation) <3
drawstring
pairing: college!au jason todd x reader
prompt: friends to lovers - hugging and absentmindedly kissing their neck, resulting in mortification for one of them
word count: 5.5k
warnings: alcohol/smoking mention aka usual college shenanigans, slow burn(?), lil angsty, sports lmao
a/n: writing abt jason in college (here) has done smth to me bc this turned into quite the project (in a good way ofc) and i picked basketball bc it’s the only sport i know enough abt and jason’s tall so it makes sense shhh (also baby boys a centre <3) comments & feedback are always appreciated!
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shot at the night series.
pt. two - the hellcat spangled shalalala
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your name is a drawstring laced around my neck, tighter with every breath.
You had approached him first, after your prof caught you off guard with an outlandish take. You glanced over to Jason with your confused and slightly mortified eyes at the rather dated opinion, unable to stop the grin from spreading over your face as you both chuckled a little too loudly. A few people shot looks your way, and you mouthed an apology to him before you both turned back to your notes. Jason thought that had been it, sure you two always sat a chair away from each other and were in the same tutorial and you always smelled so good when he’d walk by, but you were a passing figure in Jason’s life.
Or you were supposed to be until you stopped him at the door, fingers darting out to brush his forearm before you dropped your hand to your side. You offered an apologetic smile while Jason stared at you a little wide eyed.
“Hey, sorry. I just, I dunno. Anyway we were in the same tutorial yeah? And I thought I’d introduce myself. In case we need notes or help or something.” You said, giving him your name while Jason nodded slowly.
A moment of silence passed, you blinked up at him and Jason laughed, “Oh, uh I’m Jason, and yeah sure.”
“Yeah sure? You don’t have to agree if—“
“No—I didn’t mean it like that,” He interrupted with wild urgency before composing himself, “It’s nice to meet you and yeah that’d be great. Thanks.” Jason offered you a grin and your furrowed brows settled.
“Okay, well here’s my number. See ya around Jason!” You beamed at him like you hadn’t been accusing him moments ago, slipping out the door and off the whatever class you had next. He glanced down at the ripped piece of paper with your number. Who gives out their number like this anymore? He thought to himself, shoving the piece of paper into his pocket and ignoring how much he liked the way you said his name.
~
It was a steady friendship after that, you liked having someone outside your usual circle, someone to help with class and Jason liked you. He knew after a few weeks of consistently hanging out, usually in the library or empty lecture halls, but sometimes in your dorms. Sitting side by side in your bed or sprawled out on the floor in Jason’s single room were moments seared into his brain. Private and quiet in those small spaces, especially in your shared bedroom, that demanded close proximity. Maybe he should have put the pieces together then, fully coming to terms with his onslaught of feelings for you, but it took a boring day in the library for Jason to fully clue in.
You were sharing a booth and Jason was letting you copy his notes from the lecture you missed last week. You were close, typing with silent intent while Jason took in your side profile. The soft curve of your cheek, your lashes sweeping each time you glanced between screens and lips plump and wet from your tongue running over them out of habit. Jason knew he was staring, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
When that crossed Jason’s mind, something tight bit into his chest as he realized no one admired their friends like that. He had always thought you were cute, and a nice presence to be around, but that warm feeling you fostered in his chest felt different—heavier when you looked up at him.
“Done!” You chimed, breaking Jason from his realization with your sweet voice. “Thanks again. I might need help studying this chapter when the final comes up but I should be good for now.” You closed your laptop, shuffling your books into your bag and letting Jason know your time together was coming to an end. He felt selfish for wanting more time with you, but you had already told him when you flopped down that you wouldn’t be able to stay long. Jason had tried not to appear annoyed then, but couldn’t care less now as he closed his laptop with a bit too much force. It garnered your attention as you glanced over at him with concern, “All good?”
Okay maybe he did care.
“Uh, yeah, yeah.” Jason nodded absentmindedly and hated how nervous you made him. How could he not see it before, the way words seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth and coherent thoughts flew out the window each time you two studied together. How it got worse when you were close, leaning into him or slapping his arm when he was criticizing one of your papers.
“Oookay,” You said it like you didn’t believe him before turning to face him fully, “One of my friend’s boyfriend or something works at a bar so my friends and I are going there tonight if you wanna join. I know its not really our thing, but we didn’t get to hang out today so.”
Our thing. Jason liked how that sounded, the implication of it. Like time spent together and even Jason himself was your own private little thing, it was special and not to be shared. It was a dangerous way to think of your friendship—of love—but Jason burned hotter at the thought regardless. And with you being scorned by your lack of time together as well, it all made something wicked pour into Jason’s chest as he a grin lit up his face. The guilt of having to cancel on Roy vanished immediately as he nodded.
“Yeah, just text me the details.”
You smiled wide, arms thrown around his shoulders as you hugged Jason for the first time before leaving him breathless amongst the shelves of books.
~
Jason almost pussied out, a block away from the bar and filled with dread. He questioned why he had agreed when this was the first time you two would be together outside the pretense of school work, on top of coming to terms with his feelings for you. And while studying together never meant solely talking about school, you two chatted about growing up in Gotham and dealing with being away from home. You both loved food and had a habit of showing each other what dishes you made the night before. You were also fond of baking when you visited friends' apartments, and would him banana bread or lemon squares on top of a coffee some days. You had asked his drink order the first time you two had hung out, and would always text him when you were running late if he wanted anything.
He would always say no and you would get him a drink anyways. “It’s my late tax.” You shrugged once, leaving him a bit speechless at how nonchalant your ability to care was.
Relishing in those moments made Jason breathe a bit easier, stuffing his hands into his leather jacket’s pockets and continuing down the street lamp lit road. He could hear muffled chatter and music playing as he neared, and despite wanting to sneak in without detection, you were outside sharing a cigarette with a friend and laughing amongst yourselves. You spotted Jason over your friend’s shoulder, immediately abandoning your conversation in favour of greeting him. Pride boasted in his chest, but it was quickly overcame by affection as you half ran, half drunk waddled over, arms wrapping around his waist before he could even breathe out a hello.
“I’m so happy you showed up.” You muttered into his jacket, pulling away just as Jason went to wrap his arms around you. You blinked up at him in the dopey sort of way, and it made him smile.
“You been here a while?” He asked, your brows pulling together.
“Are you saying I appear intoxicated Jason?” You teased, his name always sounding so right when you said it, especially now. Low and teasing, heavy with whatever you had drank.
“Depends, you always use big words when you’re drunk?” He jutted his chin at you, calmness flowing into his chest. Jason felt stupid for being worried, when he wasn’t so caught up in how you made him feel, you brought an ease out of him. A playfulness that sometimes left him tripped up and face hot, but you never seemed to notice.
“Pfft, you haven’t even heard the big words I know Mr. Literature Major.” He rolled his eyes, as you poked his chest. Your name was called before he could think of a response, both of you turning your attention towards the bar.
“Oh you can finish it, it's fine.” You waved your hand at your friend holding your smoke, more focused on Jason as you slipped beside him. You linked arms, leaning your weight into him as you headed towards the entrance. “Everyone’s inside, sorry if I reek of smoke.”
“I don’t mind.” He murmured, looking down at you and wondering how easy it would be to press a kiss to the top of your head. To lean over and—
“Oh by the way—“ Your voice pulled Jason from his thoughts, and he realized he was being introduced to the friend you were smoking with. He’d be hard pressed to remember her name, but she seemed nice enough. Jason had to force himself to be present as your arm slipped from his, and a chorus of voices greeted the two of you. You introduced everyone first, he was normally good with names and faces, in seas of people or gatherings like this, but Jason felt otherworldly. The only presence he felt grounded to was you, sitting next to him with one of your legs crossed over the other, calf brushing his shin as you told everyone how you two met.
“Wait—don’t you play for the basketball team?” One of your guy friends suddenly asked, and for some reason Jason immediately looked to you, to find you staring right back at him with a confused expression.
“Oh yeah, I’m starting this season—“
You slapped his arm with a shocked chuckled, “You have never told me that! What the hell!” You yelled, not louder than the chatter filling the bar as no one even looked your way. Everyone laughed as he shrugged, running his fingers through his wavy locks while you eyed him.
“Yeah I remember seeing a post with you, I think I remembered your hair.” Your friend continued, making you laugh softly. The stark white strands at the front that fell into his eyes sat against the raven black of the rest of Jason’s hair. You had asked him once if he dyed it like that, and Jason only shook his head no, continuing with the chapter like no follow up would be needed. It was perhaps why your hand found his, the one resting on his thigh underneath the table.
Your fingers curled around his hand and you let the conversation drift onto Jason’s basketball career. You listened intently, your chair right next to his as he talked about playing in the public courts as a kid, and was on a real team for the first time in highschool. He didn’t think he’d go to school for a basketball scholarship, but it seemed like the right time when he was offered. And while it was mostly true, Jason skipped over some of the more gruesome details of his life you had gotten pieces of, you knew he lived on the streets before he was adopted, but Jason never spoke of his adoptive father. You didn’t even have a name for the man who had given him a chance at life, but you were never one to push. You knew when to ask and when not too, you seemed to understand that Jason’s temperament existed on a razor sharp line, and walked it effortlessly.
“I feel kinda dumb because who is friends with someone this goddamn tall and doesn’t ask if they play basketball or volleyball even.” You snorted at one point, making Jason laugh. You let your hand fall from his then, pushing yourself up to get another drink. A few friends requested shots and you asked Jason if he wanted anything, but he shook his head no. He almost offered to go with you, but you were gone before he had the chance. He was left alone to be interrogated more about his life, which he didn’t mind, he was used to it.
It came with being a collegiate level athlete and one of the sons of Gotham’s favourite billionaire, even if most people his age didn’t know that. But it was always the same shit, especially college guys who loved to live some NBA fantasy through Jason though that wasn’t what he was striving for. Jason wanted his degree and if playing basketball helped him focus and work out everything he kept inside, then so be it. Jason never mentioned it to you because he had never seen himself as an athlete who has to go to school, but instead as a student with the perk of playing a sport he enjoyed. He felt a bit wrong for not sharing that side of his life with you, for wanting you to know him and what he loved as much as he wanted to know that about you.
It would be something to dwell on later as you returned with your friends' drinks, and on your second trip you brought a drink for yourself and another beer for Jason. You only sent him a smile as you set it down, falling back into the conversation as the night rolled on. Jason did his best to stay attentive, but you all were a little drunk and tripping over words by a certain point. Jason felt warm and content next to you, unsure how many drinks you two had ended up getting for another, but appreciating how you felt beside him regardless.
“I’m gonna go smoke and then wander my ass home.” You declared, leaving a few bills on the table which Jason immediately scooped back up.
“I got ours.” He said, pushing himself up a little too fast that his chair tipped backwards. You giggled a little unceremoniously at the sight before his words hit your ears. You began to object, but Jason had already slunk to the bar while your friends picked his chair, and closed out whatever tab you had. He was sure he ended up paying for a few of your friends' drinks too, but didn’t have the capacity to care. You were outside by the time he was back, bidding goodbye to your friends before joining you in the chilly air. “Are you actually walking home?” Jason asked, stealing your cigarette from between your fingers while you pouted.
“No, I ordered an uber. It's not coming for like ten minutes but I wanted air.” You said, voice sleepy with words falling into another.
“I’ll wait with you.”
“You can uber with me, if you want.” You offered and Jason considered it. It would mean more time alone with you, but he wasn’t sure he could keep it up anymore. With alcohol heavy in his bones and nicotine burning his throat, Jason didn’t know if he could keep it hidden anymore. Keep his feelings at bay when all his inhibitions were down and telling him not to. It was too dangerous, too risky so he shook his head no reluctantly.
“I could use the air too.” You nodded as he passed back your smoke, the hum from the bar and citylife filled the air before you looked down at your phone.
You stared unmoved for a moment, then your eyes met Jason’s. Green and heavy with want, he knew it was obvious. And either you were oblivious or didn’t care as you looked at him unfazed. Drunk and tired, but nothing heavy lurked in your gaze. It made his mouth go sour, but your voice broke any annoyance from flowering.
“Hey, when’s your next game?” You asked, swaying on your feet every so faintly.
“Uh, next Friday I think. Why?” Jason sounded a bit harsher than he meant, but you only laughed.
“Is it cool if I come watch?”
“Yeah it’s not like I can’t stop you,” You frowned at that and Jason was ready to blame the alcohol, “Sorry, I meant I'd like it if you came. My friend Roy, you met him last time he was visiting, is here again and gonna go on Friday if you wanna go with him.”
“Yeah! That’d be great!” You closed the space between you two and pulled Jason into a hug. Your arms wound around his shoulders this time, pulling him down to your level as you stood on your tippy toes. He wasted no time wrapping his strong arms around you, hands splayed on your back as his nose brushed the juncture where your shoulder and neck met. You smelled as good as you always did, a bit like liquor and sweat too, but still that summery scented warmth. It was oceanic and sweet, like that earthy natural sweetness. The kind from berries and sap, that stick to your tongue and remind you of hot endless days.
And maybe Jason was drunk and reading too much romantic poetry recently for one of his courses, or maybe he just wanted to let himself go, to feel whatever you made him feel tenfold with no hesitation. Jason let his head tilt forward, lips brushing the side of your neck before he placed a soft, open mouth kiss next to where your perfume was the strongest. Where it enveloped his senses and made him forget the reality of his life and your friendship. His tongue darted out to brush where his lips had met your skin when your fingers clutched his shoulders and pushed your bodies apart.
You stared at him a little wide eyed, his long arms still able to breach the distance and distantly holding onto your waist before the car pulling up next to you snapped Jason to reality as his grasp fell from you. Regret filled Jason instantly, words unable to form as his tongue ran across his bottom lip. You followed the action with your eyes, arms hugged around your chest as you took another step back.
“I’ll see you in class next week okay?” You said, expression softening as Jason forced a smile and nod like he hadn’t just ruined everything you two had built. You waved before ducking into the car, and vanishing into the night. Jason started walking home immediately, eyes focused on the pavement and how his steps fell on after another until he was home. He didn’t even change before rolling into bed, tossing off his hoodie and kicking off his boots before letting the promise of sleep and forgetting overtake him.
Jason thought he would wake up in a better mood, a less angry one.
He was wrong.
~
though I probably deserve this noose, there's one thing I'd like to adduce…just know I never resented you.
Jason knew he was being childish, probably handling it in the worst way, but he decided to take a cue from your reaction to his kiss, and was avoiding you. The few times you crossed paths on campus, he would send you a quick wave or fake smile before veering off in whatever direction was furthest from you. You managed to trap him in one conversation, asking if you still were on to study after class. “Uh sure, works for me.” Jason fidgeted with his zipper before bidding you goodbye and spinning out of the building he needed to be in.
He was also texting you less, keeping his phone in his bag most of the day and replying half heartedly. He was sure you knew something was up—how could you not expect Jason to be awkward all things considered?
And if you were still clueless to his avoidance, Jason made it clear when he walked past the desk you two normally shared during lecture. You had looked up as he headed down the stairs dividing the lecture hall into three. Yet Jason kept his head forward, opting to sit on the left side of the theater and closer to the front. He could feel your gaze following him, and Jason only worked up the courage once to steal a glance in your direction to see you typing furiously.
His head snapped back to the front as he pretended to listen. Jason did try to pay attention, but guilt was slowly eating him whole. He was so grateful when the lecture finally ended, taking his time to pack up and relieved to see you had already left by the time Jason started heading to the exit. Or so he thought until you stood across from the doors, arms crossed over your chest, clearly unimpressed.
“We still on to study?” You asked, clipped. Jason was sure this was the first time he had actually seen you mad, and hated he was the cause of it.
“I have a last minute practice tonight.” He said and you scoffed. Basketball had never once gotten in the way of your friendship to the point you didn’t even know he was on the team.
“Sure, okay. Well have fun and see ya around Jason.” You rolled your eyes as you pushed off the wall, shaking your head as you brushed past him. His eyes fell closed, head tipping forward as he let out a hefty sigh. Broad chest expanding and falling as he blew out hot air.
“Fuck.” He muttered, running a hand over his face and heading to the gym until night had rolled in. He would’ve stayed longer, doing a few laps in the pool perhaps, until Jason remembered Roy was still in his dorm.
Jason knew he wasn’t only being a shitty friend to you, but he had abandoned Roy twice now during his visit. It was too much guilt for Jason to hold and he didn’t have the space for it as he headed back to his friend, praying Roy wasn’t too mad. And he wasn’t, instead sleeping with his head by the foot of Jason’s bed and limbs hanging off all sides.
It made Jason laugh, a lightness filling him for the first time today. His game was tomorrow and Roy would be there and maybe it would be enough.
~
You weren’t going to show, Jason was sure of it. Well, there was the outlier possibility you might, but no, logically you were pissed and not going to show up. Unless maybe to boo him. That made Jason chuckle, pulling off his headphones as he half listened to his coach and captains’ last minute pep talk. It wasn’t the most important game, losing wouldn’t drop the teams standing much, but winning would look good as hell.
That appealed enough to Jason who was rolling out his ankles before pushing to his feet, the black of his jersey contrasted the white long sleeve he had underneath. His hair had gotten long enough to sweep back into a small ponytail, the short strands falling forward and framing his face. He caught a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrors as everyone headed out of the lockeroom. Jason looked happy, it seemed like a foreign expression on his face, especially as of late. But the prospect of losing himself in a game always appealed to Jason and would soon became reality.
It was his needed escape, from all the chaos he had caused, but his peace came to halt when Jason searched for Roy in the sea of people and found you next to him. Roy had a conniving grin, so maybe he was a little mad at being abandoned and hearing Jason mope about you for the last few days.
One of Jason’s teammates slammed into his back as his sneakers squeaked to a stop.
“You good man?” He asked, placing a hand on Jason’s arm as he jogged past him. Jason nodded, following behind him and trying to focus on anything, but you. Of course you showed up, and didn’t even look mad, but excited.
Jason stared at the lines painted onto the ground, trying to push away the sudden anxiety looming in his stomach. He wanted to play well for you, he knew that much, but it was hard to think about anything else. Process the flow of the game while he knew you were watching. It wasn’t your fault, but Jason just couldn’t engage with you, not right now. He ignored both you and Roy the entire first half, not once sparing a glance in your direction, and opting to duck into the locker room when half time rolled through.
He normally would come chat, he knew Roy expected that much, but Jason just needed to play. To focus on rebounds and blocking and winning. It was simple, and with each second played he felt a bit easier. Like braving you once the break ended would be more bearable. But as Jason headed back onto the court, he was met with an empty seat. Roy was still there, looking rather unamused, but trying to push it down for Jason’s sake, while Jason stared helplessly.
You left, and he should have saw it coming, but it still hurt like hell. Jason played the second half well, mostly angry at himself for being an ass, and doing nothing to stop himself. Watching repeatedly from the outside as he fumbled every meaningful relationship if given the time. It made Jason sick, angry enough to be fouled out during the last few minutes, but his team won nonetheless.
The initial celebration seemed to pass in a haze, his teammates' voices flying over Jason’s head as he pushed his way through the crowd, wandering to where Roy sat with his arms crossed over his chest. “You played like a jackass near the end.” The redhead stated when Jason was in earshot.
“Playing how I feel I guess.” Jason shrugged, gaze flickering to the empty seat near to him.
Roy sighed, pushing himself up and slapping a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “At least you can admit. Now go be nice and shake hands and I’ll meet you at the afters, see if I can get your little crush to show up too.” Roy stated, making Jason chuckle as he nodded.
“Alright, and thanks man.”
“Anytime,” Roy grinned, letting Jason go before shouting, “Oh hey!”
He turned around as Roy held up his phone, “They asked for a play by play when they left, just so you know.” He said, a wide smile cracking over Jason’s face. You still cared, at least somewhat how he did, and maybe would show up (again) after all.
~
just know I never resented you, and I understand if you can't stand the sound or sight of my name.
Jason was in a sea of people, the usual spot for post game drinks overflowed, everyone in the celebrating mood it seemed. Jason tried to play along, and get lost in the fun, but was anxiously waiting for you and Roy. His gaze kept flitting to the door, half listening to conversations and participating even less. Jason ignored comments about how he played the last few minutes, sending tight smiles to the people who thought they had the right to joke about that stuff with him. They usually got the message after that, leaving him be until someone else decided to pull him into a conversation. The cycle was starting again as one of Jason’s captains called his name, but Roy’s hat flashed in Jason’s periphery and he didn’t even acknowledge the senior before turning towards the door.
“Outside.” Was all Roy said with a wink, patting Jason on the shoulder and slipping past him into the celebrations.
Jason wormed his way through the crowd, yanking open the front door and nearly colliding with you. You stepped back as Jason froze in the doorway.
“Uh Jay, I think people are tryna get by.” You said, nodding behind him. He glanced over his shoulder at the couple, and moved out of the way wordlessly as they dipped into the night. You slouched against the brick wall of the bar, and Jason headed towards you like a man compelled. He leaned into the wall, looking down at you as you sent him a smile. You were close, carrying the scent of smoke and that fucking perfume.
“Heard you fouled out.” You commented, making Jason chuckle.
“Yeah, a little too pissed to play nice.” He shrugged, toying with a string on his belt and pushing further into the wall, hoping the bricks would devour him.
“Is that how you normally play?”
“No, not unless I’m in my head.” You tensed at his reply, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Y’know we don’t have to talk about anything tonight, you should be celebrating anyway. We can play nice? For tonight?” You said after a moment, looking away from him while Jason continued to stare down at you.
“What?” He breathed.
“I just don’t think we need to focus on like, a drunk mistake right now. You guys won, let's just focus on that.” You shrugged, still looking towards the pavement while Jason’s jaw clenched.
Drunk mistake? Sure that was a way to describe it, but it was more than that. It was a revelation to the feelings Jason had been harboring, those same feelings he handled so poorly this last week and you wanted to forget it? Put it aside like you didn’t set Jason on fire from the inside out and were the one standing there with a fire extinguisher all at once. It wasn’t something he could just ignore anymore, not even for a few hours. It was why he had all, but abandoned you this week, more so than the embarrassment. And you chalked it up to a drunk mistake?
No.
He was silent for a while, long enough to beckon your gaze back to his as you turned to face him slightly. It appeared you weren’t getting out of this conversation tonight and neither was Jason.
Jason huffed, palms digging into his eyes before he said, “It wasn’t—that wasn’t me being drunk, okay—yeah I was, but it wasn’t a mistake in the way you’re thinking. I-I did that because I…like you. A lot, and have for a while.”
This silence seemed to stretch on longer than the one before—
“Oh.”
Jason laughed, he couldn’t help it, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he barked, “Well that’s always a great response.”
The coldness of his response snapped you out of whatever shock his confession put you in, “No, no I'm just surprised, sorry. And it’s not like I don’t like you too, but—“
“Oh that’s an even better one.” Jason muttered, and went to head back inside until your fingers shot out and grabbed his wrist. He stayed in place, but couldn’t turn to face you.
