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jiminrings · 3 months

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four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

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eftcapital01 · 2 years

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ceruark · 4 months

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liquid courage

synopsis: aventurine leaves your drunk boss on your doorstep. notes: ceo! sunday x gn! personal assistant! reader. modern au (he's still an angel though, don't ask me how or why. the wings are important to me). fluff. cw: none! (implied aventurine/ratio, but nothing major) words: 3,147 inspiration: every kdrama ever

It was, for the first time in several months, a relaxing night.

After weeks of traveling between worlds and meeting with various business partners, you finally landed back in the place you called home: a rather luxurious unit in Golden Hour's finest apartment complex. It was far too big for one person and beyond what you dreamed of affording growing up, but it was necessary.

Not only were Golden Hour's Platinum Terraces a fifteen minute drive away from Dewlight Pavilion, but they also had the best security Penacony could offer. As the personal assistant of Halovian Corporation's esteemed CEO, you had a rather large target on your back. So, despite your initial hesitations, you'd agreed to live in the flashiest building in Golden Hour.

It wasn't like your wallet was suffering because of it. The astronomical cost of rent hardly put a dent in what the Oak Family deposited into your account every other week.

You sighed and stretched out leisurely on your couch, flipping through the channels until you settled on a showing of one of your favorite movies. You let it play in the background while you responded to messages from friends you hadn't had the chance to get back to during the trip. In between enthusiastic conversations and pictures of the fancy meals and hotels you'd stayed at, you scrolled through your social media accounts, grimacing at your feed when it recommended a picture taken of you without your knowledge.

It shouldn't have surprised you that being around Sunday constantly would put you under the same spotlight he grew up in. Heir to the Oak Family's fortune and beloved by Penacony's citizens, the only person on the planet who could complain about having more cameras shoved in their face on a daily basis was his darling sister. As his assistant, you showed up in almost every photo his fans snapped of him. Over the past four years, his fanbase picked apart everything about you: your appearance, your upbringing, your interests, and your lifestyle habits. You weren't quite sure what spurred them on— sheer jealousy at your proximity to him, or their infatuation for him extending to you— but they had all reached the same conclusion: you were rather unremarkable.

You were raised by your parents in a suburb about 30 miles out from Golden Hour. You performed well enough in university, graduating in the top percent of your class, but not as valedictorian. You managed to get hired at Halovian Corp out of college, and you'd been consistently promoted each year since then, moving from secretary to administrative secretary to personal assistant of a high-ranking director, until eventually, you ended up at Sunday's side.

Though your career was impressive, your life lacked intrigue that news outlets and Sunday's fans vied for. You didn't come from money, you weren't dating anyone famous, and therefore, you weren't worth thinking about. You preferred things that way, but it still didn't make seeing pictures of yourself floating around online any easier.

(Especially when people began overanalyzing how Sunday spoke to you in this video, or looked at you in that photo. Their theories had substance to back them up, and you didn't like to think about it. It took damn near two years to perfect the professional front you kept up with your gorgeous boss, thank you very much, and it had only been about a year since he started actually acting himself around you— you couldn't afford to start slipping up now.)

As you scrolled past a fancam of Robin, a message notification popped up at the top of your screen. You tapped on it, and raised an eyebrow at the sender.

Aventurine: hey. you in?

The IPC director was an unlikely friend, but after dealing with Sunday for years and becoming the unofficial point of contact between the IPC and Halovian Corp, you'd started seeing him often enough that you agreed to go to a bar with him one night when you were off the clock. He was good company, and the two of you kept in touch.

One day, after finding out you'd been talking with Aventurine outside of business ventures, Sunday was oddly insistent that he join you two on that night's excursion. You were hesitant to agree, given that Sunday and Aventurine were civil at best and downright antagonistic at worst. But, Aventurine had readily agreed to letting Sunday attend, so you said yes as well. The night had gone better than expected, and after a few more impromptu meetings, Sunday had started talking to Aventurine regularly as well.

You were glad to see your overly cautious boss make a friend, even if he would never admit that they were.

You: yeah, what's up?

His response was instantaneous.

Aventurine: great. let me in, will you?

Your eyebrows drew together. You'd mentioned you lived in the Platinum Terraces, but you'd never brought Aventurine back to your apartment. How did he know where you live?

You leaned off the couch and toward the coffee table to pick up one of the screens hooked up to the alarm system. You tapped a few buttons on the screen until the feed from the camera facing the hallway came up.

Aventurine stood in front of your door, talking animatedly to your boss, who was propped up against him. You couldn't see his face, but you didn't need to to know he was inebriated. He probably wouldn't be so close to the blonde otherwise.

"What the hell?" You muttered, rushing over to the door. Sunday hardly ever drank, and if he did, it was never enough to get him past the point of tipsy. You quickly undid the bolts and threw it open.

Aventurine and Sunday looked up at you. Amusement danced in the former’s eyes, and for whatever reason, he seemed to be very pleased with himself.

Sunday blinked slowly, adjusting his vision to the sudden disappearance of the door. His eyes scanned your face for a moment before his features lit up with recognition. His wings twitched a bit as he tilted his head to the side. The slightest of smiles pulled at his mouth, and your name fell from his lips in the form of a whispered question.

You flushed red. You suddenly felt very self-conscious of your Hanu themed pajama pants.

Your gaze snapped back to Aventurine, who smirked back at you. You ignored it. "What happened?"

"We went out drinking and someone—" He turned to Sunday, whose gaze still hadn't left you. "—got a little carried away."

"And you didn't think to take him back to Dewlight Pavilion?"

"I think you and I both know there would be consequences if he returned there in this state."

You grimaced. He was right. Undoubtedly, there would be paparazzi camped outside of the Oak Family's estate. There always was.

"Okay, you didn't think to take him back to your place?"

Aventurine moved his free hand to his chest in mock offense. "Bringing a drunken man home to my brilliant boyfriend who's already waiting for me in bed? You must be praying on my downfall."

You glowered at him, but before you could respond, the rustling of feathers caught your attention. You turned, watching your boss sway on his feet. He watched you with a frown, appearing more upset than you'd ever seen him.

"You don't want me here?" He pouted, and his wings fluttered dejectedly.

Your stomach flipped over, and you reached out to grab his other arm as he stumbled away from Aventurine.

"No, no, that's not it." He moved away from the blonde completely as you reassured him, leaning into your touch. You grunted as you struggled to keep him upright. "I'm just worried about you being somewhere you don't feel comfortable."

He hummed, leaning forward and nuzzling his face in your hair. "I'm far more comfortable with you than the gambler."

Aventurine watched the two of you, smugness rolling off him in waves. "Yeah," he laughed, "we can see that."

You were going to kill Aventurine. You were going to tuck Sunday into your bed, leave a glass of water and an Advil on the nightstand, and then you were going to hit the blonde with your car.

You shot him another glare before turning back to Sunday. You pulled one of his arms around your shoulders and wrapped one of yours around his waist to steady him. He turned bright red suddenly and you opened your mouth to ask him if he felt sick, but his wings started flapping again. This close, a few feathers smacked into your mouth, and you sputtered.

Aventurine's unrestrained laughter brought your attention back to him. You snapped at him. "Can you make yourself useful and get the doors for me?"

It took everything you had left in you to get Sunday into your bedroom and withstand Aventurine's teasing, but eventually, you managed to get there. You eased Sunday down on the bed, keeping a hand on his back to ensure he stayed sitting upright.

"Are you feeling sick?" You asked.

Sunday shook his head. He leaned over and rested his head on your shoulder. Fighting down another blush (you refused to give Aventurine more ammunition), you tried to pull yourself away from him, but he wrapped his arms around yours and held on.

"Sunday," you said, "I need to go get you water. Can you let go of me, please?"

His voice was muffled by your shirt. "Aventurine can get it."

Said man huffed, but he was too entertained to be truly annoyed, or to decline. "Sure I can," he agreed, before addressing you. "Where are your cups?"

"Top right cabinet," you answered, and he set off.

Sunday's head lolled to the side, rolling off your shoulder. His pout was still there, and it set your face aflame. "It's too hot," he complained.

And then he started to take his coat off.

Well, he tried to. His clumsy movements caused it to get tangled in his arms.

"Here, let me help you," you offered against your better judgment. You stood and reached behind him, carefully guiding his arms out of the sleeves. You turned around and walked over to your closet, hanging the coat on a nearby hook.

When you faced him again, he already had his shirt halfway off.

Xipe, give me strength, you thought to yourself, tearing your gaze away from his bare skin. Your gaze lingered on the wings sprouting from his lower back, which sat curled around his abdomen. When he managed to get the shirt over his head and onto the floor, he unfurled the second set of wings. They spanned the entire length of your bed and were much darker than the ones by his hair. He gave a few languid flaps before settling down, causing them to droop. You closed your eyes and pressed your palms against them. So much for keeping up your professional front. You had no idea how you were going to face him when he sobered up.

A choked gasp prompted you to drop your hands from your face. Aventurine almost dropped the glass in shock when he returned.

"Well," he said as he placed the glass down on the nightstand. "Seems like it's time for me to leave."

You sent him one last scathing glare. "I can't believe you."

Faux innocence crept onto his face. "Whatever do you mean? I haven't done anything."

You crossed the room and shoved at him. "Out." You pushed him back down the hall and to the open front door. "Get out of my house."

"Wow. Eager aren't we?" He winked at you.

"Eager to get my revenge. Veritas will love the video I have of you drunk and blubbering about how much you miss him," you said. Then you slammed the door in his face.

As soon as the door shut, Sunday called for you from the bedroom. You'd heard him use a sickly sweet tone with clients before, but this one lacked the venom that usually accompanied it. It was like he was singing each syllable of your name, savoring the way each sound rolled off his tongue.

"I need to type up my resignation," you muttered to yourself. You could handle Sunday in the beginning when he was standoffish and paranoid, but there was no way you were making it through this.

You walked back to the room, willfully overlooking the way his hanging wings straightened up when you reappeared in the doorway. You stopped a few feet in front of him, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"Hey," you said softly. "Let's get you to bed, alright?"

Sunday blinked at you, then looked down at the comforter under his fingers. "I am at the bed."

You snorted. "Well, we should get you under the covers."

His nose scrunched in displeasure. "No. It's too warm for that."

You sighed. There was no point in arguing with him in this state. "Alright, then. Lay down, and make sure to stay on your side. If you feel sick, there's a trash can right here by the bed. If you need anything else, I'll be down the hall."

You turned to leave, but his hand caught your wrist with surprising speed. He stared up at you with wide eyes. "Where are you going?"

You tilted your head at him. "Um, to bed?"

His brow furrowed slightly, the way it usually did when he was in deep thought. "But this is your bed."

"Yes, it is." You slipped your wrist out of his grasp, but he caught you again by the fingers. "I'm going to sleep on the couch. I won't be far."

The hold he had on your fingers was tighter than you thought. You pulled away, expecting to be freed, but tripped a bit when the rest of your body didn't follow your legs. He pulled you toward him and tumbled forward, falling onto the bed. He moved over and drew you closer to him, draping one of his wings across your waist and legs.

You didn't know if your heart had stopped, or was just beating so fast you couldn't feel it.

"Um, Sunday," you said, the rest of your words coming out as a babbled mess. You tried to untangle yourself from him, but he just clung on to you, refusing to let go.

"Please don't leave me," he mumbled.

You finally managed to put enough distance between you two that you could look him in the eye. "Sunday," you said, "you're drunk. You're going to regret this in the morning."

He frowned. "I will not regret something I've dreamed of doing for months."

In the end, it was neither. You were certain your heart was beating so hard it burst, and now you were dead. When you tried pulling away again, he placed a hand on your cheek, freezing you in place.

"Please," he whispered. "Just give me five minutes."

The desperation in his voice whittled away at the rest of your resistance. You settled down on the mattress, allowing him to hold you but not getting close enough for it to be considered cuddling. Staring at the ceiling in silence, you mulled over his words.

He was dreaming about cuddling, or intimate touch of some sort. It shouldn't be surprising that a twenty-seven year old man longed for that kind of companionship, but whenever other members of The Family had brought up him not having found a partner yet, he always shrugged them off. You figured it was because he generally wasn't interested in finding someone, but maybe it was just that he didn't want the rest of The Family involved in something as personal as his love life.

"I can talk to Robin about suggesting eligible suitors for you, if you want," you said. "We can even outsource their background checks to the IPC. Aventurine will be annoying about it, but I'm sure he'll agree to do it."

There was a long stretch of silence. Sunday finally spoke just as you'd begun to regret your words. "Why would you do that?"

You looked at him, confused. "You said you've dreamed of this."

"Yes," he said, "I did say that."

Was he really going to make you spell it out for him? Well, it had to be more embarrassing for him than it was for you. "If you desire... intimacy, it's only natural we start looking for potential suitors for you."

His eyes darkened, and a slight scowl pulled at his lips. At least this face was familiar: disappointment.

"I just told you I've dreamed of this," he muttered.

You nodded in agreement. "You've dreamed of holding someone."

"I've dreamed of holding you."

Oh. That complicated things.

You swallowed back a fit of nervous laughter. Your face felt like it was going to melt off. "I'm sorry." Your voice came out as hardly more than a croak. "I wasn't aware that's what you meant."

He leaned forward, eyes earnest. "Do you still want to look for other suitors for me?"

You considered your words carefully. "Not if it's something you don't want."

He hummed, then laid his head against the pillow. His breath fanned over your face as he spoke. It smelled like mint and whiskey. "Do you want to be my suitor?"

You pulled your gaze away from his lips and to his eyes. You didn't even know how your eyes got there. "I think you should ask me again when you're sober."

He studied your face for a long moment, then let his eyes flutter shut. "Fair enough," he said.

You laid there for a moment, allowing your heart rate to come back down and letting yourself take him in. His lips were slightly parted, even breaths slipping through them as sleep claimed him. His face wings twitched ever so often, usually followed by a twitch of the larger wing still wrapped around you.

You weren't certain how long you stayed there, just studying him, but at some point your blinks had grown heavier and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You gave one last shove against Sunday's arm and wing to try and free yourself, but even unconsciously, his resolve could not be shaken. He huffed at the disturbance and buried his face further into the pillow. His wing tightened around you as he tried to curl in on himself, dragging you closer to him.

You sighed and rested your head on the pillow again. It was going to be impossible to get away from him now that his limbs were heavy with sleep. Knowing it was futile to try again, you let your eyes slip shut. You shifted into a more comfortable position, moving one of your arms to rest on top of the wing.

Five minutes, you lied to yourself. I'll try again in five minutes.

#hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr fluff #hsr sunday x reader #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #sunday x you #hsr sunday x you #ceru.writes #ceru.hsr

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satorusugurugurl · 2 months

Note

Toji as a bodyguard

Til’ the Day that I Die

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Bodyguard!Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stage right, performance, anxiety, stalking, panic attacks, language mentions of gun, (eventual smut)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: this request is amazing!! It got my brain worms going! Once again, this will be a multi part series, I’m looking at a total of four parts as I have already planned down the whole story. I’m sorry for the lack of content, it’s been a rough few days and I just decided to take some time for myself! But I do have about four stories almost done so you can expect updates for the rest of the week! Love you all!! (Readers' stage persona is highly inspired by several artists! 😊)

Part Two Part Three Part Four

Performance anxiety is defined as an excessive feeling of fear related to being able to perform well. Symptoms of performance anxiety include pulse racing, rapid breathing, dry mouth, and throat tightness. Dealing with performance anxiety when you're a rising star is brutal, and you begin to regret all your life choices. You aren't sure if you want this to be your life. You were attending nursing school, but your sister posted a video of you singing online. Reading all the sweet comments was fun initially, but it's funny how fast things change.

One second, you were posting a few videos of you singing, and the next thing you knew, you had a record deal, your songs were on the radio, and you were performing at concerts. All in the span of six months. The attention was overwhelming, and, at times, your anxiety even worse. But the more you performed, the more you were able to bury the stage fright down, masking the fear with a persona you made until you were home in your apartment. In the confines of your home, you could cry and tremble; dealing with those attacks was something you’d gotten used to.

But your stalker was a whole new fucked up mess you never dreamed about dealing with.

It had started as nothing more than a couple of love letters that turned into more descriptive letters detailing information about your personal life you had never told anyone. Anytime you saw a letter come in with ‘M’ written on the front and dark gray ink, your stomach twisted. You at first thought you would be okay. You could handle something like this. This was the kind of thing that came along with the territory of being famous.

That was until a bouquet of roses was dropped off at your door in your guarded apartment building. That whole situation sent you into a full-blown panic attack. You left your apartment and went to stay with your friends. That incident caused your manager to contact Kong Security Services and hire you as a bodyguard. One, you were anxiously waiting to meet as you sat in your dressing room before your show.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Nanako, your makeup artist, assured you as she fixed your blush. “Geto said this agency is the best in the business.”

You shot her a skeptical look while her twin sister fixed your hair. “Are you just saying that because your dad’s are my managers, and they told you to say that?” When both twins had ceased their movements in obvious shock at your to-the-point accusation.

“W-What—?”

“No, never!”

“Uh-huh—I don’t believe a word either of you are saying right now.”

Nanako steps back, looks you over, and bites her lip. “They really are the best, whether or not we get to go out for Boba after this. It’s not like sweet milk tea is on the line if we don’t ease your nerves.” Just as your sweet young makeup artist finishes, the door to your dressing, eyes darting towards the door as it swings further open. Suguru and his husband, Satoru, enter, displaying their matching black-and-white wedding rings. They were the best management company in the world, the power couple of Tokyo. Satoru, who was in charge of your social media accounts, types viciously on his phone while Suguru grins up at a man walking in with them.

If you could even call him a man.

A fucking mountain of muscle is a more appropriate way of describing him. He’s tall, has dark hair and navy blue eyes, and he’s fit. The mountain wore a tailored jacket and white button-down shirt with the first two buttons undone. His eyes leave Geto’s for a minute to watch you sinking further in your chair, his pink tongue running over the scar down the corner of the right side of his mouth.

“Hun, this is Fushiguro Toji,” Suguru announced before glancing at his phone. “He’s your bodyguard and will be with you everywhere you go.”

“E-Everywhere?”

“Yes, to rehearsals, your shows, meet-and-greets, he’ll even escort you home.” Your eyes rammed back over to the mountain of a man standing off to the side. When you have time off, or he needs a day away, his work partner Tsukumo Yuki will take over for him.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching, a subtle action your new bodyguard noticed immediately as you dug your fingers into your skirt. It was part of Toji‘s job to see behaviors and be observant. He could tell you were on edge from how your fingers twitched to how your pulse raced in your neck. His handler, Shiu, had warned him that you were an anxious mess after finding out about your stalker. But this anxiety didn’t come from just having a stalker. This anxiety was deeply rooted in you. It was probably something you had suffered with for years.

Without being told, Toji stepped forward, kneeling before you, giving you a gentle smile like a father would give a frightened child. He had to put your nerves at ease to let you know you would be okay. “I know you’re scared, but I can assure you that I am very skilled. You won’t even notice I’m around.” You weren’t sure about that. How could you not notice the handsome man who would always be around you?

“Right, thank you.”

“You’re welcome--”

“Ugh! We gotta get going; they expect you on stage in five minutes.”

“I-I s-shou—” you stuttered as the performing anxiety began to root itself into your already anxious demeanor.

“Yep, let’s get going.” Toji stood motioning towards the door of the dressing room. “After you, Miss.”

Being a bodyguard and a security escort for so long had allowed Toji to pick up on specific cues from people, like how their eyes moved around the room or how their body language told him what they were feeling. The way your fingers were twitching, he knew you were nervous and scared, and he wasn’t sure if it was stage fright or something to do with your stalker.

Regardless of whether you wanted to go up there, it didn’t change the fact that thousands of people were already waiting for you to perform. As you both walked down the hall, Tojo noticed you took a deep breath and exhaled through your nose, and as you turned the corner, you put on a huge smile. The way you put in a mask so fast nearly sent Toji stumbling back. He was usually prepared for the unexpected, but seeing this scared, shaking woman shift into a bubbly pop star rocked him back.

Everyone you encountered smiled wide at your perky voice and demeanor. You truly lit up the whole room. “Alright, guys! Thank you for all your hard prep! Now, let’s have a great show tonight!” You were handed a jeweled microphone and placed on a platform to lift you to the main stage, but before you gripped the handles to steady yourself, Toji grabbed your hand. “Oh, Fushiguro?”

“I'll be on the side, watching you. If you need me or notice something's off, you should give me a sign.”

“A sign? Like a signal?”

“Yeah, something easy and inconspicuous.”

You thought for a second, that perky look still on your face, but Toji could see the anxiety behind your eyes. “Well, I wink a lot during my shows and throw a heart sign up.” Toji hummed, pursing his lips together.

“Well, if you don't want to alarm your fans, how about this.” he took your hand, putting your middle and ring finger down. Your thumb, pinky, and pointer finger were left extended.

“Oh, the sign for ‘I love you’!”

“Only use this if you need me on stage. Otherwise, do what you normally do, but know I’ll be right there if you need me.”

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes, which probably would go unnoticed by many different people, but it was one that he could see clearly as day. “Right, thank you, Fushiguro.” Your new bodyguard looked at you as he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Toji, just call me Toji. There is no need for formalities. Have a good show, Miss.”

“R-Right, thank you, Toji.”

Your new bodyguard watched as the platform began to lift, taking you up to the stage where fans were screaming your name. Taking a deep breath before smiling, your bodyguard watched you reach the top before the band blaring music as you began singing into your microphone. The beat of the music rang in his ears; Toji ran for the stairs that led him to the stage, where he could watch you from the side.

There, Toji found your managers standing on the sidelines, watching you. Upon looking at you, he met a woman who looked nothing like the girl he had just spoken to moments before. You danced, sang, smiled, and winked at the crowd. Multicolored lights flashed as fog from the fog machine flooded the stage, and the backup dancers moved in sync with each other. I think this is poor, who was shaking upon meeting him.

“Yeah, crazy to see her shift, isn’t it?” Geto asked before pulling his phone out and snapping a few photos of you as you sang. “She’s like a different person.”

“Like? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Geto, but that woman is a completely different person. Why the fuck is she masking?”

The white-haired man glared at Toji, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “She’s not masking; it's called a stage persona.” The annoyance was clear in the other man’s voice, a tone that crawled its way under his skin.

“Look, buddy, keep your terms to yourself. I don't care about the different terms. All I know is that woman—” he jabbed his thumb in your direction as you twirled around the stage. “is masking; that’s not who she is.”

“You don’t know a lot about the entertainment industry. This is something that a lot of celebrities do. It’s completely normal, and she knows that. That’s how she adapted so fast.”

Toji wasn’t sure if that was the case. He had seen you firsthand, shaking in your dressing room. To see you change drastically for the sake of a show? Toji could see why you would be nervous to go up on stage. There had to be a fear of your mask slipping, revealing your true persona to the world.

But Satoru was right; Toji’s job was to protect and ensure you were safe. It wasn’t his place to judge how you lived or worked your career. In the end, you were just like all the other popstar divas and clients he had had before. Rich people with too much money to throw around and fame led them to believe that they were in danger all the time, which is how he managed to keep a steady income for himself and his kids as long as they were rich snobs like you, Tojo was guaranteed to have a job.

Instead of continuing to argue with your overzealous manager, Toji crossed both arms over his chest and watched you closely. The sooner the show was over, the sooner he could get you back to your apartment, where he could call to check on Megumi. He just wanted to relax, and for all he knew, you and your managers were overreacting to this so-called stalker you had. If anything, this might’ve been some cruel prank; receiving a note to roses wasn’t that big of a deal, and this was way too easy for as much as he was getting paid, so he wasn’t going to bitch about it.

What he did want to bitch about was how fucking long your show went on for. Performed for about two hours straight, only taking breaks to change costumes throughout the performance. It was in those moments when you were changing that your mask slipped. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes and how you wanted to do nothing more than take a break. But as fast as that mask slipped, you had it back on instantly. When one costume was off, and the other slipped on, you were back on stage to sing the next song.

After about two hours and thirty minutes of this bullshit, you gave a final bow and blew kisses out at the crowd of strangers who were cheering your name. While the two hours he got to stand up to the side and watch you perform was easy, he only had to look for your signal if you needed help; getting you out of the arena safely was a whole different story. Everything moved so fast The second you stepped off that stage and towards your bodyguard.

After every show, the goal was the same: get changed as fast as possible, collect your stuff, which Nanako and Mimiko had already packed, and get in your limo before the crowd started heading towards your exit. Toji gently placed his hand on the small of your back, ushering you through the maze of halls that led you back to the dressing room, where, just like you knew, the girls had packed all your stuff.

“You got five minutes to change,” Suguru announced as Satoru snickered behind his husband. “Thanks to Satoru, you’re trending again for your newest song.”

Toji could see the minutey, perky personality shift into your more anxious state. You frowned, literally frowned, at the news. Most people would be jumping over the moon to hear it. Seeing such an ungrateful expression on your face had Toji resist the urge to roll his eyes into his skull.

Spoiled little brats, you rich folks were all the same.

“Did you make sure to tag the—“

“Are you insinuating that I don’t know who to tag or which hashtags to use? Babes, I've got you covered. When have I ever let you down?”

“Never.”

“Right, so let the best PR manager handle this.”

Toji sighed, glancing towards his watch. “Two minutes,” he announced to the room of people bouncing off the walls and collecting items to clean up the green room. How could your managers be talking about more brand deals at a time like this? Brand deals were bullshit, but knowing how popular you were with the teenagers and you probably had some make-up deal or some other shit that would make you all the richer, you had to make sure the right people were tagged so you continued to be sponsored. But there was a time and place for that, and now wasn't the right time!

“I know you're the best Satoru, but I still wanna make sure the word gets out there.” You stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in black leggings and a simple T-shirt. Completely different from the baby doll dresses you were wearing on stage. “It’s imperative—”

“I know. I’ve already posted it. Everyone’s been tagged accordingly, and the hashtags are in place. You’ll get lots of people to see this, trust me.”

You were slipping on your baseball cap and sunglasses when Toji’s large hand gently grabbed you by the shoulder. “We gotta get going,” you sighed before nodding, waving off your team, and falling Toji down the hall to where your car awaited you.

Thanks to your quick change, nobody was waiting for you outside, making your getaway from the arena smooth as butter. You just wished you felt as calm as your exit from the bustling stage had been. You were beginning to regret going back to your apartment. You hadn’t been back there since the roses were delivered to your door. Going back was going to be difficult, leaving your stomach swarming with anxiety. But at least you had a big mountain of a man to protect you if, god forbid, you needed help.

The entire ride back to your apartment complex was thankfully quiet. Toji sat on the other side of you, staring out the window, not making any conversation, which was a blessing. Not only was your throat sore from the amount of singing you had done, but the idea of sitting through a conversation run solely by small talk was almost as bad as your performance anxiety. Sitting in the back of the car, leaning your head against the window without worrying about smiling or acting perfect in front of strangers, was a breath of fresh air.

Being alone with your bodyguard made you feel like you could let your walls come down for the first time in a long time. It was a feeling you might as well get used to. He would be around most of the time, so instead of adorning the perfect, pretty mask you always wore, you could be the introverted true version of yourself. Knowing that you could relax, you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to doze off as the car smoothly headed down the freeway.

If only your dreams were smooth and calm like the car ride. Your dreams were filled with mysterious notes and roses you had once loved. They circled you, drowning you in paper and petals as a roaring crowd rang through your ears. You could fight against the tidal waves, but instead, you let them wash over you, allowing yourself to be crushed by the unbearable weight of being a star at times.

Nursing school wasn’t easy, but at least when you were in school, you didn’t have to worry about a mysterious bouquet showing up on your apartment doorstep or sneaking out to avoid getting seen and swarmed by your fans. Your biggest concern in school was getting good grades and doing everything possible to get your degree. The only things you had to worry about were study dates and pop quizzes, not ominous letters that made you fearful for your safety.

These nightmares were so vivid that you wished your family had heard you singing online. Was it too much to ask for a normal everyday life where you weren't constantly stressed?

You sighed, looking up at the lingering rays of light that slowly began to peek through. More envelopes and roses piled on the cocoon you were stuck in. Perhaps there was no going back. This might very well be the rest of your life. Just as you were shutting your eyes to the casket you were being buried in, a hand reached out from the top of the mountain of dread and anxiety you lived with, reaching for you.

You couldn’t make out who was reaching out to you, but you were sure they just wanted to help you. Without hesitation, you reached for that hand, brushing over their fingertips. Just when they clasped your hand to pull you out of the burial ground, you were jn. You gasped as someone shook you, waking you from the dream.

You sat up quickly, shaking as you met Tojo’s navy blue eyes. He was frowning, motioning towards the rolled-down window, and Ijichi, head of security for your building, leaned in, giving you a weak smile. With a quick rub to both your eyes, you placed your mask back on, going from the sleep-deprived woman you were transforming into the perky popstar everybody knew and loved.

“Ijichi! Hi!”

“Hi yourself, glad to have you back.”

Toji could see how your shoulders stiffened when you mentioned being back. “Oh, yep! It's good to be back.” Toji could see through your facade, while Ijichi was blind to it.

“I just wanted to let you know that we added more cameras to the building, and my security post will be far stricter with deliveries and anything else from this point on. We want you to feel safe here, and I’m sorry we failed to do that in the first place.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault! Plus, I feel a lot better now that I have Fushiguro!” The man with glasses peered into the car, waving at your bodyguard whose face remained stoic, not returning the gesture. “Okay, uhm Ijichi, Toji; Toji Ijichi.”

No pleasantries were exchanged, not at all. The only thing Toji managed to do was give him a nod before focusing his attention back on the massive building and making a mental note to ask for access to the cameras. That way, he could keep an eye on you and ensure nobody was hanging around who wasn't supposed to be there. Those thoughts Toji was lost in made it a tranquil ride up the elevator to your apartment. He was leaving you feeling even more anxious. Usually, being around someone quiet never bothered you; you felt so relaxed around that person, but Toji’s cold demeanor and attitude toward your friend made you irritable.

