#all references came from google again

[caramel-mocha-latte]

She can go from being your cute little buddy to (pretending to be) grumpy fairly quickly

[kaciidubs]

Pearl Necklace

❣ Summary: In which Chris gives you a personally made pearl necklace. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.2k ❣ Warnings: Smut, no plot, blowjob, cum play ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Baby, Channie, Lover Boy, Reader is referred to as Baby, Pretty, Princess, unedited, ive been so busy with life and stuck in a writing rut so please take this as an unnecessary apology ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“Baby…” 

Your dramatic drawl came with the equally dramatic act of draping yourself over Chris’s body, effectively gaining his attention from whatever video he was watching on his phone as he happily welcomed your weight sinking him further into the couch. 

“Can I ask you something?”

He laughed, tilting his head, “I’d be surprised if you did all that with the intention of not trying to get my attention - what’s up, baby?”

“Can you give me a pearl necklace?”

The twinkle in your eyes did nothing to explain away your sudden request - you weren’t the type to usually wear accessories as it was already, so the desire for a pearl necklace out of any other form of jewelry had him raising an eyebrow.

“Pearls? Like, pearl beads? I mean…” Glancing at his phone, he swiped at the screen to pull up Google, “We can look up some places that sell them if you really want it, I think I can find a few stores that-”

Your hand swiftly slipped his phone from his hold before locking it and stashing it near the couch pillow underneath his head, dismissing his growing confusion with a charming smile.

“Actually, I was thinking that we could make it together.”

“Oh?” 

Do-it-yourself, of course - he loved when you had little projects you wanted to include him in, even if the outcome sometimes didn’t go to plan, it was the quality time that mattered the most.

“Sure, I’m down for that,” he sat up while you rose to sit in his lap properly, his hands resting on your bare thighs, “did you buy the stuff already? Do we need to go shopping?”

You shook your head, pink tongue peeking out to wet your lips, “Nope, everything we’d need is right here.”

A devilish swivel of your hips, loose pajama shorts almost becoming an invisible barrier against his worn basketball shorts, and his confusion spiked up once again.

“Pretty, what- Wait a second-” Hands gripping the width of your hips, he tried to will away the near instant reaction his body always had when it came to you, “What’s going on? I thought you wanted to make a necklace-”

“I do.”

Normally, your nod of agreement would’ve been enough to clear the air, but when you pulled your oversized t-shirt up and off of your body, the layers only deepened.

“So why are you taking off your clothes? Not- Not that I’m complaining, I just…” His train of thought began to trail off with the drifting of his eyes down your neck, following the contours of your collarbones to the swells of your chest he’d been acquainted with time and time again. “Are we actually making a necklace here or…?”

“We are,” leaning forward, you placed a featherlight kiss to his pouty lips, “we just need to do a few extra steps first.”

Chris designed a few pieces of jewelry in his lifetime, and though he wouldn’t say he’s an expert when it came to the actual crafting of the pieces, he’d be inclined to assume that the process of making a necklace didn’t involve his girlfriend on her knees, giving him the best head of his life - granted, he always considered everything she did for him as the best in his life, but his point still stood.

“Fuck… Just like that, baby- Oh, god-” His head fell against the back of the couch, a shiver running down his spine when he felt the tip press against the back of your throat again. “‘S so good, baby - you’re so fucking good, pretty girl.”

You hummed around his length, hollowing your cheeks as you slowly pulled off of him with a wet pop - lips glistening in a mixture of saliva and precum that put any form of lipgloss to shame.

“Just ‘good’, Channie?” Voice laced with teasing allure, you held the base of his cock as you laved your tongue along one of his balls, sucking at the skin and smirking at the kick of his leg in response.

He choked on a moan, one hand gripping the edge of the couch cushion while the other ran through his hair “Baby, please - I can’t- fuck- can’t really think while you’re doing this!”

Giving his other ball the similar treatment, you littered open mouthed kisses along the underside of his cock, “Mm… Can you look at me then, lover boy?”

To be honest, he wasn’t even sure when he had closed his eyes to begin with, but lifting his head and directing his full attention to you made him realize why keeping them closed was working in his favor.

Hypnotizing sultry gaze behind lidded eyes, your lips resting perfectly against his shaft as your hand gripped the base of his dick with practiced perfection - if he even dared to look any further then he’d see the utterly filthy line of saliva coating your chin, or the way your free hand was making itself busy between your legs.

The twitch of his dick was all you needed to feel to know that you had him right where you wanted him, a satisfied smile curving the corners of your lips as you pumped your fist.

“Ready to make that necklace for me?”

His breath hitched, lips parting to let out a shivering moan as he frantically nodded, “Y-Yeah- Shit, yeah - gonna make you look so pretty, princess.”

Your eyes sparkled, a giddy expression almost overtaking the utter lust exuding from you as you doubled your efforts with your hand - the wet, slick sound floating through the air while you jerked him off.

Chris fought the roll of his eyes as he focused on your goal-driven face, bucking into the drag of your palm as if he were truly fucking you, until the pressure in his abdomen became too much to bear.

“I’m gonna come, baby- Oh, god, yes- Y-Yeah, yeah-” His hand flew from the couch and wrapped around your own, angling his dick toward your chest with panted breaths, “I-I’m coming - I’m coming, f-fuck-”

The first splatter of cum landed directly on your neck, dripping its way toward your clavicle and between your breasts. Tilting your head back just a bit, you felt the warmth of his cum land around the curve of your neck, painting a shaky line of white against your skin with each shivering pass of your combined hands.

He let out a strained grunt as the last few drops dotted your cleavage, using your hand to thoroughly milk himself of the final remains before effectively melting into the couch with a worn sigh.

“So…” Giggling, you dropped your chin to get a better look at your exhausted boyfriend, “How do I look?”

Looking down, he noted the way his release seemed to follow the downward curve before either spilling down your collarbones or further filling out the line down your clavicle, adding a sort of teardrop design to your necklace.

“Honestly?” A breathless giggle escaped him as he reached his non-soiled hand out toward his phone, “How about I take a picture to show you, then we can work on adding some accessories to go with it.”

Safe to say, this wouldn’t be the last pearl necklace you’d receive from him.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @zaethefangirl, @chxnb97, @4-chan-inpadella

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE NEVER BEFORE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: your patience is thinning. despite having a conversation with dazai and being led to believe everything is okay, he's suddenly avoiding you again. luckily, or maybe unluckily, his hand is forced when he realizes that you're not waiting for him this time. whether he likes it or not, this confrontation is happening—except you slowly realize as it goes on that dazai's definition of intimacy is dreadfully different from yours.

{wordcount: 10.4k; ņsfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, i wouldn't say this is angst but it does deal with some references to heavy topics; jealous!dazai, depictions of dissociation (dazai), dazai's on the brink of a mental breakdown for a bit in the beginning, references to abuse (dazai. no actual depictions), references to dubcon (dazai. no actual depictions), dazai is wildly intelligent but not so much when it comes to sex & other forms of intimacy (he is quite uneducated in fact), slight oral (male rec), unprotected sex, sub!dazai, dazai and reader argue for a bit (he calls her a whore - doesn't mean it but still says it)}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 😒i hope you guys know im sitting here glaring at my computer because i did not want to post this fic. it's been sitting in my google drive for like AGES and im literally having to physically force myself into formatting this post because i wanted to keep it hoarded forever. anyway, read the warnings for this one pretty pls, this fic is a bit loaded—not exactly angst, but it references some heavy topics. let me know if any warnings are missing as always!

“I’m so sick and tired of him.”

You listen as Chuuya lets out another heavy sigh next to you, pointedly taking a sip of his wine, but you don’t even bother to glance at him as you glare down at your phone. Left on read, again, Dazai ignores your message asking him to meet you and Chuuya at the bar. You slam your phone down on the dark wood of the bar top before reaching for your own glass, taking a large gulp of it before opening your mouth to continue complaining, much to Chuuya’s displeasure.

“I thought things would be different after we talked. He moved back into my apartment but he’s still avoiding me like the fucking plague. I mean Christ, I broke up with my boyfriend, came crawling back to him because I knew he was pissed even though he’d rather kill himself—literally—than admit he likes me. Why the fuck can’t he even given an inch? Meet me halfway?” 

“Because he’s Dazai,” Chuuya says dryly. “What did you expect from him, honestly? … And we all know you weren’t going to stick with that civilian.”

“Oh, shut up,” you tell him bitterly. “That’s not the point. The point is I did, and I went right to him, and we talked, and he acted like everything was fine, and now he’s pulling this shit. How is he going to live in my fucking apartment and avoid me at every corner? And whenever I do manage to catch him, he makes up some bullshit excuse about a mission I know he doesn’t have and disappears.”

You lean back in your chair, brows furrowed and fingers curled around your glass. By now, all of the people that had been sitting near the two of you at the bar have dispersed to the dancefloor—if your arrival with Chuuya hadn’t been enough to send them scattering, your foul mood was more than enough to make them give you a wide berth.

“I’m frustrated,” you finally hiss. “I’m just frustrated, am I allowed to be frustrated, Chuuya?”

Chuuya side-eyes you. “Stop fuckin’ complaining to me about it and do something about it, jeez,” he says, hand sliding into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he fumbles for a lighter to light it.