“Hey, stop being an ass, I asked you to play nice so listen. Jason, I do like you, I think you’re great actually, but this is a bit of a shock to me, and we still need to talk about how you treated me this last week. I need time to process all of this because I don’t wanna damage our relationship even more right now. But I still care about you a lot so just. Bear with me?” You said, breathless afterwards and thumb stroking against his wrist as Jason finally turned to face you.
“I can…work with that.” He said softly.
“Well I’m glad,” You shifted closer, squeezing his wrist before adding, “And hey maybe if you get a little too drunk tonight and make another mistake…it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Jason immediately tipped himself into you, making you scream out a laugh while trying to push him off.
“Y’know now that you mention it, I'm feeling pretty drunk now.” He pretended to trip over his feet while your palms pressed into his chest.
“God you’re so annoying.” You grinned when Jason stopped, holding up his own weight while you slapped the back of your hand into his stomach. “Now let’s go get messed up, Roy’s driving so!”
“Oh say no more.” You slipped your hand into his, fingers interlocking as you led Jason back into the bar. You glanced back when his fingers tightened around yours. grinning brightly at him in the hazy lighting, a beacon of good and calmness Jason longed for. And while there was still uncertainty and time before Jason could truly relish in you, he would bear with you as you asked.
—
title/lyrics comes from drawstring by pity sex.
pt. two - the hellcat spangled shalalala
#jason pining and doing it miserably is my fave genre#shot at the night#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#red hood x reader#red hood imagine#dc imagine#dc x reader#writing
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Hi<3 congratulations to your milestone! 1k followers what a number!
I've really enjoyed your Gojo oneshot sooo much<33 it was the best thing I've read in a while tysm for posting it and blessing my timeline with it<3
As for the event... Can I maybe request one with Portgas d. Ace and the angst prompt "hold on... I never told you about that" ? Thank you so much for your work ily<3
𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖔𝖓…𝖎 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 (portgas d. ace)
pairing: portgas d. ace x gn!reader
content: (light) angst, misunderstandings, abandonment issues, hurt/comfort, alabasta ace, ace is insecure (illegal), vivi being mentioned (she’s my bbg <3), happy ending
a/n: thank you anon 🙏❤️ i’m happy to hear you enjoyed the gojo oneshot that much! 🥺🥺 i hope you enjoy this too! <333 it’s angsty but with a small dose of fluff in the end <33 and it turned out a little longer than it was supposed to <33 mwUAH! <333
☁️ 1k follower event
Ace was in a bad mood. He’s been so since the both of you had separated from his brother Luffy and his crew a few days ago. At first, you had thought it was because of that, knowing how much Ace loved his brother and how, if the situation was a different one, he would have probably liked to stick around longer.
You’ve been wrong.
It was not just that Ace was in a bad mood. He seemed more distant and cold towards you. He wasn’t mean or anything, it just seemed like he was… holding back.
The two of you got along great usually, Ace was a little bit of a flirt so he was constantly seeking your closeness, making jokes and teasing you. If he wasn’t talking himself he liked to listen to you, usually with a soft smile on his face and an attentive look in his eyes, like everything you were talking about was the most interesting thing he’s ever heard.
Now he was barely even looking at you.
You had no idea what happened but you kept quiet, hoping that his mood would just improve on its own or that he would open up to you of his own accord and tell you what was bothering him.
So you waited.
It wasn’t until a few days later that the topic came up because you finally had a lead on where Blackbeard was, after weeks of searching.
You hoped this was enough to lighten his mood but his expression just seemed to sour when you told him about your findings with a big grin.
You expected Ace to lighten up, give a thumbs up and a wide grin, maybe pat you on the shoulder and say a few words of encouragement. But instead, he met you with a cold stare, one that made the blood freeze in your veins.
You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong but he didn’t let you.
Instead, he clenched his jaw, and grumbled, “Let’s get this over with.”
Your face fell, grin fading completely and replaced by a twist of your lips. “What do you mean?”
Ace turned his back to you and started packing his things together, probably wanting to get ready and going as soon as possible. “We’ll find Teach, I'll take care of him and then you’re finally rid of me.”
You gaped at him, mouth falling open in shock. “What? Ace, what the fuck?”
You felt confused and hurt he would even say something like that. Rid of him? What was that even supposed to mean?
Ace frowned, avoiding your eyes, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“We both know you only went with me because you promised Pops,” he told you, sounding like he struggled to keep his voice calm, “Don’t pretend.”
His words were like a slap to the face for you. For a moment you didn’t know what to say, almost losing yourself to the sinking feeling in your chest as your heart dropped to the pit in your stomach.
Did he really think that? Just because you made a promise to Whitebeard didn’t mean that…
You frowned, eyes darting over Ace’s face.
“Hold on…I never told you that,” you realized, “I never told you about the promise.”
Your eyes narrowed in suspicion, wondering how Ace even knew about this in the first place.
Ace looked upset, disappointment and hurt flashing through his eyes as he turned to look at you again. You saw his lips jutting out in a scowl.
“Yeah, you’re right. You never told me that!” Ace bit out, clenching his jaw.
You took a step back, feeling tears gather behind your eyes at his harsh tone.
“How would you…” Your eyes widened as realization dawned on you “Vivi told you.”
You remembered your conversation in Alabasta, how you’d opened up to her about your and Ace’s connection and the background of your travels. But why would she have gone up to Ace and told him what the two of you had talked about?
He must have seen the betrayal in your eyes because he let out a sigh. “Don’t blame her, she thought I knew.”
His face went back to looking upset, “Because why wouldn’t I? Why would you tell this to someone you just met but not me? I thought we-“
He stopped and looked away, never finishing his thought. Instead, he took a breath and said something else, “He made you promise.”
You blinked, the tears long forgotten as you caught a glance at his face. How hurt he looked. You didn’t understand what got him so upset, didn’t understand why he thought…
Did he think you wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for the promise?
“Ace.”
He didn’t look up and with a groan you reached forward and clasped his wrist, tugging until he was forced to look at you.
“You’re an idiot!” You yell, making him look at you with an angry look. You wanted to slap his arm for this but you just tightened your grip around his wrist. “I went with you because I wanted to. He made me promise to take care of you after I already told him I would go after you and he couldn’t stop me if he tried!”
Ace looked taken aback by your words. He blinked down at you, disbelief still present in his gaze.
“I want to be with you!” You continued, driving your point home.
Ace stared at you with wide eyes. And you froze. Realizing the meaning of your words you felt your entire face go red. That…no, not…
“I mean, I want to- You know, looking for Teach- Not like- We just…”
Ace’s laugh saved you from having to finish that sentence.
“You’re so red right now,” he teased, old grin back on his face as he turned his wrist in your grip and took your hand in his.
You huffed, feeling your panic die down.
“I’m with you, okay? You got that?” You asked, looking up at him with determination.
And Ace’s eyes held so much warmth and joy as he squeezed your fingers between his and told you, “Yes, you’re with me.”
#portgas d. ace#portgas d. ace x reader#ace x reader#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece angst#portgas ace x you#portgas ace x reader#portgas d ace#portgas d. ace x you#portgas d ace x reader#portgas d ace x you#portgas d ace fluff#one piece fluff#op x reader#one piece drabble#☁️ — maze’s 1k follower event
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Gorou ditches you at the wedding alter after Kokomi convinces him to elope with her.
Thank the Archons Kazuha/Heizou is there to save the day.
Gorou ♡⊹˚ For a brighter future (SFW)
fem. reader (3rd person) ; angst. cw for cheating.
5k words.
notes. This hurt a little to write but I suppose it’s only fair since it’s an angsty request </3. I do hope it is to your liking!~ Enjoy! ✧˖°
Life in Watatsumi Island wasn’t easy. The soils weren’t fertile, supplies were hard to come by, nevermind the conflict with the Shogunate that had still left gashing wounds to heal. Nevertheless and despite it all, the inhabitants were overall content with what they had, thanking the leadership of their Divine Priestess for everything finally beginning to turn out better after a gruesome war.
Even so, there remained a lingering fear in the air. Many soldiers refused to lay down their weapons still, continuously dawning their armor as everyone did everything they could to rebuild their home anew. There was an overall sense of suffocation in the air, its hold loose enough to at least let the islanders breathe. Life slowly got back to normal as Kokomi did everything she could to negotiate with the Shogunate for the benefit of Watatsumi, her troops slowly turning a new leaf as some sought new jobs to take.
“Your condition’s improved,” A soothing voice beamed, smiling at the soldier before noting down his progress. The man looked up to their chief medic, or more precisely the best equivalent they’d been able to get during times of war, a hopeful gleam and a sigh of relief escaping him. “Perhaps two more weeks and you’ll be able to begin your new job.”
“Thank you, Doctor [F/N]!” He’d roared, still too accustomed to exclaim each sentence like the soldiers would do at camp.
“Please, it’s nothing.” The young woman smiled, before soon enough dismissing him. Just as he left her tent, he turned around with a wide smile.
“Oh - And, congratulations to you and General Gorou!” He saluted her, before leaving hastily.
[F/N] couldn’t help but smile, cheeks burning with a bright shade of red. Her fingers tapped the pen to her clipboard eagerly, heart pitter pattering as she thought back on the countdown ‘til the big day. She’d still find herself reminiscing back to the day she’d proposed to him, tearful gaze as she wrapped his bandages, pouring her heart out for him.
“Promise me you’ll be back!” She’d wept, Gorou’s ears lowering softly as he took his hand in hers.
“[F/N]... I promise you. I’d never ever leave you alone.” His words flowed with confidence, prompting her to look up at him as she sniffed her stuffy nose.
“Then promise me you’ll get back, and you’ll marry me once this war is over.” [F/N] had stuttered out, watching as his face suddenly burst with color. His hold on her hand had faltered, yet ultimately, under a trembling tone, he’d promised her.
She still would laugh occasionally, shaking her head as she sighed quietly. Goodness, she would’ve much rather had proposed in a more romantic setting, yet the overflowing emotions had made other plans. In the end though, they had indeed waited for the war to be over, Gorou returning to Watatsumi Island. Resting was necessary first and foremost, and after the fact, [F/N] had begun making preparations for their wedding, consulting with her beloved whenever he had time.
She was positively ecstatic, and even though she could most definitely notice the nervous gleam on her boyfriend’s face, he’d reassured her over and over he’d be fine. Gorou had always been a little more antsy when it came to more intimate subjects, yet [F/N] respected and loved him all the same.
She’d already sent out the invitations for their friends and family to come attend the ceremony, and amongst them was one of their closest mutual friends, Kaedehara Kazuha. He was due to reach land any day now, just in time for the wedding to take place under the blessing of their Divine Priestess, who, to [F/N], appeared happy for them.
Just as she wrapped up for the day, the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard, the cloth being moved to the side before a familiar voice called out.
“Hello, [F/N]. I hope I’m not intruding?” Kazuha called out with a warm smile, watching as the woman turned around to greet him with joy.
“Kazuha! You made it!” She quickly approached him, the friends enveloping in a tight embrace as they swayed to one side, then the other. They laughed in unison for a moment, retreating from the hug before she glanced at him with palpable happiness. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been doing great, thank you.” He nodded politely, a hand resting on her shoulder. “Thank you for the invite, I wouldn’t miss the ceremony for nothing.”
“Oh, please. We couldn’t not invite you nor the rest of the crew!” [F/N] beamed in response, inviting him to take a quick stroll throughout the beautiful Watatsumi landscape that surrounded her working station.
“How have you been? And Gorou, as well?” He quizzed, smiling as he glanced around, basking in the ethereal beauty of the island.
“We’ve been doing great. The injured soldiers have been recovering well, and Gorou’s been talking about some possible jobs he’s been considering on taking after retiring as a general - speaking of which… I still haven’t seen him today. He’s been rather busy…”
“There’s still a lot he must do, I presume?” Kazuha innocently assumed, watching as the man’s girlfriend nodded her head with confidence. “Even if peace has been achieved, him and Lady Sangonomiya are certainly still wrapping everything up to ensure the security of Watatsumi Island.”
“Mhm. I deeply admire them both.” The woman sighed with a content smile, watching as the nearest village to them bustled with activity, people actively putting their best effort as they worked their day away. “We’re lucky to have them here in Watatsumi Island.”
Kazuha nodded, smiling still. “How have the preparations for the wedding been going?”
“Oh,” Her shoulders tensed slightly, a dust of pink decorating her cheeks. “Mostly well. Gorou has been a little hesitant with making any mutual decisions, but he’s been ensuring me he’ll be content with whatever choices I make.”
“Nervous, mhm?” He’d chuckled, shaking his head slightly. He’d offered his friend a kind expression, a friendly pat on her back to accompany it. “If you need any assistance, I’m here to aid.”
“Kazuha, there’s no need-” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Though, of course, I deeply appreciate it! I just don’t want to burden our guests with boring wedding preparations.”
“Please, it’s not a burden.” He shook his head vigorously, palm placing against his chest as he bowed his head. “I simply wish to offer my support to two friends whom I cherish a lot.”
“Ah,” [F/N] couldn’t help but smile, chest beaming with joy. Kazuha was just precious. “Thank you, truly!"
It felt like a relief to have a friend helping with whatever last minute preparations were needed, and Kazuha offered insight [F/N] hadn't even considered when thinking by herself. The days were counting down quickly, and despite both being utterly busy, she sought her soon-to-be-husband every night, hoping to spend some time with him under the stars. He seemed more bashful than what was to be expected of the otherwise professional general, yet under the immense love and hopes [F/N] carried, she could only view him through rose tinted glasses.
"Tomorrow’s the day,” She’d breathed out, a smile accompanying the deep blush that adorned her pretty cheeks. She shyly held his hand, fingers playing with his ones as they remained together, walking slowly across the fields of their Island. “How are you feeling?”
“U-Uh,” He’d breathed out sharply, blue gaze averting hers as he looked into the horizon. His hand hesitated to find her own, to his side his girlfriend waiting patiently for his response.
“Nervous?” His fiancé quietly responded for him, watching as his tail and ears lowered in what she had assumed was vulnerability.
“I-I suppose that’s normal?” Gorou answered in a trembling tone, heart clenching as he felt her hold his hand tighter, squeezing him in a reassuring manner.
“Of course it is!” [F/N] responded, bringing herself closer before hugging him from his side. “I too am a little nervous… It’s a very important day, after all. But I’m sure everything will go well.”
“Mhm…” He’d nodded, eyes still out to the sea. It wasn’t long before they retired for the night, the following day beginning bright and early.
[F/N] had the help of friends preparing for the ceremony, the garbs proving a little difficult to get rightfully assorted. To a general and a medical assistant, such things were rather confusing to understand, and as such, a few of her closest female friends were quick to jump in and help making sure everything was rightfully prepared.
“No, no, this layer is under here-” An older woman was heard saying, taking the lead while [F/N] had her makeup applied and hair done.
She couldn’t be happier. As she watched herself through the mirror, she could feel her heart racing, eyes gazing back at herself as the echoing sound of the waves could be heard not far. Her mind wandered back to a particular event, not long after the war had ceased. She remembered taking a stroll through the pearly sands with Gorou, hands held together as their arms swayed softly, with rhythm. They held their shoes with their other hands, chatting and laughing before coming to a stop on a deserted spot and placing them to the side. Their feet were washed with the soothing waves as the cool waters brushed against them, the two gazing out into the horizon as they spoke of their hopes and dreams.
“I can’t believe we’ve won…” He’d confided in her, voice going more quiet as she offered him a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t believe I’m back in one piece, while so many…”
“Gorou… They would’ve wanted you to carry on.” [F/N] spoke softly, watching as he took a deep breath before nodding. Quietly, she passed him a few flowers, offering him a quiet and reassuring smile before he held her closer.
“Thank you.” He’d sighed softly, the two turning to the sea before praying together. “To a brighter future for Watatsumi Island.”
“Yes, for a brighter future.” She’d repeated, the two of them then taking a moment for their silent wishes.
“For a bright future with you, my Gorou.” She thought to herself, the pair throwing their flowers to the calming sea.
“You look radiant!” The welcomed voice to Kazuha beamed as he cut her off from her daydream. His face quickly shifted to confusion though, as the women urged him to leave them to prepare the bride.
“No, it’s okay!” She laughed with great joy, welcoming him inside. Turning in her seat, he took his hands in hers, smiling back before promising her helpers he wouldn’t be long.
“I just wanted to give you my sincerest congratulations one more time,” He proclaimed, his soul beaming with happiness simply to see his friend so happy. “May your marriage be blessed, and may the wind guide you both to happiness.”
“Thank you, Kazuha. We both deeply thank you.” [F/N] smiled, tearing up with emotions before having one of her friends frantically clean the corners of her eyes.
“Ah, no crying now! I just applied the eyeshadow, too!” She retorted lightheartedly, the bride chuckling quietly before murmuring excuses.
The room remained in high spirits for the entirety of the morning, [F/N] soon being fully prepared as her side of the wedding party remained oblivious to what was to come. Kazuha helped her and the rest of the party in bringing everything else needed to the shrine, where the ceremony was expected to take place. The bride was kept securely out of her groom’s sight, wishing to surprise him with her appearance as the ceremony was set to begin. Her legs couldn’t remain still, the woman clearly giddy to see her beloved as she finally tied the knot with him. Her hands grasped the shiromuku she wore, quietly nipping at her lower lip as Kazuha offered to remain close until the time came.
The sun was high before time had finally arrived, [F/N] waiting patiently to be signaled that the ceremony would begin with her arrival. She waited, and waited, time moved on, yet she patiently told herself delays were bound to occur. Many women who’d been married before her warned her of so, how schedules for weddings were very difficult to pull off without any bumps, so she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. Her eyes were curiously gazing around, watching from afar the guests that waited as well, idly chatting away as even Beidou and her crew sat amongst the crowd.
It wasn’t until a soldier approached them, more precisely approached Kazuha, that an alarm rang inside her head. The samurai approached the young man after excusing himself from her side, the bride watching as they turned their backs on her before discussing something in private. [F/N] watched closely, Kazuha remaining calm in his body language before looking at the man with an indecipherable expression. He curtly nodded before they were left alone again, returning to his friend’s side as he cleared his throat.
“What’s the matter? Is everything alright?” [F/N] inquired softly, her head tilting slightly before watching him nod his head.
“Yes, no need to worry,” Kazuha focused his hardest to pull his calm demeanor off, waving over one of her friends that had helped her prepare for her wedding. “I only need to leave for a moment, they need me to help with something else. I’ll be back shortly, yes?”
“Oh, alright,” He watched with a clenching heart as she smiled his way. “Don’t take too long! The ceremony should begin at any moment.”
“Right,” He breathed out, and before anything else was said, he was gone, leaving the two women to converse while he was away.
As soon as [F/N] was out of his sight, Kazuha’s expression shifted to both horror and confusion. He could hardly believe the soldier when he’d hurried told him, how nobody could find the groom on his damned wedding day. In honesty, the wandering samurai stood currently more worried for his friend than anything, his will to believe in his friends until the very end keeping him moving as he joined with the others.
“I’m here,” He’d breathed out, the men gazing at him with just as worried expressions. “No one has seen Gorou, is that true?”
“W-We’re afraid so,” One man stuttered out, fingers running through his dark hair as they all looked at one another. “Last we heard, he was finishing getting ready in his montsuki… He requested he needed a minute, a-and we obliged- You know, thinking he just needed a breather!”
“Of course, it’s none of your fault,” Kazuha reassured the men, trying to remain level headed on amidst the confusion. “Still, this isn’t like him. We need to find him, and ensure he’s safe before [F/N] hears of this. Last thing we want is to stress her out more than she already is.”
“Right!” The men were quick to reply, soon scattering before searching all across the vicinity, and even further beyond into the island.
Some even went as far as going further south, closing in on Gorou’s personal quarters in their search of him. Kazuha aided in the search of course, discreetly requesting Beidou and the other members of the crew to distract [F/N] while they sorted everything out. Even though his hope for his friend shone brightly, something in the pit of his stomach told him this was very wrong. Something wasn’t right, the wind blew to his ear. He could feel his heartbeat increasing as he moved swiftly, dedicating his search near the main shrine in hopes of spotting his friend.
“Lady Sangonomiya?! Goodness, Lady Sangonomiya, where have you gone!” He heard one of the shrine maidens shout out, his eyes gluing on the figure before approaching. Kazuha could watch as other maidens gathered around the older woman, all with horror written on their faces as she held a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.
“What’s the matter?” Kazuha’s voice could be heard, his gaze narrowing ever so slightly as he watched the women jump in unison upon realizing his arrival. “Did Lady Sangonomiya hide somewhere?”
“L-Lord Kaedehara,” One of the shrine maidens murmured, the long sleeves hiding her nervous expression as she was quickly ordered to hush. It didn’t go unnoticed by him, however, who reached their side with an equally worried expression.
“Kazuha is alright,” He quickly corrected, before searching for answers with the women. “[F/N] has told me she has a little hideout where she often spends some time alone, have you searched in there?”
“We have searched everywhere,” The older woman sighed in defeat, her head shaking as her tone trembled with both anger and disappointment. “We cannot find the Divine Priestess, and-”
“She’s missing too?” He breathed out, his heart growing heavier as he subconsciously pieced everything together.
“Oh no- He knows-” Someone behind the maidens facing him squeaked, his head rapidly turning in her direction before she cowered away in horror.
“Know what?” Kazuha quickly questioned, his normally warm gaze narrowing before turning to the elder maiden.
Seeing no reason to attempt to fix the chaos that had ensued, the woman’s expression faltered, Kazuha’s following with sheer surprise as he waited for a verbal explanation. The shrine maidens murmured to one another, words of disbelief rippling through the air as they all voiced their discontentment with the outcome.
“Lord Kaedehara,” her eyebrows furrowed as she finally ceased to attempt hiding the letter she held in her hand. The woman carefully passed it to him, watching as he moved slowly to take it in his grasp. “I… I’m most regretful to give you this, yet… We found this in Lady Sangonomiya’s quarters not long ago this morning.”
Kazuha carefully flipped the letter open, the delicate penmanship being a clue of its authenticity. His gaze scanned through the words Kokomi had written, expression shifting as his heart churned in horror to what he read. His mind attempted to process what was before him, all the while the women discussed in a hushed hurry just how they were supposed to go on from there.
“To whoever finds this letter, me and Gorou have decided to elope. Looking for us is futile, for whenever this is found amidst my personal headquarters, we’ve long gone. I regret for you all to have to find out like this, and to you all, I sincerely apologize. To [F/N], I apologize even more, yet neither of us can deny the love we feel for one another. For all that we’ve been through, we’ve come to terms that we do not wish to solely remain as friends, but what we feel transcends beyond that. I hope you may all learn to forgive us for this selfish act, but the heart wants what it wants.