“So, uhm, are you going to be that cold and standoffish every time you meet somebody I know?” You asked, finally allowing your heart mind to win over your mind.

“Huh?”

His dark gaze had you swallowing the lump suddenly in your throat. “I wanted to ask if this is going to be normal, you being—.”

“Oh, I am so sorry little star; I wasn't aware I needed to wear a fake ass mask around people too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, and unfortunately, unlike you, I like wearing my face. I don’t have to be someone I’m not to get people to like me. Because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn if anybody likes me.”

“I don't eit—”

Toji scoffed, leaning against the elevator wall and shaking his head at your words. “Oh, please. You’re just like every other client I’ve had. All you care about is money, your appearance, and what sponsor deals you get.” His words made your blood begin to boil.

“You’ve barely known me for a couple of hours, and you think you know who I am?”

“Oooh yeah, you're some small-town girl that made it big. And instead of showing the world who you really are, you put on this fucking mask, one that hides the true you from the prying eyes of the world. You care only about ticket sales, making your fans happy, and sponsorships like the one you were talking about with your manager not even thirty minutes ago. So yeah, I’m sure I got a good idea of who you are. It’s my job to read people..”

This was the best security in the business; bodyguard your manager had set you up with? Ha! Yeah, right, this man was nothing more than a dickhead that had a lot of opinions that were far from true?!

You laughed, pushing yourself away from the wall to stand in front of the doors before him. “That's the great thing about wearing a mask around people I don’t fucking know. They get to see the real me, but I get to see people for who they truly are.” Toji opened his mouth to continue arguing with you, but only for you to quickly shut him down, holding a hand up before you. “You were right about a couple things; I do put on a mask, I love my fans, but I could give a damn about sponsorships.” Toji pushed himself off the wall, towering over you, gritting his teeth as he tried to control his evident anger.

“Oh, you suddenly don’t give a damn about sponsorships? I just heard you talking to your manager about one.”

“You don’t know anything about me! That whole conversation had nothing to do with this sponsorship!”

Tojo tilted his head back with a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. You don’t care about your amazing condo or all the money you’re making; you don’t care about those so-called nonexistent sponsorship deals.” The elevator rattled like the lid to the rage threatening to explode.

“Alright, yes, I do live in a nice apartment, one with security that sucks, but it’s still home. But for your information, I don’t do this for the money. You don’t know what I have planned on doing with my life, so I don’t want to hear you make assumptions about me! The conversation you so rudely eavesdropped on had nothing to do with a sponsorship deal but a massive donation I’m making to the local Children’s Hospital. The same hospital is well renowned for helping unfortunate children. So yeah, that whole conversation you listened to was me telling my manager to tag the hospital in my video because the hospital inspired the song! It was a public service announcement, a reminder to help those who can’t help themselves.”

Your rant was unexpected. Toji had never had one of his clients talk to him like that; strangely, he liked it.

“And another thi—”

The doors to the elevator slowly slid open with a ding as you reached your apartment. Usually, your automatic lights would be on in the living room and kitchen, leading upstairs. But as the doors opened, no lights illuminated your bodyguard's face. You knew something was wrong, and just before Toy could look over your shoulder into the apartment,Toji’s hand quickly covered your eyes. He pulled you into his chest, and he listened in as he smashed on the lobby button on the button panel.

“Toji!?” You asked, placing your hands on top of his. “What is it?! Is something wrong? Let me see!”

Toji shook his head as if you could see his reaction, his hand reaching for the gun at the holster on his side as the door slowly shut. There was no way in hell you were going to see what was behind the door. Because he knew if you were to see what had happened in your apartment, you would never be the same. As the elevator slowly began to descend, Toji realized that he had been wrong about your stalker. It wasn’t some harmless joke.

This was fucking serious.

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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ceesimz · 5 months

Text

The Mountain Is You

Part 2 of 'Our Sun Is Setting'

Can confirm this part is much lighter than the first! I enjoyed writing this, I hope you like it :)

Barcelona. Once a place that felt like home to you, yet now as you clamber into the back of your taxi outside of the airport, it's the same but different.

Same sun, different warmth. Same air, different atmosphere. Same airport, different kind of departure.

Same person tying you down to this city, different dynamic.

If you thought a lot could change in two days, you had no idea what could happen in eighteen months. Turns out, a lot could change too, but thankfully for the sake of your sanity, the mental blows were not so big and not so frequent this time around. You doubt you would be in this situation now, back in the city you love, if it wasn't for your grandparents. They welcomed you with open arms and endless amounts of baked goods as soon as they caught wind of you coming home.

For the first month you stayed with them, most of that time was spent in the spare bedroom they made up for you, not quite holding the confidence or will power to do much else other than feel sorry for yourself. Some days you would walk their dog with them, other days you wouldn't leave the room. Some days you would do as many chores possible for them as a thank you, other days your Grandmother would sit beside you up against the headboard whilst you lay beside her as she read her book out loud, one hand gently running through your hair as she went. Some days you'd all laugh about shared memories of your Mother, other days you'd cry into each other's arms.

Something clicked inside you along the way though. One day you just woke up with a certain determination, and the look on your Grandfather's face as you wandered into the kitchen at 7am was enough to force a few giggles out of you before ushering him to join you on an early morning walk. That was when you voiced your new thoughts to him.

"I think I'm going to start applying for jobs again soon. You know, get out of your hair a little bit." You said to him, smiling when he tutted and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"Don't be ridiculous. We're happier than we have been in a while now that you're with us, sunshine." He replied honestly, hugging you into his side.

"I know. I'm happy too, but I do want a job. What job, I'm not sure yet, but I'm going to start looking."

"You don't have to pressure yourself though, okay? If you change your mind at any point, that's perfectly fine. Just do it at your own pace. If you would like, you could print off your CV for me and Granny to hand in to places."

"That's fine, Grandad, you don't have to." You laughed lightly at his suggestion, bringing your hand up to cover his that rested on your shoulder. "Everything is online nowadays."

"Of course. That rules me and Gran out the question then, in terms of advice." He grumbled jokingly, though his classic, cheeky smile rests on his face. "Absolutely no help for you there, sweetheart."

"I didn't think there would be any anyway. I've seen Grandma use the microwave." The pair of you laugh at that, before it falls silent as you walk along the cliff-top coastline. The tone of the conversation shifts a bit when you speak again. "I think I'm also going to start seeing a therapist. You know, for everything that's happened."

"Okay, love. Whatever is best for you." And that's all the reassurance you needed.

The job hunt would forever be an aspect of life you despised. But, two months later, you had secured a job within the local area that you chose to walk to most days, a piece of advice from your new therapist that at first you hated but soon it was your favourite part of your daily routine. Apart from when it rained, obviously.

Things were going well though, surprisingly well, and it set in one evening as you sat in the back garden, watching your grandparents gardening, that the choice you made a few months prior was the right one.

You had managed to keep a certain Spaniard out of your mind for most of the time after that first month of being away from her, until one night you got a notification on your phone.

Spain win the FIFA World Cup after a 1-0 victory against England!

What was the right move now? Text her to congratulate her? Or is no contact best for the time being? Would texting her give her false hope? This was arguably the biggest achievement of her career, her whole life, but as a figure of the past, was it right to dredge everything back up again at such a joyful time?

Your hands faltered over your still cracked phone screen, unsure what to do in such an unusual situation. There was no handbook on what to do if your ex-girlfriend, who you're still in love with and who (hopefully) still loves you too, wins the biggest trophy of her career, nor could a google search be any assistance. And unfortunately, as perfect as they are, your grandparents that had been married for over fifty years now may not be any help either.

So, the only decision you could land on, no matter how much you didn't like it, was to leave it.

Until your finger slipped and liked her celebratory Instagram post later that night. You still followed each other on social media, too reluctant to get rid of that remaining bridge, but your Instagram had lain dormant ever since you had left. That meant you had some insight into Alexia's life post-breakup, guiltily indulging in a late night scroll every now and then which you found yourself in now, whilst she had no idea what you were up to or even if you were alive.

Well, at least she knew you were still here and you still cared for her. Could that be shown in one single social media interaction? You hoped so. Maybe that was a tad bit dramatic though. What else were you supposed to do?

You had the same reaction a year later as you watched Alexia captain her team to an unfortunate loss in the Olympics final. However, it was still a silver Olympic medal, and not many athletes could say they have one of those. A congratulatory text from you may have seemed like the start of a pity party though, so once again you opted out of it. Time and place and all that.

A year on and you were in a much better place, there were no two ways about it. Therapy was difficult, of course it was, but people were right when they say it's one of the best things to do for yourself. You don't think you'd ever been better. Subsequently, that led to an inevitable topic to come into discussion during one session.

"What do you think the... repercussions would be if I... went back to Barcelona?" You asked nervously, looking down at your hands as they fidgeted in your lap.

"It depends what you went to get out of it. Would you go for the city itself? Or for her?"

For some reason, in your sessions, your therapist hardly ever named Alexia. It was always 'her' or 'she', never her name. You figured it was so that you never shied away from the subject which was probably close to being the hardest to talk about, but you were too afraid to ask.

"Both." You answered initially. Your therapist stayed quiet of course, waiting for you to answer truthfully, something she again always did. "Her. Mostly."

"Do you think you're in the headspace for it? You've made so much progress since we first started, so you need to think if it'll aid the healing process or cause a regression."

"Well, she wasn't the problem in the first place. Everything she did for me was perfect, it was the relationship as a whole rather than her specifically. She was... she was perfect." You smiled sadly as you reminisced on your time with her. She really was perfect. "But I was the problem, I think. I was the one suppressing so much stuff and... when I was on my own compared to when I was with her, I was two completely different people. It was like light and day. She had a great effect on me, but I guess it's just figuring out if that was healthy or not. That difference in characters, in mindset."

"See? You've learnt so much from this already. Maybe you should just sit in front of a mirror and talk to yourself, you'd save a lot of money." Your therapist jokes, the pair of you laughing lightly. "So, let's get talking then. Let's figure this out."

And you did. You spent the rest of the session discussing whether it would be suitable for you to go back to Barcelona. The conclusion you came to was a very favourable one, one that made you nervously excited. But what would Alexia be like? Had she moved on? Would she still value you the same? Or would you be old news now? Only time could tell.

The only thing you knew was that it is so much darker after a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone, and that was the case with Alexia. Perhaps your life wouldn't have been so flipped upside down if you hadn't had met her; such a sweet and loving soul, the purest and brighest light shining onto every dark crevice you'd ever hidden. You'd had a taste of her, and you'd be damned if you didn't at least try for her again. Alexia Putellas wasn't one to lose, and you'd been fortunate to have her in the first place. If it was a one time thing, maybe you'd have to come to terms with that being the case. But for now, getting to Barcelona was just the first step.

Your grandparents definitely approved of you going back, no matter how long for, whether it be one day or one month or perhaps forever. At some point in the past year you had opened up to them about Alexia and they were heartbroken for you. Of course they would be. Your hearts were one and the same. They were the biggest advocates in getting you to go back and see Alexia, and even if Alexia didn't want to see you, you were still going to go to Barcelona. You had friends there, you'd lived a whole life there for just over a year, you'd fallen in love with it before you'd even met Alexia, so regardless of her opinion (even if it did sting like hell) you're still going.

When you booked your flight there, with no return ticket just yet, your grandparents had cheered and dragged you up from the armchair to dance with them along to the music from their old radio. It was a core memory, absolutely, and you'd be lying if you said a part of you wasn't hoping to share this memory one day with Alexia.

However, the day came where you had to do the thing you'd been most afraid of. Contacting Alexia. It was an occasion that definitely called for an emergency video call with your therapist who was very pleased to meet your grandparents for the first time, albeit over Zoom, and the three of them offered any and all advice you'd take until you had carefully curated a text message to send to her.

You:

Hey Alexia, I hope you're doing well. Feel free to ignore this, but I'm coming back to Barcelona soon and I was wondering if you wanted to catch up? If you don't want to, I completely understand. It's been a while and we've both lived our lives without each other in it, so no pressure at all. Let me know if you're open to it. Take care x

Almost immediately, the message was read by her. And just as quickly, the typing icon came up. Safe to say, your grandparents were freaking out just as much as you were.

Alexia:

Wow, it is so good to hear from you. I'm doing well and I really hope things are much better for you. I've been dreaming of hearing from you since the moment you left. I absolutely want to see you again, I don't care how long it's been, so let me know when you're coming and I'll see you as soon as I can. Espero verte pronto, cuídate x

Any longer and your jaw would have been lodged into its place hanging wide open. She wanted to see you just as much as you wanted to see her. The feeling of relief that washed over you upon reading it was gone as quick as it arrived; instead, you were now filled with nerves. No, not nerves, butterflies.

And that's where you found yourself now, your taxi driver navigating the streets of Barcelona towards your hotel in mid-October. It was reaching the evening, so your plan was to start off the trip calmly with a walk around the city to re-familiarise yourself before sunset, then just order some room service for dinner. Simple, but the right way to start what would probably be a bit of a challenging trip mentally.

Despite the low-key nature of the day, you could hardly sleep later that night. There was only one reason, it was obvious. You and Alexia had plans to meet for lunch the next day after her training session. You can't recall an event in your life you had ever felt so excited for, you felt like a kid on Christmas Eve again. A few doubts trickled into your mind every now and then, but you'd grafted for too long now for petty worries to tear down the confidence you had built.

Of course you were eager to see the woman you loved again for the first time in eighteen months, but there was a bigger part of you that was desperate for her to see the progress you'd made. You were proud, and it had taken a lot to get to this point. You wanted to share your pride with her and show her the person you always knew you could be all along. All of your efforts, your hard-work, and your sacrifices had been worth it. You were right to feel proud. And after all, sacrifices were given that name for a reason.

When you did eventually fall asleep, it was with images of Alexia circling in your mind, hoping she still had a place in her heart for you and that she'd love you again for who you are now and not who you were.

Finally, finally, the time came to see Alexia again. You weren't really sure what to expect; it was a unique situation with exceptional circumstances, and you were trying desperately not to put too much pressure on the day. Yet, you were a despairingly hopeful person and the anticipation was almost overwhelming as you were getting ready.

Contact between you both had been little but often, topics never delving too deep which you were so glad about as you wanted to talk to her properly face to face. You had to, it's the least she deserved. Over text, anything could be easily misinterpreted and you weren't about to ruin your chance with words getting lost in translation. Phone calls and FaceTimes were out of the question too, and you were grateful that your individual desperation wasn't getting in the way of going about this the correctly. By no means were you a perfectionist, but there were some things in life that were far too important to be ruined by a lack of patience and all-consuming desire.

Once again, your new and probably your healthiest habit came into play as you decided to walk under the bright October weather to the place Alexia had chosen for the occasion. Neutral ground of course; meeting at her apartment or your hotel room wasn't appropriate... yet.