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” you ask, becoming increasingly more irritated as you pull out your own lighter to light it for him. “I tried talking to him, now he’s ignoring me.”

Chuuya has the audacity to roll his eyes, looking at you with an unimpressed expression that makes you want to pluck his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on his skin. As if he can hear your thoughts, he leans back, giving you a suspicious look.

“I’m not talking about that shithead,” Chuuya drawls. “If you’re so frustrated, go find some sorry bastard to fuck it out of you. We both know that’s all it takes to get you to settle down.”

“Fuck you,” you say instantly, not appreciating how he acts like you’re a nympho. But already, your gaze is carding across the room, trying to see if someone catches your eye. When you find yourself disappointed, you look back at him and ask, “You offering yourself up?”

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Fuck no,” he tells you instantly. “No way. Don’t even say that shit to me.”

You’re almost offended, squinting at him and leaning back in your seat. “Why not? Like old times. You know what I like, I know what you like, we can make a good night out of it,” you propose as you lean your elbow on the bartop and observe him.

“Because shitty Dazai will never let me hear the end of it if he finds out,” Chuuya says pointedly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Bastard is annoying as is, if he finds out I’ve slept with you? It’d be the end of the world.”

“You have slept with me though, Chuuya,” you taunt. “Who’s to say I won’t tell him anyway?”

You won’t, but you like the way Chuuya’s lip curls up in irritation around his cigarette.

“Go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll tell him all about that time in Osaka.”

You gasp, scandalized. “Chuuya,” you hiss. “You would not. You swore.”

“Try me,” Chuuya says, raising his eyebrows at you, looking all too smug as you flounder for a response.

Humbled, and a bit mortified, you return to looking around the club, lowering your standards this time. You spot a blonde standing in the corner of the club, eyes flitting around curiously as he observes the people on the dancefloor, and a redhead laughing wildly as she spins with a drink in hand, teetering off to the edge of the floor. You purse your lips.

“No one is catching my attention,” you complain, sinking back down in your seat.

You decidedly don’t like the smirk that edges onto his lips as he looks at you, and it’s for good reason, because the next words out of his mouth have your eye twitching: “You’re that down bad for him already? Jesus.”

“I am not,” you spit out, glaring at him before pointedly returning to your hunt, looking around more intensely this time. 

But even as you do that, you start to wonder if that’s why no one is standing out to you tonight. How the fuck is anyone supposed to compare to Dazai Osamu? The thought is ridiculous—you don’t want to tug at blonde hair to pull someone down into a kiss, you don’t want a head of tousled red locks buried between your thighs, there’s only one person you actually want in your bed and he’s been avoiding you since you talked things out with him.

You let out a heavy sigh, considering just admitting defeat, but then your eyes drift to a tall, dark haired man entering the club, making his way over to the bar; his hair is a bit too long and a bit too straight, and his eyes aren’t the right shade, but they’re sharp enough and you’re tipsy enough to willfully confuse them for the familiar brown you desire.

“Nevermind,” you breathe out. Chuuya doesn’t even spare you a goodbye as you slip from your seat to make your way over to the man, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. “I found someone.”

Chuuya was right.

You think maybe you should stop doubting him as much as you do. This is not the first time that you’ve fought him tooth and nail about something only for him to be proven right in the end. But you’re not going to tell him that because he has a big enough ego and you’re not going to feed into it.

Dealing with Dazai’s fickleness the past two weeks has been much easier now that you’re fucking out your frustrations with strangers as soon as he’s gone for the night on whatever mission Mori assigns him. You take his aloofness in stride, ignoring the way he blows you off and avoids you in your own home. You think it’s bothering him, actually, because now when you walk past him without a second glance, you can see the way he hesitates from the corner of your eye, an indecipherable expression crossing over his face.

Good, you think. You hope he feels like shit. 

You let out a soft breath as you tilt your head to the side, giving the man you’re with better access. From the corner of your eye, with the tousled brown hair, you can almost pretend it’s him, but you know it’s not. His hair isn’t as soft as Dazai’s, who all but hijacked your expensive shampoos and conditioners, and you can’t feel the bandages that should be tucked beneath the tufts of hair. Your mind starts to drift, comparing how you think Dazai’s touch would be to this man’s. When you first kissed him, he was unsure and hesitant, would he still be now? Or has he grown more confident? You think he must’ve, you’ve seen him with people during events, lips tilted up in a sensual smile, lashes fluttering as he leads them into one of the backrooms. 

Sick and unfair, you think to yourself bitterly.

You let out a heavy, disappointed sigh.

“You good?” the man asks—you don’t remember his name, you don’t even know if you cared to ask. His voice is distinctly different from Dazai’s low hum whenever he teases you, a total immersion-break from your desired reality.

You roll your eyes, irritated. “Don’t speak.”

The man lets out a noise of agreement, fingers biting a bit harder into your waist as he continues kissing down your neck. You don’t really mind, the sting is nice, just enough force to draw your mind away from Dazai. The sigh you let out is more pleased now, eyes slipping shut as his hands slide up your body, kisses trailing down your neck to your collarbone. His lips are too soft; Dazai’s are horribly chapped no matter how much chapstick you force on him.

Dazai is out on another “mission”. You don’t even know if it’s a real mission or if he’s just claiming it’s a mission so he doesn’t have to stick around the apartment while you’re there, lowering the chances of running into you. For all you know, he’s just going back to that shitty shipping container he spent a year in and hanging out there until you leave for one of your own missions or a meeting. He looked particularly sullen as he left earlier, casting looks back to where you’d disappeared into the kitchen, not realizing you could still see him before he finally left your apartment. 

He’s such a pain in the ass, you think, getting irate again as he drifts back into your thoughts. He makes everything so difficult, things would be so much easier he just admitted that he wanted to be with you. You really don’t know how much more of this back and forth, wishy-washy shit you can take from him. You care about Dazai. You do. Probably more than anyone else in your life and you’re sick of him taking it for granted. 

You hum in approval when the man lifts his hands to your button-up, hesitating as he waits for your consent, and your gaze flicks up to the ceiling as he continues kissing down the revealed skin; from the crook of your neck to your collarbone, between your breasts, he unbuttons all the way to your navel.

You find yourself a bit bored, counting the specks on the ceiling, taking note of the crack that you’re sure is somehow Dazai’s fault. You think there must only be two more buttons left for him to undo before you can slide the shirt off of your shoulders but you start to feel uncomfortable under his touch, you feel prickly and his lips trailing down your body makes your skin crawl.

“Off,” you finally say, voice sharp. You press your hand against his shoulder to push him off of you, sitting up straight to sit properly on the couch. You scowl as you fumble through your pants pockets to find a cigarette.

This is Dazai’s fault somehow.

“Did I do something wrong?” the man asks hesitantly, trying to shift closer to you again. “I-”

“No,” you say bluntly, lighting the cigarette and lifting it to your lips. “Get out of my apartment.”

The man hesitates, you can feel his eyes lingering on you and you’re becoming increasingly more irritated, shooting him a glare from the corner of your eye until he finally rises to his feet, buttoning his shirt as he makes his way over to the elevator. You slump back against the couch, sighing as you look up at the ceiling and take a long drag from your cigarette.

Dazai’s fault. As soon as he crossed your mind, your whole demeanor had changed and you try to convince yourself that it’s because you just don’t know what his issue is. You don’t know why he’s avoiding you, you don’t know what changed after you met with him at the bar; you thought things would be good between the two of you. You thought you’d be able to be with him now that nothing’s left in your way but evidently there still is something preventing the two of you from being together and it’s something that Dazai is not sharing with you.

Bastard, you think bitterly, about to pull out your phone to send Chuuya a very irritated and very foul message about Dazai but before you can, the elevator leading up to your floor bings and you look up to watch the man you’d invited over leave.

Except as the doors slide open, you realize that someone is already standing in there.

You sit up straight when you see Dazai standing in the elevator, black gaze trained right on the man leaving your apartment. His movements are almost robotic as he steps out of the elevator, his head twisting to follow the man as he steps in the elevator. He looks distinctly unnerved as Dazai’s soulless gaze tracking him until the elevator doors slide back shut.

It’s only then that Dazai only turns to look at you. His face is eerily void of emotion as he looks at you, gaze dipping down to your unbuttoned shirt and the light bruises blooming on your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, wondering if he’s going to say something, but he only stands there staring at you.

“I thought you had a mission,” you finally say, leaning forward to put your cigarette out on the ashtray on the coffee table to button up your shirt half way so you’re not nearly undressed. When you finish, you pick up your glass of wine and take a sip. “You’re back early.” 

“I finished early,” Dazai replies, monotonic. 

He doesn’t budge from where he’s standing, limbs stiff and face blank. You glance down, noticing that he’s holding something in his right hand—a bag, takeout, maybe? Looks like it’s from that place in Hodogaya-ku that you like. 

“What’s that?” you ask, nodding toward the bag. Dazai follows your gaze down to it, staring at it as if he doesn’t even know what it is. You frown, becoming a bit concerned as you rise to your feet. “Dazai, you good?”

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave the bag for a second; after what feels like an eternity, he finally looks back up at you but he doesn’t even seem to be looking at you, rather it feels like he’s looking through you like you’re not even there.

“I got food,” he says blankly.