Yours truly, your Divine Priestess
Sangonomiya Kokomi”
What had he just read, Kazuha repeatedly thought to himself. He couldn’t hide his disbelief, never having even entertained the thought of either of them being able to stab their friend on her back. His heart clenched for [F/N], the way she’d voiced her admiration for them both crossing back in his mind. [F/N]... His head turned around to look at them, trying to come back to earth to quickly deal with the situation.
“Are we absolutely sure you’ve looked everywhere for Lady Sangonomiya?” He inquired, his grip on the letter tightening to a point where his hand slightly trembled.
“Y-Yes, we haven’t yet found her nor General Gorou.”
“We must leave for the island’s harbor- We may yet still be able to catch them before they flee.” He frantically explained to them, the maidens hastily nodding their heads before trying to successfully deal with the situation.
The women dispatched some of Gorou’s soldiers, hastily explaining the situation to them before they were off to the small harbor they had built on their island. Panic was rapidly building up, disbelief and even disgust for their general’s actions spreading through the soldiers that attempted to find them both before it was too late.
Kazuha himself joined the search, wishing to bring them to reason before everything crumbled to pieces. All he could think about was his worry for [F/N], who for all he knew, still waited for her fiancé by the altar. As he passed by the front of the shrine, his eyes crossed with Beidou’s, who quickly deduced something was deeply wrong. His mind panicked, not for the Captain of his ship knowing, but for not seeing [F/N] by her side.
“What’s happening out there, Kazuha?” Beidou had asked him, arms folding across her chest as her face frowned in worry.
“It’s a horrible mess,” He’d confessed, fingers resting against his temple as he looked around. “Where’s [F/N]? Did she leave your side?”
“She was growing worried for General Gorou, it was becoming harder to keep her anchored to her spot.” She reasoned, head shaking from side to side as she continued. “Then, we heard some shrine maidens pass by, murmuring about their Priestess being missing too. What’s that all about?”
Kazuha bit the inside of his cheek, his head spinning with worry as he cursed their predicament. It wouldn’t take long for gossip to flow back to [F/N], her finding out the tragic truth in the absolutely worst way possible. As he fumbled with his sleeve to take out the letter he still held, he sighed heavily to Beidou.
“Do you know which way she went?” He hastily inquired, presenting her the crumbled letter.
“That way, I believe.” Beidou pointed to the way where they’d come from before reaching the ceremonial sight, hesitantly taking the piece of paper.
“This should give you a brief idea of what is happening. Please, do your best to contain the gossip, I promise I’ll make it up to you for this ordeal.” He sighed before he was gone with the wind, his feet carrying him swiftly through the soil of the island.
His heart was beating wildly in his chest, breathing rapidly as he looked every possible way for the sight of [F/N]. His mind raced with all possible scenarios, hoping he wouldn’t be too late to still shield her from finding out in a terrible manner. Kazuha found himself cursing repeatedly, trying to find any possible reasoning as to why Gorou would ever think of betraying his lover in such a bitter fashion.
His feet came to a halt as he reached the small village in which [F/N] resided, the sight of her elegantly dressed figure appearing in the distance as she looked around. He found himself sighing in temporary relief, her expression appearing far too calm for someone who would’ve found out what had transpired earlier that morning.
“[F/N]!” He’d beckoned her, watching as she turned around with a worried expression. To her side were two women, her closest confidants as they helped her search on her own whilst ensuring her bridal gown remained undirtied.
“Kazuha! Have you seen Gorou anywhere?” She hastily reached his side, the samurai taking her hands in his. Her glimmering gaze jumped around still, his heart clenching within his ribcage as it broke in her name. “I’ve heard he’s been gone for a while… Surely he’s just trying to gather his thoughts, but I’m getting worried…”
“[F/N], I…” He found his words choking him, unsure of how to even tackle the situation. The way she eyed him nearly broke him, the thought of having to break the news to her sounding far too cruel. Yet all the same, his friend deserved to know the truth, bringing him to an awkward position. The otherwise eloquent poet found himself in a stalemate, unsure on how to voice himself for once.
“If I find either of them they’re dead meat!” A sudden roar could be heard, Kazuha flinching quietly as he watched [F/N] turn her gaze to where the voices could be heard.
In the distance Beidou could be seen, hastily making her way to where the Crux had been anchored for the time being. Her men followed right behind her, an aura of pure anger emanating from them as everything seemed to come to a standstill.
“Kazuha?... What’s happening?” [F/N]’s voice lowered, seeking answers on the face of her close friend.
He took a breath in, eyes closing for a mere moment. “[F/N]... I can’t believe I’ll have to be the one to break the news to you, but-”
“Is Gorou alright?!” She cut him off, her voice trembling as her grip on his hands tightened.
Kazuha’s heart finally broke for her, her worry for him no longer being justified. For all he cared, his friend’s getaway ship could sink at that very moment, for he no longer viewed him as the valiant general he once thought he was. He nodded his head, gazing to the girls that remained by their side before quietly telling them to give them a moment alone.
“As far as we’re aware he’s alright, but… Here, let’s take a seat okay?” He calmly suggested, bringing her to the side before they sat together on the steps that led to their humble house. Kazuha continued to hold her hands, looking to the ground for a solid moment before finally coming out with it. “[F/N], I’m so sorry. But the truth is, we believe that Gorou and Lady Sangonomiya have… Ran away, and eloped together.”
Kazuha’s experiences in his rather rough life couldn’t have ever prepared him for the way he watched his friend break in front of him. Her expression, at first starting calm yet worried, slowly warped to confusion, disbelief, then finally hitting hard with all the sorrow and anguish.
“W…What?” She’d let out in a trembling voice, the tears rapidly building up in her eyes. “S-Surely you’re kidding… Right? This has to be a big misunderstanding… Right?”
The way Kazuha eyed her quietly was enough of an answer for her. His usually warm smile was replaced with an empathetic frown, his calloused thumbs stroking the back of her hands as she slowly let go of his hands.
“No… N-No, no I simply can’t believe that, surely there’s another explanation for this… Right Kazuha? Right?... He…” Kazuha’s hands slowly reached for her face, stroking her cheeks as his thumbs wiped her tears away. “He would never… They’d never?...”
“I’m so sorry, [F/N]... I really am sorry…” He quietly murmured, his forehead resting against her own as he hushed her softly, her hands gripping against his wrists as they remained there.
“How… How did you find out? Why did they do this?... Why…” [F/N] was downright sobbing at that point, her tears overflowing his attempts to hold them back, running down her reddened cheeks as they dripped down to her until then immaculate shiromuku.
“Lady Sangonomiya left a letter in her quarters explaining their absence.” He explained with a soothing tone, eyebrows furrowed in pain as she lowered her head, hiccuping in anguish.
“How could they do this!...” [F/N] muttered, her anger coming out choked amidst her sobs as her voice cracked. Her words came out slurred amidst her sobs, Kazuha gently rocking her from side to side as he hushed her calmly. “I trusted them! I thought that… That he loved me… How could he…”
Her friends were rushing back with panic in their eyes, having too heard of the terrible news. Their hands held their kimonos slightly up so they could run, yet when they found the two of them on the set of stairs, the two women stopped moving. They shared a glance with Kazuha, the man quietly asking for them to remain back. It was too late, and [F/N] had finally come to learn of the bitter truth of her once-to-be-husband.
She’d been left at the altar, a fate no bride ever wished to experience.
“He’s horrible! He’s… D-Despicable! I hate him!” [F/N] sobbed louder, her nose puffy as she sniffled against Kazuha’s warm embrace. He was still attempting to dry her tears, his hands offering her a droplet of comfort amidst the sea of sorrows she felt.
“He is.” The samurai agreed with her, his own tone low as he urged her to let it all out. “He’s the absolute worst, undeserving of you, [F/N]...”
“How could he betray me like this! HOW COULD HE!” [F/N] finally screamed it out, finding solace in his arms as he held her tightly. His hand came to rest atop her head, stroking through her elaborately done hair as he continued to rock them gently. Kazuha’s chin rested against her, biting his tongue before he would say even worse things about his previous friend. Instead, he hushed her softly, providing the needed comfort as his gaze wandered into the distance.
What was supposed to be the happiest day of her life quickly turned into possibly one of the worst. No longer did Watatsumi Island feel like home for [F/N], no longer did the once beautiful scenery feel like where she belonged. The home she once shared with her beloved now felt disgusting, her love for it turning into desire to watch it burn. No longer was their house filled with laughter, it now drowned with a sea of tears as she hastily gathered every important item she owned. Every picture of them was broken, the shiromuku she’d worn on their supposed wedding day was sealed back into a box and thrown to a corner.
For a few days the Crux had remained in Watatsumi by Kazuha’s request, both offering [F/N] their condolences and remaining on the lookout for either of the bastards that had caused her broken heart. Everything seemed to move in a blur, days becoming dull in the otherwise picturesque island… Thankfully, amidst the heartbreak, a beacon of light manifested itself in Kazuha, remaining by her side for as long as she needed to think of what to do next. He remained there, palm on her back, suggesting ideas for what to do next. [F/N] couldn’t thank enough for his presence, for he helped her gradually come to terms with her new reality.
And as the Crux fleet finally raised their anchor from the harbor, [F/N] gazed back one final time. She’d made up her mind, she was no longer at home in a place where she’d been betrayed by the two people she admired the most. As the ship finally began to sail, her hair blew in the wind, tears threatening to fall once more before she wiped them away. Nearby remained Kazuha, her gaze glued to her back as he silently offered his support in whatever decision she decided to make. In her hand, a lonesome flower blew with the breeze, her gentle grasp letting it fall before inevitably falling to the sea.
“For a brighter future… On my own.”
#genshin impact#genshin impact gorou x reader#genshin gorou x reader#gorou x reader#genshin impact angst#yoko drabbles
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just really needed a hug sort of hug
for the soft prompts <3
Uhhhh this is a little angsty and vibey sorry about that! Set a few years in the future in a world where the lightning strike had bigger and longer lasting impact on Buck than it did in canon. Send me soft prompts! The rest I’ve done are on a03!
Eddie is pinching the skin by his elbow, the shiny part where it's new. Well, a few months old at this point, Chimney supposes, but he still gently smacks the man's bicep as he passes him to sit at the table.
"Quit it, Diaz."
Eddie makes a face at him but he puts his hand flat on the table. He then makes another, more stressed out face, and waves the hand in the air in a vague but emphatic motion.
"I want to call Buck again."
"You were on the phone half an hour ago."
"Yep." His palm presses into the wood again. "I am aware of that."
Chim hooks his left ankle over his right knee. "You two ever get word…"
"Every test came back fine- within normal- they didn't find anything. They have no fucking idea why his blood pressure dropped like that." Eddie crosses his arms. "Between the two of us we've funded the Los Angeles ambulance budget for the fucking year and the best advice anyone had was for him to 'rest and drink plenty of fluids.'"
"Shit."
"Mhmm." Eddie's knee is bouncing anxiously, and he looks exhausted. He has looked exhausted, frankly, since a fourth story floor went out from under him in June and he gained the dubious honor of being the first member of 118 A shift to sustain third degree burns. He doesn't pinch at it again, but he's gripping the scarred bend of his arm tight enough that it might fall under Buck's strict instructions to tell him to leave it alone. "He shouldn't have been back at work yet."
"He seemed fine, Eddie."
Eddie exhales, shaky and unpleasant. "He seemed like he was getting better from the flu, and then Chris found him on the kitchen floor. He seemed better on Thursday and then-" he shakes his head, breathes in, blows the air out slowly. "I've told myself that a lot today - he was ok when I left this morning, he’s fine, he’s texting me, it’s going to be ok. But he was ok when I left those mornings too." He blows out air again, and it whistles through his clenched teeth.
Chimney thinks Eddie wouldn't appreciate it, but he thinks very hard and loud that the universe should give the Diaz family a fucking break. He extends his leg so his boot taps into Eddie's.
"He was doing so good- he felt good in a way he hasn't in a long time." Eddie makes direct eye contact for the first time this conversation. "We were talking about him working towards recertification. Coming back here. He really does love the call center and he’s good at it, but he misses being a part of the team, still. And then-" he makes an unhappy little sound. "He exhausted himself taking care of me and now this… We can both say 'healing isn't linear' until our mouths bleed but he’s almost back to where he was right after the strike and- and he's disappointed, I know he is and just- just not knowing what life is going to be like one day to the next- It's just been… a rough fucking year." Eddie's mouth turns up in a real grimace of a smile. "But we have experience with those. So… we'll just keep getting through it."
Two memories play out in Chimney's head.
First: A beach day, sometime in the first summer after Buck and Eddie were married. The jeep had arrived first, but as Chimney did what Maddie referred to as his Dad Jog to the trunk of his own car to start unloading he noticed that none of its occupants had got out yet. From the place he was standing he could see Buck, lit up golden in the afternoon glow, twisted sideways in the passenger seat and gesturing wildly as he talked, absolute glee written all over his face. Eddie in the driver's seat and Chris, unbuckled in the back, leaned their whole bodies towards him like plants seeking photosynthesis. Chim had wondered if the sun had been lonely before it had planets to orbit it, and then laughed at himself for being poetic, and anyway he wasn't sure that's the order the universe formed in. Buck would know, he'd have to ask him.
Second: Thursday, when Buck had made it through pneumonia like a champ and then gone back to his job at dispatch only to take a nap in the break room that no one could really wake him up from. It gets more ethically dubious by the year for any of the 118 to treat each other what with their tangled web of marriages and less official family ties, but Maddie had sounded panicked over the radio, and they’d been the closest first responders, and Chimney is certain that even if they weren’t nothing could have stopped them from coming for their brother, son, husband. Chimney remembers Eddie kneeling in front of the couch, the exact quiet tone of his voice as he’d said “Honey, I’m right here,” and the lethargic movement of Buck’s hand coming to weakly grip his shoulder. But the real thing, the clip that’s going to stay in his mind forever and repeat without permission, is looking up from establishing a line in the ambulance and watching how Eddie was curled down towards his partner as he tried to keep a flash of blue appearing between fluttering eyelids. Eddie was talking and Chimney doesn’t remember any of the words because he was also stroking his thumb over Buck’s brow and Chimney can’t stop thinking that he has never seen a human being touch another that gently.
Eddie’s phone buzzes and he looks at it, huffing a laugh and scrubbing a hand over his face. “He’s asking about pasta shapes. Wait- is he in the kitchen?” He frowns and hits dial, and the phone only gets out a single ring before Buck picks up.
“Hey,” his voice drifts, tinny, into the room and Chimney feels some tight little thing in his chest relax a little.
“You better not be cooking, Buck, you’re on speaker so I have back up if I need to yell at you.”
“I’m not, I’m not,” Buck laughs. “I’m exploiting child labor.”
Distantly, Christopher says “Hi, dad.”
“And you’re not helping at all?” Eddie raises his eyebrow and Chimney bets Buck can see it, miles away at their home.
“Chris is doing all the work, I swear, and we’re just gonna dump on the sauce I made, uh- Wednesday? Tuesday? Whatever, I can supervise boiling water. I didn’t even pick a pasta shape, c’mon, farfalle or fusilli?”
“Fusilli. You should be resting, Buck.”
Buck sighs, staticky over the speakers. “All I did today was move from the couch to the kitchen table, and I walked very slowly. I’m wrapped in a blanket and everything.” There’s a faint rustling sound and then Buck continues in a quieter voice. “I promised I’d tell you if something felt wrong. I’m alright, Eddie.”
Eddie bites his lips, and then takes the call off speaker and steps towards the kitchen. “You’re ok? You feel alright?” He spins his silicone wedding band around his finger as he listens. “Yeah. Yeah, before you wake up, probably.” He says “Buck” and Chimney always wondered how Eddie said that name and made it mean so much, folding in care and exasperation and adoration like he’s laminating butter between layers of dough. “Alright, I love you. I love you. Yeah. Tomorrow.”
He hangs up and as he exhales the alarm goes off overhead, because of course it does. Eddie starts towards the stairs but Chimney hurries forward and grabs him first and pulls him into the tightest hug he can. Eddie clings onto him for a moment, and they can only spare seconds for this attempt at comfort but he looks grateful when he pulls back, looks a little less tense.
"I love you, bud," Chimney says, and Eddie actually laughs at him as they head down the stairs. Chim swipes at the back of his brother in-law in-law's head as they pull on their gear and load into the engine and Eddie dodges with the practiced ease of a man with siblings. When they're in their seats and headed to the scene, though, Eddie leans forward and knocks his elbow into Chimney's knee.
"Love you, too." Eddie smiles. Three silhouettes in a car. A gentle touch. Things are going to be ok.
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Monster au! Event
@scoutswritingcorner helped me pick out the monsters♡ thank you darling
So wanted to do something- a monster au where the ladies are monsters-
It csn be smut, fluff, angsty and in some cases? Horror♡
Ofc look at my nsfw rules before requesting any nsfw.
PLEASE NOTE. THIS IS OPEN UNTIL FRIDAY. TIME NOT SURE AT THIS TIME
For the wheel, you can pick to spin- OR request a monster for the ladies you wish-! And please describe exactly what you want for the fic!
This time around- sub!reader only. And- your welcome to either have the reader as a human in most fics or monster hunter/monster
Like example. X bunny! Monster!reader; x monster hunter! Reader;
Unless stated reader will be human!
Also! If you want to request more then one reader you may! But- not character x character and only TWO
Example: lute x reader x sera
PLEASE, when requesting for this event. Use this emoji ✨️ so I can spot it easier!
ALSO REMEMBER. READER IS AFAB WILL USE GN IF STATED
This is what fhe wheel looks like!!♡♡
To be easier- monster list
Dragon
Gorgon
Siren
Zombie(only monster I will NOT write smut for.)
Vampire
Bunny
Ghost
Werewolf
(My choice)
Characters you can pick from
Lute
Sera
Vaggie
Rosie
Charlie
Bela Dimitrescu
Cassandra Dimitrescu
Daniela Dimitrescu
Mother miranda
Note: never wrote a couple of the ladies stated really. But I'll give my best shot at it(hazbin wise I mean) ans I'm trying to get back into resident evil once again♡
Up to two(unless it's the scene prompt) then up to three lines please ♡
Smut prompt lines
1.) "Want you now~ can't fucking wait~ gonna claim what's mine now~"
2.) "Ive- I've never..."
"..we'll.. take it slow then~ I'll do My best to be careful~"
3.) "Sl-slow down~ to fast~"
"Slow down~? Little ___(human/monster type) you walked in during mating season ~ not stopping till your filled~"
4.) "Stop fucking moving~ just gonna claim you as my mate~ make you rightfully mine~"
"Wh-whats stopping you~?"
"..watch those words little one~"
5.) Aggressive make out turned to more (enemies to lovers or whatever)
6.) Accidentally wandering into dangerous territory during a mating season. Getting "hunted" by a monster who redeemed you as a suitable mate
7.) "Prefer my hand or cock(strap or G!P)? Either way your getting it after-"
8.) "Curious. Can you take my dick?(either strap Or G!P) suppose we can try no?
9.) Accidently *tempting* the beast that just happens to guard your town/home. Being offered up to 'sooth' their temper.
10.) "Wait- wait this is my first-"
"First time? ....shit ok uh- hold on le- let me take it much slower ok? I- I've got you"
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin lute#lute x reader#hazbin hotel lute#sera seraphim#hazbin hotel sera#sera x reader#hazbin rosie#hazbin hotel rosie#rosie x reader#charlie morningstar#hazbin charlie#charlie morningstar x reader#hazbin hotel vaggie x reader#vaggie x reader#hazbin hotel vaggie#bela dimitrescu#bela dimitrescu x reader#daniela x reader#daniela dimitrescu x reader#daniela dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu#cassandra dimitrescu x reader#resident evil village x reader#mother miranda x reader#MONSTER AU
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Only Ones Who Know — an Elvis Presley x Reader slow burn series (chapter three)
Pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis Presley x f!Reader
Type: series (chapter 3 / ?) ~ chapter one ~ chapter two ~
Warnings: so much fluff, a considerable amount of angst, pining, long lost lovers, slow burn, implied childhood/family trauma (vague), some cursing
Prompt: You and Elvis grew up together; he was your best friend and first love, but he and his family moved away. Eight years later, Elvis walks into the diner where you work…and he doesn’t recognize you. But there’s an intense connection between the two of you. Should you let things between you play out organically, or should you tell him who you really are?
Word Count (by chapter): 7K
Rating (by chapter): M (mature)
A/N:
This chapter was so special for me to write. It's fluffy and angsty but I hope it makes you feel nostalgic and hopeful the way it felt for me when I wrote it. There are some brief allusions to implied childhood/family trauma, but I left it vague. Also, before y’all chew me out for writing this as a reader insert and not as an OC… I know, I know!! But I made the details ambiguous enough that most readers could suspend their imaginations enough to fill in the blanks for your own preferences. So I suppose you could read this as an OC or as a reader insert—either way, I sincerely hope you enjoy it!!
I don’t claim that this is historically accurate or factual but simply inspired by the historical context! The events of this series are kind of a combination of real life events from Elvis’ life and the events of the film; thus, it may not follow the outline of events exactly as they appear the film. Inspiration for the plot more closely but loosely resembles real life documentations of Elvis’ life in 1956. Please note that I do not claim that this is historically accurate or factual but simply inspired by the historical context.
Please for the love of all that is holy, comment/reblog/send asks if you want to see more of my writing—thank you in advance! ♡, Juni
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The first thing I had done after I had gotten home from Beale Street was cry over Elvis Presley.
I went to my bedroom, closed the door, threw my bag and clothes on the floor, curled up in a ball on my bed, and cried. Maybe I was just being too sensitive. Or maybe it was the early morning hour that sparked my sudden despair. But I cried until my eyes ran dry of tears and I was simply too exhausted to keep them open any longer.
That night, in my dreams, I was a child again.
I was climbing a tree, the rickety oak tree in the small backyard of my childhood home. As I climbed, the sky above me became dark and angry. It began to rain, and the wind began to howl, and I knew I needed to climb down to return inside. But as I looked down from my perch on the tree, I realized I had climbed much further than I thought, and there was no way back down.
Someone was calling my name. It was Elvis’s voice. He was inside my parents’ house, peering out the window, shouting my name over and over again…
“Y/N…Y/N!”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Y/N! Wake up!”
Reality crashed back as I stirred from my slumber. My roommate, Margaret, was standing over me and tapping my shoulder.
“Someone’s on the line for you,” she was saying.
“Huh?”
“Phone call, for you. She’s already rung three times.”
I heaved myself upright and gripped my throbbing temple. “Who?”
“Someone from your restaurant, I think?” Margaret was already dressed for work herself, in her starched white nurse’s dress. “Were you supposed to go in for work this morning?”
“No, my shift starts at twelve.” Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand; it was only 10:45.
“Well, whoever it is, she’s gabbing so much I can scarcely understand her. She's still on the line, I left the phone off the hook for you.” Margaret gathered herself and headed out the door, but not before glancing at the pile of last night’s clothes I’d thrown on the floor. “...Ginny and I were wondering where you went last night?”