You arrived at the quaint, little restaurant first, a coincidence you were more thankful for than you'd admit, and you chose to seat yourself at a table off to the side. A bit of privacy from strangers could go a long way for a day like today, you figured. You didn't really want a bunch of strangers to witness the influx of emotions you'd no doubt go through when Alexia arrived.

Soon though, that became a case of if Alexia would arrive, because ten minutes passed since you had arrived practically on time and there was still no sign of the woman. And, rather naïvely, you hadn't planned for her to stand you up. You and your therapist had almost fully mentally prepared you for every other outcome except that one. She did have training beforehand, perhaps that had ran late. Still, your mind was slowly spiralling into overdrive with each second that passed.

Until she did arrive.

The bell over the door rang faintly through the room as it opened hastily, a frantic looking Alexia entering the restaurant. She was really here. Here, basically racing over to you whilst weaving through the tables and chairs and the light scattering of people. Here, still as breathtakingly beautiful as ever. Still Alexia.

She came to a stop in front of you, both of you stuck in a trance as if the world had stopped spinning solely for this moment right here. An anticipatory and contemplative silence settled as your eyes' tracked over every feature of the other, a refresh for the memory of the face you'd so dearly missed.

Alexia was the first to speak - a breathless whisper of your name as if she was in disbelief that you were right in front of her. It triggered something in you, because before you had even realised, you had jumped up from your chair and wrapped your arms tightly around her; a hug you had been dying for for longer than you'd admit. It took a few seconds for her to react but soon, Alexia enveloped you just as emphatically.

The embrace was paired with a few more whispered chants of your name from Alexia - in this moment, for her, it felt like the past months without you she had just been floating through her life, waking up everyday as if it were a chore more than anything. But now, in your arms, she felt alive again. The time without you had been worth it for this single moment here.

"Hey." You mumbled quietly into her neck, smiling uncontrollably when the taller woman squeezed you impossibly more in response.

"Hi." Her voice cracked ever so slightly as she spoke. "Hi."

"You already said that." You teased her lightly, meeting her gaze when she moved back to look at you properly. One of her hands came up to delicately cradle your cheek as if she was scared you would disintegrate at her touch. "Don't be so worried. I'm not going anywhere right now."

"You better not." Alexia murmured, her eyes boring down at you so deeply that it caused your breath to hitch in your throat. "I can't believe you're here."

You blushed at the intensity of her look, gesturing a hand down your body jokingly.

"Live in the flesh." You grinned cheekily, gasping slightly when she pulled you back into herself. "Ale."

"Say that again." She said so quietly you almost missed it.

"Alexia. Ale." You repeated, along with a light kiss to her cheek. She physically deflated in your arms, all the tension you didn't even realise was there dissipating immediately. You saying her name was like the last confirmation she needed that yes, you were actually here.

"I..." She started, leaning back and shaking her head whilst letting out a shaky breath. "I missed you. So much."

You smile and... almost instinctively lean in to kiss her - what were you doing?

"I missed you too." You replied, willing yourself to not ruin it, not now, not when you've made it so far. "I really did."

She returned a smile and reluctantly lets go of you in favour of finally taking a seat at the table. You sit across from her and realise that most of the tables were quite small and intimate, and if you had any remaining functional thought processes left that weren't all occupied by Alexia, you would have thought she'd chosen this restaurant for that specific feature. Your knees grazed against each other under the table and Alexia couldn't stop herself from travelling the small distance with her hands to grasp one of yours with both of hers.

"How are you?"

"Well, that's quite a question. Do you want the short answer or the long answer?" You answer humorously, Alexia shrugging.

"Whatever you want. Say it all or say nothing, I'm just glad to be in your company again." You can't help but swoon a little at her words. "But... I would really like it if you were honest with me. And open. Though I understand if not."

"I'm happy to tell you it all. You best have your listening ears on though." You say, delighted to hear her laugh.

"I do, I swear."

At that, you explain everything from start to finish. From the days you spent in bed, to the first therapy session you had, to the moment you opened up to your grandparents, all the way to the point where you made the decision to come back to Barcelona. The only slightly annoying and poorly timed interruption was from the waiter who asked for your orders, the pair of you quickly apologising and taking one glance at the menu before ordering the first thing that caught your eye.

She listened intently to every word you had to say, not afraid to ask a question every now and then whilst also respecting the privacy you still had every right to. Alexia didn't really feel like you absolutely owed her anything, she just wanted a little context to it all, a little closure and an update on your current state of mind. She just wanted you to be well, she just wanted you.

The whole time you spoke, she simply gazed at you with such a soft and earnest look in her eyes. With her presence that, despite all that time, still had the greatest effect on you paired with your newfound self, you were at peace here.

"You promise that you're better now?" She raises her hand up to you, waiting for you to link fingers with her to secure your truth. And this time, you weren't lying when you answered her.

"I'm so much better." You stated with a shy smile, and that statement felt like the final nail in the coffin to the whole journey you'd been on the past two years.

"You don't know how happy I am to hear that." Alexia revealed with a disbelieving shake of her head. You lift your shoulders in a dismissive shrug, glancing down at your joined hands in the centre of the table.

"Are you... are you angry at me?" You ask. You weren't perfect still, you still had doubts and insecurities.

"What would I be angry about?" Her nose scrunched up in genuine confusion.

"Any of it. All of it."

"Hey." She said, nudging your hand to try and gain your attention. You look up at her and blush a little. "Do I seem angry?" You ponder that for a moment, eyes searching her face, before shaking your head no. "Good, because I'm not. Not at all. What person would I be to react like that?"

"An asshole." You mumble, the pair of you breaking out into laughter after a second.

"I'm proud of you and happy for you. You..." Alexia sighs and pauses, wondering if it's the right time to say what she wanted to say. It's her turn to focus her attention on your hands as she mindlessly traced random shapes on the back of your hand with her finger. "This new version of you, I can see that you're less... weighed down by things. There is a different look in your eyes and though I can't quite describe it yet, I know it's a sign that you feel better and more at peace with yourself. That is all I could wish for, for the person I love."

Sorry, what was that?

"Uh, you sti- you still love me?" You stuttered. You just had to know.

"Yes. I do." Alexia confirms, a sheepish smile on her face. "I was being truthful before you left when I said that I'll always love you. Maybe I shouldn't have said this now. You don't have to love me still. I would... I would understand."

"No, Ale, what?" You shook your head at her and squeezed her hands tightly. "I love you. I'll always love you too. Why do you think I wouldn't love you?"

"Why would you think I wouldn't love you?" She hits back, resulting in you both laughing shyly. "It would have to be really crazy situations for me to not love you, chiqui."

"Was this not a crazy situation? Me dramatically fleeing the country out of nowhere?"

"No, and don't say it like that. You had every reason to leave, okay? I told you that when you left and I'll still tell you that now. I don't resent you for choosing yourself." Alexia argues firmly, bringing your hand up to her mouth so that she could kiss the back of it reassuringly. She halts for a moment, wondering if it's appropriate to do so, but judging by the redness of your cheeks she decides to go through with it. "I... just had a few doubts about this all, but now that you're here my mind has calmed down now."

"Are you okay?" You blurt out.

At the mention of herself, your concern immediately turned to Alexia and how she coped through all this. If you knew her as well as you thought you did, you had a feeling you knew what her immediate reaction would be.

"What do you mean?"

Exactly what you guessed.

"I haven't checked up on you yet. I want to know how you've been doing." You answer, shifting forward slightly so that you were closer to her.

"Why check up on me?" Alexia chuckles nervously.

"Because your girlfriend walked out on you and went off the grid for a year and a half. Forget about me right now, Ale, I want to know how you are."

She pauses looking at you, an internal battle going on behind her eyes that you're all too familiar with, until she sighs once more and her demeanour drops.

"Well, I was worried about you, firstly. Everyday I woke up you were the first thing I thought about and the last thing in my mind before I slept. I don't think you ever left my mind, not for long anyway. I wanted the best for you. And then I guess... I had a few selfish thoughts too. But as I said, you're here, and I don't need to think about them anymore." Alexia told you, a tight-lipped smile on her face. "I don't want to say them now, today is about you."

"No, Alexia, it's not. It's a day for both of us." You urge her to understand that it's okay for her to open up, that it's been a hard time for her too, but part of you knows you most likely won't get that out of her today.

"Amor, please. Let's do this another time, for now just focus on the positive. We can talk about me any other time, just not now, please." She begs with a pleading look in her eyes. "I am okay, I swear. You being here has solved everything, it's the truth."

"Promise you'll open up at some point soon?" It's your turn to hold your hand up for her to make a promise.

"As long as you stay long enough." She jokes, but it's clear to see there is some fear and insecurity there. She does link her finger with yours though, a sentiment that's never lost on you. "How long are you staying for?"

"That's the thing. I don't really have a return date yet." You admit, and the flash of hope in Alexia's eyes ignites a feeling of longing inside of you.

Forget timings and socially standardised timelines of falling in love or healing or whatever it was you were doing, you didn't care anymore. Why delay the inevitable process? You were in love with her and she was in love with you. Taking it slow was overrated anyway.

"What does that mean?" Alexia asks, her heart palpitating at the prospect of your answer.

"It means... anything, Ale. What do you want it to mean?"

Perhaps answering questions with another question wasn't the best habit you'd picked up from your therapist.

"You want the truth?" You nod instantly, your emotions already bubbling and she hasn't even said anything yet. "As long as you are ready for it, and you must swear to me that you are because I don't want to h-"

"Oh my god, just say it, please." You beg, eyes wide in hopeful anticipation, waiting for her to admit the thing you had yearned for all these months.

"I want you back in my life, permanently. I want to be your girlfriend again. No matter how long it takes, no matter how slow you decide to take things, the thing I've wished for all this time is to just be yours again, to have you as mine. I'll do anything to make that happen, I swear by it. You want me to throw stones at your hotel window? I'll do it. You want me to sneak onto your balcony in the middle of the night? I'll do that. You want me to stand outside your door with a loudspeaker and signs? I already have the speaker and words prepared. I'll even stand in the centre of Montjuïc at the next game and sing for you if you really want."

You laugh at every ridiculous idea of devotion that comes out of her mouth, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Except, this time, the tears aren't ones of sorrow or longing, they're tears of exultation and relief. Alexia had waited for you, all this time. There had been no one else for her and no matter how selfish it was, it's the best revelation you've ever had.

"I don't think the culers would be too happy about you singing." You teased, rolling your eyes at the smug and nonchalant shrug she gave.

"I don't care, because it wouldn't be for them, it would be for you." She smirks, leaning in closer. Your foreheads were mere inches about now, a fact neither of you could ignore.

"You sure you want me back?" You mumbled shyly. It was Alexia's turn to roll her eyes now as she fought back the temptation to kiss the doubt off of your lips.

"I want nothing more than I want you." She responded, sounding so sure of herself that it was intoxicatingly enticing.

"Even if it's long distance for a little while?"

"Even then." Alexia smiles, resting her arms on her elbows as she brought your joined hands up together to rest in between you both. She pressed her lips to your hands once more, eyes closed as she does so, before looking back into your eyes. "We will figure out the logistics another time. For now, all I know is that I have the love of my life back and I want to spend every second I can with her before she leaves."

"Love of your life, hm?" You whisper with a shy grin, Alexia grunting at how you teased her for her softness. It was something you'd always done, and she was grateful that that part of you hadn't changed. "Well, what do we do now?"

"I'm hoping that you will let me kiss you, finally."

"In here? With all these people?" There really weren't that many people in there, and the few that were wouldn't even take notice of the sickeningly sweet moment occuring.

"Sí. Déjame besarte, por favor." The sound of Alexia speaking Spanish was something you could never get over, it did things to you everytime. How could you deny her when she spoke like she did?

"I guess." You rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically as if it was such an inconvenience.

Alexia simply grinned and planted both her hands on your cheeks before surging forward to kiss you. However, she pauses for a moment, just taking in your appearance and letting out a huff of disbelieved laughter, then she finally presses her lips against yours. A quiet, muffled moan leaves your throat before you can stop it, and the sound of it causes Alexia to smirk smugly. Frustratingly, the stupid but irresistible thing made it aggravatingly difficult to kiss the life out of her like you so wanted to. The smirk was wiped off of Alexia's face the second you broke the kiss much sooner than she wanted to.

"What's wro-"

"I can't kiss you how I want to when you're grinning like a maniac, pendeja!" You groan, butting your forehead against hers to further emphasise your annoyance.

"Pobrecita bebé." Alexia pouts sarcastically at you whilst gently grasping your chin with her thumb and forefinger. That idiotic, childish grin soon forced its way back where it belongs, and you can't help but smile at the sight of it. "I can't help it, amor! What do you want me to do?"

"Be normal and not do that stupid smirk!"

"Oh, perdóname, I'm sorry I'm so happy that I have you back!" Alexia exclaims, arguing solely to rile you up. What people didn't know about this layered Catalan is that she loved bickering with you or just annoying you in general. You didn't realise quite how much you missed it until this moment now.

"I swear to god, stop being so infuriating and just get o-"

And get on with it she did. You couldn't even finish your sentence before she silenced you in one of the best ways you could think of. And god bless the poor waiter who just wanted to do his job, because when he came to give you your meals, the sight he walked up to was somewhat less than PG. The young guy, who honestly looked no older than 18, cleared his throat louder than normal and the pair of you jumped a mile apart at the unexpected presence. Alexia had to grip the edge of the table to prevent her chair from tipping back, trying desperately to disguise her embarrassment with a tight-lipped smile and rambled thanks to the boy, all the whilst you had to stifle what would be a very loud belly laugh.

"Calláte, that was your fault." Alexia hushed out, her eyes scanning the room to figure out if anyone else had just witnessed that monstrosity. Meanwhile, your face was now bright red due to the laughter threatening to escape out from behind your palm that covered your mouth. It was Alexia's fault really, the shot burst of laughter that barrelled out of you, because she kicked you in the shin as she sipped from the water that had been dropped off at some point during the afternoon. "Dios mío, what is wrong with you!?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry." You choked out. You took a page from Alexia's book and drank some of your water. As you did, you noticed that Alexia's face wasn't contorted to one of irritation, it was the face she did when she was trying to suppress the overwhelming amount of joy she felt. As someone who was so keen to convey a certain persona, it was one you'd seen a few times since you'd known her, and this was perhaps your favourite look of hers. "I think you'll find it was your awkwardness that was at fault, Ale."

"Yeah, yeah. Eat your food, idiota."

There were periods of peaceful silence as you ate, some conversation here and there, but despite all that has and hasn't been said so far, it felt like there wasn't anything that needed to be uttered. You were both content to enjoy each other's presence again, your eyes meeting every other moment as you ate which resulted in you both blushing and laughing like lovesick teenagers.

It really was tooth-rottingly sweet, and though the dynamic wasn't all too different than it was before, there was solace found in the knowledge that a lot of things had been changed for the better. The prospect of it all was exhilarating, a new path for you both to walk together, and for you there were no longer question marks looming over every part of your life.