Your eyes widen a bit, wondering if this is meant to be his apology for being an asshole the past few weeks. Dazai never apologizes—he disappears until he can act like nothing happened or he does something to make up for what he did, but he doesn’t ever acknowledge what he did. It’s frustrating, but you’ve gotten used to his quirks over the years. You’d been wondering why he seemed so melancholic before he left.

You nod at the spot next to you on the couch, accepting the apology and sitting back down. “I’ll put on a movie.”

Dazai looks at the spot like it’s been poisoned, expression finally twisting from the emptiness into one of disgust.

“What?” you demand, offended.

Dazai doesn’t even respond to you; you can only stare in disbelief as he turns on his heel and walks in the direction of the kitchen. You don’t budge for a second, staring in shock to where he disappeared to, but after a few moments, you force yourself up to your feet and follow after him.

Your mind races as you make your way down the short hall into the kitchen, standing in the door frame as you watch him put the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter, pulling the different containers out of the bag and then opening the fridge. His movements are stiff and abrupt, almost robotic, and your irritation slips away when you see the expression on his face.

Closed-off. Withdrawn. Very reminiscent of the look on his face from that time he came back to your apartment after a mission that went wrong post-Dragon’s head Conflict, right before he had his first breakdown in front of you. He’d been trying to hold it all back, desperate to not lose control in front of you, but it was to no avail because it only made it worse.

“Dazai, what’s wrong?” you ask carefully as he stuffs another container into the fridge, so roughly that the plastic almost snaps. “Dazai-”

“Nothing,” Dazai responds sharply, voice cold and cutting but the way he takes in a sharp, shaky breath betrays him. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing.”

“Okay, that’s a lie,” you say flatly, sighing to yourself. “Can you just-”

“You’re the liar,” Dazai cuts you off, voice shrill and defensive in a way you’ve never heard from him before. Something crosses his face: a weird mixture of panic, anger and distress, like he knows he’s losing control of his emotions but he can’t stop himself. You don’t usually have such a hard time reading Dazai—it’s difficult, yes, but not as impossible as it currently is. It’s stressing you out because you don’t know what’s wrong and he’s clearly working himself up more over it. “You’re the liar. You’re the liar.”

Your eye twitches. Three breaths in and three breaths out. Now’s really not the time for you to lose your temper on him considering he’s on the brink of a mental breakdown for whatever reason. But you’re pissed, you don’t know why he’s calling you a liar and you don’t know what is going on, and you don’t want to deal with this especially after he just spent weeks ignoring and avoiding you.

“What did I lie about, Dazai?” you ask tightly, nails digging into your palms as you wait for a response. “Please, enlighten me.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tightening as he resumes tossing the food into the fridge.

“Dazai, stop,” you tell him, taking a step forward when he finally gets to the bottom of the takeout bag and slams the fridge shut so hard that it rattles. He grabs the empty bag and is about to storm over to the garbage can but before he can, you reach forward and grab his wrist, stopping him. “Will you fucking talk to me?”

“Let go,” Dazai hisses, trying to rip his arm from your hold but your fingers are too tight around his wrist, his bandages rough against the pads of your fingers—you don’t know why he’s still using those old scratchy ones when you stocked up with the softer ones but it only serves to irritate you more because why are you going out of your way to do nice things for him if he’s just going to toss it to the side? “Let go of me.”

“Tell me what your issue is,” you demand. “I’m done playing games with you, Dazai. Grow the fuck up and communicate.”

Dazai’s eye is wide and wild, looking far too much like a cornered animal as he bares his teeth at you and tries to yank out of your hold on him again. “My issue is that you’re a whore,” he spits out. “Let go of me. Now.”

You let go of him.

Instantly, the anger in Dazai’s face fizzles away. His eye is just as wide but his expression is lax, lips parted as if he’s only now just registering what he said. And you know he regrets it, you know that Dazai lashes out when he feels cornered; he becomes cruel and vicious, desperate in his attempts to protect himself when he feels vulnerable and since Dazai is Dazai, he knows how to hurt people. Knows exactly where the chinks in your armor are, drives the dagger in deep and twists it.

But even knowing this, it still hurts hearing that from him of all people.

“Okay.”

Your voice is quiet, you don’t even waste a second before turning on your heel and leaving the kitchen.

“Wait,” Dazai calls after you, voice wavering. “Wait, I didn’t…”

He can’t even finish the sentence because Dazai is Dazai and he doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t admit his wrongs. Doesn’t admit that he lost control and said something he didn’t mean to say. Would rather preserve his false visage of control than do anything like that.

“Where are you going?” Dazai asks and you can hear him trailing after you, words drawn long and shaky. “Hey, wait-”

You don’t know where you’re going. Leaving your apartment, you think, considering your feet are moving right to the elevator, but once you leave the building? You’re not sure. Maybe you’ll head over to Chuuya’s and crash at his apartment for the night, maybe you’ll go get shit-faced at a bar. You don’t really care, you just don’t want to be anywhere near Dazai right now. He’s put you through enough the past few weeks for you to stand here and take this shit from him. 

“I don’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice cold and sharp. “Maybe I’ll go find that guy I kicked out and finish the job if I’m such a whore.”

Dazai inhales sharply from behind you. “What?” he breathes out. “No. No. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” you scoff, not even looking back at him. “Didn’t mean it? You can’t even bring yourself to say it, Dazai. Clearly you did.”

That’s not true, you know it’s only Dazai’s pride that prevents him from forcing those words out, but you know it makes him flinch and you know it makes him hesitate. You also know how to target chinks in armor.

“No,” Dazai tries again, more insistent this time. You can hear him speeding up behind you when he realizes you’re going for the elevator. “No, you don’t need to do that. I don’t-I don’t get you. I don’t get this. I don’t get any of this.”

He sounds confused, borderline distressed—you don’t even know what he’s talking about, what he’s so confused and distressed about. How could you? He never explains anything to you, never communicates.

“You don’t get what?” you demand, reaching out for the button of the elevator but Dazai lunges forward to grab your wrist before you can. You finally turn to look at him, catching the way his jaw is tight and the strange emotion swimming in his eye. “You don’t get what, Dazai? Spit it out.”

“Why are you still sleeping with other people?” he asks, voice hitching. “You have me. You don’t need anyone else.”

You can’t help yourself—you laugh in Dazai’s face.

“No way,” you say immediately.

You don’t mean it in the way it comes out. You know it comes out as if you’re saying you’d never sleep with him, but you’re more so saying no way because you can’t believe he has the audacity to say this to you after he just spent weeks avoiding and ignoring you. 

Is this what his issue is? He doesn’t know how to cope with emotions so he evades and lashes out and just expects you to stick around waiting until he grows up? Fuck him. You deserve better than that, you waited long enough, you thought you were done with these games with him.

You don’t miss the way Dazai’s expression crumbles at your words, the way he stares at you, lips parted in disbelief. You don’t correct yourself, a part of you is happy that you can get your own knife in even if you do know you’ll regret it later. 

“What do you mean no?” Dazai’s voice wobbles a bit before he takes half a step back. His fingers are weak around your wrist but he doesn’t let go, feels a lot like a child clinging to their parent’s shirt. “What-I-I’m here. You want it, you were just going to-”

Not that that’s even the issue anymore, but you’re definitely not in the mood now. Honestly, you just want to go to bed. Your head hurts and Dazai is stressing you out and pissing you off all at the same time, plus you have no interest in fucking him when he seems like he’s on the verge of a mental break anyway.

“No, I don’t. I changed my mind,” you say, frustrated. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai replies, voice pitched and tinged with something too close to desperation. “No. You want me and I’m here, so you should-”

God, what the fuck is your life? You’re so frustrated that you want to pull your hair out and scream at him.

“Enough, Dazai.” You raise your voice at him. “Enough. I don’t want you. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai insists and your eyes widen when you feel his grip tighten on your wrist.

“Daz-” You start to say but you can’t even finish his name, cut off by his other hand finding its way to your hip, pressing you back against the closed doors of the elevator as he dips his head down to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your protest before you can even get it out. 

You think absently that you were right earlier when you were letting your thoughts wander to what kissing Dazai would be like. He’s no longer unsure and hesitant with his touches, his lips slide against yours with the expertise of someone who’s spent a lifetime kissing. The hand on your hip slides up your body so that he can hold your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. And you shouldn’t be indulging this, you know that—Dazai pissed you off, he has some nerve calling you a whore and then whoring himself out to you—but his lips are intoxicating, you can hardly think straight with them pressed against yours. 

He has your right hand pinned to the metal behind you, fingers curled tight around your wrist as he holds you in place. The way he kisses you is familiar, almost, and your brows furrow as you try to figure out why until feel his fingers brush through your hair, slow and lingering, dizzying, right before his tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip—a pattern of actions that you usually take to make your partners more malleable. 

Did he teach himself this just by observing the way you act with people at events?

You don’t fall for your own tricks though, so instead, your free hand drops to his waist, fingers slipping through his belt loops as you press into him, pushing off the elevator to walk him backwards down the hall to his bedroom. He lets out a surprised noise in the back of his throat, letting you walk him back; his fingers fall from where they’d been around your wrist and you take the opportunity to hook yours around his other belt loop, keeping his body flush to yours until you have his back pressed against his bedroom door.