I searched for an oversized sweater in my dresser and threw it over my torso. “Beale Street,” I mumbled.
Margaret feigned a look of disapproval, but I could see the glint of intrigue in her eyes. “Were you being safe?”
“I was there with someone, don’t worry.”
"Someone?" She led the way into the living room, grabbing her purse and nurse’s cap. “A man?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
I waved goodbye to Margaret as she departed the apartment for work, and I went to pick up the telephone handset she’d left off the hook on the counter. “Hello, this is Y/N—”
“Y/N! Oh my god, you finally picked up.” It was Lila Mae, undoubtedly, my coworker at the diner. And sure enough, she was talking a mile a minute. “I’ve been callin’ you all morning! Have you heard? Do you know what’s happenin’ here right now? You gotta get to the diner right now! I can’t believe—”
“Slow down, Lila Mae— slow down. What’s going on?” I interrupted her.
“Elvis Presley is what’s going on! Why for the love of all that is holy did you never tell me that you knew him?! Oh my god. Oh my lord. I feel faint—”
“What do you mean?” Elvis…Is he…?
“He’s here! Outside the diner! He’s been waitin’ for you here all morning!”
“Elvis is at the diner again?”
Lila Mae gasped. “'Again'? You mean to tell me he’s been here before? Why didn’t I know?! Oh my god. Elvis Presley’s here—”
“Lila Mae— Lila Mae. What do you mean, he’s been waiting for me?”
“He came in ‘round 10 o’clock. I just about fainted at the sight, he’s such a dreamboat—he’s even more dreamy in person. And he was describin’ you, askin’ when you’d be here. I didn’t know what to do, it’s like my tongue stopped workin’, it was real humiliating. But I finally told him you was comin’ in for your shift ‘round noon, and I offered him a table to sit at, but he just said thank you and went back outside to his car. And he’s been there ever since. I reckon he’s waitin’ for you to show up! Did ya know he drives a yellow Cadillac convertible, with red upholstery? He—”
“Okay— okay— I’m on my way,” I said before hanging up. I was still worn slap out from my restless night, and I wasn’t thinking very clearly, but I mentally cursed Elvis for showing up to my place of employment—again. Why couldn’t he just spare me the misery, go on with his life, and let me go on with mine? It was clear that I didn’t belong in his life anymore, and he didn’t belong in mine—regardless of our past.
I quickly got dressed in a pair of trousers, a casual summer blouse, and a chiffon scarf I tied around my neck, and I grabbed my wrinkled waitressing uniform too, since I was due to work at noon. I usually took a bus to work, and today, of all days, it was running late. By the time I arrived at the diner, it was nearly 11:30.
There was a commotion of cars and people by the entrance. A haphazard crowd was formed around the same shiny Cadillac I’d seen park along Beale Street last night—Elvis’s car. As I approached, I saw girls and boys alike clutching albums and other merchandise, eagerly waiting their turn.
And there he was, sitting in the driver’s seat of his convertible surrounded by the crowd of fans. He looked impeccable and unmistakable, wearing a white button-down with the sleeves carefully cuffed, his hair meticulously slicked back as usual. He was smiling graciously to a doting fan, who was all but tossing her skirts onto him.
No—actually tossing her skirts into his car.
“You want me to sign your...petticoat?” he was asking.
“Yes, please, Mr. Presley,” the girl gushed, shoving a pen at him. He chuckled and took off the cap.
“Well, as long as they don’t get angry at you none for havin’ me ruin your pretty skirt,” he said, signing the fabric.
“Elvis,” I called out to him over the small crowd as I approached.
He glanced up. And he smiled like he was a kid and I was his Christmas morning present. Pure unbridled joy. It was ten times more intense than the way he'd looked at me last night when he saw me on Beale Street.
“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up,” he called back.
I held my hand up to block the sun as I frowned at him. Seeing him again after last night's escapade brought a rush of feelings, a strange mixture of thrill and anxiety. “What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Well, I came to find you,” he said simply, and then he addressed his flock of fans. “Excuse me, will y’all let the pretty lady through?”
The crowd eyed me as they parted to let me through to his vehicle. I didn’t move, though, just stared at him from across the parking lot.
“Hop on in,” he invited me, patting his passenger seat.
“...Why?”
“Figured we’d go for a ride, y’know, talk.”
I glanced furtively at the whispering crowd, feeling warm at the cheeks. But I crossed through them to stand beside his car and spoke lowly. “Elvis, you shouldn’t have come here.”
“Well, I had to,” he replied, matching my lowered speaking volume, and the corner of his lips turned up. “You didn’t leave me with no name, no phone number, no address. But I remembered you worked here, so… I came to see you.”
Something about his casual tone of voice was…off. It was strange. Like he was putting on a guise of some sort. But I couldn’t pinpoint it.
“You shouldn’t have,” I said curtly. “You should go home.”
He leaned over to pop the passenger door open, indicating for me to sit. “Not until we talk,” he said.
“I have to go to work,” I retorted.
He gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “You can skip just for today, can't you?”
I glared. “This is my job. I can’t just play hooky like some schoolgirl. I have to pay rent.” Not all of us are blessed with heaps of money.
“I’m sure your friend in there wouldn’t mind covering for you for the day,” he mused. “Why don’t you go and ask her? Tell her I’ll sign any merchandise she wants when we get back.”
I stared at him, trying to make sense of my racing thoughts. He smiled at me.
“Please,” he added, and his smile faltered just a bit, revealing the earnestness in his blue eyes. He dropped his voice even lower, ensuring that none of the onlookers would be able to hear. “After how we left things last night…I’d just really, really love to talk, is all.” He eyed his slew of fans. “Alone, ideally.”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. Could I really blame him for wanting to talk after what happened last night? I had left so abruptly from the club with seemingly no explanation. I could only imagine what he was feeling.
Growing up, Elvis was always inquisitive, sensitive, considerate. He’d always hated conflict, always wanted to make sure he listened to and understood others, always quick to apologize. So after yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he had done something awfully wrong to offend me. Which, even though he didn’t recognize me, his childhood best friend, despite everything… He really hadn’t done anything wrong last night.
I owed him the opportunity to get closure.
“Let me go talk to Lila Mae,” I said.
He smiled in relief.
Inside the diner, Lila Mae was a hurricane of excitement. “Y/N,” she gasped as she saw me. She ran up to me with huge eyes and gripped my arms. “Spill everything, now. How do you know Elvis Presley? Did he ask for your number? What's he doing here?”
“He—he wants to take me on a drive,” I said.
“When?!”
“Uh…Today. Right now.”
She digs her fingernails into my arms even harder. “Oh my god. You don’t know how lucky you are. What’s he smell like?”
“Lila Mae—will you cover my shift for me today?” I pleaded. “He said he’ll sign any of your merch. And I’ll owe you the next time you want off.”
She nodded so quickly I thought her head might fall off her neck. “Go on your date, girl!! And then I wanna know everything, you hear me?”
I thanked her profusely and ran back outside to hop in Elvis’s passenger seat. He grinned and waved goodbye to the fans before he backed his Cadillac out of the parking spot. He braced his hand on the back of my seat to look behind him, and his close proximity to my skin was intoxicating.
We didn’t say anything at first as he drove. The warm July air washed over my skin and through my hair. I untied the chiffon scarf around my neck and wrapped it over my hair to protect it from the wind as he drove. I noticed him glancing over at me, but every time I glanced back, he was conveniently looking straight ahead at the road. The way he looked, with his right hand gripping the top of the steering wheel and his left resting casually against the car window frame, brought an ache to my chest.
When he got on the 51, though, and started driving south, I finally spoke up. “So where is it you taking me, exactly?”
His white teeth glimmered with sunshine. “I’m gonna show you a place.”
“ ‘A place?’ ”
“You’ll see.”
We were quiet again, but it was a comfortable silence. Although…he was humming something, I realized. I could just barely hear it over the sound of the wind and the road. The tune, from what I could make out of it, was somewhat familiar. I wanted to ask him what. But I didn’t say anything.
The sprawl of urban infrastructure became more and more sparse, gradually becoming replaced with pastoral fields and forests. Finally, he turned off the highway into a narrow road, driving all the way up a circular driveway that surrounded a knoll of grass and trees.
I gaped up at the building we’d stopped next to. It was a massive mansion, and it was absolutely gorgeous. A series of white, southern colonial-style pillars towered at its front like sentinels, beckoning the eye up the stairs and to the grand front door. Two stories tall and with more shuttered windows than I could immediately count, the mansion was a formidably elegant sight.
“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.
“Ain’t it?” Elvis affirmed. “It’s called Graceland.” He looked back and forth between me and the mansion, grinning. “I’m gonna purchase it one day.”
“The mansion?” I gaped.
“The whole estate. I came across it a few months ago on the way to a show in Jackson. It’s not up for sale yet or nothin’. But the minute it is…I’m gonna buy it, for my mama and daddy.”
He put his convertible in park, then, and opened the door to step out. I gawked as he stepped up the steps leading up to the front door as if he already owned the place. “Elvis, what are you doing? Isn’t this private property—”
“Relax,” he interrupted, laughing. “It’s vacant.”
I noticed, then, the lack of vehicles or other evidence of inhabitants surrounding the building, and decided to join him. The massive front door was bookended by two tall windows decorated with wrought iron. He put his hands up to the glass to peer through one of them, and I peered in next to him. There was a beautiful staircase right by the front foyer, and two beautiful archways leading to rooms to the left and right. It was empty, devoid of furniture, but full of potential.
“Folks are starting to recognize me coming in and out of my parents’ house east of town,” he elaborated, “but I’m worried they’re all gonna start harassing the neighbors. I’m thinking we’re gonna need to move again soon. So I’m keeping my eye out for this place.”
I recalled the Presleys’ tiny shotgun house from the days of our youth. To think they’d one day be living in a grand estate such as this was surreal. But, then again, so was the notion that I would run into Elvis again after all these years, in the diner where I worked of all places
“I got a good feelin’ about it,” he went on. “It’s kinda silly, but…it calls to me, this place. It’s the name, I think. Graceland. Like you can feel the grace of God here, in the walls, in the fields around it.”
I hadn’t heard him say anything overtly spiritual before, but I was reminded of the way he’d tilted his head to the sky in prayer just before his performance at the benefit concert.
“It’s not silly at all,” I reassured him. I understood completely what he meant; there was a reverent sort of quality here, something that felt powerful and bigger than life. I touched the wooden window frame. "I feel it, too."
He held my gaze for a long while, and my heart fluttered so loudly I swore he’d be able to hear it over the rustle of the trees in the wind, like the whir of a hummingbird’s wings. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. I wondered if he felt the same about me.
“Elvis,” I said quietly.
His lips parted ever so slightly, but he said nothing. Just waited.
“I’m sorry I left so quickly last night,” I went on. “I know it wasn’t fair to you. But it’s nothing you did. It’s just—”
He grabbed my arm, effectively ending my apology mid-sentence. “You don’t have nothin’ to apologize for,” he said earnestly. “I understand completely why you left.”
You don’t, I thought. “Please, let me explain—”
“No hard feelings. Besides, I’m the one who should apologize.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Well… I could’ve done some things better.”
I frowned. But he didn’t elaborate. His hand, still on my arm, slid down to my hand, which he held lightly in his own. I felt corny for having the thought that his eyes were the same color as the sky today.
“How come you showed me here, Elvis?” I asked quietly.
He bit his bottom lip as if he were trying not to smile. “Just a pit stop along the way. We’re not quite at our final stop yet. We gotta keep driving a bit.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “We’re going somewhere else?”
“Trust me, darlin’.”
He squeezed my hand and led me back down the steps to his car. He came around to open my door for me before getting in the driver’s seat and departing from the mansion estate. And then it was quiet between us again on the road.
I usually wouldn’t have minded the lack of conversation—or a good old-fashioned surprise—but my mind was spinning, and I needed answers. I wanted to know why he’d come back, what he’d been meaning to talk about, why he’d decided to come find me again. I wasn't in the mood for this sort of anticipation today.
“Elvis, I don’t understand why you’re taking me halfway to Mississippi just to talk.”
Just as I’d said it, we drove past a sign signaling that the Mississippi state border was a mile ahead. I made a strained noise and gestured to the sign to emphasize my point; he just chuckled, unbothered.
“You’ll see,” he said simply.
As curious as I was to see where we were going, my annoyance flared. “So, what, you couldn’t just spit it out back there at the mansion?"
He said nothing, just smiled to himself as he watched the road.
"Elvis," I prompted again. "We really have to drive out to the boonies to have a simple conversation?”
“Do ya want me to turn around, woman?” he asked, amusedly.
I huffed in irritation. “It depends on how much further we’re going.”
He didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s just a few more miles. I promise.” He saw the way I was glaring at him and added, “Do you need to get back to town for something?”
“No,” I griped.
“Then it sounds like you’re all mine today,” he said definitively.
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. He snickered at me.
“Y’know, you’re real cute when you’re grumpy.”
“I’m not grumpy,” I said.
“You are.”
I worked hard to force myself to ignore his attempt at flirting. “I just thought when you said you’d take me on a drive to talk, that we’d actually, y’know, talk.”
“We are talking,” he replied.
“About last night,” I said petulantly. “About… us.”
“We will talk about that—in ‘bout seven miles or so,” he said.
Seven? “Why not right now?” I pushed. “Can’t you tell me why you came all the way back to the diner to see me?”
“I will,” he laughed. “Besides, ain’t it obvious why I came to see you?”
I gawked. “No! I thought you just wanted closure!” I exclaimed.
Elvis raised his dark brows. “Closure?”
“About why I left last night.”
“I told you, you don’t have to explain anything,” he said. “And I don’t need no closure with you.”
"We weren't meant to see each other again," I groaned.
"What? Why?"
"Because this isn't going to work," I said and gestured between us. "You should have just let me go."
"Well, that's not what you said when you left," Elvis replied calmly. "You just said you had to go." His smile grew. "Did you really never want to see me again?"
I bit back my initial response and considered. "No," I finally admitted.
"That's what I thought," he said smugly.
As we passed the state border into Mississippi, I simmered. Something just wasn’t adding up. Why was he being so easygoing, nonchalant about everything? Moreover, I was beginning to become very nervous about what was happening—and my nerves were further fodder for my irrational anger.
“Don’t you understand how unfair this is?” I snapped. “You come into my life out of the blue not twenty four hours ago, and you uproot me from my work, and now you’re expecting me to just let you take me into the middle of nowhere like some murderer?”
He somehow seemed even more amused. “You think I’m driving you out here to kill you, dear, is that what it is?”
“No,” I huffed.
“You really have such little trust in me?” he laughed.
“I barely know you,” I retorted. Which was, of course, half true. I knew who he used to be. But for all intents and purposes, we were virtually strangers.
He gave me a level look that was indecipherable.
“I’ll turn around right now,” he offered.
I was silent.
“I mean it,” he said, braking the car ever so slightly. “You say the word, and I’ll take you back. No questions asked.”
My heart pounded. He kept braking, kept staring. Cars passed us in the left lane.
“What’ll it be?” he pressed.
I said nothing. He braked until we were at a snail's pace and he put his blinker on, preparing to make a U-turn and head back north.
“Don’t stop,” I whispered at last.
He smiled triumphantly and accelerated again.
Over time, my temper faded, leaving only a steady anticipatory anxiety. But I had to admit, the drive was beautiful. The summer sky was as endless as the the dense woods that bordered either side of the road. Despite the heat, the air that rushed over us in the convertible felt almost cool on my skin. I tried to focus on that sensation instead of the feeling of trepidation about where he might be taking me.
A few moments later, though, Elvis seemed to decide he was through with the silent treatment. “Tell me ‘bout what you’re studying at the women’s college,” he said.
I told him. My response set him off with a dozen new questions about myself, my life in Memphis, my summer job, my roommates, my aspirations. I answered them honestly. It felt a bit bizarre to resort to small talk after our prior conversation, but I figured if he didn’t want to talk about the important stuff, then I’d humor him for the rest of the drive. Besides, it beat driving in silence—and it admittedly felt good knowing how much he cared to know about me. He was attentive and engaging, and perfectly polite. My heart began to soften from the intensity of my earlier emotions.
After he seemed satisfied at the answer to his question about my favorite film, I asked him a question of my own. “What happened after the concert last night?”
Elvis tilted his head. “What d’ya mean?”
“I just meant, you seemed a bit...upset, about the performance when I saw you later at Club Handy. Did something go wrong?”
“Oh,” he frowned. “I…wasn’t supposed to, y'know, move around like that on stage again. Y’know, with the New Elvis and all. The Colonel just about flipped his lid when he saw me after.”
“So you broke the rules?” I realized.
He nodded, unsmiling.
“Well, so what?” I remarked. “You can’t make everyone happy. You gotta stay true to yourself, and all, right?”
“It ain’t that easy,” he sighed, tightening his grip on the wheel. “Colonel told me there’s gonna be consequences. Some people seemed real mad about the performance.”
“What about all the people who loved it?” I pointed out. “I saw your fans out there, Elvis. Those are the ones that matter the most, aren’t they?”
Elvis smiled just a bit. “You’re right,” he said, “as usual.”
“As usual?”
“Well, sure,” he said. “Remember what you told me yesterday? About listenin’ to my heart?”
I recalled the moment, back at the diner when I’d first seen him again, and nodded.
“That whole day, I hadn’t been so sure what I was fixin' to do do at Russwood. I knew I didn’t want any trouble with the Colonel, or with any of the folks who were making a ruckus about the way I sing or move. But after that godforsaken performance on Steve Allen…” He sighed and gritted his teeth. “If I can’t move, I can’t sing.”
Then, he looked over at me. “And the next thing I knew, the prettiest waitress in the world was waltzin’ up to me,” he said with a wink, “and reminded me that I should listen to my heart. And so I did. So I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is…thank you.”
I felt warm to the cheeks, but I didn’t say anything in response. I was vaguely aware of a knot that had formed in my stomach, which was less in response to his blatant compliment and rather felt more like a warning signal that something was wrong.
Before I could pinpoint it, Elvis finally pulled off the highway and onto an intersecting road, where a small sign indicated it was a local park. A small clearing extended beyond the gravel road, beyond which I could barely see an old wooden bridge.
It was a relatively unassuming park. Certainly not as grand or romantic as many of the local nature parks closer to Memphis. So why exactly Elvis had decided to drive half an hour and across the state border to this particular park, I had not a clue.
But that wasn’t the cause for the warning signals going off in my mind. The cause, I realized, was the realization that Elvis hadn’t once used the name Missy to refer to me today.
Before I could make sense of it, Elvis put the car in park and came around to the passenger side to open my door. He took my hand in his as I got out, saying, “Come with me, I’d like you to see this.”
I followed his lead in a daze and untied the scarf from my head, tying it around my neck again to combat the sheen of sweat that had developed on my skin from the summer heat. We walked across the gravel road and over to the small trail that had been stamped out in the grassy clearing. Around us, cicadas whirred and the air smelled of pine and sunshine. The trail led us to the wooden bridge—which was battered and moss-covered, yet sturdy-looking. Still holding my hand, Elvis glanced down at me with a smile before he stepped onto the bridge.
We walked to the middle of it, where it was cool and shady under the huge oak trees. Frankly, the sight of the small creek below wasn’t particularly spectacular. Confused, I frowned up at Elvis and searched his eyes for answers. But they gave me none. He gazed down at me, a thousand unspoken words on his expression. And he guided my hand up to the bridge’s guardrail, pressing my fingers into the wood.
Beneath his hand, my fingertips brushed over a series of small ridges. Etchings in the wood.
I pulled my hand back to study it. Carved into the wood, clear as day, were two names, separated by a small symbol.
Elvis ♡ Y/N.
Time stopped.
The world around me blurred. No more trees around us, no more creek below us, no more bridge under our feet. Just the carving in the wood, there beside my hand, glowing up at me like a beacon.
Elvis’s name. My name. The heart. The slight wear to the carving…as if it had been carved many years ago.
A voice, Elvis’s voice, came through to my consciousness. “Y/N,” he said.
My name. He spoke my name.
Slowly, my mouth agape in astonishment, I inched my gaze to Elvis. I watched as his lips parted again to speak my name. He spoke it like it the passcode into Heaven itself.
“Y/N.”
“Elvis,” I said back, my voice cracking.
I still didn’t understand. Didn’t understand why we were here, what the carving meant, what he’d wanted to say. But nothing else seemed to matter, except that he was saying my name, my real name.
“You recognize me,” I whispered as tears welled in my eyes.
Elvis just nodded. Something in his expression, the way his eyebrows pulled down like he was about to cry himself, it drew me in. I fell into his arms like I was a compass needle and he was my north.
“It’s okay, Y/N, honey,” he murmured into my hair as his arms wrapped around me. “I got you.”
And I started sobbing.
He held me like he would never leave again.
“I don’t understand,” I choked out in between gasps for air. “When…?”
“This morning,” he revealed, his voice just a low rumble against the side of my head. “I came into your diner to try to find you, but I didn’t know your name, so I got to describing you. And your waitress friend said your name. And that’s when I realized. God, Y/N… I’m so goddamn stupid. I should have realized from the start who you were.”
“No shit,” I laughed a little, sniffling. “I can’t believe you didn’t recognize me right away.” I couldn’t hide the hurt from my voice, but it was mild—I was mostly just relieved.
Elvis pulled me away just enough so he could see my face. He studied it with a wistful smile and wiped my tears off my cheeks with his thumbs.
“Look at you, you’ve changed so much,” he remarked. “I didn’t recognize you.”
“I grew up,” I said.
He nodded. “You’re a whole woman now.”
“Yeah, well, that happens to a lot of girls when we get to be thirteen or so,” I replied with a sniff.
He laughed and then brushed his fingers across my cheek again. “But now that I know… I still see the same Y/N in those eyes.”
I gazed up at him until I remembered the wooden railing. “What is this?” I asked, touching the carving in the wood again. “When did you do this?”
“September ’48,” he replied. “The day we moved from Tupelo to Memphis. We stopped in this here park on the way to let Mama stretch her legs for a bit…and I wandered onto the bridge. I had a pocket knife, a gift from my Daddy, and I used that to carve it.” He stared down at the names in the wood with a slight pinkness to his cheeks. “I…couldn’t stop thinking about you that day, Y/N. Your face when I told you that you couldn’t come with us…I couldn’t get it outta my head. I felt terrible.”
I blinked up at him, speechless. The way he spoke of that year brought up memories I hadn’t thought of in a long time. Some good…some bad, really bad. I felt the familiar chill of anxiety settle at the pit of my stomach.
This was the feeling I was trying to forget, the feeling I’d been running from for eight years. And as far as the last thing I had said to him in September ‘48–in which I had professed my love to him in a last ditch effort to have him take me with him—I regretted it deeply. Partially out of humiliation. Partially out of guilt for ever making him feel guilty about the circumstances, which had been completely out of his control. But it was more than just the humiliation and guilt.