The main thing that hadn't changed too much for you, a thing you were relieved about, was the way Alexia made you feel. It was the same as it used to be, except about a million times better. There wasn't so much guilt or gloom that was masked by Alexia, it was all genuine and you already knew that feeling would bleed into your everyday life with her around.

"You said you told your grandparents about me?" Alexia wondered, sitting back in her chair with her hands linked over her stomach.

"I did. They said if this goes well, I have to bring back Barça shirts for them." You revealed with a smile, Alexia chuckling.

"I can organise that for them. As well as tickets to a game if they'd like."

"Alright, Miss Marketing." You roll your eyes at her offer, pausing to take a sip from your half-full glass. "We get it, you love your club. You don't have to spread the message like a missionary."

"I have to win them over some way." Alexia laughs, before her face turns a little more serious and you have a feeling you know what she's about to bring up. "What about your... Dad?"

"Haven't spoken to him since the day I left." You answer, eyes focused on the tracks your finger left behind on the condensation of the glass as it ran around the curve of it. "No idea what he's doing or where he is. Just know that he's alive and that's all I have the energy to care about."

"That's good for you, amor. He doesn't deserve you."

"I know that." You smile genuinely at her, and that's another one of her worries she had for you erased. "I think, out of anyone, my therapist is the one you must give tickets to."

"Mm, yes. I must meet this magical woman one day, I owe my life to her." That charming smirk is back on her face, and you blush at that as well as the sentiment she holds in her words.

"I don't want this meal to end." You mumble in a disheartened voice, reaching your hand across the small gap between you both to grasp one of the hands on her stomach.

"It... it doesn't have to, amor." Alexia starts, catching your attention as you look up to meet her eyes. "You could come over to my apartment. It's been a while since you've been there. The indentation on my balcony chair has left, I think you need to reinstate it."

You roll your eyes at her humour, a soft smile on your face at the laugh she gives at her own jokes. You do think the offer over though - is it too soon? Maybe, but if this counted as a first date, milestones were out the window considering you'd already confessed your love for each other. Did time and patience count when it came to re-conciliating a relationship? Screw it, who cares.

"I'd be happy to come over, Ale. If you want that."

"Are you sure? Because I would love that, except I don't want to rush you or ruin anything if we move too fast."

"Fuck that. I know what I want now and that's you. Who cares what is too fast. I've delayed our relationship once already, I'm not doing that again."

She stares at you from across the table and if it was possible, you'd say her pupils were the shape of a heart with the look she fixed you with. Then she was standing out of nowhere, shrugging her jacket back on whilst you watched her, completely confused, until she held her hand out for you.

"Let's go, ay?" She hums, wiggling her fingers to urge you to move. "No wasting time, you said."

You jut your tongue into your cheek, heart fluttering at her forwardness, and gather your own coat before taking her hand. She presses a soft kiss to your cheek before guiding you towards the exit with a hand on your lower back, a notion she's always done and one you'll always adore.

Silently, she leads you to her car that's parked around the corner and watches with a shy but proud smile as you climb into the passenger side of the car. With every little thing you did, whether that was humming contently as you ate your food or smiling at her absentmindedly every time she spoke, or even just blinking and breathing, she realised she could never verbalise the love she held for you because she'd never experienced it before in her life, ever. Not with pets, not with friends, not with her family. It was otherworldly, unexplainable, and though she wasn't religious, her devotion to you was just as close to that.

Again, there is just light, scattered chatter as she drives you back to one of your favourite places in the world, and once more she guides you to the elevator with her palm pressed to your back. As you stand in the lift, shoulder to shoulder, there are modestly triumphant smiles on your faces, a wordless shared notion sitting between you that everything was worth it in the end. Even if it took a journey and a half to get there, the climb was always worth it for the view at the top.

"What would you like to do now?" Alexia asks as she unlocks her door and allows you to step in before her.

"Uh, can we chill on the balcony? You know it's my favourite spot." You reply with a grin, and Alexia somehow knew you were going to say that, almost as if she's heard those words leave your mouth maybe a few hundred times in the past.

"Of course. You go ahead, I'll get us some drinks."

You nod and walk through to her bedroom, one thing standing out to you; everything is exactly the same as it was before. That comforts you impossibly more than you yourself could ever understand. Future therapy topic?

However, there is one thing that jumps out at you. You walk over to where it stands on Alexia's dresser and pick it up, holding the object in your hand with a smile on your face.

"Ale, why do you have my favourite perfume here? I never once brought it to your apartment." You shout to where she was in the kitchen, no doubt her cheeks a bright pink colour at the fact she'd been caught out.

"Because I bought some, after you left." She replied, and you giggle to yourself at the ever so slightly embarrassed tone that creeps through.

"Liked the smell, did you?"

"Mm. Something like that." She grumbled.

You grin and place it down, heading over to the sliding door adjacent to her bed and opening it. The air that hits you and the sight that greets you causes a wave of familiarity to wash over you, one that you welcome straight away. You take a deep breath and bask in the feeling, leaning on the railing as your eyes raked over the view you adored.

A few minutes later and you hear Alexia walking out behind you, first placing the drinks on the small side table before joining you at the edge. She wraps an arm loosely around your waist and rests her chin on your shoulder, admiring the view of the city that was literally right on her doorstep.

"I missed this view." You break the silence first, voicing what Alexia already knew.

"I missed you." She murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your shoulder when she notices something. "Ah, I knew you never gave that back."

Delicately, she runs her index finger along the necklace that sat around your neck which she had gifted you way back when, quietly delighted to see you still wearing it. And it also aided her in not feeling so embarrassed about the earlier incident where you had found the perfume she bought in memory of you.

"Yeah, sorry about that." You mumble sheepishly, shivering when Alexia chuckles into your neck where her lips soon leave a kiss.

"No, I like that you still have it."

You hum in acknowledgement, content to stay here in the arms of your girlfriend as the locals carried on with the hustle and bustle of city life below you.

"This was my favourite thing about your apartment." You state a little while later, leaning your head against Alexia's.

"I remember." You feel her say it more than you hear it, before a thought clearly captures her attention as she stands up fully, still with her arm around you. "You could come here, uh... full time, you know?"

"You mean move in with you?" It's not the most surprising thing you'd heard from her in all honesty, but it was still a bit of a shock to the system.

"If you'd like. I know I would be happy with that."

"I would too, but... I think that maybe does cross the line of 'too soon' though." You reply with an apologetic smile, but Alexia understands instantly, of course she does.

"That's okay." She comments, one more kiss to your shoulder. "Do you think you'll ever come back to live here again? Barcelona, I mean."

With this city before you, this woman holding you and loving you so gently, and the sea and the sky merging into one in the far distance, you think that maybe life can be simple after all. That starts and ends with Alexia.

"I think it's only a matter of time."

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #woso #Spotify

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desi2go · 5 months

Text

Humming

pairing: dad!Han x mother!reader

Warnings: fluff

Jisung was a man with a bubbly character who brings everyone to laugh within seconds. It was his superpower. Everywhere he goes, the people are happier because of his aura.

When you first met him, the kind and funny side attracted you and you got fond of it really fast. But after getting together, you didn't fear the other side of him. With his anxieties and insecurities. It belongs to him just like the sunny side.

Compared to him, you were rather cold or serious towards strangers. Maybe that's why you were so attracted to him. Differences attract each other, you had heard.

Your daughter Yuna was an exact copy of him. You couldn't deny that he was the father of your child. She was such an angel.

After giving birth, the hospital was filled with his and your family the day after to see the little one. Everyone wanted to hold your bundle of joy. Even all the other members of Stray Kids came to see the newest addition to the family. Chan and Felix were the first one to hold her.

Even though Jisung trusted them with his life, he always stood by her side to catch her if someone would drop her.

She was so tiny due to you going into labour just a week before the eight month of pregnancy. Seeing how fragile she was, the protectiveness was there the moment her cries filled the delivery room.

He promised to protect his precious girl with his live and wanted to be the best father for her.

After a week in the hospital to make sure that everything with you and Yuna was fine, he stepped through the door of your shared apartment for the first time as a dad. Your hospital bag over his back that he insisted to carry so that you didn't need to carry that heavy thing and in his arms his little angel.

Even though she was deep asleep, he did a room tour with her, rambling and explaining nearly everything to her.

He sat hours in her room, watching her sleep. He couldn't express how grateful he was to have the little girl and even now he can't believe that he was actually a father.

When she got older and the newborn stage was over, he still sat in her room, observing her after he had read her a book.

Often he would flip through the photos that mostly he took through her short life.

There were photos that Hyunjin made. They were beautiful and showed you three as a happy family. Some were just the little girl in her favourite baby blanket and her plushie, just some weeks after birth.

You had wrapped Yuna in a sweet quokka onesie that you had found online. Hyunjin laid her into a small basket with fluffy blankets and gave her a quokka plushie that she held in her tiny hands.

How the time flew by as a father of a baby.

Yuna was now a year old. Her birthday just passed and Jisung made sure that it was the best day for his baby. Even though she won't remember it when she got older.

You weren't home due to a late meeting at work so that Jisung had Yuna all for himself.

He played with her and when it was time for bed, he bathed together with her while playing with the bubbles. Her sweet and heart warming giggles filled the entire bathroom as Jisung formed with the bubbles funny beards.

He changed her diaper and dressed her in her cute tiny sleep clothes.

Currently, her teeth break through and that was painful for her which is why she has a hard time falling asleep. Jisung and you tried nearly everything to make it less painful.

Tonight, her otherwise so happy and angelic face was wearing a sad one. She whimpered and tears fell as he tried to rock her to sleep.

However it didn't work. He sat down in the rocking chair, Yuna was placed on his chest with one arm holding her securely in his embrace. She grabbed the fabric of his black shirt, whining, as he slowly rocked himself back and forth.

Then, he began humming. A song he heard during the day on social media that kept twirling in his mind.

His humming turned into singing. The syllables rolled of his tongue, filling the entire room.

His daughter stopped the whining and it seems to work. Her eyes never leave the lips of her daddy. Amazed she followed his lip movements as the melody filled the room.

A smile showed on her face.

The rocking and the vibration of Jisung's chest from his singing made her calm. The exhaustion of the day finally catching up. Tired she yawned and blinked her eyes a few times, fighting the sleep.

Her tiny hands held onto his shirt and he rubbed soothingly over her back.

It didn't took long till she was sleeping. Still, he kept rocking back and forth, singing and humming.

The door opened and you entered the room just ten minutes later still wearing your dark blue blouse and a pair of black jeans. You looked tired, dark circles under your eyes.

You gave him a exhausted smile and ruffled through his hair and gave him a peck.

"Hello there" you said and brushed over Yunas head. Her black hair smooth and fluffy.

"Hey honey. How was the meeting?"

"Boring. Just wanted to get home to you both" you chuckled. "Had she trouble getting asleep?"

He nodded and played with the fabric of Yunas sleep clothes. "Though the rocking and singing helped"

"Aww. She is already a fan of you"

"Of course she is! I'm her father. I don't except something else" A big smile plastered on his face.

He hoped that he will be the coolest father for her, someone she can look up to. Hopefully, she will be proud of him.

"Come Ji. Let's get her into bed. Mommy wants a private concert"

Gently, she took her daughter out of his grasp. Yuna fussed a little bit until she settled against her mother and was then laid into her warm bed.

You gave her a goodnight kiss and turned to your love. He gave him a kiss and led him to their bedroom. Quickly you got rid of your work clothes and dressed in one of Jisung's shirts.

He already waited for you to come into bed, opening his arms as you settled next to him. You laid your head on his chest as he brushed through your hair and started humming again, watching you fall asleep almost immediately and he followed soon.

#stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #han x reader #han jisung #skz jisung #jisung x reader #stray kids jisung #skz headcanons #stray kids

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reinen5astro · 1 year

Text

Your Career/Reputation/Legacy Indicators according to astrology pt.2

This time I'll go over the 10th house. If you would like to see part 1 [the second house] go here:

Tutorial

~ First find the sign your 10th house is in by pulling up your birth chart

As you can see their 10th House is in Scorpio [I circled it + pointed to the line that indicates what sign it's in]. If you don't feel like pulling up your birth chart right now, you can just think of the 9th sign after your rising sign. For example, a Sagittarius rising has their 10th house in Virgo [the ninth sign after Sagittarius], while an Aries rising has their 10th house in Capricorn.

~ Next, look at the ruler of that sign. This is the ruler of your second house. I've written them down below

Aries: Mars

Taurus: Venus

Gemini: Mercury

Cancer: Moon

Leo: Sun

Virgo: Mercury

Libra: Venus

Scorpio: Mars and Pluto

Sagittarius: Jupiter

Capricorn: Saturn

Aquarius: Uranus and Saturn

Pisces: Neptune and Jupiter

~ Lastly, find what sign your ruler/rulers are in. My interpretations are down below.

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10th House Ruler in The....

1st House:

Your professional success is fully related to your personal expression, your confidence and your initiative. Your physical body and appearance will affect/have something to do with your job [you may be a dancer for example]. Your personality, view on life, body and physical appearance will also have a big impact on your status as well. Whatever you achieve in life, you will have to do it on your own and this contributes to your legacy, reputation, and pride. Try to avoid the tendency to become egocentric as again, your personality and view on life WILL affect your status, career and legacy. You may do best when self-employed. You tend to dress in accordance with your career; essentially, your career immensely affects your life, your career goals even affect your approach to life. You have an inert desire for recognition and respect and care about how you present yourself to the world. Overall, any career would suit you, but keep in mind that your career will affect you as a whole [more than most people], and your appearance/physicality may have something to do with your career.

2nd House:

Your professional success will be reflected in your income. Most likely you will make money through any profession/the profession you choose. Your resources and values play an important role in your future success. You may have a career involving finances. You require a career that fits your values and that provides you with financial security. Your self-esteem increases when you gain authority [gaining authority also tend to increase your net worth]. Your attitude/relationships with authority figures impacts your money-making ability. Your legacy will most likely be related to how much money you've made in this lifetime.

3rd House:

Your career is related to some form of self-expression. You feel a need to communicate and to express your own ideas through the profession you choose. Your career may need a lot of short-term traveling. The need to be seen as an authority influences the way you communicate. Your profession is always on your mind. Your career may involve, blogging, transportation, making connections locally, helping the community, writing, conferencing [online correspondences], language. You may also work as an early schoolteacher or guidance counselor. Your voice holds authority. Your legacy may be the way you communicate, and you pass on your professional experience through teaching and writing.

4th House:

Your profession is related to your home, and because of this, you may work out of your home or with one of your parents, possibly continuing a family business. This astrological influence also could lead you to try fields having to do with soil, property, land or those that have to do with your place of birth. The recognition you receive from the outside world affects your emotional security. Your social status impacts your family or your family's social status may impact your career. You bring an authoritative attitude to your home life. You set the rules at home. You may find a way to live out your true vocation from the comfort of your own home [virtual working]. Your reputation affects how your family sees you. You build a reputation for yourself as a family man/woman. You build a reputation for yourself as a nurturer or caretaker. You use your status to help your country. You may even gain recognition + authority for serving your country [military]. You become an authority on your personal heritage and culture. You become an authority on your family tree. You become an authority on your cultural roots. Your legacy could be related to your familial heritage, how you treat your family and your authority in your home/country.