You notice, a bit absently, that Dazai is a lot more pliant now with you in control. His hands are loose at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them—much like when you shared his first kiss with him—and he still kisses you back, lips moving slowly against yours, but it’s not with the intensity he had when you were pinned to the elevator door.

Strange.

You think kissing Dazai is a lot like a drug, one that you got your first hit of two years ago when you offered to be his first kiss but then never had another chance to get another taste of. You were bitter when he first started following in yours and Chuuya’s footsteps in taking people to bed to unwittingly ease information out of them—you’d find yourself watching him like a hawk as he drew people into secluded corners, as he pressed his lips against theirs and let their hands explore his body. You’d hardly be able to draw your eyes away once, not until he eventually led them out of the area to a bedroom.

You hated it. Truly. You like to tell yourself that you’re not jealous but you know it’s a blatant lie. As much as people would sell their souls to spend a night with you, they’d be just as desperate for one with Dazai because Dazai is Dazai. He’s untouchable. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. The youngest executive in history. He can be smooth and charming, yes, and he’s undoubtedly handsome. But more than that, he’s dark and unfathomable in a way that piques peoples’ interest in a sick and perverted fashion—they want to know what he’s like behind closed doors, they’re terrified of him but they want him, be it because of morbid curiosity or sheer lust.

And you hated that other people got to be with him in ways you couldn’t. Your only consolation seems to be that he had his eyes on you as much as you had yours on him, seeing how he’s pretty much perfectly mimicking the way you kiss and touch people, but you don’t know if that’s just because he was trying to learn through observing you—as he does with everyone—or if he hated watching you with other people just as much-

Oh.

Oh, you’re so stupid.

“You were jealous,” you realize, understanding what had triggered Dazai’s meltdown with the takeout food and insults toward you. Dazai stiffens against the door and you take the opportunity to trail your lips from his down to his jaw. “You were jealous over the guy I had over.”

“No-”

“You were.” You don’t even let him finish the protest, nipping at the spot beneath his ear gently and watching how he shudders. “How cute.”

“It’s not cute.” Dazai bristles. “You-you weren’t supposed-you’re not supposed to keep seeing people. I thought you were done with that. I thought we were-”

“We were what?” you ask coolly. “You avoided me for weeks after we talked, Dazai. Whatever we may or may not have been after we talked at the bar, it’s nothing when you start actively ignoring me for weeks after that.”

“But-”

You’re getting irritated again. “Dazai, you ignored me for weeks. I was pissed off and frustrated. And when I’m pissed off and frustrated, if I don’t have some way to relieve my stress, I do something stupid. Something stupid like putting a bullet in you the next time you stepped into my apartment after actively going out of your way to avoid me.”

“I was going out to get food,” Dazai says sullenly as if you were supposed to know that. “So we could watch a movie.”

“Last I recall, telepathy isn’t exactly part of my ability, Dazai,” you say dryly, calming yourself down by leaning in to brush your lips against his again.

A drug, you think again as the anger melts away when you feel his breath hitch against your lips. You reach behind him to open his bedroom door, guiding him in as you kiss him slowly. He’s fumbling again, unsure what to do with his fingers, clumsily moving his lips against yours until the back of his knees hits the bed, and he goes flopping down back on it. 

You snort at the surprised look on his face, joining him on the bed as you straddle his hips. You hover over him for a second before leaning down to give him another chaste kiss, enjoying the way he tries to chase your lips when you pull away.

“Tell me why you were avoiding me,” you say quietly as you lift a hand to cup his cheek. 

A foul move, you know. Dazai is always weak to gentle touches as much as he tries to pretend otherwise. You’ve noticed it when you watch movies with him and when he curls into bed with you on nights he can’t sleep. Just as you expect, he leans into your touch, lashes fluttering.

“Dazai,” you urge, “tell me why. What did I do?”

You didn’t do anything, you think bitterly, but you figure taking responsibility will be the easiest way to get him talking. You’ll fight about it later.

Dazai, to your surprise, turns his face away from you and your touch, a faraway look in his eye as he stares at the wall.

“You didn’t do anything,” he says. “I just didn’t-”

He cuts himself as if he can’t even bring himself to say it, and you know you have to do something because he seems to be withdrawing even more into his own head, eyes growing more distant with each passing second. You turn his head so that he’s facing you again and you lean down to press your lips briefly against his.

“You didn’t what?” you ask him.

Dazai still looks like he doesn’t want to answer, conflict spreading across his face as he stares up at you before he sighs and averts his gaze. “I don’t understand any of this. I didn’t want to disappoint,” he says so quietly that you barely hear him.

Your brows furrow. 

“Disappoint?” you question, a bit baffled. Dazai has a complex about failure. You know that too, have known it since you were sixteen. He can’t handle it, nothing makes him spiral quite like the idea of failure—you and he are quite similar in that regard—but you don’t understand what he means in this context. “Disappoint with what?”

Dazai doesn’t answer, doesn’t meet your eyes either, and your mind races to figure out what he might be referring to. You recall how he became hesitant and unsure when you finally took control, fingers twitching at his sides, body pliant as you moved him around, almost like a doll for you to maneuver as you pleased.

“Disappoint with this?” you finally realize, watching as he grimaces, confirming your suspicions. Your chest drops. “You avoided me because… you didn’t want to have sex?”

That makes you feel a bit sick to your stomach because what does he think of you if he went to this length to avoid you just because… Dazai’s entire body jolts at your words as if realizing how they came across.

“No,” he pushes out instantly. His hands dart out to cling to your shirt as if he’s worried you’re going to leave. “No, no. I want to. I do. Not just this… just in general. Everything. Me… This is just one part of it… the easiest to make mistakes with. I don’t like making mistakes.”

It’s only mildly reassuring.

“Dazai…” You start to say, pulling away, but his hands dart up to grab your waist so he can hold you in place on top of him. You think maybe the two of you need to talk. Again. “I just, I don’t understand.”

“I want this,” he repeats again, hands sliding down from your waist to curl his fingers around the hem of your shirt. He sees that you’re not convinced by his words so he pushes out a “Please” that nearly stops you in your tracks because you don’t think Dazai Osamu has ever begged for anything in his life.

You lean down to press your lips against his again. You set the pace this time, lifting your hand to cup his cheek—you pull the same move that he tried with you, nails gently scraping his scalp as you brush your fingers through his hair. Dazai melts into it in a way that you didn’t, lashes fluttering and lips parting instinctively, letting you deepen the kiss. Dazai’s breath catches as you push your tongue into his mouth, shivering when you trace the back of his teeth. 

Too pliant. All of the confidence he had earlier when he had you pinned to the elevator is gone. His breath wavers against your lips, and his fingers tremble as he grips at the hem of your button-up. Not a firm grip like you’d have anticipated, with his fingers digging into the plush skin of your hips as he grinds you down on his cock; instead, his fingers are clinging to the fabric as if he’s too overwhelmed to even think of grabbing your body.

“Tell me what you like,” you say quietly, fingers still absently carding through his dark locks as you kiss down his neck. Your other hand slips beneath his dress shirt, smoothing out over the bandages wrapped around his torso. “I want to know, wanna make you feel good.”

Dazai’s lips part to respond to you, but the only thing that escapes them is a pitched gasp—high and cracking in desperation, grip on your shirt so tight that you think he might rip it. He’s already hard, can feel his cock straining against his black pants, pressed against your thigh.

“I don’t-” Dazai’s voice is ragged; he sounds overwhelmed, almost confused. “I don’t know.”

“Hm?” you prod, nipping his neck and relishing in the way his whole body shudders at the feeling. “C’mon, Dazai, you’ve done this before. Tell me what you like.”

His gasp is choked when your hand tightens on his slim waist, lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back. More pliant and more sensitive, you note curiously, kissing back up his neck to tug at his earlobe with your teeth, a shiver running down your spine at the broken moan Dazai lets out into your ear. He jolts, eyes widening and face flushing—he looks as if he’s startled himself by the noise that escaped his lips, and you start to become a bit suspicious.

“I don’t know,” he tells you, sounding confused and frustrated. “I don’t know. It’s never felt like this before. How are you doing that?”

You pause.

You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, pulling your face back from his ear to look at him carefully because why is he acting like he’s never done this before? You know he’s slept around a lot. He picked it up over half a year ago when he got tired of hearing you and Chuuya brag about how easy it is to get things out of people like this. Made a point of making sure you knew about it when you had your boyfriend.

It’s never felt like this before.

Your chest swirls, and you feel a bit disconcerted as his words finally process. It’s never felt like what? Dazai doesn’t know why you’ve stopped, you can feel him tugging at your shirt, hazy eyes trying to focus on you. You wonder if the gears in his head are turning, realizing something might be wrong but unable to pinpoint what.

You kiss him to distract him, deeper this time. You press his head back against the soft pillow, one hand sliding to cradle the back of it as you try to break all of the quick-moving cogs in his brain so you can think in peace, cursing the fact that his mind has always been quicker and sharper than yours.

Dazai is Dazai. He’s smooth, charming—when he wants to, he could seduce anyone into his bed. You’ve watched him do it at events, sidling up close and leaning in to speak to people, dark eye lidded and voice low, a slow smirk curling at his lip as he brushes his finger lightly against the target’s lower back before guiding them out of the room. Christ, he’s nearly flustered you on more than one account. You want to say that he’s not the same kid who was nervous to kiss you two years ago, but he clearly is with how he’s reacting to your kisses and touches right now. But he shouldn’t be—maybe it’s because it’s you he’s with, maybe he’s just nervous because it’s you and not some random person he’s seducing for information.