“It was a long time ago,” I said dismissively. I didn’t like to think about my thirteen-year-old self.
“It was,” Elvis agreed. “But that don’t change the fact that I could’ve been nicer to you that day. It’s just…I was just a dumb kid, and we were moving, and I didn’t want to, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I wish things could’ve been different.”
“Don’t say that. If your parents had never moved to Memphis, you wouldn’t be who you are today.”
Elvis Presley. The King of Rock and Roll. Someone whose life I didn’t belong in anymore.
He gave a melancholy half-smile. “I know, I know… But I hated myself for breaking your heart.”
My stomach twisted. “I got over it,” I said.
His expression was unreadable. “I thought about you all the time. And I wrote you letters, but they all—”
“You what??” I exclaimed.
“I told you, darlin’, I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he emphasized—and his eyes captured mine. “And about what you said to me before I left.”
I mentally cringed.
“So I wrote you letters—probably a dozen. But they all returned to sender.”
“We moved across town a month after your family left,” I explained.
He made a noise of understanding. “No wonder…” And then he smiled to himself. “I thought I’d never, ever be lucky enough to see you again. But here you are.”
He pulled me into him again, enveloping me with his arms, and my anxious thoughts became scattered into a thousand pieces once again. He stroked my head gently, and I clutched at his shirt.
“Y/N,” he murmured. I felt him kiss my head. “I missed you, so much. And I loved you, too. I…”
He trailed off. I knew what he was about to say, and my body stiffened, which must have indicated to him that I wasn’t ready to hear it.
And I surely wasn’t. Frankly, I was trying not to collapse with how overwhelmed I was.
“You don’t know me anymore, Elvis,” I whispered. “I’m not the same girl anymore. We’re both different. We don’t know each other anymore.”
“I’d like to try and change that,” he said, rubbing my upper back as he continued to hold me close.
My heart jolted. “You shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
I thought about all the times I passed by the shops in Memphis and saw his face on the television screens. I thought about the way every girl had screamed and reached out for him on the stage last night. I thought about the months and months he must spend on the road, touring. I tried to imagine myself inserted into his life, and I couldn’t.
“I just don’t belong in your life anymore,” I said.
He didn’t say anything for a while. He just held me, and the leaves rustled and the cicadas hummed around us like a symphony. But when he finally pulled away, his frowning expression seemed…angry.
Not angry. Determined.
“No,” he said. “Now, excuse my language, darlin’, but that’s a load of bullshit.”
I sighed. “Have you not seen yourself? You’re Elvis Presley. ”
“That doesn’t mean a damn thing,” he said. “Have you not seen yourself?”
His stubbornness fueled my frustration. “What?” I snapped. “A twenty-one year old unmarried girl who works at a diner and still barely scrapes by with enough for rent?”
He wasn’t phased. “You don’t see yourself very clearly,” he said definitively. “You’re more than that.”
“But you don’t know me at all,” I argued.
He took my hands. “And I wanna try to change that. I wanna get to know you again.”
As his words sunk in, they left one very big question. “But aren’t you leaving for another tour again?”
“I’m here in Memphis for a whole month, taking care of business, and my Mama and my old man.” He squeezed my hands in his. “I want the chance to get to know you again, Y/N,” he said again.
And with eyes like those…how could I have possibly turned him down?
“Elvis,” I said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “Have you thought about why I didn’t tell you who I was when you came into the diner yesterday?”
He chewed his bottom lip. “I wondered.”
I sighed and faced away, leaning against the guardrail out toward the little creek and the emerald woods. “Before you left, eight years ago… when I told you that I loved you, it wasn’t just that.” I took a deep breath, readying myself for the familiar stinging behind my eyes, the ache in my throat. “I was just a kid, I didn’t even really know what love was. So I guess what I had meant by that—and why it was so hard for me when you left—was because you were one of the only good things in my life in Tupelo.
“You made me so happy, and you made me feel loved the way no one else ever had before,” I went on. “And so when you left…there was nothing left to mask the pain of everything else I was going through.”
“I’m so sorry,” Elvis murmured beside me.
I sighed again and collected myself. “Like I said before, I got over it. And I moved out of Tupelo as fast as I could, and I eventually got to Memphis. But when I saw you in the diner yesterday after all those years…”
“It brought back the bad memories,” he guessed.
I nodded. “And I figured…maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that you didn’t recognize me. Because I didn’t have to be that girl anymore.”
I didn’t have to be Y/N from Tupelo who grew up with no money and a bad home life. I could be Missy, the cool college girl living in the city. I could be someone better.
“I was able to get a fresh start with you,” I finished.
Elvis bit his lip again, deep in thought. Wordlessly, he sat at the edge of the bridge and gazed off into the woods. I joined him, and together our feet dangled over the blue creek. Around us, speckles of sunlight shone through the leaves of the trees above us and danced along the wooden slats of the bridge. A steady breeze brought goosebumps to my arms, and I shivered, despite the summer warmth.
Where would we go from here?
Elvis broke the silence after a long while. “What if we started with a...with a blank slate?” he mused. “Forget Tupelo, and the diner, and everything. Let’s just start over again.”
“It’s not that easy,” I mumbled.
“Why not?” He grinned suddenly and bumped my shoulder with his. “I’m just a boy who likes a girl. Doesn’t seem all that complicated to me.”
His smile was, unfortunately, infectious. “Well…That part seems simple enough,” I agreed.
He brushed his finger against mine where they rested on the bridge behind us. "I like you, and I'm gonna take you out tonight," he murmured. "I'm gonna take you to dinner, and you're gonna get whatever you want to eat, and we're gonna split some fancy dessert, and I'm gonna give you the last bite, like always."
I laughed, remembering the days of our youth. We used to save up our spare change and run across town to the general store in Tupelo, and we'd have just enough to purchase one chocolate bar. We'd climb up to the top of a tree and sit side-by-side on one of the branches to split the bar. And Elvis would always save the last bite for me, every time, without fail.
"You remembered," I said.
"I always will," he replied.
The memory prompted me to think about my nightmare from last night, about the storm, and climbing the tree, and Elvis's voice sounding from the house. I was beginning to understand what the dream had meant.
"I'm gonna treat you right, Y/N," he continued. "I want to do everything I can to show you that you can trust me. I want to know who you are."
I flipped my hand around, and Elvis interlocked his fingers with mine. Holding hands was just something we’d always done, even before anything turned romantic between us. We used to hold hands everywhere as kids. Now, seeing his hand joined with mine, I felt that familiar burn of nostalgia, but it felt good. He felt good. He was the feeling of home.
But I was scared. So scared. More scared than I was ready to admit right then. And I could tell that he knew it.
“Let’s start over?” he said again, but this time it was a question.
I squeezed his hand and replied softly, “Okay.”
✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷✷
A/N:
I hope you enjoyed chapter 3 ♡ This story has become sort of like my own comfort fic except I'm the one writing it haha! I can only hope I emulated the same sense of comfort and nostalgia and warmth onto you, my readers. Thank you eternally for sticking with me through this slow burn!
I’m dying to hear your thoughts about it! Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!
Much love ❤︎ from Juniper
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@thatonemoviefan @literally-just-elvis-fics @dollfaceyourfear @sprinkleofbooty @teenwolfbitches28 @busy-bee-angel-misska
#elvis 2022#Elvis movie#Austin butler!Elvis Presley#Austin butler!elvis#Elvis x reader#elvis presley#Elvis#elvis presley x reader#Austin Butler!elvis presley x reader#Elvis fanfiction#Elvis Presley fanfiction#austin butler#Austin butler x reader
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communication - 04
alrighty, here it is. definitely not my best work, but i wanted to get something out before the second round of midterms starts.
i also got tickets to sinc's last international game so i am in a great mood and managed to write this in the span of an hour.
enjoy!! as always, i am open to feedback <3
this one is very angsty but with a nice dose of comfort as well.
-----
leah was worried. very worried.
the last time she'd heard from sim was over a week ago when she'd texted her a "got home safe" after camp was over. it didn't help that sim had been closed off since the conversation leah had overheard.
at first, leah thought that maybe she was just overreacting. that was before alessia had approached the captain, asking if she knew why sim was suddenly avoiding everyone after having been so joyous after the match.
leah thought she'd give the younger girl some space after everyone went back to their clubs, but on the third day after their return, leah had had enough. she'd gone to sim's apartment with two coffees from the cafe they frequented.
she gave up knocking on sim's door after the ice in her cold brew melted.
it didn't come as a surprise to leah that sim had shut down. she'd always been resistant to talking about her feelings, but leah hadn't expected her to just vanish. leah had spoken to beth, ella, alessia, and even sarina, hoping that sim had reached out to one of them.
her attempts were fruitless. it was during this time that it dawned on leah how little she actually knew about her friend. she had no idea where to look for her, or who else might have a clue where to start. she didn't even know if sim had any family.
logically, leah knew that this was by design. it wasn't that leah hadn't tried. in fact, it often frustrated leah that sim was so good at avoiding talking about anything from before they had met. and it wasn't that leah didn't know sim that well. she just didn't know about sim. she knew her favourite colour, knew how to read her emotions, how she liked her coffee, how kind she was even when she pretended not to care.
that didn't stop the pit of guilt that settled in leah's stomach like a 50lb dumbell she couldn't shake.
"still haven't heard from her?" viv asked, bringing leah back to her surroundings.
leah shook her head in response as she changed out of her training kit. "obviously, i want her to talk to me, but i'd honestly just settle for knowing that she's safe."
viv placed a hand on leah's hunched shoulder, taking a seat beside the english captain as alessia rushed into the dressing room.
"leah!" she panted, holding out her phone. leah took a look at the screen. all she saw was a pin on a map of north london.
"what am i supposed to be looking at?"
"it's sim, i sent her a voice note before training, just asking if she could please just let me know she's alright and she sent me her location and leah-"
"alessia," leah said, standing up and grabbing the girl by her shoulders, "breathe."
alessia took a deep, grounding breath as prompted, before continuing in a much less frantic tone: "she sent me her location. she's really close with you and i want you to come with me to go get her."
leah nodded before pulling alessia in for a quick hug, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "get changed and meet me by my car. i'll drive."
-----
no sound is as annoying as the shrill voice of an overbearing parent at a kids' sporting event. at least, not to sim. a small voice in sim's head was genuinely impressed with how the sound carried from beside the pitch, all the way up to where she was sitting in the highest row of the bleachers.
she could hear it over the rushing wind in her ears and it made her sad to think that one of those kids on the pitch was going home with parents that cared more about winning than having fun. she wished she could rush down there and give those parents a piece of her mind.
then she remembered that she shouldn't even be here.
the last week had been a blur. sim knew it wasn't healthy to shut down the way she had, but she feared that if she didn't, she would break down. she felt pathetic. one conversation with her old uni rugby coach shouldn't have her spiraling like this.
somewhere between pretending that she was fine and missing her sport so much, sim had found herself itching to be near the game again. sat there at a random children's recreation league rugby game, she could hear the voice of her own parents in her head.
weak.
pathetic.
embarrassing.
she should never have come here. she was only hurting herself more.
it's just a stupid game. get over yourself.
caught up in her own head, sim barely registered the two women that moved to sit on either side of her. it wasn't until she felt a hand settle on her knee that sim came back to the moment.
she wasn't surprised at their presence. as much as she tried to convince herself that the only reason she had sent alessia her location was to put a stop to all the frantic messages, a small part of her secretly yearned for the comfort of her presence.
"we were worried about you, y'know," leah spoke softly.
sim shook leah's hand off her knee. "you shouldn't have been."
alessia's heart broke at the hoarseness of sim's voice and the way the younger girl seemed to shrink into herself. she wished she could show sim that she deserved to have people care about her.
she reached over and took sim's hand into her lap, intertwining their fingers before squeezing gently.
"we worry because we care about you, love," alessia spoke, voice gentle. sim ignored the way the term of endearment felt like a warm blanket of security. she refused to let herself feel anything, not wanting to break down in front of the two women she considered her closest friends.
"you don't have to talk about whatever is bothering you, but just let us be here for you," leah pleaded.
as much as sim wanted to keep her friends at a distance, she so badly craved the comfort she knew they could provide. it was something she'd always struggled with.
growing up, sim had learned very quickly to make herself as small as possible, to never be a bother or a burden. she'd learned to make herself easy to be around, easy to love.
"i don't want to bother you," sim murmured, trying her best to keep her voice level.
"babe, you could never bother me. don't know about leah, though. she's like a universal older sister. anything anyone does might annoy her," alessia said with a smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment at the way the corners of sim's mouth turned up.
"hey!" the skipper retorted as she reached across sim's body to smack alessia's chest.
there was a beat of silence in which sim tried to muster up the courage to actually say something. she tried to ground herself in the pressure and warmth of alessia's hand in her own, focusing on the sensation of the pad of alessia's thumb rubbing soft circles into the back of her hand.
"it was my safe space," sim finally let out.
"sorry?" leah's soft voice questioned.
"the pitch. it was my safe space," sim repeated. "it didn't matter what was going on at home, at school, or at work. when i was on the pitch, i was... free, i guess," she stated, though it came out as more of a question. she'd never tried putting it in words before, never tried to vocalize exactly how much rugby meant to her.
"when i was playing, it was like i could fly. i was good, too. i played on the youth teams for the red roses a few times. i went down two days after my first senior call up."
the confession seemed to take the wind out of sim. the hunch of her shoulders and way she couldn't seem to even lift her head up was almost pitiful.
alessia removed her hand from sim's grip, instead choosing to wrap an arm around her shoulder. alessia pulled sim into her side and squeezed, hoping to provide as much comfort as she could. she knew her words would do little to help.
alessia settled on a simple "i'm sorry, love."
"what's done is done," sim answered with a shrug.
leah's eyebrows furrowed as she frowned quizzically. "can i ask why the injury is permanent? surely they could have at least helped you walk again?"
sim sighed and leah's heart broke at the defeat painted clearly in her features.
"leah... football is your job. i know there's still a long way to go in terms of investment in the women's game, but you have to understand that the resources you have are not the same as what i had. when i got hurt, i wasn't just in school. i was working and i couldn't afford to just take time off and heal.
"i didn't even get a scan on my knee until i showed up to the next practice a week later and my coach drove me herself. i wasn't resting either. i probably made the injury worse because i had to go to work and class, so i was just taking painkillers and walking my way through things like normal. i couldn't afford to stop. and when i was waiting for surgery after the scans, i was still working. you got your surgery from a top surgeon relatively quickly. i didn't have that same luxury.
"after surgery, i didn't have time to go to all the physical therapy appointments. i was fitting in sessions at the university when i had time but it wasn't enough. i still had to go to work. between my job, the wait time for the surgery, and my non-existent rehab, i was never going to make a full recovery."
leah felt a surge of guilt after hearing sim's explanation. she had always been humble and made it a point to never take her situation for granted, but sometimes she forgot her own privilege.
"i'm sorry. i didn't-"
"you have nothing to be sorry for. it's not your fault you had better access than i did. just the way things go," sim cut her off, shrugging alessia's arm off her shoulder.
sim didn't want their pity. she didn't want them to feel bad for her.
"i know that it's been a long time now and i should be over it, i know that but-" sim cut herself off, carding a shaking hand through her hair, pulling on the strands in an attempt to ground herself.
"it's just that rugby was everything to me. it's all i had. it was the one thing i was good at, and without it i'm lost, y'know? i don't know who i am if i'm not an athlete. i'm not good for anything anymore."
sim's voice cracked on the last word, the sound like ice being dropped into hot water. it brought tears to leah's eyes to see how much sim had been struggling, how she thought so little of herself.
she gently caught hold of sim's hand, flattening it against her own thigh to stop the girl from hurting herself.
"that's not true," alessia said firmly, once again wrapping her arm around sim. "you are so much more than your injury. you're quiet, but you light up every room you walk into. you are so kind and you make everyone around you feel safe. you're funny, and thoughtful, and smart, and i think you get the point now but you're wrong if you think you're not worth anything if you can't play," alessia rambled, red rushing up her cheeks.
sim shook her head almost imperceptibly. it's not that she thought alessia was lying. that wasn't it.
how could alessia be so sure about her when she didn't even know who she was?
leah squeezed the hand still pressed against her thigh. "sweetheart, look at me," she prompted softly.
again, sim shook her head.
leah let go of sim's hand, instead placing it at the back of sim's head and using a thumb to angle it towards her own. she didn't miss the way sim's brown eyes bounced around their surroundings, refusing to land on hers for more than a second at a time.
she decided to let it slide for fear of pushing sim too hard. she'd only just gotten the younger girl to open up and was reluctant to risk another shutdown.
"it doesn't matter that you got hurt a while ago. you're allowed to feel however you feel about it. when i tore my ACL, i was a mess. i held it together on the pitch, but i was inconsolable. i was in a really dark place for quite a while. i know our situations aren't the same, but i felt lost, too. i realized that my identity as a person was tied to my performance as an athlete and it wasn't healthy. but i had beth and viv to help me out of it and i want you to let me do the same for you. less is right. you are so much more than what you can do on the pitch. and it's okay that you're feeling lost and you don't know who you are. we can find out together, yeah?"
a choked sob escaped sim's mouth, causing leah to immediately stand up in front of her, carefully pulling her head into her body.
leah didn't care that her shirt above her stomach was slowly becoming soaked with sim's tears. she let her fingers scratch gently at sim's scalp, relieved that the girl was finally letting it out.
as alessia kept a firm grip on sim's shoulder, she made eye contact with leah standing above her. a silent sense of understanding seemed to pass between the two lionesses.
they were prepared to do anything to make sure sim didn't carry her emotions on her own again. the pain they felt at seeing their friend so broken wasn't something they wanted to feel again, but they would do it over and over a million times just to make sure she wasn't alone.
-----
"so she lives!"
it was katie's turn to host the rest of the gunners for dinner this week. sim's absence from the last two team events hadn't gone unnoticed.
though sim wasn't a part of the team, they had all quickly grown accustomed to her appearance at the side of alessia, leah, and recently beth. she might not have played for the team, or even worked for them in any official capacity, but they had taken her in all the same.
sim would never be able to articulate just how much that meant to her. she went from not having any family to having found her place in two: the lionesses, and now arsenal as well.
"so where'd you run off to, anyway?" steph questioned.
"your mum's house. she says hi, by the way," sim quipped.
there was a beat of silence before a burst of raucous laughter took over katie's living room.
a playful scowl took over steph's face. "you've been spending too much time with mccabe."
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Yaaayy I'm so happy for you for reaching 5k B!! I wanna bake you a cake and send it to you <3
May I request nr 23 for the celebratory prompt? And it's your story so please pick whatever vibe you wanna go with (I guess you'll probably wanna do angst so feel free to make it angsty as long as it ends in happy teeth rotting fluff so I won't cry too much plz 🙃)
Thank you, Anna! For now, I will enjoy this delicious virtual cake 🎂
23. Buying a House
Home had always been a tricky thing for Eddie, good kids had homes, kids with parents that loved them. Eddie didn't have a home, he had a house, sometimes a trailer, for a few months it was just a car, there was that bad weekend it was a curb and that time it was his dad's scary friend's couch, no home though.
When he showed up on his uncle's doorstep, his uncle had told him to "make himself at home", Eddie didn't know how to do that. Eddie kept waiting for him to be sent back, for his uncle to get sick of another mouth to feed, to get sick of sleeping on the pullout and take back his bedroom. A few months later on his tenth birthday, his uncle took him shopping claiming his bedroom needed to feel more Eddie. That night as he fell asleep looking at his new posters and the slightly worn secondhand books the room felt a little more like what he imagined home felt like.
Steve hated the word home. Home was what his parents would call out when they bothered to come home to get clothes under the guise that they were here to see him. His house wasn't a home. Steve wasn't as stupid as Tommy and the other kids thought he was. He knew homes weren't supposed to feel cold no matter the time of day or year. Homes weren't supposed to echo with a single pair of footsteps. Home was for a kid with a family, and Steve didn't have one of those.
Steve got to feel at home in fleeting moments as he got older. He got to pretend he had a home at the Wheeler's with Nancy. He got to pretend his house wasn't always empty when the kids would spend weekends running around its halls and splashing in the pool. He got to feel a little warmer in his bed when his best friend who always felt the closest he ever got to a home slept in his bed to ward off nightmares. He got to feel home settle deep within his heart when Eddie would give him the soft smile reserved just for him across the room.
After months of scrimping and saving, two lost boys got to hold the keys that would unlock their home for them. Home was now the flowers Steve had planted with El on the front porch. Home was the framed drawings of the party Will made that littered the hallway walls. Home was the basketball hoop Steve had set up on the driveway to practice with Lucas. Home was the photo album on the shelf filled with pictures of their family that Jonathan had made them. Home was the collection of books that Nancy had salvaged from Eddie's trailer. Home was the guest room that quickly became Robin's room. Home was the box of parts that Dustin kept next to the TV. Home was the recipe book that Argyle swore by on their kitchen counter. Home was the skateboard that often rested by their front door when Max needed a night to breathe. Home was the double choc chip icecream in their freezer solely reserved for Erica. Home was the quilt on their couch that Joyce had made them. Home was the couch that Mike had cried on when he asked Steve how he knew he liked boys. Home was the barbeque that Hopper would grill at in the summertime as the kids splashed in the blowup pool.
Most importantly home was the other boy in their arms every night. Home was the twin heartbeats and soft breaths that reminded them they were alive. Home was early mornings and late nights and cloudy days and heatwaves. Home was dancing in the living room and falling asleep watching movies.
Home was Eddie and Home was Steve.
Prompt List
#home#fluff with a sprinkle of angst#Bhits5k#stranger things#steve harrington#stranger things s4#eddie munson#st4#steddie#ficlet
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Hello! I’m not sure if requests for the prompts are still open, but if so could you please do 24 and 3 for our boy Marc Spector 💕 Thank you!!
Prompt: 24) one muse shows up at the other’s doorstep looking for comfort and 3) our muses have unspoken feelings but one of them is upset so the other holds them + Marc Spector
Rating/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI, implications to gore/violence, patching up wounds, angsty Marc, brief reference to Marc’s childhood, accidental love confession, slight angst, soft!Marc, Marc and reader argue a bit, Marc accidentally hurts the reader’s feelings (briefly), brief soft smut, this wasn’t supposed to be smutty idk wtf happened, passing mention of Steven and Jake
“God dammit, Marc!” Your shout made him jump, and you immediately regretted raising your voice after what his mother did to him over the course of his childhood. You pulled him— bloodied, bruised, cut up, clearly in need of medical attention— into your apartment. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to have that tone— you have any idea how worried I was?”
“Sor-“ Marc hardly got the word out before you shut him up.