5th House:

Your professional success is related to your creativity. No matter what profession you choose, you always show your originality and desire to do things your way. This astrological position leads you to find success, especially in sports or artistic careers. Working in your profession will be a pleasure for you. You may build a reputation for being a flirt, a creatively expressive person, a gambler, or a risk taker. Your professional life revolves around the arts., children, and athletics. You bring an authoritative approach to music, theater, art and dance. You attempt to add structure to your creative impulses. You may discipline children. You may even work as a choreographer. You are a professional stage actor. You bring a professional approach to your hobbies and may even make a career out of a hobby. You become an authority on music, dance, art, and theater. Overall, your legacy will be related to your creativity, and your children.

6th House:

Your professional success is related to service. No matter what profession you choose, it will be more gratifying for you if you feel that you are helping others. You may pursue professions linked to medicine, therapy or nutrition. If you do not have a career, you are likely to work in a company that provides some kind of service. You build a reputation for your daily work performance, and you may become known as a workaholic. Especially since your vocation will most likely require you to work every day. Your career could be related to work with animals, involvement with fitness and diet. You may discover your true vocation through an apprenticeship or specializing. You may become a specialist in a certain area and therefore carry authority when you speak on that topic [professional weightlifters, professional animal activists, etc.]. Your true work most likely requires you to be an employee rather than a boss. Your vocation involves lots of employee and coworker interactions. Awards/recognition will come through your daily work. Overall, your legacy will be your aid/service to those who are in need.

7th House:

Your professional success is related to the public, society and marriage. You have a need for give and take with the public; your contact with the public could be on a large scale as well as people individually. Your professional progress will be stimulated by the training of some association or by the support you receive from your mate [husband/wife]. You gain recognition and social status through your partner. You gain awards and recognition for your efforts in a partnership [marriages aren't the only type of partnership]. You may work with your partner. Your profession involves working in one-to-one relationships. Your professional success is dependent on your ability to relate to other people. Your professional success is dependent on your ability to form significant relationships. You are an authority on marriage, and business partnerships. You bring a professional approach to marriage. You treat your marriage like a career. You lay down the rules in marriage. You bring your outer expectations of success to your marriage. You want your marriage or partnership to live up to society’s standards. People with this placement do not take marriage lightly subconsciously because they know how much marriage can help their life and its value, but they also know how much it can hurt their life as well. they tend to be very picky with marriage partners, but they usually choose the right one [of course unless there's other aspects or placements interfering [for example, Lilith/Chiron/mars/Saturn/Pluto in the 7th house]. What each partner does for a living can be an 'issue' in a relationship or marriage. Each partner’s social status can be an 'issue' in marriage or partnership. Ideally the partners should have equal status and equal standing. Partners should have balanced careers. Partners should have the same ambitions and goals in mind. Partners should want to have the same achievements [or rather same type of achievements]. Your legacy will be your relation to your marriage partners, your relation to the public, business partnerships, and your one-on-one relationships. [I personally have the placement and it's pretty accurate. I'll see how it pans out though because I am a minor, and have in fact not gotten married lmao]

8th House:

Your professional success is related to your ability to produce changes or transformations in yourself as well as others. This astrological influence brings financial support from others that will help your career. That help could come from a financial institution as well as your marriage. You may work in an investigative or financial field [journalist, researcher, scientist, detective, accountant, miner, archaeologist]. Your work may be related to your sexuality, death [mortician] or rebirth. You may turn your spirituality into your profession as well [astrologer, tarot reader, professional witch]. You may deal with confidential information and negotiate in secret. Somehow you always end up in "special" projects where there is secrecy [ you will have to sign NDA's]. Beware of shady dealings as it will affect your public status. There are often transformations in your social status, career, and reputation. Your legacy may be related to how many hardships you've gone through and made it through; it'll also be related to your financial status and spirituality.

9th House:

Your professional success is related to your ideals, university degree, higher studies, religion and traveling. You may establish yourself professionally in a different place from that of your birth or your work could necessitate you to travel often. You always feel the need to expand your knowledge and to make the most of each day; as a result, you may keep going back to school/college. You choose a profession that allows you to travel and interact with people from other countries. You choose a profession that falls in line with your faith. Your career may be related to your religion [ex. priest] You receive awards for academic achievements and religious work. You choose a profession that allows you to search for higher meaning. You bring an authoritative approach to religion, faith and belief, and academic learning. You may have a career in professing [professor]/lecturing. Having a profession, status, and recognition gives your life meaning. Your legacy will be related to your faith, ideals, and education.

10th House:

You are likely to put a lot of energy into achieving professional success. Your ambitions and goals are clearly defined, and you have a need to demonstrate to yourself and others what you can achieve through your own effort. Your career may depend on parental support or guidance, or you may follow in the footsteps of your parents. Either way, you always point out your individuality and personal ability. Getting out in the world and making a name for yourself is important to you. You want to be known for something and to receive awards and recognition. You want to climb to the top of the mountain in whatever you choose to do; you are ambitious for the sake of being ambitious. You have an authoritative approach to career and vocation. You want to reach the top of your profession. How much you know in your career builds your reputation. You become known for your achievements…"Oscar winner…”, “Nobel Prize winner…” etc… You become known as an authority on whatever type of work you choose to do. Your legacy will be your achievements.

11th House:

Your professional success is related to your participation in some organization, group, union, or club. The support you receive from your friends will be crucial and because of this, you have to consider sociability as an important part of your life. Your true vocation involves working with groups of like-minded people. Following your calling depends on your ability to gain friends and fans. As a result, you have a professional approach to friendship and bring your need for recognition to your friendships. You choose friends who will boost your social status, and who won't outdo you in social status. You choose friends who have won awards and made achievements. Your ambitions influence your friendships. Your career involves working for social causes and movements. You want to reform society’s standards, expectations, and role of authority. Your relationship with your parents influences what types of social causes you become involved with. You may eventually belong to a professional club or guild., be a member of a professional board, or even belong to a board of directors. Your ability to conduct yourself professionally influences how many fans you gain. Becoming famous results in a lot of fans. You want to be in a profession that has an audience. If you get famous, fan clubs will spring up. Fame allows you to help social causes. You have high hope and ambition for your career. Your legacy could be your hopes, wishes, friendships, and social activism.

12th House:

Your professional success is related to your ability to serve others behind the scenes. Your profession is likely to be performed behind closed doors or in private. When I think of this placement, I think of the people who make the sets in a movie or show. This position favors professions that require power behind the throne; that is to say that you make suggestions or decisions without conferring with the public. Activities linked to secret information, medicine or investigations would be very favorable. You may work in a hospital or prison, or charity. Finding your true vocation helps you release grief and sorrow. Gaining recognition/becoming famous is the self-undoing but may help you release your grief and sorrow. Becoming famous causes you to isolate. Becoming well-known may be a fear of yours, but also a desire. Fame enables you to help your favorite charities. Fame allows you to pursue your interest in the paranormal. Your social status causes you to retreat and too much exposure makes you want to hide and escape from reality. Your relationship with your parents/authority figures makes you want to escape from reality. The best career for you involves working alone. Your true career involves working with prisoners, the insane, hospitalized or underprivileged, meditation or spirituality, working with the paranormal, developing psychic abilities or becoming a channel. You may not have much of a legacy but if you do, it would be your charity work, and your work with the underprivileged, hospitalized, or imprisoned.

Yep, thats the 10th house ;). Hope you enjoyed, and I hope that it was accurate.

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merakiui · 14 days

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What are your thoughts on who just can't get over their ex-wife? Who is still crying into their pillow each night? Who is obsessively looking for gossip about them and how they are obviously not doing well (and should come back to him)? Who let them go because it was the right thing to do, and yet, they still leave ex-wife's space in the closet set aside like they'll be home at any moment?

AAAAAA OMG!!!!! This gives me a tremendous amount of thoughts omg omg!!!!!!

I can definitely imagine Azul searching for any and all information on you (mostly bad) because he wants to gather more reasons and evidence as to why you should come back to him. He just won't let you go.

Perhaps Vil operates under the similar notion of searching for you online, but it's only because he wants to ensure you're doing well for yourself and none of his fans (or your fans if you're famous as well or have just gained popularity through Vil due to your relationship) are causing you issues. If an obsessive fan comes after you, that gives Vil all the reason he needs to contact you and offer, at the very least, security to look after you until things calm down. Or, if anything else, why not just come back to him for the time being?

Floyd lets you go. He knows that if he was in your shoes he'd hate having to force something that just isn't working no matter how much he wanted it to work. It would be wrong to be selfish. He still leaves the empty space in the closet untouched for you. He still sets out an extra plate and utensils for you when it's mealtime, cooking portions to feed two instead of just one. He leaves your side of the bed made. Even though he knows you're not there, he still calls out to you when he comes home, hoping you'll one day respond. You never do and you probably never will.

Deuce is crying into his pillow. He's so heartbroken. :( he misses you so much and can't believe you're not here with him. He looks at pictures of you saved on his phone and in photo albums and enjoys the good memories that are photographed, but they always make him emotional. He loved you so much (and still does love you).

Riddle,,,,,,, he has no sense of what a "healthy marriage" is because of the poor example his parents set, so in his mind he thought things will improve if he simply forces it to get better. If he tolerates the growing divide between the two of you. Inevitably, that divide grew cavernous and now you're gone. He's torn between picking up the pieces and trying to move on from there and simply holding onto the misplaced hope that you might return eventually. He doesn't touch any of the things that are yours. Even if you still have some belongings left at his place (though he hates calling it his because it's both of yours), he leaves them be as if expecting you to return for them and (hopefully) stay. He still can't get over you and maybe he never will. Riddle doesn't understand the concept of soulmates, but he's certain that, with what limited comprehension he has on the matter, you were something close to that.

Lilia lets you go and from there he looks forward. It does sting and he is upset, but he's mature enough to know that some things just don't work out and it's best not to dwell on that. People drift apart just as easily as they grow old. That is just a facet of life and what it means to be alive. Instead, he holds onto the memories and when he speaks of you it's always with a smile. Though the look in his eyes is wistful, it's obvious he has nothing but fondness for you even in your absence.

#twisted chit chat #rendy-a

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ayaansh006 · 9 months

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doctor-dusk · 14 days

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𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭, 𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

he showed you that movie theaters were not made exclusively for watching movies.

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), piv, public sex. can't remember any more warnings beside these ones.

word count: 7.6k

series masterlist

ffs 7.6k words i'm gobsmacked- i ended up getting too excited, but uuuugh, i loved writing this part. i hope you like it :3

of course you accepted.

however, as much as you wanted to see him, you were hesitant. you had never seen him other than via video call, and you were somewhat paranoid about people you met on the internet. so, you two agreed to meet at a movie theater, which was usually full and where you felt safe for a first date.

it was saturday night and you told your parents that you were going to the movies with your best friend. well, if you were paranoid, your parents were much worse than you. you couldn't simply throw them a ‘i'm going out with a guy i met online’.

but to be on the safe side and to maintain your own safety, you notified your best friend, giving her the address of the movie theater and saying that if you weren't home by midnight, she should call the police.

you were very nervous, of course. numerous scenarios running through your head. possibilities of everything going very right or very wrong. but you were already there.

leaning against the cold wall outside the movie theater, watching the little movement on the street. usually on the date of a film's premiere, the frenzy is imminent. lines of cars on all sides of the avenue and more queues to buy tickets and get in the rooms. but now, it's calm. so calm.

you looked at your phone, checking the time. you scheduled it for 8pm, there were exactly 7 minutes left. you were too anxious, at 5pm you were already taking your shower and at 6:40pm you were ready. but you made sure to dress up well for the occasion. you could already expect the shower of compliments he might give you, like “oh, i love your dress. take a little spin for me” or “you smell so good”. something that would be very “alex” to say.

your cell phone vibrated, indicating that a message had arrived. in a rush, you rummaged through your purse, thinking it was a message from him.

“did he arrive?” you let your eyebrows fall when you saw it was a message from your best friend.

“not yet.” you answered, trying to sound optimistic. there is still time, he could arrive at any moment. your stomach was churning with anxiety, you resisted the urge to bite your freshly painted wine nails.

she didn't say anything else and neither did you, closing your hand around your phone and supporting your body weight on your other leg while you placed one hand on your waist.

you looked around once more, taking a few steps ahead, not having a right direction to go. you're bored. distracted. nervous. anxious. like you’re going to explode like a dynamite. you needed to relax your mind a little.

you took a few steps closer to the parking lot, seeing how empty it was. you could count 8 cars there and 3 motorcycles. better, 4 motorcycles, since one was just arriving through the adjacent entrance.

your eyes followed that motorcycle until it stopped, parking in the reserved space. it wasn't that dark despite some broken light bulbs in the parking lot, but you could recognize that the model of the bike was a kawasaki. maybe a W800. not that you're an expert, but do you remember that your uncle had a motorcycle just like that. he said he loved the motorcycle more than his own wife. isn't it surprising that they have divorced.

back to what you're seeing, the motorcyclist got off after placing the motorcycle's foot on the ground, securing it so that the motorcycle remained upright and without any risk of falling. the black leather jacket hugged his body just right, the dark jeans didn't seem to be that tight on his lower body, just accentuating the curves of his thighs. and wow, what an ass.

his back was turned the whole time. he carefully removed his helmet, combing his hair back, but he didn't seem satisfied with the result when he looked at his own reflection in a car window. so, he pulled out a small comb that was in his back pocket, combing his hair back until he thought it looked presentable enough, slicked back to the last hair.

he put the comb inside his pocket and pulled out his phone from the front pocket. your heart raced. coud be him?

your phone vibrated in your hand. you looked at the screen, a message from alex popped on your screen.

‘’i’m here.’’

you froze in place, like your feet were glued on the floor. you looked back at the exact moment he turned around.

yeah, it was him.

fuck, fuck, fuck. it was him.

alex was more intimidating in person. not in a bad way, though.

he wasn't that tall. but well, you didn't expect him to be as tall as a lamppost either. he was tall enough to make you stand on your tiptoes if you wanted to kiss him. pale skin under the streetlights, dark hair slicked back and covered in hair gel that made the shiny strands stay in place. it suited him well, although you were used to seeing him with a bit more unruly hair. but it matched his thin face, vibrant ebony eyes, thin, slightly pursed mouth. and oh, of course... the nose. the fucking charming nose. better in person. so much better.

‘’hello you.’’ he greeted you as soon as his eyes met your figure not so far from him. ‘’hope i didn't make you wait too long.’’

‘’you're here.’’ you said almost in a whisper while you put your cell phone back in your purse. you're acting a bit awkwardly, but you couldn't help it.

‘’guess i am.’’ he chuckled, standing in front of you, not knowing exactly how to greet you. he didn't want to admit that he was also nervous to see you. ‘’can i hug you?’’

‘’y-yes, of course.’’ you chuckled, watching him bend down just a little so he could hug you properly, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tight. you wrapped your arms around his neck, really sure that you would need to stand on your tiptoes if you wanted to be at his height.