But that doesn't explain the comment. Doesn’t explain it’s never felt like this before. 

“Never felt like what?” you ask as you kiss the corner of his lips and down his jaw again, all the way to the line of bandages peeking out from his dress shirt. You undo the first few buttons, watching the way his chest rapidly rises and falls under your touch as you smooth your hands over his chest. “Hm?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Dazai says, voice cracking and another breathy sound spilling from his lips as you kiss the underside of his jaw. “It’s just-it’s usually just-it’s not this.”

That doesn’t help you at all, you think. You’re about to press, but your lips on his skin have evidently made Dazai’s lips looser than they typically are because you don’t even have to voice a clarifying question to get him talking again.

“The way you’re touching me. Kissing me. It’s not like this, doesn’t feel so good,” he continues and you can hear the whine building in the back of his throat as he speaks. “It’s just sex.”

You slide his button-up off of his shoulders, revealing his bandaged body to you. You don’t make any move to remove them, but now you stare down at him, a bit perplexed. “This is sex,” you say, voice a bit stunted because you didn’t expect him to say that.

“No,” Dazai says, seemingly equally perplexed by your words, drawn out of the haze of pleasure into a more confused state. “Sex is sex. It’s penetrative.” 

“... Sex isn’t just penetrative, Dazai,” you say, baffled. “This is sex. It’s foreplay.”

Dazai stares at you like he doesn’t even know what that word means.

Oh, you realize, heart sinking as you realize why Dazai is so thrown off by all of this. How has he had sex without foreplay? Sex without foreplay is… it’s boring, not enjoyable at all. More animalistic than anything, borderline painful half of the time. Is that what he’s been doing with all of the people he seduces for information? The thought is a bit jarring, but the more you think about it, the more you think it might make sense. 

Dazai is prodigious when he’s given something that he can study and mimic; can execute flawless imitations of the behaviors he’s trying to learn. He learned the art of leadership from observing Mori. The art of war from observing the Colonel’s operations before his death. Adaptability from observing Kouyou during missions. Business from observing Ace’s meetings and transactions. Seduction from observing you interacting with people during events. Dazai is as terrifying as he is because he’s a perfect amalgamation of the entire upper echelon’s best skill sets. He’s adopted Mori’s mannerisms, the Colonel's strategic capability, Kouyou’s ability to adapt to any situation, Ace’s shrewdness with yen, and your charisma. 

If there’s something he can observe, he can mirror it to near perfection.

So, is it really that surprising to you that the front he puts up during events is just an imitation of how you act with people? That it doesn’t translate behind closed doors? That he had nothing to study and nothing to mimic once seduction progressed to the bedroom, so he let whoever he was with take the lead to try to learn from them in the moment? 

That maybe someone would use his ignorance on the subject against him?

Dazai is Dazai, you think, for the fifth time tonight. He doesn’t watch porn, he doesn’t ask people for help, and this isn’t something Mori would have ever taught him—you know that better than anyone. Mori sheltered Dazai from everything, even tried to keep you away from him; he didn’t want anything or anyone to taint the control he had over his precious Demon Prodigy. While you and Chuuya have had the chance to live, experiencing life and the outside world, Dazai’s been stuck under the watchful eye of the boss, hardly ever out of arm’s reach, caged like a circus animal to be put on display whenever Mori sees fit.  

Of course, Dazai would only see it as another way to get the job done, disregarding his own comfort and pleasure—because when does Dazai Osamu ever care for his own comfort and pleasure? He lived in a fucking shipping container until you dragged him out of it. It’s not a thought that casually crosses his mind, and he wouldn’t think twice once he thinks he has an idea of what’s going on. He doesn’t see things the way you do, was never given the opportunity to understand, taught by Mori to see things as tools and means to an end, even himself.

Dazai can see your mind racing. You know he’s going to put together that something is wrong soon if you don’t move on from this. But it’s hard—it’s a bit fucking jarring to realize that Dazai’s so overwhelmed by your touch because every other time he’s had sex, he’s probably been uncomfortable or even in pain. 

You lean down to kiss him again, halting his thoughts. You place two chaste kisses on his lips, sucking his bottom lip gently before kissing his cheek down to his jaw.

“What all have you done with people?” you ask him, sitting back on his thighs, lacing your fingers with his as you look down at him.

Instantly, his face is on fire. “What does it matter?” he demands, but you can feel his fingers tightening around yours.

You roll your eyes at his obstinateness. “Humor me,” you say dryly. “Are you usually the one leading, or is your partner? Are you the one penetrating or-”

Dazai’s grip on your hands becomes almost painful, so you quiet down, giving him an amused look. Maybe it's an awkward subject, but you want to have a vague idea of what he’s been doing before you do anything.

“... partner is,” he finally tells you, hardly looking you in the eye. It’s kind of cute. “... and only when it’s a woman, but she still takes the lead.”

“Do you want to take the lead tonight?” you ask him, running your thumb over his knuckles to try to get him to loosen his grip. 

He does, but only barely.

“Not tonight,” he says after a few moments.

“Not tonight,” you agree. “Did you prefer topping or bottoming?” 

Dazai thinks for a moment and then says, “Topping. Bottoming was…”

You force yourself not to wince, suspicions confirmed by the way he trails off.

You hum, sliding your hands up and down his bandaged sides soothingly, enjoying the way he slowly relaxes beneath your touch. “That can feel good, too,” you tell him. “I can show you that one day if you’d like.”

Dazai’s brows furrow, pointedly looking down at your clothed lower half as if trying to see through them. Your lips quirk up as he says, “But you don’t have a-”

“There are ways to work around that,” you snort, hands finally resting at his hips, drawing circles over his protruding hip bones. 

“… Not tonight,” he finally repeats.

“Not tonight,” you agree again.

You lift your hands back to his cheeks, holding his face between them as you kiss him again. You kiss him deeper this time, rolling your hips against his to make his breath hitch. You drag the tip of your tongue against the roof of his mouth—he tastes like cigarettes and faintly of whiskey. Tastes familiar. Like home.

You think you could kiss Dazai forever and never find yourself sick of it. Kissing him is like a drug, you think again. Kissing him gives you butterflies in a way that you’ve only ever experienced with him when you were sixteen, and giving him his first kiss. 

Kissing him is like coming home after being away for years. 

He kisses you back clumsily, all of the finesse he had earlier in the night long gone. His teeth nearly knock against yours, it’s a bit too wet and a bit too messy, but you think it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. You smile against his lips before pulling away to kiss the corner of his lips, nipping his skin when he lets out a shaky breath against your ear.

Your hands slide down his body to the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping beneath before you look up at him questioningly. “Can I?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.

“How else are we going to do this?” Dazai counters petulantly.

Brat, you think to yourself, a bit fondly. Thoughts race through your mind but you push them away—maybe another night. You don’t respond to him, raising your eyebrows and waiting for a verbal response.

His cheeks dust pink as he says, “Yes.”

You work quickly to unbutton his pants, patting his thigh so he lifts his hips. You trail kisses down his bandaged chest as you slide off his pants. He’s very responsive to your touch, each kiss makes his breath stutter, you can feel it in the way his chest rises and falls and it only makes you want to watch him fall apart more.

“Are the bandages okay?” Dazai asks after a few moments when you kiss down to his navel. You look up at him, brows furrowed, catching the hesitant expression on his face, dark eye trained on you. “Do you want them off?”

“Do you want them off?” you throw back at him, squinting up at him.

Dazai stares at you for a moment before he shakes his head, a strange expression on his face—you wonder if he was worried you’d ask him to take them off, wonder if his other partners made comments about it, pushed him to remove them. 

You wonder if it’s part of the reason why he avoided you for so long: he wasn’t ready for you to see him without them but thought you would ask him to take them off.

You leave it at that though, returning to kissing down to his hip bone, nipping the skin there and watching how his body jerks a bit in surprise. You let out a puff of laughter against his skin before you ease his briefs off, freeing his cock from where it was straining against the cloth—the soft ones you’d bought him when you’d found his rough, tattered ones in your washing machine a few months after he first moved into your apartment. 

You don’t usually find cocks pretty—they all mostly look the same—but Dazai’s is. Long, not too thick, his tip is flushed a pretty pink color and a vein runs along the underside. He’s leaky too, precum drips down from his tip, right along that vein and you want to taste him, so you do.

You lean in to press your lips against his length, sucking gently on the vein before kissing up to his tip. A bit too salty for your taste, probably because of his shitty diet, but you don’t mind because the pitched moan that tumbles from his lips makes up for the taste entirely. You peek up, breath catching at the sight of his head tossed back against the pillow, swollen lips parted in a pretty moan and long lashes fluttering. He looks stunning, you wish you could take a picture—maybe another night.

You think all of his previous partners have severely missed out.

“Ah,” he gasps. “Shit, shit-”

Even with just your lips wrapped around his tip, you can feel Dazai’s cock twitching in your mouth—you wonder if he’s already on the edge. You can see the way his abdomen is spasming beneath the bandages, how his fingers are curling around the soft sheets beneath him. You don’t want him to finish yet, you want him inside you when he cums, so you only spare a few chaste kisses trailing up and down his length before sitting up straight again. 