“No. Sh. Bad Marc.” In an attempt to make him laugh, you pretended to spray him with a water bottle, like a cat. “You did nothing wrong.” He cracked a small smile, allowing you to lead him to the bedroom and set him on the edge of the bed. You rushed into the bathroom and hurried out with your advanced first aid bag, opening it and searching inside for what you need with practiced ease. “Y’know, if you wanted me to be a doctor, you could’ve just said so. You don’t have to go get yourself beat up every few nights so I learn how to treat a new injury or something. I could probably give you stitches on your femur at this point, Spector.” He leaned forward and all but collapsed into your embrace, letting himself breathe you in. You savored the moment, knowing that hugs with Marc didn’t ever last long.
“Bones don’t get stitches,” Marc commented softly, confused, into the crook of your neck, so out of it that he didn’t even realize that you were joking.
“I’m kidding,” You whispered conspiratorially.
Marc lifted his head and frowned, thick brows furrowing together in confusion as he puzzled out your meaning. He got it, after a moment, his mouth forming an ‘o’ as he came to the realization. “Oh. Sorry I’m ti—“
“Yes. You’re tired. Exhausted, even. And you’re going to get some sleep. After I patch you up. Oh, and, you’re not apologizing to me again.”
Marc didn’t realize that he was staring at you as you gently wiped the blood away from the cuts on his face. He’d known you for awhile now, and for some reason— despite the presence of Steven and Jake, despite Khonshu, and his past, everything, you were still here. You were an angel. A godsend. Perfect, in every way. Hell, maybe he’d even admit that he loved you more than a friend if he wasn’t so terrified of hurting you.
“I don’t get why you care,” Marc blurted, and your face fell. Marc dropped his gaze immediately, a knot twisting in his chest. “No, I don’t mean it like that… I mean… We’re… We’re a fucking mess. The three of us. We’re dangerous. We’re killers. We’re—“
“I care because I love you, Marc,” You interrupted, adamantly, and Marc felt his heart drop. “I love you. I love Steven, and I love Jake. You kill evil. You defend the innocent. You’re heroes, and you can’t see it.”
Marc felt something like cold fear in the pit of his stomach. “No,” He managed, making you confused. Your confusion only mounted when he abruptly stood, rushing out of the room. “You can’t love me. Us. You can’t.”
“M-Marc, wait—!”
He was already out the door.
Marc spent the next two days getting yelled at by Steven and Jake while trying to sort through his emotions. He loved you, and you loved him— this was very, very bad. Mutual love could only end in disaster. He’d hurt you, whether directly or indirectly, and he hated that fact. Maybe in another life. For now, Marc just wanted to disappear. He wanted to take off to the other side of the world and just leave your life completely. You’d forget about him in a couple of days, if that. He didn’t deserve your love. You didn’t deserve to get hurt by his. What was worse was a tiny part of him had convinced himself that what you felt for him wasn’t love at all, but familiarity. That you’d leave him when you felt real love. Selfishly, Marc didn’t want to face that abandonment.
When you showed up on his doorstep, Marc wished that Jake would take over. Or Steven. But you threw yourself into his arms before either of them could, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and shoulders. “Marc,” you breathed softly, “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Marc wasn’t sure what happened. One minute he was ready to shove you off of him and run, the next he was taking a deep breath before holding you tightly against him and quietly sobbing into the crook of your neck as you comforted him.
You held him close for the remainder of the night, calming him, assuring him, trying to ease his panic. He spent the night trying to come to terms with his feelings in your arms, and the morning trying to cum as deep in you as possible between your legs, giving in.
He was gentle. His hands caressed over your naked form like you were glass, and he ensured your pleasure before his own. “That’s it? That’s where you need it? Right there?” He ground his hips into you more sensually, relishing the feel of you around him.
“Marc—“
“I'm right here, baby; I’ll get you there, come on… come on…” He wasn’t urging you, he was beckoning you, inviting you over that edge with him. “Can you cum with me?”
You did, and you screamed. Marc waited, holding off his orgasm in order to savor yours; when he did, he kissed you, swallowing your moans and cries and wishing you could stay like that forever.
When it was over, you and Marc faced each other in bed. Marc memorized your features like it was his last day on Earth, slowly running his hands over every inch of your body until he finally dared to ask, “Why do you love me?”
You kissed him softly. “Because I do, Marc. And nothing will ever change that. I promise. I know you can’t believe me, after everything you’ve been through… but twenty years from now when you’re tired of me, you’ll get it.”
Marc traced your jawline, staring into your eyes meaningfully. “I do love you,” Marc breathed, “But I’m scared of what might happen if I gave in to it.”
“We’ll handle it,” You assured him, “One step at a time. Together.”
You entwined your fingers with his, and Marc managed to smile as he pulled you close. “...Together.”
Give me a prompt and a character!
#moon knight#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#steven grant x reader#marc spector x reader#jake lockley x reader#marc spector x reader smut#oscar isaac#oscar isaac hernandez estrada#stormkobra 5 answers
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Bucky with #3 &11 pretty please 🥹💗
Comforting Prompt # 3 “I Won’t Go Anywhere, Ok?” -Bucky Barnes xreader fan fic request
Summary: Y/N sees Sharon Carter flirting with her boyfriend and worries she’s gonna lose him but Bucky tells her it will never happen
Warnings: angsty, mentions of overthinking, mentions of feeling upset, mentions of crying, fluffy comfort, soft Bucky, let me know if I miss anything
~Y/N’s POV
It had been a really long day I had two missions plus paperwork and I’ve been missing Bucky all day I wanted to go and find him so we could go eat dinner like we planned. I started to walk around the compound to figure out where Bucky would be because he hadn’t texted me where he would be yet so I got an idea in my head to check the workout gym figuring he might be training with Steve or Natasha so I walked in and I saw him over by the lockers excited to see my boyfriend but Sharon was over by him flirting so I decided to leave and head to my room. I sat down on my bed starting to cry worrying Bucky liked Sharon.
When I get sad I start to either eat chocolate or binge snack on my favorite crackers, I texted Bucky how I felt saying “Hey Bucky… I saw Sharon flirting with you and it bothered me.. can we talk later about it?” I hope Bucky will come talk things out because I still really love him.
~Bucky’s POV
I escaped the conversation with Sharon after a few minutes because at one point I thought I saw Y/N walk in earlier but she disappeared so I went to look around but I felt my phone vibrate so I got it out of my pocket and saw Y/N texted me. I read her message and freaked out and ran over to her room knocking and said “Y/N, doll please open up let me explain babe.. I love you I really do.” The door opened a minute later with Y/N looking like she had been crying a little. I walked closer to her about to kiss but she stopped me and said “no Buck.. don’t.” I stopped her from walking away quickly grabbing her arm. Y/N turned around looking at me confused and said “what? What do you want Bucky?” I looked into her eyes feeling so guilty I was the reason she was upset.
Y/N hugged me crying and said “do you not love me anymore…? Did I do something wrong?” I shook my head saying “baby doll no not at all, it wasn’t like that, Tony needed information from Sharon and volunteered me to talk to her I promise I would never flirt with Sharon, I love you and only you Y/N and I won’t go anywhere alright? I mean what I say.”
Y/N blushed then kissed me and said “oh Bucky I love you so much you’re amazing you know that?” I smiled at her and said “forgive me doll?” She nodded taking my hand leading me inside her room wanting me to sit down next to her which I was more than happy to do that. I put my arm around her shoulder saying “does my baby need some attention hmm?” She nodded hiding her face in my chest, I love how cute Y/N is “I’m more than happy to give my girl some attention, I missed you doll face..” I said and we watched tv cuddling together the rest the day & after a long week of missions we needed this.
Hey bestie I hope you like these 🤗
❤️❤️
———————————————————————————————————
Comforting Prompt # 11 “Loving You Is Never A Task, It’s A Privilege ❤” Bucky Barnes xreader fan fic request
Summary: Y/N is dealing with anxiety and doesn’t wanna be a burden to her boyfriend Bucky & he reassures that she never is
Warnings: mentions of anxiety, mentions of feeling overwhelmed, fluff comfort, angst, sweet soft Bucky, let me know if I miss anything
~Y/N’s POV
I hated living with anxiety, I’m suppose to be this this tough avenging hero but lately I’ve been taking a break from missions due to my mental health which I’ve felt guilty for. Bucky recently noticed again that I wasn’t on the mission roster list and he came over to sit by me putting his hand on my knee and said “hey doll I’ve noticed you haven’t been going on many missions lately, everything ok?” I looked into his eyes and tried to think of an excuse for this one quickly saying “yea, Tony and Cap just doesn’t think I’m needed on this one that’s all.” Bucky looked concerned but I didn’t wanna have my anxiety be a burden to him.
Bucky leaned over by me to kiss my forehead then said “alright well if you need anything or if something was wrong you’d tell me right Y/N? I do have to go soon but I really don’t wanna leave you here alone again I miss you.” I got really anxious at the thought of him leaving for another long mission. Before he could get up I grabbed his hand and said “Buck!.. wait, I need to tell you something, I didn’t wanna bother you or worry you about it.” Bucky say closer to me lifting my chin up with his finger and said “Y/N, doll talk to me what’s wrong? You can tell me anything. I want you to tell me when something is bothering you.” I took a deep breath thinking of how to explain and I knew he wouldn’t be mad or upset with me. I looked at Bucky and said “alright so the real reason I haven’t been on missions is because I’ve been dealing with really bad anxiety for the last few weeks and I didn’t wanna mess up if I went on a mission so I asked to be kept off the roster.. I’m sorry I just.. worried you might love me less or I don’t..” I broke down crying from how horrible I felt about it. I felt Bucky wrap his arms around me pulling me into his embrace.
~Bucky’s POV
Poor Y/N no wonder why she has been staying back all this time. I hate that she thinks I wouldn’t love her as much. I helped Y/N calm down a bit and moved some of her hair away from her face and said “hey doll there you are, Y/N I need you to listen to me carefully alright?” She nodded to me and said “ok, I’m listening.” I put my hands on hers and said “sweetheart, I want you to know that you are never alone ok? I would never think less of you or love you any less because of what you’re going through ok? I love you so much and everyone deals with anxiety at least once in their life and you’re not to blame ok? You’re never bothering me I wanna take care of you.” Y/N smiled and said “really?.. so you aren’t mad I’ve missed a few missions? so you still love me?”
I kissed her forehead and said “baby doll I swear, loving you is never a task for me ok? Loving you is a privilege for me and being with you makes me so happy you make everyday brighter for me.” Y/N looked really happy and hugged me really tight and said “I love you Bucky Barnes! I love you so much, thank you for being by my side.” I pulled her closer sighing with relief and said “doll I love you so much more.”
Hey bestie!! Alright so I got this prompt idea from @urfriendlywriter from their comfort prompt list 😊
which their prompt ideas were very cute 😊 hope you like it xx
Taglist:
@jessybarnes
@sunshine-on-my-mind
@nana1000night
@writersblog20
@delicatecoffeepeanut
@anotherfuckingmarvelfanaccount
@marvelstarker-mha98
@vrittivsanghavi
@precious1610
#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes imagines#buckybarnes#bucky barnes fluff#comfort prompts#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky imagine#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes drabble#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky fic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky fluff#sebastian stan characters#bucky marvel#bucky barnes x yn#bucky barnes x reader fluff#bucky angst#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#buckybarnesedit#bucky barnes one shot#bucky mcu
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Angsty thought but like imagine Rhysand and Tamlin got into one of their fights during a ballroom, Tamlin storming out with rhysand following him.
Both of them angry and sad because of what happened, Rhysand angry at Tamlin's nonchalance and how "stone-faced" he was about the whole debacle. Tamlin angry at Rhys when he made a comment that maybe Tamlin really was like his father.
So Tamlin pissed off and was so hurt by this male who was his first best friend whirls around Rhysand and instead of Tamlin's face, Rhysand was looking directly at His sisters face and Rhysand's sister (Tam who shapeshifted) sneered and said "Maybe you really are like your father, considering you couldn't even save your own mother and sister"
A bit more angsty and dramatic then my usual asks but I was watching Scandal and I thought of this prompt to my two toxic love-birds :3
My first reaction to this was a violent gasp, because yes, this is very good. Very dramatic, very angsty, all things I love. Here's how I think that scene would go.
It was supposed to be a routine get-together, the Courts of Prythian coming together for one night. The Courts were far to separate and to maintain peace two things would take place every decade on a solstice. One, the High lords would gather for a meeting, it was a rare occasion that didn't end in someone storming out, and something getting thrown. Tamlin had to admit he found them amusing. Second, the people of each Court would gather for a large celebration, one Court was chosen each year, there they would open their borders to all who wished to attend, and a large celebration would be thrown.
No one admitted it, but everyone knew, these celebrations had simply turned into a way for the High lords to one up each other. Who had to most money to spend? Who had the most lavish taste?
It was a dick measuring contest, and Tamlin hated it. But had to go anyway, next decade would be his turn to host. That was going to be a nightmare and a half, Andras and Alis were somehow already excited for it, those two loved a good celebration. They especially loved the drama it would cause.
The meeting had gone as smoothly as one could hope for. Poor Nostrus was the one to host this year, the meeting and the celebration were to take place in Adriata. The office Nostrus had led the High lords too once they arrived was perfectly decorated, but quite empty. Only the table and chairs. the edges of the room were gilded with gems and gold, and a large balcony overlooked the sea. Nothing else though. Nostrus had most likely been thinking off the last meeting, that one Tamlin had attended as Prince. Someone had thrown something made of glass, it had shattered all over the floor, a shard nicking Tamlin in the arm.
Even still, the lack of anything to throw did not stop the arguments from pouring out. Tamlin didn't have enough fingers to count how many times he rolled his eyes, or loosened a sigh.
All entertainment from watching six grown men snapping at each other's throats was drowned the second he walked in.
Rhysand was fashionably late, as he always is. He waltzed in, the doors slamming open to reveal his clouds of darkness. His two Illyrian dogs prowling behind him. Rhysand gave some half-assed excuse as to why he was late that everyone had to suppress the urge to roll their eyes at. Rhysand had only been in power a few years, as had Tamlin. Yet he acted as though he had been ruling for centuries.
When they sat down, Rhysand scanned the room, watching everyone like a predator waiting for the perfect time to bite. Finally, he looked over at Tamlin, and that natural predator's glare turned hungry, like he'd spotted a lone deer in a clearing. Tamlin fought the urge to curl into himself, he held Rhysand's gaze with what he hoped was a similar intensity. Those his eyes could only muster hatred, Rhysand's was filled with loathing and lust. When Cassian and Azriel turned their eyes to lock into Tamlin, the Spring Lord slowly and pointedly looked at the Shadowsinger, then the General and back to Rhysand. Tamlin then huffed a laugh and threw them a smirk before turning away.
Tamlin could feel the seething rage coming off of Rhysand in waves even if he was looking away. Tamlin was his chosen target of the night, and damn him to terrors in Hell, but the part of Tamlin that still belonged to his past couldn't wait to see what the Night Lord had in stall for him.
Soon night fell and the Summer Court was in a buzz. Tamlin was led into a large ballroom. Covered in gold and splendor. The sounds of the ocean crashing outside seemed to blend into the music, creating a symphony of nature and man-made creation. The second the notes hit his ears Tamlin closed his eyes for a moment, almost beginning to sway to it. A pinch from Andras had him snapping back to the present. His sentry shot him a look and Tamlin just raised an eyebrow, discreetly flipping him off before striding away from his friend.
Tamlin found a nice corner, where he was away from everybody, and could simply lean against the wall, close his eyes and tap his fingers in time to the music.
His peace lasted for a total of thirty seconds. Then a cold chill spread across his skin, a chill he wanted to forget but his body remembered. Tamlin didn't have to open his eyes to know Rhysand was standing close to him. Rhysand didn't need to speak to know Tamlin knew he was there. Still, Tamlin refused to be the first to talk.
They stayed standing there for a half hour, some secret challenge between them. Who would break the silence first? Tamlin tried to ignore Rhysand's lingering presence, but he couldn't enjoy the music knowing that darkness was swirling so close to him.
Tamlin had never been made to play these games. Finally, he opened his eyes and turned to face Rhysand, lip pulled back into a snarl, "What do you want?"
Rhysand's face split into a grin. Ecstatic that Tamlin had been the first to break.
"I wanted to know why the High lord of Spring, is not enjoying the festivities with his people, I thought you of all people would not consider yourself above the commoners?" Rhysand emphasized 'High lord' he knew Tamlin did not want this crown. He loved picking at that, making him feel even more unworthy than what he already was, but never letting him forget that he could never be normal like he so desperately wanted to be.
Tamlin didn't entertain his outright ridiculas question. He simply looked back towards the people of Prythian, mingling, dancing and talking to one another.
Rhysand hated when Tamlin could be more carefree and silent than him. It showed when Rhysand stepped closer, invading his space, crowding around him that forced Tamlin to remember how Rhysand, despite only being a few inches taller than Tamlin, could seem like he was twice his size.
"I've heard the little fox has been prancing around your Court, have you found another so quickly my love?" Rhysand snarled in his ear. Tamlin hated those even more than the comment before it. He hated thinking about what they were. What had happened.
"Answer me, darling." Rhysand hissed.
"Lucien is my friend, Rhysand." Tamlin said, his voice calm and level, unlike Rhysand's.
The bat opened and closed his mouth, face confused, then turning to anger. Hatred reeling in his eyes, Rhysand had always hated when Tamlin could be level and cool. Hated when his venomous words didn't drive him up the wall.
"Friend, lover, whore, who draws the lines." Rhysand shrugged, those damning smirk adorning his face.
"I do, and we have no relations beyond friendship." He was friends with Lucien, had been for a long time now. Since taking on the crown, Lucien along with Jesminda had shown up for him more than ever. He was his friend, a better friend than Rhysand had ever been, it had taken Tamlin far too long to realize that.
"The bounds of friendship stretch, Little Lord of Spring, we would know that wouldn't we?" Rhysand trailed a finger down Tamlin's arm. If Tamlin didn't know Rhysand as well as he did, he would've snapped, perhaps hurt the male horribly. But as it were, Tamlin could have laughed, Rhysand was getting desperate for a reaction.
"We wouldn't know that." Tamlin murmured.
Rhysand went predatorially still, a wolf sitting back on its hunches, preparing to strike. Tamlin remembered the power that had filled Rosehall as two High lords came into power. And the way Rhysand had gone so still. Tamlin couldn't help the fear that leapt up into his throat.
"We would, our... friendship, it stretched a quite a bit." Rhysand said, a growl pressing into his voice.
Tamlin couldn't help it, he huffed a laugh. Rhysand took a hold of his arm, "Don't deny it Spring."
"Deny what, bat?" Tamlin quipped.
Rhysand just grinned, instead of answering he asked, "Do you think about me when you fuck him?" Rhysand jutted his head towards where a group of Autumn males were socializing. Tamlin didn't doubt Lucien was among them.
Tamlin finally laughed, a full, genuine laugh. He laughed even harder when Rhysand's face fell from smugness to simmering hatred.
"Lucien is happy in his own relationships." Tamlin said, he would never tell Rhysand about Jesminda, but it made him feel good to know how false Rhysand's little theory was.
Tamlin leaned in close, stepping up onto his tiptoes to be Rhysand's level, like he used to do before he kissed him, "And you and your little wings, are the last things I'm thinking about when I'm fucking somebody."
That 'little wings' comment made Rhysand step forward, pressing his body fully against Tamlin. His eyes full of anger, making the violet a deep purple, "Liar." Rhysand hissed. "You are too much like the dogs to be on a throne such as Spring. You deserve less than a feral animal. We used to call you that, you know, Cassian, Az and I. The feral kid from Spring. You were like a dog when we fucked too. A desperate bitch in heat."
Tamlin had heard enough. Here was the male he had been friends with for decades. Who had taught him to wield daggers and swords. Who had taken him in when his brothers left him bloodied, bruised and broken. Who had brought him up so high when he had felt so low. Who had assured him he wasn't the dog, the beast, everyone accused him of being.
His brothers called him a beast, a dog, a feral animal. Rhysand knew all that, because Tamlin had told him. Rhysand had been the one to tell him he was never that. Had told him he was worthy of being treated like person, had told him that was the bare minimum.
Now, he threw it all back in his face like he never meant it. And it hurt. It hurt so much.
If Tamlin stayed any longer, he was going to lose it. So he turned away from Rhysand headed for the exit, people stared at him. Andras tried to wave him down and even Lucien looked over, but Tamlin passed them all.
He practically ran out the entrance. Down the stairs, going and going until he found an empty esplanade, a road that overlooked the glittering sea. The moon hung in the deep night sky, stars stared down at him as if they were accusing him. Accusing him of the same crime Rhysand was. A crime he didn't fucking commit.
It didn't matter though; Rhysand couldn't be swayed. And oh, how Tamlin had tried to sway him. Had sent him letter after letter after letter. Begging and pleading for Rhysand to listen to him. His brothers had drugged him, he didn't even remember telling them. The whole thing had been a haze, a blur of nothing.
But Rhysand didn't care what he had to say. Just wanted someone to blame.
Rhysand now appeared beside him, had followed him from the party.
The darkness curled around Tamlin's wrists like chains. Would he ever be free of the clutches of Night? Or had becoming friends with Rhysand in the first place trapped him in a cage he could never escape?
"You're a coward," Rhysand hissed, "A good for nothing, waste of space. You're a coward and you're nothing."
"I am worth something-," Tamlin tried to argue.
Rhysand laughed, "Oh you think I was serious when I told you that? I lie Tamlin, and I lied to you. Without me, you aren't worth a drop of anything anyone gives you. Give it time, that fox you love so much will leave. In time everyone will leave you."
Tamlin sucked in a breath, and finally chose to turn away from him. Tears were beginning to form in the Spring Lords eyes, and he wouldn't let Rhysand see them.
As Tamlin turned around, Rhysand delivered the final blow, "Going to run away from this too? Going to pretend none of this affects you at all? Why did I expect anything more? You're just like your father. I hope you never have children, hate for what happened to you to happen to them."
Tamlin's entire world came to crashing halt. He stopped walking as everything he had convinced of himself shattered.
Rhysand's footsteps were the only sound he could hear as the Night Lord came closer.
"Hate that its true Tamlin?"
Tamlin felt his shoulders begin to shake, then his heart racing, and finally his face contorting, his skin changing as anger overrode every rational thought in his mind.
"Come now, little Tamlin, tell me how right I am." Rhysand was right behind him now, so close Tamlin could feel his breath on his neck.
Tamlin then whirled around. He stared right up in Rhysand's eyes and watched as those lustful, selfish eyes turned to horror.
Instead of Tamlin's face, it was Rhysand's sister, Branon, who glowered up at him. And it was in Branon's voice that Tamlin said, "Perhaps you are truly like your father, considering you couldn't even save your own mother and sister's lives."
Rhysand paled, his whole body beginning to shake. Tears formed in his eyes, and he stumbled back. Tamlin, still wearing Branon's face, sneered, "You have become exactly what you swore you would never be. Selfish! Vindictive! and cruel! I have never deserved your hatred! You know what happened that night! I needed saving too! You let us all drown! I may have never been worth anything to you, but you were worth something to me and now," Tamlin let out a cold, humorless laugh, "Now I feel nothing for you. Your face, your eyes, your voice and your words, mean absolutely nothing to me."