‘’mhm, there we go. you smell so good.’’ he muttered, running his nose over your shoulder, not touching your neck. he didn't want to sound so invasive.

funny, because you've done so much over video call. and now you're here, acting awkwardly like two teenagers.

you smiled weakly. you already expected this compliment, yet you’re giggling internally. ‘‘do you like it?’’ you asked, not failing to notice that he also smelled good. something woody, accentuating the masculinity he exuded along with the freshness of the hair gel.

‘’yeah. all for me?’’ he said, taking one last deep breath before breaking the hug, letting you return to your normal posture. you chuckled, seeing him gesture with his finger for you to take a little turn. very shyly, you did so, eliciting a low whistle from him. ‘’hell, you're even better in person, i'm feeling spoiled already.’’

‘’i have to impress you, don't i?’’ you raised both eyebrows, your palms sweating as you clenched your hands against the strap of your purse.

‘’nah, that's my job. gotta impress you even more now.’’ he chuckled, putting his arm around your shoulder so you could head towards the entrance of the movie theater.

you looked over your shoulder, taking a look at the motorcycle. ‘’is that yours?’’ you pointed curiously.

‘’yep. all mine. did you like it?’’ he asked, following your gaze to the parked motorcycle. you nodded. ‘’good. i'll show you better later. if you want, i can even teach you how to drive it.’’

‘’oh, please, don't give me any ideas.’’ you chuckled, already picturing him teaching you everything, telling you the name of each component of the motorcycle, how to accelerate, or how to change gears. you could already see his big hands guiding yours on the motorcycle's handlebars.

‘’don't worry love, you'll be fine, i’ll show you everything you need to know.’’ he said, giving you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. ‘’so... do you know which movie you want to see?’’

you took a quick look at the catalog, seeing which movies were showing. none of them interested you visually speaking. you looked back at him. you didn't even need to say anything. after all, he wasn't interested in any movie either. deep down, you both knew that the movie would just be an excuse.

‘’it's ok. let's see this one.’’ he pointed to a random one, you didn't even have time to read the title because he was already holding your hand to go to the ticket office. there was no queue at all, so you didn't have to worry about that. ‘’good evening. i'll take two tickets for that movie over there.’’ he said to the clerk, who had a bored look on his face while he was fiddling with his cell phone.

you were already opening your purse to get your wallet when alex glanced at you, frowning immediately.

‘’what are you doing?’’ he asked, holding your wrist, making you stop and look at him.

‘’i'm going to…’’ you pointed to the ticket office. ‘’pay for my ticket.’’

he looked at you, almost dumbfounded. then, he laughed softly, shaking his head.

‘’none of that. leave it to me.’’ he said. you felt kind of stupid because he acted and said it like it was something unacceptable.

‘’alex, i'm used to paying for my ticket, it's ok…’’ you told him, not really caring, but he shook his head again. well, if you were stubborn, he made sure to be worse than you.

‘’used to it? damn, did those blokes made you pay for your ticket?’’ he asked, genuinely concerned, taking his wallet out of his front pocket.

you didn't answer. there was no need to answer since he was right. you had already lost count of how many bad dates you had been on and how many times you had had to pay for your ticket. it was ridiculous to think about it sometimes.

his frown softened as did his voice. ‘’not with me, hm? now be good and sit over there while i finish up here.’’ he said, letting go of your wrist and pointing to one of the cushioned chairs in the hall. ‘’do you want popcorn? soda?’’

‘’no, i'm good.’’ you answered.

‘’mints?’’ he pointed to the glass candy display. you nodded softly, deciding to accept at least a mint gum. you were already feeling weird enough for letting him pay for your ticket. it was unusual for you.

you made your way to one of the chairs, sitting there, crossing your leg while your purse rested on your lap. your phone vibrated again, and you already knew who it was.

‘’should i call the police?’’ your friend's message made you laugh softly, your fingers typing the reply quickly.

‘’you should call the fireman. god, you have no idea how hot he is.’’

she sent you a bunch of emojis, asking for more details. of course you could tell her enough, but not everything. and you wouldn't do it now.

you heard a whistle, seeing that alex was waiting for you with the two tickets in his hand. you stood up, putting your phone away and going to him. ‘’he said that the next session starts in ten minutes, we can get in there if we want.’’ he said, handing you the package with mints.

‘’good, we can find a good place to sit then.’’ you said, holding the packet of mints in your hand, not wanting to open it for now.

alex guided the way, his hand always holding yours as you made your way down the dark hallway to the dimly lit room, the large white screen seemed to hover over you as you climbed the carpeted stairs, being careful not to trip. he scanned the place, not that it was very crowded, just a few people spread out in different places in the seats. he wanted a spot that he knew no one would pay attention to you.

‘’there. sounds great?’’ he pointed to a spot in the first few chairs, right at the top. you nodded, following him until you reached the seats, he let you go first to sit in the chair on the left while he sat to your left. ‘’it's a good spot, hm?’’ he commented to you, taking a look from his point of view, seeing that it was hard for anyone to notice you there. you were sitting almost under the projector, so probably not even the projectionist would be able to see you there.

‘’mhmm, really good.’’ you said, opening the package of mints, putting one in your mouth, feeling the freshness invade your mouth almost instantly. ‘’want one?’’ you asked, handing the package to him.

he alternated his gaze between you and the package, your expecting eyes on him the whole time.

‘’yeah, but... i don't want any of those.’’ he answered and you already felt your throat close up a little. ‘’i want yours. can i have it?’’

fuck, that's it. it's your chance. don't fuck it up.

‘’yeah.’’ you answered, glancing at his arm passing over your shoulder. your stomach seemed to tie a double knot, your heart was beating so fast it felt like you were going to have a heart attack at any moment.

before your eyes could register, his lips touched yours tenderly, savoring the first contact as much as possible, like touching the grass after a rain on a calm afternoon, the smell of wet soil invading your lungs with force while you felt like a flower blooming on the first day of spring.

he was calm, but intense. you couldn't explain it, you could only feel every sensation he brought you with that simple kiss as he tried to taste your mouth when the tip of his tongue passed over your bottom lip. you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding when the kiss deepened, he explored the confines of your mouth as much as he could, swirling his tongue around yours, the mint candy passing from one mouth to the other in an almost frantic manner. his hand tightened on your shoulder, bringing you closer. you didn't even know what to do with your hands, keeping them gripping the arm of the seat.

you broke the kiss when you were forced to take a breath, panting softly, the candy had disappeared from your mouth, leaving only the slight burn of mint on your taste buds. but still, the taste of his kiss prevailed.

‘’wow.’’ he was the first to break the silence, running his thumb over your bottom lip, cleaning the trace of saliva from there. ‘’i think i accidentally swallowed the candy.’’

you chuckled, not really caring about it, your mind in a spiral, his kiss fresh on your lips like fresh paint. ‘’there's more here if you want it.’’ you replied, watching him shake his head slightly, his eyes drinking in your almost silhouette in the low light of the movie theater, he heard murmurs around, but nothing that took his attention away from you.

‘’maybe later, love. it was just an excuse for me to be able to kiss you.’’ he whispered, pecking your lips, making you practically beg for more as you tilted your head towards him, searching for his lips like a magnet. he let out a small chuckle. ‘’did you like it that much?’’

‘’you're a good kisser.’’ you admitted quietly. he really was a good kisser. you didn't know if it was because of your bad kissing history, but you also didn't want to burn your neurons thinking about it. you wanted his kiss again. and again. and again.

and he would be more than happy to give it to you.

he kissed you again, his lips searching for the perfect rhythm, still trying to fit together as precisely as a jigsaw puzzle. his breathing was heavy, the air exhaled through his nose and hit your cheek, the texture of his wet lips against yours brought you the feeling of being completely ecstatic as he moved his tongue, as if he was inviting yours to a slow dance.

his right hand passed over yours, his thumb lightly caressing your knuckles and fingers, sliding over the silver ring you had on your middle finger. you sighed softly when the hand that was on top of yours rested on your bare knee. before you could break the kiss again due to lack of air, a loud noise echoed through the speakers spread throughout the movie theater, startling both of you. oh, damn trailers.

‘’you good?’’ he asked, merely amused that you were startled by it, both of his hands rubbing your shoulder and knee simultaneously.

‘’yeah, just... unexpected.’’ you chuckled, feeling his lips pressing a small kiss on your forehead, giving you time to recover and maybe get in the mood again as the trailers played on the huge screen.

you felt comfortable enough to lay your head on his shoulder, the strands of your hair tickling his nose as he turned his face to place a tender kiss on the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment, inhaling the scent of your shampoo on your soft locks, almost burying his face there.

‘’i love how you smell. really.’’ he said softly, as if he was admitting more to himself than to you. he couldn't help it, as if everything inside him was succumbing to you. he didn't expect this on a first date, but he wasn't trying hard to stop it either.

‘’hm?’’ you asked, moving your head so you could look at him, waiting for him to repeat himself because you really hadn't heard, the sound of the voices from the movie forced him to speak louder or get closer to your ear.

but he didn't answer you. he kissed you instead, feeling the sweetness of your lips pressed against his. this almost made him groan, his desire increasing with each caress exchanged, with each miserable sigh you let out. the hand that was on your knee went up to your thigh, feeling more precisely how soft your skin was. the feeling stretched the smile on his lips.

‘’just the way i imagined. god, you have no idea how much i wanted to touch you like this. how much i craved this...’’ he whispered between your lips, feeling your warm breath hitting his lips. you were already numb, if you weren't sitting down, you were definitely on the floor, your senses seemed to be reduced to dust at this moment. ‘’so soft…’’ he whispered again, sinking his fingers into the warm flesh of your thigh, threatening to advance under your dress.

‘’alex…’’ you whispered back, your voice a mix of desire and nervousness. and as always, he knew it.

‘’is it okay if i touch you?’’ he asked, his head tilted back so he could look you in the eyes, seeking the assurance that it would be okay if he continued. you nodded, your desire speaking louder than any other insecurity or fear. you mentally thanked yourself for having shaved during the shower. not that you were expecting it, but... well, you were.

he kept his face close to yours, watching every single expression as his hand inched closer, your heat radiating more and more as you bit your lip in anticipation and excitement. he palmed your core, raising his eyebrows in a slight surprise.

‘’fuck, baby. soaked already. i didn't even do anything.’’ he let out in a sly tone, his fingers collecting your wetness over your panties, almost making you whine. he was delicate, he wanted to discover everything about you little by little, despite having already seen your cunt on video call. but it was different in person.

he teased you over the thin and wet material, almost feeling your folds molding in the panties, sticking and soaking even more when he found your clit, the bud marking the spot for being so swollen and needy.

instantly, it was like a switch had turned in his head. he didn't want to touch you anymore. he wanted to taste you. eat you. devour you.

you watched as he got on his knees on the carpeted floor, crawling that narrow and tight hallway just to stand in front of you. you widen your eyes a bit, getting a little alarmed by the idea.

‘’what are you going to do?’’

‘’gonna eat you out, babe. no one will see me, i promise. only you.’’ he answered, his hands going to your knees, looking up at you. your face was lit only by the movie screen, the flashes illuminating your insecure expressions more and more. ‘’need to taste you, please.’’

please. again.

your hands itched. you wanted this so much, so much. but you were also scared, a huge impasse. a voice in your head told you to go and another told you not to go. but oh, those big puppy eyes looking up at you was your undoing.

‘’okay.’’ you agreed, lifting your hips so he could take off your panties, each act increased the flow of adrenaline running through your veins, your body heated up as well as the rest of your organism as he held your knees, spreading your legs for him.

he held your panties, his fist closing around the lace, feeling the gluey wetness against his palm, making his cock twitch inside his jeans. he was hungry. so hungry for you.

‘’closer.’’ he urged, pulling your hips, leaving your ass almost off the chair, your body in a position almost lying on the armchair, your eyes wandering around before returning to him, his breath creeping up on your thigh. ‘’that's it, baby. you okay?’’ he asked, wanting one last confirmation that everything was okay with you before he continued.

‘’mhm... taste me, al. please.’’ you whispered to him, lust filled eyes looking down at him in a silent plea.

and nothing else was needed. no words, no encouragement. it was like the starting gun for alex to just bury his face between your legs, his greedy tongue sliding along your vulva, from bottom to top, collecting your juices. it was like he was tasting a drink for the first time. but it wasn't like he was eating pussy for the first time. but it was your pussy. it was different. he didn't know exactly what it was, but it was different, it made him want to get drunk, to drown in your ocean.

‘’my god, so fucking good…’’ he mumbled against your folds, moving his lips up to suck your clit, sucking so hard that you closed your legs around his head with equal force, your hands gripped the armrest of the seats until the blood stopped circulating in your hands, turning it white. “sorry, did i hurt you?” he paused, looking up at you.

“n-no, you were just... hasty.” you replied after blinking a few times, loosening the grip of your legs around his head, feeling the soft touch of his hands on your inner thighs, pushing your legs apart again, keeping his hands there to hold you in case you close them again.

“sorry. gonna take it slow for you, honey.” he apologized, feeling a little guilty for having done that on the first contact.

but it was a little difficult for him to control himself. since he saw you last time, he had lost count of how many times he fucked his own fist imagining himself like that, rubbing his face in your pussy, sucking, licking, biting, touching every single inch of that area. it was like a personal achievement.

now, he knew he needed to take it slow. he wanted to make it good for you, to make you whimper his name and reduce you to a mess in that seat. he looked up at you, taking the sight of your scrunched face, your eyes leaving his to look around, making sure no one was looking.

god, he had such a good tongue. you were already sure of that when he kissed you, but you really weren't expecting it to be even better as he lapped your folds calmly, but with that hint of hunger deep down. he mumbled something that you didn't even hear or try to understand, your head falling back slightly, your saliva running down your throat with difficulty. then, he tapped your thigh, catching your attention.

“can you do me a favor, love?” he asked, taking a breath that he didn't even know he needed, his lips were already starting to get swollen. “give me a mint.” he pointed to the package next to you. you looked back at him, deciphering what he was thinking of doing. “you'll like it, trust me.”

and you trusted him.

you took a candy from the package carefully, the green tiny ball stayed in the palm of your hand until you brought it to your mouth. he hummed in gratitude, feeling the freshness mixing with the taste of your pussy on his tongue.

you felt your heart pounding against your chest, your face boiling red. he was no different, and for him it was a little worse, because he already felt that familiar feeling in the lower region, his jeans getting tighter at every moment. he wanted to release, he needed it. but he wanted to take care of you first.

his tongue meets your meaty slimy folds once again, you gasped when you felt it burn a little, but not in a bad way. it was a cooling burn, like an ice cube sliding up and down your pussy, making the mint press on your clit while he slobbered on your cunt like a starving man.

“good?” he muttered to you, looking up. you were a mess, shaking and squirming at his ministrations.

“s-so good, please… more.” you babbled as he gave a smirk at your answer. his thumb moved to press on your clit, feeling it pulsing, craving, almost screaming his name.