Immediately, he tosses you an accusing look. Bottom lip pushed out, cheeks flushed the same pretty pink as his tip. “Why-”

You silence him by pressing your lips against his. This kiss is lewder than your last, you push the bit of precum you’d gathered on your tongue into his mouth as you unbutton your own slacks. He makes a noise into your mouth but you don’t pull away until you feel him swallow. You smile against his lips before you pull back to slip off your own pants, watching his face twist.

“Yuck,” he says, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Tastes bad.”

“Have been telling you to start eating more fruits and vegetables,” you tell him, flicking his thigh as you shimmy out of your slacks and toss them to the side. “You don’t listen.”

The smile he tosses up at you is familiar, a welcome change from the distress and confusion that’s been plaguing him most of the night. “You’ve been thinking about what my cum tastes like for that long? Pervert.”

“More like I’ve been thinking about how high your cholesterol must be with how much canned crab and buttered bread you eat,” you say dryly, returning to where you’d been straddling his waist.

You lift your hands up, beckoning him to take them. He does, reaching up to lace his fingers with yours. A smile curves at your lips as you lean over him, pinning his hands to the mattress on either side of his head as you kiss him again. 

Your chest feels light in a way that it hardly ever does when you’re fucking someone, fluttering in the same way it was when you first kissed him two years ago. Usually when you’re sleeping with someone, it’s all about keeping up appearances. Flirty, sensual, seductive, you’re always more focused on the task at hand than you are enjoying yourself, this is… different. You mean, it always feels good—you know how to make sure it feels good for you while getting the job done—but this…

Feels like home, you think again. Being with Dazai feels like home and it scares you a bit because he’s so flighty and unpredictable but you push away the fear to kiss him harder. You have him now, that’s what matters.

“I like canned crab and buttered bread.” Dazai pouts as he mumbles against your lips.

“Shut up,” you tell him.

You feel him smile and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say so you cut him off by reaching down to position his cock at your entrance. Instantly, he chokes over a moan and your lashes flutter, feeling him slide between your folds. 

Shit, you hadn’t even realized how wet you were, too caught up in trying to make sure Dazai was feeling good, but now with the feeling of the tip of his cock pressed against your clit and his length firm against your core, your abdomen feels all hot and tight, head fuzzy.

You keep your forehead pressed to his, noses nudging, sharing the same sliver of air as you roll your hips, letting out a soft moan against his lips when his tip presses against your hole. Each breath he lets out hitches into a soft whine at the end, a glassy look to his eye. You don’t sink down on him yet, feeling how his grip on your hands tightens, how his breath becomes shuddered and his gaze becomes lidded.

You wonder maybe if he can cum just from the feeling of his tip pushing inside you—maybe another night.

“Please,” he breathes out for the second time tonight and who are you to deny him?

You don’t kiss him as you sink down on his cock, eyes fluttering shut when you feel how his cock stretches your walls—you want to hear him, hear the way he gasps, the way his breath catches, you want to hear his moans and whimpers. He tries to chase your lips but you keep them just out of reach until he gives up, fingers tightening around yours and hips jerking up.

“‘s so tight,” Dazai gasps as you rock your hips slowly against his. “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” you press, breathless. 

You distract yourself from the rapidly spreading heat by kissing his neck, letting go of one of his hands to bring it to his cheek, watching as he instinctively leans into your touch, hardly able to hold his eye open. He presses a sloppy kiss to your palm, hand coming up to hold yours to his face.

“Yeah,” he says shakily, lashes drooping and lips parting in another silent moan. “Feels…”

“Feels what?” you ask him, kissing the other side of his neck before trailing wet kisses up to his opposite cheek, feeling him shudder as you tug his earlobe.

“Right,” Dazai tells you, dark eye glazed over as he looks at you, lips wet and swollen and so entirely kissable that you can’t help yourself from leaning down to steal another from him. “Feels right.”

You wonder if Dazai feels just as at home with you as you do with him and that thought is enough to make you rock your hips. 

The noise that Dazai lets out is obscene and pornographic, pitched and breathy. You can hardly appreciate the lewd expression on his face—his hair matted to his forehead, eyes half-rolled back and lips parted in a pretty ‘o’—because the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls nearly has you tumbling over the edge.

Shit, you think to yourself, desperately trying to rein in the rapidly building pleasure. Shit, what the fuck?

You never cum this quickly—usually you have to slip your hand between the sweat slicked bodies of you and your partner to rub circles around your clit so you can bring yourself over the edge at the same time as him. You don’t think you’ve ever come from penetration alone—but the stretch of Dazai’s cock, the feeling of his tip bullying deep into your cunt, the sound of skin on skin and his pretty moans, it all goes right to your head and to your pussy, the telltale signs of your thighs tensing and your abdomen tightening warning you that you’re close already.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, voice shaky. “You’re so…”

You don’t even know what you're trying to say, mind becoming increasingly more empty of thought as you rock your hips again, setting a steady pace. Dazai chokes over air beneath you, the hand still intertwined with yours squeezing hard while the other one drops from the hand you have on his face to claw the bed sheets.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his moans are becoming louder and lewder, the way his head falls to the side, face half pressed into the pillow, eyes knocked back, body arched. Dazai’s already so gone that you think any second he’ll cum deep inside of you and that thought alone makes your body shudder. 

You grab the hand clawing at the bed sheets, guiding it between your bodies as you bounce on his cock. You can feel his hazy gaze trying to figure out what you’re doing but you’re more focused on guiding his finger to rub circles around your clit.

As soon as the pressure is placed on the sensitive nub, your hips are stuttering and a gasp is tearing from your lips. Dazai’s choking when he feels your walls spasm around him, hips thrusting up erratically to meet each of your rocks, but he’s just barely coherent enough to keep his finger rubbing circles on your clit.

Your breath becomes heavy and shaky, the pace of your hips quickening, fire spreads through you so rapidly that it’s impossible to control.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp when you feel yourself tipping over the edge, eyes trying to focus on Dazai’s face and the sight you’re met with is enough to push you over the edge.

Dazai’s jaw is slack, drool pooling at the corner of his lips, the white of his eye just barely visible, cheeks flushed a deep red. He's babbling out incoherent words: you can just barely make out your name, s’good, too tight, too much, and I’m gonna-

And then you’re choking over your own moan when you feel Dazai finish inside of you, cum warm and heavy as he fucks it deep in your cunt. His lithe body trembles beneath you, tense and arched, holding your hand so tight that you think he might break it, and your vision goes white as you cum on his cock, mind blank when the taut cord snaps within you, nails digging into Dazai’s skin.

Dazai’s cock is still twitching inside of you when you slump onto his chest, tremors still spreading through his body. You tilt your head up to ghost your lips against his jaw before sliding off of him, laying on the bed next to him. You feel empty without him inside you but you distract yourself by lifting your hand to his cheek again, tilting it to the side and forcing him to look at you.

More emotion swims in Dazai’s eye than you’ve seen him express in the entire two years you’ve known him, he looks at you so reverently that you can almost imagine three words spilling from his lips, breathy and adoring. You know he won’t say them, but it’s a nice thought, you think. You lean in to ghost your lips against his briefly, the tips of your fingers carding through his dark curls. You want to say something but you don’t know what.

Well. You do know what but you can’t say it.

“You wanted me soooooo bad,” Dazai finally says, a bit more clarity returning to his eye as his lips curl up. “I knew it, you wanted me so bad.”

“You’re so annoying,” you tell him but your voice is fond and you can’t help yourself from shifting forward to press your lips against his. You feel him smile against your lips and that warm, fluttery feeling returns.

Home. 

“You love it,” Dazai sings, nipping your cheek. 

A bit longingly, you think, I do.

Instead, you roll on top of him to straddle his hips, pressing your lips against his again. 

“You wish.”

[wosofutbolfan]

When Somebody Loved Me (Everything Was Beautiful)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

A story of a lifetime spent growing together. To what end?

Songfic

WC: 17k. Check TW inside.

TW: Bullying based on disability. Death of a parent. Angst. Grief.

Hi Guys.

This has sat in my drafts for months and inside my head for even longer. There is no part 2 planned. This is angsty with fluffy moments. Be warned.

I think we can all agree the most heart wrenching media moment of all time is Toy Story 2 and the below song.

If you don't agree. Move along this is not for you.

Reader calls Alexia, Alex throughout this fic. That's based on this video. Cause I have never heard someone refer to that and I thought it was cute. Alexia refers to R as 'Conejito' as a literal translation of bunny - I have since realised there's a more vulgar translation of this which I'm ignoring. Ha.

Spoiler Alert - This story deals with the death of a parent. Which I went back and forth on writing. Something about it still feels ick to me because these are real people. I may delete. Everything within is based on my own experience of parental loss. And it comes from no place of malace or weirdness.

This also deals with a severe speech impediment - which again, I do not suffer from myself but have experience with and hope I have done the struggle justice for anyone who may suffer.

My spanish is google translate because I am an ignorant English speaker. Apologies.

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart

It was raining on the day that you met her.

That was strange. For Barcelona. The rain.