Tears spilled down Rhysand's cheeks, and true to his words, Tamlin felt nothing for him. No remorse, no anger, no hatred. Just plain nothing. Everything emptied out from his words, words that were a long time coming.
Rhysand looked down to the floor. Tamlin wondered if he was remembering his dear sister. A woman who had loved with fire and passion. Who had smiled through flames. Who had fought with power like no other.
Tamlin only felt a little guilty for using her face to put Rhysand in his place. But the guilt was only for her, never for Rhysand.
Tamlin refused to ever feel guilty for Rhysand, for what the Night Lord had brought upon himself by refusing to move on, by refusing to listen to the true story. Instead making up his own and flaunting it to everyone.
Tamlin would be free of him. That he swore. He was worth something. The people in his life would not leave him. Rhysand was wrong.
************************************
Rhysand had been right.
Tamlin laid in the ruins of his Court. He looked up at the stars. Tears spilling down his cheeks, his whole-body trembling as he struggled to keep his cries contained.
Everyone had left him, like Rhysand had said they would. He had succumbed to his own rage, like his father, like Rhysand had accused him of being.
Rhysand was right.
He wasn't worth anything.
I loved this prompt so much! Thank you so much for sharing, I hope I did this one justice!
#acotar#pro tamlin#tamlin#tamsand#rhysand#rhyslin#acotar au#acotar fanfiction#acotar headcanons#sorry for the ending#I couldnt help but make it sad#don't twist my words though! rhysand was not right tam! you are worth something!#anti rhysand
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Things that changed
!! SPOILERS FOR ASRA ROUTE !!
A.N. : Inspired by @/vesuviaweekly 's weekly prompt 'Things that changed'. As I said in 'Nightmares and Daydreams' , I am revisiting this prompt. Again can be kind of ooc for Asra and heavy on headcanons. (Some stuff is canon for me but then I look it up it is in fact NOT canon😭😭😭) . Oh the sufferings of loving a character so deeply that you divert them a bit from their original source <3. Then again as the saying goes 'to be loved is to be changed' . Anyways , this post too will involve a MC who has a similar origin story to my MC (riku) but still will be referred to as MC . MC will use they/them pronouns. I know this prompt is supposed to be a pre vs post plague scenarios but tweaking it a bit just for plot purposes <3.
C.W. : he/him pronouns for Asra ; very heavy on angst (because I am in an angsty mood 🥰) (I am sorry my love I promise to write something fluffy for you soon 😭) ; death mention ; spoilers for asra route (pretty much entirety of his route) ; characters may be ooc ; MC's aunt is mentioned (oc) ; may feel self indulgent at some points (may not) ; long post below the 'keep reading' button ; i just felt like yapping about my spouse and his history so I made this post 🥰 don't mind me ; FORGIVE ME ASRA 😩; English is not my first language so please be kind and make me aware of any mistakes you may find while reading this piece.
This post got out of control and now can be qualified as a chaptered fic 💀 aka LONG POST AHEAD.
"By clicking on 'keep reading' , you hereby confirm that you have read A.N. and C.W. as given above and therefore I (the creator of this post) will not be held accountable for your reading experience"
Change is the only constant . We all must have heard of this saying one way or another. Change is painful, sometimes manageable, most times not. Nobody wants change . We get used to situations and hope that the situation remains same . Hope that we don't have to change. Because we have gotten used to these circumstances and learned to live with them. But sometimes change is necessary. These changes can be seen in Asra's life as well. Did it change him? Let's see how changes happened in Asra's life and how it affected him.
Having a family vs Becoming an orphan :
• Asra has two very loving parents. He is loved in the Alnazar household. He knows what a family is and what it is like to be safe. He likes to spend his mornings getting magic trained from Salim. In the afternoons , his parents go for work in the palace and return late in the evenings. He doesn't mind that. He knows that by the end of the day he will be cuddled beside Aisha who will hold him oh so lovingly. He knows that whatever they do , they will ensure his safety. Afterall a child doesn't worry about his parents. It is the other way around... right?
• The first change occurred when one evening Asra's parents didn't return. The first few hours he did not notice any change. Maybe it was the calm before the storm . After an hour or so passed and Aisha and Salim didn't return at their usual time , Asra started to worry. "Where were they? Why aren't they home yet?" Said the little voice in Asra's head and made him worried. He didn't know what to do. He decided to go in his parents' room and wait the night out there. He waited and waited but his wait bore no fruit. He couldn't sleep that night. The next morning he decided to take matters in his own hands. He himself decided to go out and search for them. He searched his neighbourhood like crazy , he went to search in all familiar alleyways , he asked all familiar faces he could find , but none of this gave him a clue about the whereabouts of his parents. He only knew that they worked at the palace , so he decided to go there. He asked people around to reach the palace ,and finally that he did , he was told by the count that he executed his parents. The count executed his parents. The count executed his parents. His parents.
• Asra had two very loving parents. He was loved in the Alnazar household. He knew what a family was and what it was like to be safe. Asra hated change. He used to be safe and sound without a worry in the world just a few hours earlier. Now he was dangerously aware of the situation. He is just a kid! How is he supposed to live !? How is he supposed to survive?! What about his family?! Will he ever have one? Asra cried that day , he sobbed like a baby. He was just a baby! His parents' baby ! When he decided to return home , another bad news awaited him. The count confiscated his childhood home. He could not return. He was left in the streets of vesuvia all by himself. He had to live by himself now. He had to survive all alone. He had to , what other choice did he have?
Being alone vs Meeting new people :
• He is used to surviving on his own now. He has to be. It has been so long . The other vesuvian orphans were not always kind. You could even say that finding a friend in those orphans was a rare deal. These orphans used to survive by joining 'gangs'. Mafia of sorts , but not really that dangerous. They were dangerous for other orphans though. They were the bullies who used to boss around and dictate other non-member orphans lives. They used to bully other orphans into giving them their food. Asra was initially scared of them . But eventually when he found out that they can't use magic like he can , it was game on for him. Now the 'gangs' were scared of Asra. They avoided him as much as possible and used to scare away new orphans who could possibly become his friend by telling them stories of the great power he held aka throwing things at them without touching it. Asra was used to being alone now.
• The next change in Asra's life was a well needed change. He met Muriel. Or maybe it went a bit differently. He rescued Muriel , from the same gang of bullies mentioned earlier. How could he not ? They were making fun of Muriel and forcing him to do stuff ! Asra hardly tolerated when he came across such scenes. So of course he did what he knew best , magic! A bit of magic and every bully was left terrified. Even Muriel was a bit surprised but he soon recovered when Asra grabbed his hand and ran away with him. Away from the bullies. Soon as they interacted more Asra finds that Muriel is the reserved kind. But Muriel never left his side. Maybe it was gratitude or something entirely different but he appreciated his presence. He liked this change.
• Next change brought in his platonic soulmate in his life. While doing some magic tricks to earn some quick money to feed himself , he came across a wandering magician. He was so intrigued! And as it looked the magician was too by such talent of Asra at such a young age. He conversed with Asra and gifted him and egg. "An egg ?" Asra thought . The confusion must have shown on his face because the magician soon explained that it was gift and he should wait for it to hatch. So he did. It hatched on his birthday and came out as a beautiful purple ball python. He gained a new companion! Oh how happy he was. He named her Faust! Soon after he realized that his and Faust's connection was deeper than that of owner and pet. She was his familiar. Oh how they spent their time together, playing on the ships waiting on the docks. He would let her run away on the beach sand and chase her to catch. Muriel too got known by Faust and she started to trust him. Maybe not all changes are bad , Asra thinks.
• Asra was a teenager now. Him and Muriel have managed to secure a place in the woods. Asra had heard the townfolk talk about an upcoming masquerade ball being organized by the palace. As much as Asra absolutely despised the count , he did have an empty stomach to feed. So they (Muriel and Asra) decided to set up a stall in the bazaar. They both worked on preparing masks and other little trinkets to attract onlookers and sell those to them. On the day of the ball , when the newly wed countess first arrived in the city of vesuvia , a certain someone entered his stall to be safe from the gathering onlookers (the crowd watching the countess arrive). Little did Asra knew that this person is going to change his life forever and ever.
Friends or Something more... ? :
• Ever since that fateful meeting with MC in his stall , he had started to know them more. To the point that he was well acquainted with MC's aunt , the owner of the magic shop. MC's aunt was a kind lady. She would not hesitate to be welcoming and warm to Asra. Once she found out that Asra too was a magic user , she offered to train him. He liked it. He felt safe when he was around them. He remembered what it was like to be 'home'. They soon got pretty close to Asra. Asra gained another friend , another person to rely on. Maybe changes are good , he thought.
• Maybe it was the puberty kicking in or entirely something else but lately Asra has started to feel attracted towards MC. It started as small voices in the corner of his heart that he would dismiss initially , but soon it evolved and became harder to contain within himself. Asra was pretty close to MC and he surely didn't want to ruin their friendship. So he would run. Run away from them. Run away on 'trips'. The trips that didn't help with anything. It only made the attraction stronger. The want grew stronger and he started to crave to be in the shop. But he stopped himself. He really didn't want to lose a friend. He didn't want things to change. He was hesitant to change their relationship.
The Grief :
• He was not ready for the next change. Well, nobody was . MC's aunt died. It was hard for Asra but it was even harder for MC. He was their comfort in such tough times. He ,too, lost a person he could rely on blindly but right now getting MC adjusted was his top priority.
• Once MC was well adjusted and inherited the magic shop , he felt better too. Whatever decision they would make regarding the shop , he would accept it. They decided to continue running the shop and invited Asra to be their business partner. He accepted and together they started their magic business. It was all going well , everything was as it needed to be. But life doesn't stop at perfect moments , does it?
• The city of vesuvia experienced its deadliest plague. The plague that brought destruction. The plague that changed many lives. The plague that changed Asra's life. He tried to reason with MC , to convince them to go with him and seek refuge in a safer city far away from vesuvia . Far away from the clutches of plague. But MC wasn't the one to listen to reason. So they separated and decided to go their own ways. Asra left vesuvia and MC behind. This decision was a crucial one which changed a lot of things.
• When Asra returned and found out about MC's death , he was heartbroken and guilt stricken. If only he was more stubborn . If only he had managed to convince MC. If only he was true with his feelings . If only... he could have prevented this from happening! He could have saved them! He didn't know what to do or where to go. The shop felt emptier without MC around and lost its cozy feel. He didn't like it. Maybe not all changes are good.
Feelings of loneliness :
• Asra had decided to bring MC back. It was risky but he was ready to take this risk if it meant having MC back in the land of living. He had decided that he needs to control his life and not the other way around. He will change his life himself . He decided to work in the palace for their resources. Many warned him of dangers of working in the palace but he was never the one to listen to warnings about the count. He felt lonely, like there was no one he could trust . When initially he couldn't find a breakthrough to bring MC back, he felt hopeless. Like he was doing all this for nothing. He couldn't even ask anyone for help. All he could do was stay patient and hopeful and just try . Try to do what he was here for. Try to find a solution. He wanted things to change.
Taking care of a once independent individual :
• MC's resurrection caused them to have amnesia. The same way someone with a severe brain trauma would have. They had lost both their functional and emotional memories. When Asra realized this he felt guilty . Just how long do they have to suffer because of me? He thought. He then decided to keep his feelings aside and rehabilitate MC back to recovery. He tried a few times to get them to remember their past but when this caused more harm then good , he stopped. He was hurting inside seeing the love of his life suffer so much. Maybe he should just let them go. Afterall he will be more happy to see them happy then in pain. And so he did. He buried his feelings deep inside his heart (or what was left of it) and just focused on their recovery. Focused on reteaching them magic. Focused on reteaching them to live. But occasionally he could feel the love for them grow. So he resorted to his old habits , going away from them. Change is necessary, he would convince himself.
Returning faith (in people) :
• When MC was asked to investigate the case of the count and find Dr. Devorak for his punishment by the countess , Asra was initially hesitant. But it was not his decision to make. He supported them when MC said yes. What he didn't know was that this change of events was the one which he would thank for all eternity.
• As the investigation progressed , so did MC's recovery and that too in leaps. He was surprised to see this. His faith in people started to return too . Faith in the old baker , in the neighbour next door , in the palace guards , and the countess . He found himself gaining a part of him that he lost along with MC. As the events unfurled and MC gained most of their memories, a part in Asra healed. Maybe he had never forgiven himself for leaving them behind but now hearing it from their mouth he finally believed it.
• When he found his parents imprisoned in the magical realms , he was left speechless. He didn't know what to do or say. He didn't know what to feel. Till this day he had thought that he was an orphan but no! There were his parents standing in front of him! He thanked the Arcana for letting him see this day. He couldn't be more happier. He is getting used to changes in his life.
Maturity :
• As soon as the battle with the devil was won , Asra felt light. He felt as if a great burden has been lifted from his shoulders. The source of his lifelong sufferings , the cause of the pain to his loved ones , the devil , is now standing in front of him frozen in time. Almost like a stone statue. He could not believe that he managed to do this. That they managed to defeat the devil. They were stronger than ever. They had changed. Both of them did , in their own ways. For better and for worse.
• When he was on his way on to a new adventure with MC , his life long partner , he couldn't help but feel as if he was living in a dream. Everything was perfect now. Maybe it will not be the same tomorrow, maybe it will not be the same a few years from now , but one thing Asra had learned from his life is that things change , people change , situations change , and that's OK.
Before meeting MC vs After falling in love :
• Asra grew up loved up until his parents disappeared, after which he was left on the streets to survive. He felt alone for the first time. He was just a child when his world turned upside down. His life changed forever . Of course he was quick to gain new friends, but new people do not fully cover for the ones already lost. Soon he found a place he could call home. A place that felt like his home. A place with people welcoming enough to remind him of his family. He started to grow attached to them. It didn't matter how much he tried to brush these feelings off, the feelings resurfaced again. He was young when once again he lost people valuable to him. He didn't like this. So he refused to get used to this change.
• When he finally decided to act on his feelings and bring MC back , he didn't expect them to come back completely wiped off of their memories. But he was a changed person now. Instead of running away he decided to take care of them. Instead of letting his feelings overpower him and making things awkward, he decided to maintain distance from them. Instead of forcing them to remember their past, he accepted them as they were. Afterall, is that not what true family does? As time progressed and made everything what he could only imagine in his dreams - with MC acting on their love , his parents returning , and the devil defeated - he himself healed. He accepted everything as it was and as it would be. He decided to welcome each and every change from this point onwards without a fear. Afterall, isn't change the only constant ?
Can you guys tell that the last part (before meeting MC vs after falling in love) was what was originally planned. You can tell right? Right? 🥰← op thinks everyone knows how their brain works. Does anyone even read this part? The part where I roast myself? Idk , leave a leaf emoji if you do! Hopefully i haven't crossed the yapping limit 😩😩 If only I showed this much enthusiasm while writing school essays 😍 forgive me for such a long post. And can you guys please bully me into completing my Asra × Riku fic ? Please 🥰 /hj. I hope you enjoyed this!
Rebloggers and commenters are being offered biscuits with a warm cup of milk 🥰
© OHKENTO . do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any platforms.
#vesuviaweekly#vesuvia weekly prompt#the arcana headcanons#the arcana scenarios#asra the arcana#asra the magician#the arcana#asra headcanons#asra angst#asra alnazar#asra#things that changed#the things that changed#asra × mc#asra × reader#asra × apprentice#how things changed#asra loml#vesuvia weekly
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Prompt: “pin . push my muse against a [ wall, table, other ]” for Cassian or the moon boys? I can’t decide I love them all haha
cassian would so do this when he’s angry so I hope u enjoy <3
warnings || kinda angsty, fluff, arguing, SMUT, semi-public sex, this was way softer than I thought, 18+ only
“What were you thinking?”
His voice comes out in a harsh whisper, eyes scanning over the curve your nose and the way your eyes bore into his.
“I was doing the job.”
You crossed your arms over your chest in defiance. Being a rebel was literlly a part of your everyday life and you didn’t understand why he couldn’t handle this situation.
He felt ire set forth through his bones, and his nostrils flared. Something ignited inside of him, he could feel his blood vessel rip open with incapacitating rage.
“The job doesn’t require almost kriffing dying. If you were actually smart, you would have—”
You scoffed, “are you fucking serious?” You almost couldn’t believe him. If you hadn’t attacked any of the stormtroopers, both you and him would be dead by now. “That was the only option I had, Cassian! Sure, it could’ve been done better but you and I both know what’s at stake if we don’t react immediately.”
You leaned back in the safe darkness of the alleyway, blocking anything from seeing the two of you. The mission was supposed to be simple so that the rebels could grab some intel, but you had run into a little bit of trouble.
Cassian knew you were right. You were undoubtedly correct in every way possible. He just couldn’t bare to lose anyone else—especially not you.
His heart stopped in his chest when he saw the blaster that was pointed at your face. It sunk deep in his chest, down to his toes at the crushed feeling of anger, grief, and loss.
It was then and there that he knew he couldn’t lose you. He needed you.
He startled you by surprise when his hands shove your shoulders back—hitting the rugged wall of some building in the city. You open your mouth to protest whatever he was planning, but you saw the look in his eye.
It was fiery and bright between his brown hues—emotions crashing over other emotions. His lips were on yours before you could even stutter out his name. Together you collide, swirling and grabbing for warmth and solitude.
Your back presses deep within the edged wall and your hands fluttered to his dark hair—twisting and turning through your fingers. “Cassian.” You breathe.
He doesn’t say a word, continuing the burning pressure of his lips against your jaw and leaning down toward your neck. His hands caress the curves of your flight suit and press deep within your skin.
“Need you, pretty—please.” He begged. It almost sounded sweet on his tongue but you caught a small glimpse of shame—of pure desperation. He needed this. He needed to feel the thump of your rapid heart beat. He needed to feel how alive you are.
You nodded against him, too lulled in his presence of honeyed pleasure. He was soft, yet entirely rough. He was cocky, yet his movements were akin to shyness.
“So pretty like this.” He whispered. It was almost unheard from the bustling life of the city, but it caught fire. It burned and ignited through your chest and heart.
He fumbles with the workings of your suit, opening the front and shuffling it down do your sides.
“Cassian.” You whined. He pressed sweet kisses do your chest as an apology for ceasing his addicting touches. He was so light with you, and he made sure to take his time so he can map out the presence of your skin near his.
He looked over—just for a split second to check his surroundings—while unbuckling his pants. They pool around his ankles and his cock twitches at the newly released atmosphere.
“Pretty girl,” he says, pressing his finger between your folds to gasp in the feeling of wetness on his fingertips. “Can’t—Can’t scare me like that.”
You nodded, whimpering at his fingers working quick against the hoof of your clit. “I know, Cass. Ah—‘m sorry, baby.” Something snaps inside do you—a passage of desperation and raw love. Cassian had always been there for you. Always.
He grabbed his cock, pre-cum dripping and swollen tip in all. Your legs wrap around his torso, back gently hitting the wall again. He gently shoved your underwear to the side and sinks inside of you.
He stays there for a moment—panting and groaning, while the clench of your walls fill his sensations. Your hands gripped his shoulders and you squeeze. “My love—please.”
Heat spreads through him at the endearment, his lips leaning down to kiss and bite into your open skin. He draws himself back before thrusting back into you. You gasp, his name fluttering from your lips and that seems to erupt something inside of him because he’s thrusting deeper and deeper inside of you.
“S-so tight, pretty, g-gonna take care of you. Please, let me take care of you.”
Whispers of nothings and sweet kisses fill the space, pleasure and bliss burst through the moment. His cock twitches and stretches in your core, the carnal feeling of him inside of you builds.
Your mouth falls open, a gasp of his name and a plea of love—something that sparks between his chest and his heart. He whispers the words back to you and groans—guttural and messy as he spills his seed inside of you.
“I’m yours, pretty girl. I’m yours. I’m here. Are you?” He asks desperately—pleading into you. “Are you here?”
You gasp as his thumb swirls against your clit. You moan wantonly against his cheek and he smiles. It’s bright and almost blinding to your irises. “I’m here, baby—I’m—I’m right here. I’m yours. I’m yours, body and soul.”
You hiccuped, words slurring together with each euphoric whip of his hand and his cock puncturing inside of you. A gush of sensations flood through you and you gasp, chanting his name over and over—the only thing that could be on your mind. Pleasure runs through your veins and it captures you full—encompassing and fluttering in your chest.
“Cass.” You felt full—his cum and cock stay still inside of you.
He stills and presses deep kisses against your cheek and to the corner of your mouth. It’s sweet and rich. It’s soft and powerful against your skin.
He pulls out of you, the two of you groaning at the loss of one another. It was okay, though, because this was the moment.
This moment, right now, was one that you knew would be all changed. He was yours. You were his. It was that much true, but to say it—between each other’s lips was different.
He caresses your head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”
You shake you head, acknowledging the reaction. Yours would have been the same. You knew that he was fully aware of your capabilities.
You cheekily smile, “never doubt my abilities again, Andor.”
He laughs, shaking his head. He could feel the weight lifted on his shoulders. You forgave him. You weren’t angry or mad.
You understood.
“Never again, pretty. Never again.”
#vic’s spring time sleepover ˚ ༘♡ ·˚#cassian andor x reader#cassian andor x you#cassian andor x y/n#cassian andor fanfiction#cassian andor#andor fanfiction#andor#Star Wars#star wars fanfiction#cassian andor smut#smut
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Hello!
About the writing prompts, maybe you could write the bitter soulmates (in the 1st masterlist), ennemi to lovers (part 3- tbh those two prompts could go together) or the height difference (in the part 2); that one would be quite funny; idk if there is one you like amongst these
I love your work 💜💜💜
Hey :) First off, thank you so much for the saying that and I'm really glad you enjoy my work! (Seriously, like thank you so much for saying that!!!)
Second, those first two prompts were looking despicably angsty in my notes, so I'm really hoping I can get back to them soon. I did however manage to write a little something using the third prompt. I'll admit, I typed it on my phone and proofed it on my laptop when I had free time today, but I already posted it on AO3 and please let me know if you want me to gift it to your there profile because I will do so happily!
Hope you enjoy! 💜💜💜
~~~~
5 Times Height Mattered (And The One Time It Didn't)
Available on AO3
Word Count: 4,700
Summary: The one where despite Leonora's claims to the contrary, Clarissa is a woman of average height.
~~~
(1)
It’s not that Clarissa is vertically challenged. In fact, she stands a nice average 5’4. 5’6 in her favorite pair of heels.
So why is Lady Lesso hellbent on making her feel short?
From nearly the moment they met, the woman was highlighting the differences in their height with a haughty smirk.
In fact, during their very first conversation, Leonora had asked her a question so rude, so childish, that Clarissa immediately began to doubt her sanity.