“i'm gonna ruin it.” you whispered, afraid that you would mess up his perfectly slicked back hair.

“gonna give you more, baby. your pussy is so delicious, holy shit.” his filthy mouth only sent shivers down your spine, the freshness and the eager way he eats you out made you see stars before your eyes, little twinkling dots as you felt a knot forming at the pit of your belly. you trembled, your hands gripping the arms of the seat, needing to ground yourself. “my hair, sweetie. you can grab it.” he hummed, holding your wrists, bringing your hands to his hair, the hair gel felt cool in your palms.

“i don't fucking care. make a mess, babe.” his voice sounded almost harsh as his hands returned to your plushy thighs, his sloppy tongue moving across your labia and clit, making your cunt pulse in an overwhelming rhythm.

it all seemed too much for you. the adrenaline, the hunger, the filthy words infesting your mind. your eyes rolled back as you gripped his greasy hair, a few strands falling down his sweaty forehead. you couldn't hold on for any longer.

“al, 'm gonna cum…” you choked as your hips bucked, almost like you're trying to run away from his mouth.

“fuck yes, come on my mouth, please, please…” he grunted, your words settling in his mind like a command. he grabbed your hips roughly, keeping you in place, his rolling tongue snaking through your folds and teasing your gaping entrance before your entire body shook, your back arching in the chair in an erotic way as your thighs clamped shut as you trembled, milking on his tongue.

you gasped for air, your fingers still clenching in his hair as he drank every last drop of your release, sucking it all in like he was a vacuum cleaner until he lifted his head again, his mouth coated and glistening, totally covered in you.

“fuck, i can't explain…” he breathed out. he almost came in his pants at that, as embarrassing as it was for him to admit. he wouldn't even dare palm himself now, any touch now would be dangerous and he would have a lot of work to clean it up later. “so fucking good, i swear. god, it was better than i imagined.”

you let out a breathless laugh, taking the sight of him on his knees, his forehead resting on your knee for a second as he caught his breath.

“i need to fuck you.”

a fierce blush spread over your cheeks at his words. you were never the type of person to have sex on the first date. but no, you weren't going to deny it. not when you wanted it as much as he did. not when he was different.

“and i need you to fuck me.”

the movie theater was behind you as your hurried footsteps made your way outside. your heart was beating as fast as your steps, you were even walking faster than him, his hand holding yours while the other hand still held your panties inside his closed fist. yeah, you didn't even bother to put it on. it’s not like you're going to need it now.

“motel?” he asked you. you shook your head. your adventurous spirit was at its peak now, and besides... you trusted him, but not enough to let him take you to a motel.

“no, i was thinking about…” you said, stopping when you got close to his motorcycle. at this point, it was the only motorcycle parked there, and there were only three other cars there, all considerably far from where you were.

“here?” he asked you, raising his eyebrows. he looked around. it was a quiet spot. it wasn't as well lit as the rest of that almost deserted parking lot. ‘’on my bike?’’ he asked again as he saw you leaning to support your weight a little on the leather seat. you swallowed a little, not knowing if he thought it was a good idea. or if he wouldn't like it.

‘’we don't have to…’’

‘’i want to.’’ alex approached you, putting his helmet on the ground near the front wheel of the bike and you did the same with your purse. he caged you between his body and the motorcycle, his arms on either side of your body, the heat of his body transmitting to yours. ‘’i just think you deserve to be fucked in a bed.’’

again, his words seemed to light a flame inside you. ‘’we can leave it for next time. i really like your bike.’’ you giggled, feeling his nose touching your cheek as he kissed your jaw. he smiled against your skin. you’re already thinking about the next time.

‘’course you did, huh? alright then. gonna fuck you from behind, what do you think?’’ he suggested, making you spin on your heels, your lower belly touching the leather seat, feeling his hard cock almost poking your ass if it weren't for the layers of clothes getting in the way. you could feel how thick he is. just like in the photos and videos.

alex didn't want to waste time. he handed you your panties so you could hold them yourself, soon having his hands free to unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper of his jeans, putting his hand inside his boxers to take out his pulsing and aching length of that tightness that felt like a prison.

he pumped his cock a few times while his other hand was lost inside his pants pocket, taking his wallet to take out a condom from inside.

‘’i can't see a damn thing.’’ he complained softly, searching for the foil package in the compartments of his wallet, finally finding it after a thorough search, ripping the packaging with his teeth and rolling it on his cock. ‘’you good?'' he asked, kissing your bare shoulder, his body molding against yours like a lego piece fitting together.

‘’mhmm, can't wait…’’ you nodded eagerly, bending your body a bit more on the motorcycle, feeling him lift the hem of your dress a bit, almost twisting the fabric as he closed his fist against it to keep it above your tailbone.

‘’such a greedy girl, huh? all shy when you saw me and now you're practically begging me to fuck you on top of my motorcycle.’’ he teased you, sliding his already condom-covered cock through your sticky folds before lining his fat tip at your entrance. ‘’are you a virgin?’’

‘’no.’’ you answered without having to think much.

‘’good.’’ he replied. not that he would have a problem if you were, but he felt like he would have to be a lot more careful. and that it should preferably be in a bed and not on top of a motorcycle.

god, you both were on fire. all the video calls, all the times he masturbated in front of the camera for you, all the nights he daydreamed about you, none of it came close to this moment. he have you, all of you, including your pussy, all to himself so he could fuck you senseless.

his tip slowly nudged and stretched you, an almost pathetic moan dared to escape your lips as you balanced yourself, letting your weight fall on the bike. he almost let a whine escape as he felt the warmth of your pussy. god, he couldn't even measure how much he wanted this, how much he had desired this since the moment he saw you.

‘’ready?’’ he asked one last time, his breath threatening to fail, his cock was already aligned, he just needed to push, your pussy was so wet from your own wetness and his spit from earlier.

‘’please…’’ you whined, looking at him over your shoulder, feeling his hand go to your waist to squeeze and bring some stability to him.

so, he didn't hold back. alex tortuously stretched your cunt as he began thrusting deliciously slowly, his bulky cock pushing past your tight gummy walls until he bottomed out.

‘’fuck.’’ he said between gritted teeth at the feeling of your pussy already clenching around him, so tightly that it was almost hard to move. ‘’sure you’re not a virgin? so fucking tight.’’

you could chuckle at his words if you weren’t trying to get used to him. ‘’you're the one who's too much for me.’’ you replied. you weren't used to this. when you saw his cock on the screen of your laptop, you knew it was big, but you didn't know you'd have to work to accommodate it, you didn't know he'd stretch you so much.

‘’easy, baby. let me in.’’ he coaxed you. ‘’shit, you're so…’’ he grunted again, swallowing thickly. he didn't know if it was because he was really horny for that moment or if it was because you were really tight. maybe both.

your hands gripped the leather of the seat, your palms sweating more as you tried to relax for him, letting alex pump his cock in and out of you, your cunt swallowing and sucking him up, almost trapping him inside you.

‘’yeah, just like this, doing so good, let me fuck you good, hm?’’ he whispered in your ear, kissing your earlobe, starting to thrust at a gradually increasing pace. he released your dress, bringing his hand to your cheek, pinching it slightly, making your skin flush where he pinched.

‘’fuck, you feel so good, so thick…’’ you gasped, your eyes getting glassy because while it felt good, it was also too much for you. he smiled cockily at your praise, holding your chin with his thumb and index finger, making you turn your face so you could look at him.

‘’yeah, baby? do you like my cock? it's so much better in person, hm? you're sucking him whole already.’’ he mumbled, pounding into your pussy with purpose. your eyes closed shut, an almost pornographic moan escaping your lips.

alex could scold you not to moan so loud because they were in public, but fuck, he liked it. he loved watching you practically cry while he fucked you dumb like he hated you. he loved praise you. and you loved being praised. not by anyone, but by him.

this was definitely the most intense, rough and nasty sex you had ever experienced. and you didn't know how much you loved it until you felt his cock filling your warm and wet cunt, you didn't know if the squeaking sound was because of the bike rocking to your rhythm or if it was your pussy that was so wet it was starting to squish.

you whimpered when his hand wrapped around your throat, the cold metal of his ring pressed right into your windpipe making you want to cough amidst your moans. his belt buckle hit your thigh, the tingling sound echoing through your ears as he thrusted hard into you, your greedy pussy was already creaming him to the brim, his abs tensed with the familiar feeling of an approaching climax.

you started to feel that pressure building right below your belly button, your knees threatening to fail, and his grip tightened on your waist, keeping you up. alex angled his hips, hitting your spot right on target, making you mewl, closing your eyes shut. he watched your face, knowing he had hit it. so he did it again. and again. and again.

‘’gonna cum for me again?’’ he asked with a satisfied smile on his lips, seeing you nodding immediately. ‘’yeah?’’' and he hitted that spot again, rolling his hips, the soft skin of your ass slapping against his pelvis, you could feel that region of him more assertively, feeling that the area had been trimmed. no pubic hair. at least not now on this first date.

‘’gonna cum for you, al, i'm gonna-’’ you stammered, almost letting a bit of saliva escape your mouth. you were so fucked up in a literal way, you could barely remember where you were and what day it was.

you clenched hard around his cock, almost making him stop. he let out a whimper. oh god, a whimper. you've heard him moan before, but they were rough, throaty moans. it was a whimper, a plea, a sign that he was getting sensitive and that he would cum at any moment, just waiting for you.

alex kissed your neck, doing his best not to leave visible marks on you, sinking inside you with lazy and sloppily thrusts, his fat tip hitting your cervix over and over again. your smell mixed with sweat felt like something heavenly, making him want to live in your skin, live inside you forever if it meant continuing to have this feeling.

your eyes rolled as you felt your orgasm hitting you like a bullet. your toes curled, your legs closed and your knees gave out as you whined, but he thrusted harder, forcing you to stand up again to finish, you squealed at how deliciously rough he was with you.

‘’wish i could fill you up with my cum, baby.’’ he groaned, his words already tying his own mind in knots, a chill ran through his body like electricity at the thought of filling you with his cum, marking you with it to the brim, and that was enough for him to cum, his hot cum shooting up your walls, being contained by the condom. you felt everything heat up even more inside you. ‘’mmm fucking hell…’’ he exhaled, his body stopping completely when he felt there was nothing left to come out, he had already emptied himself completely inside you. or rather, the condom.

you were shaking, still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm, feeling him loosen his grip on your throat, his fingers running through your hair, removing some from your sweaty face.

‘’are you okay?’’ he asked, searching your face. you licked your puffy pouty lips, a fucked out expression plastered on your face as a low chuckle escaped.

‘’yeah. i just need some time.’’ you admitted. he hummed in agreement.

‘’i'm gonna pull out, okay?’’ he announced softly, his hand on your waist lightly caressing you with his thumb as he disconnected from you, you hissed at the feeling. your sore pussy was already used to him as if it no longer made sense not to feel him filling you anymore. ‘’there you go, babe.’’ he cooed, massaging your lower back as you took a breath and found the strength to stand up.

he discarded the used condom, his sensitive and sticky cock was already inside his boxers. you turned around to see him, he was a fucking sight to behold. he smiled at you, a fucked out expression was also tattooed on his face along with his messy hair.

‘’what?’’ he asked, buckling his belt again.

‘’you're so hot.’’ you said almost in a whisper.

‘’uh oh. you're flattering me already.’’ he chuckled, almost shy at your compliment, circling his arms around you, caressing your exhausted body. alex kissed the top of your head, acting so delicate like he wasn’t fucking you like you’re a slut minutes ago. ‘’that was amazing, really. you are amazing.’’

you smiled, letting him spread sweet kisses over the top of your head. it wasn't like an aftercare in bed, with cuddles and a hot bath afterwards, but it was enough for you now. he was enough for you now.

‘’want some water?' i can buy some for us.’’ he asked you. you shook your head, even though your throat was dry now, you didn't want to bother him. he could sense it. ‘’you’re so stubborn.’’ he grumbled in a playful way, breaking the hug. ‘’be right back.’’

you laughed foolishly, watching him go back to the movie theater. you took the opportunity to put your panties back on, the lace panties were in your hand the whole time and you couldn't stay without your underwear all the time. alex came back with a bottle of cold water for you a few minutes later. you drank half of the bottle, leaving the other half for him. he let out a satisfied sigh when he finished, throwing the plastic bottle in the trash.

‘’can i take you home?’’

you thought about the offer. your parents couldn't even dream of seeing you arrive on a motorcycle owned by a 'stranger' but you also didn't want to turn down his ride.

‘’sure.’’ you smiled at him, accepting the ride. alex had an extra helmet that he kept under the seat of his motorcycle. not that he always took someone with him, it was more for occasional situations like this.

soon enough, you were on his bike, wrapping your arms around his waist. alex would sometimes accelerate exaggeratedly just to irritate you, your voice almost shrill amidst the frenzy of the streets telling him to slow down. he laughed and you laughed along, pinching his belly over the fabric of his shirt as you felt him speeding his bike through the streets. you loved the adrenaline, the wind cutting through your face partially covered by the helmet and the low sound of his laughter when you told him to slow down a little.

you had already hitched a ride on a motorcycle a few times, but now, somehow, it felt different. as if your body next to his warmed you up more than usual as you held on tight to him whenever he accelerated after the traffic light turned green.

and this heat got worse when you looked at him in the right rearview mirror, seeing that the helmet covered part of his face, leaving only his eyes focused on the traffic visible, his huge nose and a small part of his upper lip. you have to say that you had a certain kind of meltdown when he caught you looking at him by looking at your reflection in the mirror.

soon, he was parking his motorcycle next to your house, you asked him to drop you off a few houses earlier so as not to run any risks. deep down, you wished he would take longer to get there, but you didn't dare say it out loud as you handed the helmet back to him. there was still a hint of afterglow in the air as he put the helmet back in silence.

‘’so, did you like the movie?’’ he asked in a playful way. obviously he wasn't referring to the movie. you giggled.

‘’yeah. very much.’’ you smiled at him, feeling his arms back to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

‘’i loved it. i loved meeting you. you're so fucking prettier in person.’’ he said, taking in the sight of you under the amber streetlight.

he couldn't help but want to kiss you, making you have to tilt your face so your head wouldn't hit the visor of his helmet. you could taste yourself in his mouth, but you weren't the least bit worried about it, wanting to savor this moment before he left.

‘’i'll see you next week?’’ he asked after breaking the kiss, his face still close to yours.

‘’next week?’’ you asked, blinking a few times.

‘’yeah. there's going to be a get-together at the pub where i work next saturday.’’ he replied, making an informal invitation to you.

you needed to think a little. you didn't usually go to pubs, much less at night. you really needed to think before accepting. he smiled at you, pinching your cheek.

‘’don't worry, you'll have time to think. but the entrance is free.’’ he pecked your lips one last time. ‘’and i'll make sure to make the best margarita you've ever had in your life.’’

a/n: riiiiight. this is my first note here after post something, just a taglist for my babe 'cause she asked me to: @thenightslikeawhirlwind

(let me know if you want to be tagged too :3)

#doctor says #alex turner smut #alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x you #alex turner fanfiction #alex turner

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