You found yourself where you usually could be found, to anyone who would take notice. Which wasn’t anyone to your knowledge except for a few observant teachers. In the art room, in the back corner, working relentlessly at an easel that your favourite teacher would set up for you.

You had transferred into the school part way through term, and for the first few days as with most schools you were the new and shiny thing. At 12 a lot of the kids in school had known each other since birth and you were new fresh blood to entertain them.

That didn’t last too long though when they realised you weren’t actually that interesting.

Shy and quiet as you always had been, you kept yourself to yourself. Its not that you didn’t want to make friends. You did. You so desperately did. But you just didn’t know how.

You had a stutter. That never helped. Kids could be cruel. And with the move from your hometown to Mollet for your mum's job it had only gotten worse. 

Words felt like lead in your mouth, your jaw felt tight and you struggled to get your words out. They stuck in your throat and refused to move from there. 

The teachers were kind. Your peers were not. Your speech therapist was helping. You spent more time than any 12 year old should thinking about sentence structure and breathing techniques.

You knew your parents worried about you. Waiting for you to get home from school every day with worried glances and eager smiles; “Did you make any friends today niña?” your dad would ask, pretending to be casual, flicking through some book or another. “Not today Papi.” You would reply, never wanting to lie to your family, before happily jumping the couch next to him and starting to scribble in your notebook.

“Maybe tomorrow niña. There is always tomorrow”.

Well. Turns out dads are clever.

Because there was always tomorrow. And on an unusually rainy day for Mollet tomorrow came.

“Putellas!! Get back here! Pute-...”

The door to the art room quickly opened and slammed closed. The noise jolts you out of your peaceful reverie. A tall brunette girl smashed her back against the door and a hand quickly flicked out to turn the lights off to the room.

She clearly hadn’t noticed you huddled in the corner as she slid down the door onto her butt. Closing her eyes she let out a deep sigh and rested her forehead on her knees.

You didn't know what to do.

You knew who she was. Of course you did. She was Alexia Putellas.

The Alexia Putellas. Futbol superstar. Well… the 12 year old playground version of that. The coolest girl in school. She oozes confidence. Was always surrounded by a gaggle of your peers. Never without a ball at her feet or in her hands. But she hadn’t noticed you. Arm still raised working on the canvas in front of you, vision now impeded by the dark she had forced onto the room by turning the light off. You froze. Mouth slightly agape and hand starting to sweat. You watched as she rocked her forehead side to side on her knees. Your arm became tired in its upright position and the noise of you plopping the brush back into the water jar seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. Her neck snapped up and you met her wide, hazel eyes that bore into you. “Oh! Lo siento, I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone else was in here.” She was met with silence. Your stutter affected you terribly on a good day. Nevermind your safehaven suddenly being invaded by the coolest girl in school. Who you had idolised from afar since arriving in Mollet. Her head tilted curiously as she took you in. You felt her eyes drift to the canvas behind you. “Did you paint that?” She stands to her full height, still keeping her distance from you. “Why are you painting in the dark…?” She asks curiously. Head still tilted. Faced with a direct question you couldn’t put it off any longer. You couldn’t delay the inevitable. “Y..y…you, tu…tu….switched off….” Changing the words you intended to use halfway through was a coping mechanism that your therapist had tried to get you to work out of your system. She called it masking. You called it getting by. You raise your hand and point to the lightswitch that she had flicked when she entered the room. She looks at you harder now. You feel her eyes boring into you and wait for the inevitable laughter. The pity. Maybe even the cruelty that you are used to when people hear you speak. You cast your eyes down, waiting for the blow. But you just hear a flick of a switch, and the darkness behind your eyelids lifting. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have switched it off if I had known. I was just trying to get away. I kicked a football at Senorita Lopez by accident in the gym. They won’t let me play outside in the rain. Idiotas” You lift your eyes at her gentle, lilting tone as a smile teases your lips. She's moved closer to you now. “You didn’t answer. Did you paint this?” Her hand comes out to hover over the lines of your still-wet painting. Carefully. Again, you’ve been asked a direct question. “Si.” you reply, quietly. You don’t struggle so much with single words. “By yourself?” she asked, aghast, wonder taking over her features. You nod in reply. “This is so cool! Show me!” A grin overtakes your features as you nod more enthusiastically. Glasses slipping down your nose. Pulling out a fresh canvas for your new friend. “Lo siento, I haven’t told you my name. My Papa says it's rude not to introduce myself…” she stands tall and thrusts out her hand. Very formally. Very practised. “I am Alexia Putellas Segura.” You pause for a moment, looking at her outstretched hand. You wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. And shake her hand. “A…A…” you grow frustrated with yourself, the words getting stuck in your throat. You pull your hand away but Alexia keeps her grip firm and nods at you encouragingly. “Al…Alex… Alex.” you give up. Eyes downcast. Maybe you can tell your papa you nearly made a friend today. “Alex! Cool! I’ve never had that nickname! Most people call me Ale. But it can be our thing. I know you, you are y/n I remember Senora Perez making you stand at the front of class. Show me how to paint! Please? ”  Alexia was not a good painter. She quickly got bored and distracted by the newspaper on the desk intended for a paper mache project which she screwed up together, fashioned into a football and then spent the rest of the wet lunchtime kicking around the art room aiming for various targets that she would shout out to you. 

You dutifully cheered at every successful hit of the target. That night as you climbed onto the couch next to your papa and he asked; “Did you make any friends today niña?”. You couldn’t wait to reply; “Si! Alex.” You missed the way his newspaper dropped ever so slightly, and he caught the eye of your mami who was in the kitchen. “Ah, Si? Alex should come for dinner! We would love to welcome him!” He replied, his delight even obvious to you. “No tonta… Alex is a girl!” you let out. In that hilariously moody way only 12 year olds can. You became inseparable. Alexia was your best friend. Complete and total opposites. She would spend wet lunches in the art room with you. She would drag you to the playing fields after school and on break and you would be a goalie for her. Which was really just you standing complaining about where you found yourself and you dived away from balls as she cackled out a laugh. She came round for dinner with your family most nights. You spent every weekend at the Putellas household, travelling to her football games, strapped up next to Alba in the back of the Putellas family car, scribbling away in a notebook as you drew landscapes that you passed. On the way home you would sketch and sketch, only slightly hindered by the weight of your gangly best friend as she slept on your shoulder.  Your art would sit on both family fridges. Alex’s football boots would litter both entrance ways. Your mami would pick Alba up from the junior school if Eli got stuck at work. Joint family dinners were the norm.

Your relationship evolved through the years. Easily. Blissfully. You grew together. You became taller, however still paling in height compared to your best friend. You got braces and had them removed, You wore contacts most days now instead of your thick rimmed glasses. Though you still could usually be found in the art rooms.

Alexia filled out, she became less gangly and more strong, after years dedicated to football and training. 

Your speech improved. Your stammer only comes out rarely and you know your triggers. You worked hard every week with your speech therapist but you always credited Alexia. She gave you confidence. 

No one at school would roll their eyes or laugh at you when Alexia was by your side. She didn’t rush you. She didn’t finish your sentences. Nothing was more formidable within your school walls than if Alexia had found out someone had made fun of you, or not been patient with you. She got in trouble countless times defending your honor. Even if the teachers hated punishing her for it. 

You maybe realised on some level that you were as important to Alexia as she was to you the day that caused her to miss the U15 School Championship final. 

One of the more idiotic older basketball boys had caught you in the hallway. Trying to impress his gaggle of followers he had tripped you up as you were on your way scurrying into the art rooms to finish the sign you had made for Jaume to wave at the upcoming championship final. You had fallen flat on your face, quickly moving onto your back and pressing yourself against the wall. It had been a while due to Alexia's influence but you had dealt with bullies your entire life and you knew you had to just make yourself small and wait it out. “Oh s-s-s-s-s–s-s-oooorry it w-w-w-as an a-a-a-a-accident!!” the boy taunted you, leaning over you and exaggerating your stutter. 

His spittle hitting your face and making you wince. He brought himself to his full height, which was impressive for a 16 year old and turned to his friends. “Honestly, how is she even in this school, she is so estupida!” His guffaw was matched by his followers however their faces quickly dropped as they looked behind their ringleader. “What did you just say to her?” a cold, terse voice entered the conversation. You didn’t see his face drop but you could imagine it. 

He quickly turned and looked at Alexia standing in the doorway. Sunshine behind her darkening your view. As she stepped into the halfway you took in the thunderous look on her face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her as angry. 

You barely recognised her. “I-i-i sai…” This time he wasn’t impersonating you. 

He knew he was fucked. She moved quicker than you had ever seen her move on the football pitch. The tall boys friends quickly scattered as she grabbed him by his shoulders. He may have had at least two foot of height difference on her but that quickly diminished to nothing as she kneed him squarely between the legs. He doubled over in pain as she landed blow after blow to his stomach. “Alex… stop.” you instructed, gathering yourself to your feet. 

Your voice cut through her rage and she immediately stopped her punches. He scurried off as soon as he was able to, no serious damage done apart from to his ego… and maybe his balls. She turned to face you after shouting some choice expletives to his back, face immediately morphing into one of concern, eyebrows furrowed as her hands cupped your face. “¿Estás bien?” She asked, seriously. Hands moving to check you over. 