The summer heat was waning, yet the sun was high in the sky. Clarissa stood in the garden wearing a golden dress. Why this is important you may ask?
Because it was here that she met Lady Lesso for the first time. Tall with red hair that glowed fiercely in the sunlight, beautiful with a confidence in her posture that would be nearly impossible to replicate. Clarissa had shaken away her nerves, introducing herself to the woman with a pleasant smile. Lady Lesso had stared for a second before doing the same. For a fleeting second Clarissa could have sworn that the woman smiled back, a natural genuine smile, not a smirk or a haughty grin.
It’s gone as fast as Clarissa can blink. No doubt a trick of the light, because within the next few seconds, Leonora crushes any errant positive thought Clarissa might have made the mistake of drawing up about the woman.
Lady Lesso had looked her over curiously, pursing her lips and tilting her head before saying something that made Clarissa’s jaw drop.
“Do you think that if I planted you in the garden with the rest of the sunflowers, you would grow to be a respectable height?” Really?! A respectable height? She knew that they were adversaries, of course, Ever’s versus Never’s blah blah blah, but that was entirely uncalled for. It was demeaning even!
And Lady Lesso had asked with such a serious expression to boot. I mean, what was Clarissa even supposed to say to that?! Something equally rude, of course.
“Just because you have the height of an ogre doesn’t mean you should have the manners of one.” She had responded, and Lady Lesso had looked mildly impressed.
“Hmm. Catty.”
Clarissa had fumed about it for the rest of the week. All she had wanted to do was enjoy a lovely afternoon in the garden, and instead, she was insulted!
There began their unending disagreement. Lady Lesso would remind her of their height difference at every opportunity. About how tall she was and how short Clarissa was, and each time Clarissa would deny it. Mainly because she is not even short!
(2)
They have an unfortunate run in the library one afternoon as well.
The library isn’t exactly full that day, but all the ladders are either occupied or out of service. This is a problem because she really wants to check out a new book. Unfortunately, the book she wants is about one shelf too high. Clarissa finds herself on pointed toes leaning heavily against a bookshelf, and yet, somehow, it’s just out of arms reach.
Clarissa jumps but only manages to touch the spine of the book and push it further away. She groans, leaning her forehead against the shelf. This is—
“Do you need assistance?” Clarissa almost gives herself whiplash when she turns to face the voice. There, Lady Lesso stands, green eyes staring at her in amusement.
“No. I got it.” She says shaking her head. The book is right there; she can definitely reach it. And now that she knows Lady Lesso is watching, she has no choice but to do so.
Five seconds later, she realizes the situation is now both futile and embarrassing. Especially seeing as the book is further out of reach than before.
“Are you sure?” Lady Lesso asks with an impolite snicker.
“Yes. I’m sure.” She responds through gritted teeth. She’s just started considering climbing the bookshelf to reach when Lady Lesso snorts, stepping closer. The redheads hand falls on Clarissa's hip almost casually as Lady Lesso’s other hand touches the book.
This sudden proximity means that Clarissa not only has to tilt her chin all the way up to look Lady Lesso in the eye, but she can also smell her perfume. Pine and pecan with a hint of honey. A winning combination, given the sudden insistent beating in her chest.
Lady Lesso takes the book off the shelf so easily that all Clarissa can do is frown, yet the woman grins at her all the while. Once the book is securely in Lady Lesso’s hand, she holds it as if waiting for something, all while looking at Clarissa expectantly.
Clarissa just purses her lips silently. She doesn’t reach for the book, already knowing that the woman would just as soon hold it over her head as she would hand it over.
“Do you want me to give it to you?” Lady Lesso asks, waving the book around like some sort of prize. “Maybe if you ask politely—“
“Oh, I just realized. That’s not the book I want.” Clarissa says, lying through her teeth. She really does want the book Lady Lesso is holding, but not enough to bow to her terms. Especially not when she can come back by for it later.
“This book?” Leonora asks, raising an eyebrow. “The one you spent an eon reaching for? All of a sudden, you don’t want it?”
“That’s right. I want—“ Clarissa blindly grabs a random book from the nearby shelf. “This one.”
“…1001 Deadly Poisons and the Best Dishes to Hide Them In. Really?” Lady Lesso looks at her disbelievingly, half-amused, and Clarissa decides to nod her head.
“I need some new recipes.” She says, shrugging. Hopefully, Lady Lesso will put the book back, and Clarissa can go get the now-available ladder.
The woman stares at her long and hard before smirking. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll take this one.”
Take this one? Surely she isn’t talking about Clarissa’s book. No. Perish the thought. “What do you mean?”
“I came here to find that.” She says, pointing to the book in Clarissa’s hand. “But if you’re checking it out, I guess I’ll have to make do with—“ Lady Lesso looks at the title with a faint grimace.
“1001 Tea Recipes and their Best Dessert Pairings,” Clarissa says before shutting her mouth firmly.
“Yes. It seems… nauseatingly delightful. Informative.” Clarissa glances between the two books hesitantly.
“Perhaps we can trade.” She doesn’t need a book on poisons, and she doubts Lady Lesso has any use for a book on tea.
“Perhaps not,” Lady Lesso snorts. “I can reach that book at any time, Professor Dovey. I don’t think you’ll ever be able to reach this one, seeing as you already hit your growth cap.” The woman gives her a falsely sympathetic look.
Clarissa’s eye twitches. Thrice.
Her irritation is no doubt palpable, but Lady Lesso pays it no heed.
“Why don’t you say ‘Lady Lesso, thank you for grabbing that book off of the tall shelf for me. I’m so short I couldn’t reach it and too prideful to ask for help,’ and I’ll give it to you.” Clarissa… will not be doing that. Instead, she walks away, now determined to check out the book on poisons. If Clarissa can’t get what she wants, then Lady Lesso surely can’t either.
“Or better yet, just admit that you’re short.” Lady Lesso says, trailing behind her. “I think that’s an acceptable compromise.” It is not an acceptable compromise. Not in the least.
“I’m not short.” She insists, pausing just long enough to give her a stern look. The fact that she has to look up does nothelp her point.
“You’re saying that like you really believe it. Adorable.” Lady Lesso gives her a cheshire grin, and she can feel embarrassment flooding her face. Clarissa sputters, at a loss for words.
Adorable?! She’s a woman grown! Not a bunny rabbit or a puppy. She’s older than Lady Lesso for Storian's sake. The woman should be showing her respect. She makes sure to express this point with a severe frown.
Clarissa ends up leaving the library with a new book. Granted, it's not the one she wanted, but she learns to appreciate its teachings.
For the next few months, Clarissa spouts relevant information about poison pairings when Lady Lesso is eating within earshot. She also refuses to return the book to the library out of spite.
Clarissa renews her rental as often as necessary and keeps the book locked tight in her desk drawer. She’s read it cover to cover, after all, but it’s not going back to the library until she can get her hands on the tea recipe book.
Unfortunately, Lady Lesso is of the same mind. And neither book is properly returned to the shelf for a very long time. A very long time.
(3)
Throughout the years, Clarissa and Leonora argue over many things. For some inexplicable reason, height becomes a returning point of interest. This can really only be blamed on Lady Lesso's nature of an arachist.
Fortunately, Clarissa learns. When she has a problem reaching something (and that happens very rarely), she uses a summoning spell instead of allowing Lady Lesso to hold said thing over her head. It doesn’t always work, though. It’s only natural that some items resist the call.
Like the golden apple hanging off of a limb on the tree in front of her, she wants to make a turnover or two, and a golden apple is always a special treat. Clarissa can’t quite reach it though, and climbing is out of the question. She can’t even use earth magic as it might disturb the tree's roots.
Clarissa reaches for it, really reaches, but the attempt is futile. Biting her lip, she wonders if she should summon a step stool to give her some much-needed height.
Who else but Lady Lesso would show up to witness her distress? The woman doesn’t quite sneak up on her. She hears the approaching footsteps, after all. But she had hoped that if she ignored the woman long enough, she would return from whence she came. It does not work out the way she hoped.
“Professor Dovey, you seem to be struggling.” Lady Lesso observes much to her chagrin. She is struggling. That much is obvious. The audience doesn’t help at all (it never does, actually).
“Can I help you?” Clarissa asks, turning to face the taller woman with a frown. She hadn’t expected anyone else to be in the forest so early in the morning.
“I think I’m the one who was supposed to ask that question.” Nope. No help is needed here. Clarissa shakes her head, and the Never snorts, stepping closer as she speaks. “You know, I heard that there’s only one golden apple that fruits on this tree every year.” Clarissa stiffens, glancing between the apple and Lady Lesso. Surely she isn’t thinking of—
“Is that so?” Clarissa asks noncommittally. She tries not to show on her face how much she wants that apple. “Curious.”
“Yes.” Lady Lesso nods. “And yet each and every year when I get here, it’s missing.”
Clarissa shrugs. She looks forward to her yearly apple tarts, and it’s not her fault that Lady Lesso is slow to the punch. “Well, you know what they say about the early bird.”
“Yes, but now I’m thinking of a new saying.” Lady Lesso responds, grabbing the apple and tugging it from the branch with a near-silent snap. Those few inches Leonora had on her made all the difference, Clarissa silently acknowledged with a frown. “The tall woman gets the apple, the short one… well, doesn’t.” Leonora drawls lowly in her ear before leaning back with a grin. Clarissa will admit only to herself how much she enjoyed the close contact, however brief.
Lady Lesso starts to toss the apple, catching it in her every few seconds without breaking eye contact. It’s infuriating. Even more infuriating is how impressive the nonchalant action is.
“I’m not short,” Clarissa states, because what else is there to say? She’s not getting the apple this year, that’s for sure.
“You are.” Lady Lesso says, nodding her head. “Perhaps I’ll give you the apple if you admit it.”
Perhaps? It’s almost guaranteed that if she gives in, Lady Lesso will take the apple anyway. That would leave her both apple-less and embarrassed. “Lady Lesso, you may be taller than I am, but that doesn’t give you the right to look down on me.” She says with a frown.
A poor choice of words in retrospect.
“Professor Dovey, I can’t help but look down on you given our vast difference in height.” An over-exaggeration by miles. It’s what? Six inches at most. “I’ll give you the apple if you admit that you’re short. Promise.”
Lady Lesso waves the tantalizing fruit in her face. How bad does she really want this apple? Is it enough to set aside her dignity?
Clarissa squints, trying to find any trace of falsehood in the woman’s face.
“I—“ She starts, and Lady Lesso raises an expectant eyebrow, awaiting the words. Clarissa exhales sharply. No. No, the golden apple is not worth her dignity.
“I… hope you enjoy your apple.” She says, and it’s not true. Not true at all. Hopefully, there’s a caterpillar rooting around somewhere under the skin.
“Hmm.” Lady Lesso doesn’t press, instead brushing past Clarissa on her way back to the school. “I will.” She says, shooting her a parting smirk.
Clarissa picked a different apple that day. In fact, she picked five, all well within reach. And she has a pie instead of tarts, and it’s almost as good as her usual treat. Almost.
(4)
Clarissa doesn’t quite recall when they started using each other's first name, but once it starts, it never stops. She hates to admit how easily Leonora’s name rolls off her tongue. How much she enjoys hearing her own name falling from Leonora’s lips. It’s pleasant. Usually.
“Clarissa?” Leonora’s voice catches her attention one day as she’s sitting in her office. The woman had shown up at her door at an inopportune time, and Clarissa was having a hard time focusing.
“Hmmm?”
“You’re looking at that bookshelf like it personally insulted you.” It had personally insulted her. Mainly because It is withholding the key to one of the closets in the groom room. For some reason, someone —a student who shall not be named— had thought that was the best place to return the key.
It was definitely not the best place to return it, seeing as Clarissa couldn’t reach it!
“Is there a reason there’s a chair sitting next to it?”
“… no.” Yes, actually. Because before Lady Lesso had come knocking at her door, Clarissa had been in the midst of reaching for it. Honestly, it was as if the woman sensed when she was having—
“Are you sure?” Leonora asks, tilting her head curiously.
“Yes, I’m sure. Why don’t you tell me—“
Leonora walks over to the shelf with a purpose, and Clarissa feels her expression getting more tense with every step. She quickly follows, but Leonora runs her hand across the top of the bookshelf before Clarissa can stop her.
“Wait—“ she grabs the woman’s arm, but it’s far too late.
“Got it,” Leonora says, holding the key in her hand. Clarissa stares at Leonora and the key, then Leonora again.
“I’m not short.” She says defensively. She might as well get it out of the way, seeing as that’s how this conversation always goes.
“If you weren’t short, you would not have been able to reach this without the chair.” Leonora is still holding the key, still looking at her expectantly. Could Clarissa get it replaced instead of dealing with this?
“Would you just give it to me?” She pleads. For the first time, she asks for Leonora’s grace in a matter of high importance. Hopefully, she can get it back without—
“Would you just admit that you’re short?” Leonora responds in the same tone as she does the unthinkable.
She pats Clarissa’s head, no doubt ruining her hair in the process! The nerve of this woman!
Clarissa bats the offending hand away and glares. She’s determined to project as much displeasure as possible to the taller woman. Leonora just grins harder.
“I’m getting it replaced, so it doesn’t matter. You can keep that if you want.” Clarissa decides it and speaks it at the exact moment. She’s not short!
“… you’re not serious.”
“I am.” Clarissa doesn’t care if it costs her a kingdom and a half; she’s not giving in to Lady Lesso’s demand. Not now, not ever.
Leonora blinks at her for a second before cracking a smile. “Alright. I guess I will. But only if you’re sure you don’t need it.”
“I don’t. It’s yours.” Clarissa made her bed. She might as well lay in it. It has nice thick blankets and comfortable plush pillows, and most importantly, she’ll sleep well knowing Lady Lesso didn’t get the last word. “Now, what were you saying about—“
“We can have this conversation later. I need to put my new key somewhere safe.” Leonora interrupts her as she walks away, sliding the key into the pocket of her suit. Clarissa watches her swift departure, mouth agape.
So basically, Leonora had only shown up to ruin her evening. Typical.
Fortunately, getting the closet lock replaced doesn’t cost a kingdom and a half. It does, however, cut into her frivolity budget for the season.
If you ask Clarissa, though, it was entirely worth it. Especially since she got a deal on a second lock replacement. For an entire week, Lady Lesso has a problem opening her office door before she finds a new key on her desk.
That has absolutely nothing to do with Clarissa. Nothing at all.
(5)
Rafal fell, and it was determined that she and Lady Lesso were going to be sharing the schoolmaster's old office. They would be co-deans. An interesting proposal that they had both accepted. Clarissa had promptly made a plan.
Her stuff would occupy the lower shelves. Leonora could have the high ones. This would ensure that she would never ever struggle to reach something within Leonora’s field of vision. She had even moved in extra early to make sure that her stuff was in the right place. It all fell apart with the introduction of Lady Lesso.
Clarissa really shouldn’t have been surprised.
When Clarissa gets to the office the following day, she realizes, to her immense horror, that nothing is where she left it. Leonora is already there, clearly waiting to see her reaction.
“What did you do?” Clarissa asks despite already knowing the answer. All of the stuff that she had purposely put on low shelves was moved up to the high ones. To the shelves, she was purposefully avoiding. And the lower shelves are now occupied by Lady Lesso’s affects.
“You already know what I did, Clarissa,” Leonora says, with that annoyingly endearing familiar grin.
“Why?” Because that’s the natural follow-up. What in the world could have possessed her to—
“A tall woman such as yourself shouldn’t have any problem reaching those items. Right?” Her eyes snap from the shelves back to Lady Lesso, and she fumes.
“You know—“ she bites her tongue, taking a deep breath. “I’m not tall, Leonora. You know that. I know that. We both know that.”
“Because you’re…” the woman trails off pointedly, no doubt expecting Clarissa to finish the sentence while admitting defeat.
She would build a new, even lower shelf with her bare hands before she said those words to Leonora. Clarissa presses her lips together as she makes a plan. All she has to do is move everything back to where it’s supposed to be. Right? It’s that easy.
“Average. I’m average.” Clarissa says, straightening her spine, and Lady Lesso shakes her head. “And I’m moving my stuff back to where it belongs.” She says seriously. She means that, too. This joke had gone far enough.
“Be careful,” Leonora responds, giving her a mysterious look through glittering green eyes. Be careful?
“Why?”
“Well, you haven’t gotten to the best part yet, Princess.” The best part? She squints suspiciously at Leonora, raising her finger as it glows. Her spell doesn’t work.
“You put anti-summoning charms on my stuff?” Clarissa demands, approaching Leonora with angry footsteps.
The redhead shrugs, circling Clarissa nonchalantly. “Well, it’s all so fragile. I would hate for anything to break.” Meaning she’ll either have to carefully move everything by hand or ask Lady Lesso for help. “Do you need some assistance, perhaps? You know, getting everything back where it belongs.”
“Nope. I got it.” She says firmly.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m certain.” Her nails dig into her palms as she silently seethes.
“You know, if you weren’t so short, you could strangle me with no issue. You look like you want to.” Leonora informs her of this, pausing in front of her with an amused grin. The woman is looking down on her, always looking down on her. It’s infuriating.
“I’d very much rather kick you in the shin,” Clarissa admits, trying to brush away her frustration. This is fine. It would take an hour at most, and all she needs to get is a step ladder.
“What so we can finally be at eye level?” Lady Lesso snarks back with a laugh. Clarissa doesn’t kick her in the shin. Storian does she want to, but she refuses to stoop to violence.
Clarissa does, however, build her own damn shelf. She’s so impressed by her new skill that she redoes Leonora’s shelves, making sure that they’re all just a little bit crooked.
She feels a little joy inside whenever she spots Leonora staring at the shelves with a slight frown after something tips over or falls off.
(+1)
Leonora had compared Clarissa to a sunflower the day they met. It wasn’t an inaccurate statement, seeing how the woman glowed the sun's rays reflecting off of her golden dress. How bright her smile was. It made Leonora feel like the sun was beaming up at her instead of down. She thought Clarissa was pretty, a sight for sore eyes, yet somehow, her words were unable to reflect this feeling.
Looking back, her statement kind of sounded like a threat and an insult wrapped all in one because it seems that Leonora can’t even compliment someone without being mean.
“Do you think that if I planted you in the garden with the rest of the sunflowers, you would grow to be a respectable height?” She had asked. It’s genuinely no surprise that Clarissa hadn’t appreciated the comment.
Truthfully, Leonora knows that Clarissa isn’t that short. But the important thing is that she’s shorter. Clarissa has to look up at her when they’re talking, trading barbs, or facing each other. She likes it. She especially likes catching the fairy off guard trying to get something just out of reach.
It’s the same song and dance every time. Leonora will ask if the woman needs help, and Clarissa will deny it with a straight face. ‘No, I don’t need help,’ or ‘No, I got it,’ or even Leonora’s favorite, ‘I was wrong; I don’t need that. You keep it,’ Knowing good and well that in the few seconds since Leonora has retrieved the item, her needs haven’t changed in the slightest.
Yes, Clarissa had wanted that book. Yes, Clarissa had wanted that golden apple. Yes, Clarissa needed help getting that key off of the top of the bookshelf. And, yes, Clarissa definitely needed help moving her stuff back down after Leonora had put it on the high shelves (And really, she just wanted to see how far the woman would go not to ask for help). Yet Clarissa never backs down. She’ll grumble, frown, and give Leonora a withering look, but for some reason, she refuses to even entertain her helping hand. Said helping hand does come with strings attached, of course.
"Just admit that you're short, Princess."
"I'm not short!"
She had called the woman adorable one time. Just once. And the Ever had firmly informed Leonora that she was both older and wiser, and far too old to be called cute. That didn’t help her case at all, really, because Leonora thought the lecture was adorable as well, though she had enough sense not to say that aloud. Not with the subtle yet very effective ways Clarissa does her revenge.
So yes, Clarissa is pretty, and Leonora knew that she was attracted to her from the moment they met. And some might say that Leonora’s attempts at flirting with Clarissa by holding things out of reach are less than effective and they would be right. But it would never get old. And she doubts it will ever stop working either.
Until, of course, one day it does.
The day Leonora found ‘1001 Deadly Poisons and the Best Dishes to Hide Them In’ sitting right on Clarissa’s desk. The book that had been missing from the library for ages was sitting right there. The second she picks it up, Clarissa protests.
“I can’t believe you!” Leonora says, just as Clarissa reaches to grab the book from her hand. Futile seeing Leonora’s advantage in height. She holds it up high out of reach, yet Clarissa still stretches for it, leaning on her shoulder as she jumps.
“Leonora!” Clarissa frowns, still reaching for the book. “You’re playing unfair.”
“I’m playing unfair? How many years have you been holding this book hostage?”
“I’m not holding it hostage! I just renewed my rental on that.” Clarissa responds hastily. “And you’re one to talk. What about '1001 Tea Recipes and their Best Dessert Pairings', huh? I never got to read it because you never returned it to the library.” True, but for some reason, she expected better from Clarissa.
“I never returned it because you never returned this,” Leonora says, shaking the book in her hand pointedly. But now she can read it, and she can still withhold Clarissa’s book. At least until the woman admits that she’s short.
“Give me that book, Leonora. I’m serious.”
“Let me think about it. No.” The redhead steps back, cracking the book open as she does so. She doesn’t want to break away from Clarissa’s embrace, but reading the book right in front of her face would be good for her spirit.
Leonora doesn’t anticipate it. She doesn’t think Clarissa does either, considering the look on her face when they land on the carpeted floor. The woman had tackled her, knocking them both over. Leonora is still trying to catch her breath when she realizes her situation. Clarissa is on top of her scrambling for the book, and all she can do is watch her mouth open in surprise. For the first time since she can remember, Clarissa is looking down on her. The sun is beaming down on Leonora because the blonde grins victoriously when she catches hold of the book.
Leonora smiles back, chuckling at the unbelievable situation. Clarissa meets her eyes, then falters, losing her already precarious balance. Leonora can only grab her waist so that they both don't go tumbling over.
“I umm.” Clarissa breathes, a bit distracted as their noses brush. “I’m looking down on you, Leonora.”
She nods in response, licking her bottom lip. Leonora wants to kiss her. She really wants to kiss her. Yet Clarissa doesn’t move, still staring at her wide-eyed and in shock.
“Honestly, Princess. Is it that important?” She asks, lifting her head from the floor so that their lips brush. Clarissa leans down to meet her, and for the next few minutes, the book is forgotten.
When Clarissa lies beside her on the carpet, finally coming down from her newfound temporary advantage in height, Leonora can’t help but say it. “Admit that you’re short,” Leonora demands, turning to face her fully. They’re holding hands now, fingers linked, palms together. It’s almost as intimate as their kiss.
“Never,” Clarissa responds with a grin, leaning in for another kiss. Leonora doesn't hesitate to respond in kind.
~~~
Note: Any editing will take place on AO3. Mostly because Tumblr confuses me. It's not Tumblr's fault though I'm just easily confused.
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