“Si, Si, estoy bien.” you replied. “You shouldn’t have done that Alex.” you regarded her with sceptical eyes. 

Her brow furrowed further, “What should I have done then? He’s un maton, he hurt you. I taught him a lesson. I would do it again. I would. I am not sorry.” she said firmly as she moved your head beneath her chin and wrapped her strong arms around you. 

You tried to pretend that the butterflies in your stomach erupting at her protectiveness were a normal reaction to a friend. 

Right? She repeated the same platitudes the next day, but this time with Jaumes hand on her shoulder as she sat in the headmaster's office. The boy she had humiliated so happened to be the son of one of the school governors. The headmaster told the footballer and her father that if Alexia apologised to the boy then she would go unpunished, otherwise, he would be forced to stop any of her extra-curricular activities, including the interschool championship final. Which, as headmaster, he really didn't want to do when his school had their first chance of winning in over a decade. She refused. 

She was banned from playing.

The team lost. 

Badly. The guilt ate away at you as you both watched from the sidelines as the 5th goal against your team went in. 

She grasped your knee, and still watched the game. “Stop feeling guilty. I am still not sorry. There are more important things than football conejita.” 

You took a breath and placed your hand on top of hers. You turned to look at her incredulously. “I mean, very few. Football is still in the top 2. Food is 3.” she continued, deadpan. Forcing a laugh out of you. You asked her once, years after first meeting, one sleepover when you were both lying side by side on the Putellas trampoline looking up at the stars. Why was she so patient with you? When no one else was? She looked at you, dumbfounded, genuinely confused by the question. “You have a voice y/n. You deserve to be heard.” she replied. Moving into her favourite position which was pulling all of your weight completely on top of her. Your head rested over her heart. You could hear the thump thump thump against your ear. You hoped she couldn’t feel the fluttering of yours.  

It was that simple to her. “Plus you looked like a rabbit in the headlights when I barged in, you were too cute. Mi pequeña coneja”.

Your Alex. 

You transitioned from best friends into girlfriends at 16 with no fanfare. A shy kiss after a win at Alexia's latest championship sealed it. Her grin splitting her face. Yours matching when you realised your dreams could become a reality. Hands held tentatively in the backseat of Jaumes car as he smiled at the scene through his rear view mirror.  Days later, as you both stood in front of your mami and papi shyly holding hands you realised, squeezing the trembling hand in yours, that it was the first time you had seen Alex nervous. In all of your years of friendship.

Alexia still had her weirdly formal streak, the same as the day you met her, so you let her do what she felt she needed to.

“Senor y Senora y/l/n… “ she started, taking a breath. “Mi and y/f/n…”

Your parents caught your eye, dumbfounded. She never used their titles. They rarely heard her use your name. You were always conejito.

“Alexia… estimada…” your mami started, with kind eyes. You could tell she knew what was coming. You shook your head at her slightly, Alexia too caught up in her own moment to notice. Your mami let her speak.

“Mi and y/f/n…”

Your papi, however, was not as emotionally in tune as your mami, “Monito, what is going on? Why are you being muy loca? Have you got mi mija pregnant? I know you're an overachiever bu…” “Papi!” you screeched out, interrupting him. 

Alex stood mouth agape, face flushed as she looked to you for help. “Papi, Mami, Alex is tr…try…tryi… telling you that we’re together together.” you let out, raising your joined hands. Your mami let out a laugh behind her hands, your papi however stood and exclaimed, “Was that some sort of secret!? Dios Mio of course you are! We thought you had been for years!  You made me change your bedtime story from princesses to football-playing princesses on the day you met!  Why do you think your Mami makes you keep your door open when this one stays, Mija?” 

Now it's your turn to blush as your mouth drops open. As he passes Alexia he gently smacks her upside the head, ruffling her long brunette hair. “Now come on cabeza de bola, me and the guys from work are starting a 5 a side. I need your help on penalties…” You huff out a laugh as your girlfriend is dragged away, confused look stuck on her face - eyebrows adorably drawn and mouth furrowed and clinging to your hand until distance forces her to let go. 

Your mami settles her arm across your shoulders. “I’m happy for you Mija” she mutters, in her gentle tone as you fall into her embrace. “You’re going to marry that girl one day.” Even after everything that would happen and the hell you would feel, you thank God for the unseasonal rain in Barcelona that day in junior school.

And when she was sadI was there to dry her tearsAnd when she was happy, so was IWhen she loved me It wasn’t long after you made your relationship official that you had your first real test.

You knew something was wrong with your girlfriend probably before she did. You knew her like the back of your hand. Though it finally came to a head one early evening at the Putellas household.

You had both picked Alba up from school, and you had set out to making dinner in the Putellas kitchen whilst Alexia's parents were both stuck at work.

It was standard practice, occurring at least once a week. You moved through the kitchen with ease. The ease is what alerted you.

Usually, on nights like these, Alba would huff off to her room like any other pubescent teenager, head stuck in her phone and earphones firmly in place. Alexia however, would usually be found attached to your back, arms wrapped around you as you cooked, or sat at the breakfast bar, swiping chopped veggies til you hit her with a spoon to make her stop, rolling your eyes as she insisted she was a growing girl and she needed the extra.

No, this was too easy, you thought, as you moved around, you missed your big inconvenience in the kitchen and you made sure your pasta sauce was bubbling nicely and went to search for her. 

You find her in the living room, her large frame draped over the sofa, eyes mindlessly watching the TV. But you can tell she isn’t watching whatever is on. Ale isn’t a big TV-watcher. She's very rarely sitting still for long enough to concentrate. The exception being if you're in her lap, where she entertains herself by playing with your hair or tracing the lines on your palm. “Hey, amor, estás bien?” your voice brings her out of her thoughts, “Ey? Ah sí conejito, lo siento, is dinner ready?” she asks, making to stand, but being stopped by your hand on her shoulder.  “Ay, when did I become the hired help, ey?” you ask, trying to tease a smile out of your girlfriend. “Dinner will be ready soon. Tell me what's on your mind.” The thing about Alex is she’s an open book. People may think she is stern and serious but she wears her heart on her sleeve. You can always see her thoughts plainly on her face, so you know something troubling her. She knows she can’t hide it from you, so she doesn’t try. “I’ve been offered a professional contract.” She states, plainley. Your heart lifts for her. Your whole life Alexia has bled football. For many years she believed, and you did too though you would never admit it, that it wouldn't be possible to make a career from the sport. You don’t think you have ever seen Alexia as sad as when she aged out of the Barcelona FC teams. She was devastated. It was a harsh reminder that Spain wasn't the USA. The opportunities are not always available. But the thing you loved most about Alexia was her dogged determinedness. She would train in the morning, in the afternoon, between classes. You are overjoyed that all of that hard work has paid off. Something wasn’t adding up with her reaction, however. “Alex, that's amazing news!” you exclaimed, unable to hide the joy in your voice. “Why are you not more excited? Is it a bad deal?” “No, amor, it is a fair deal.” she sighs. You just look into her eyes, waiting for her to tell you what she wants to share. She takes a deep breath. “It’s Levante, I would have to move to Valencia.” Ah, you see. Your heart breaks at the sad frown painted on the usually stern face of your girlfriend. Your hand moves up to trace her eyebrow, forcing them to unfrown and moving down to cup her cheek. She leans heavily into the warmth of your hand, and damp eyes open, fixing to yours. “Oh Alex, it’s okay” you whisper. The truth is you had always known that with the career your girlfriend was destined to follow, that you would have to spend time away from each other. You already did. Alexia has often been away throughout your friendship and now your relationship for national camps. 

You had a very mature relationship for 17 year olds. Having been woven into each other's lives for so many years. You were part of each other's DNA. You knew how to manage the time without your girlfriend. You were both grade A communicators. You accepted that this would be different, and no doubt unimaginably hard for the footballer, her family was her life. But so was football. And you know you needed to encourage her to take this step. “It’s not okay!” she stated, firmly, sitting up straight on the couch. “It’s not fair! Finally I get what I have dreamed of but it comes at the expense of everything I love. Mi familia, Barcelona, you! Why can’t I have both? I don’t know what to do” “You go to Levante, Alexia.” you say, seriously, “This is a huge opportunity for you.” She looks at you incredulously and you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong. “Oh, so it is that easy for you? Si? You just let me go like it doesn’t even bother you!” You aren’t used to Alexia's stern frown being sent your way, usually it's aimed at someone in defence of you. Or at a goalkeeper.  You, however, know the brunette is feeling vulnerable, she has waves of insecurity at times, she puts so much pressure on herself it's inevitable, but you are always there to assure her of her worth, and your love. “You know that's not true, amor.” you say, tenderly, hand reaching into her brunette locks to sooth her. “I agree, it’s not fair that Barca don’t have a women's team but I have always known your talent would take you away from me, “ she opens her mouth to interject, “but I love you. And I know you love me. We are tethered. Forever. When, not if, you go to Valencia, we will make it work. You know we will amor, you can have both” “But I will miss you.” she whimpers, pathetically. “I will miss you every second. But it will get better, it’ll pass Alex.” Her head finds your neck as she settles in there. Her larger frame is quite comically draped over you. “Do you promise?” she lets out, weakly. And you don’t let a moment pass, “I promise.” and seal your promise with a kiss to the crown of her head. She moves her chin up and faces you, “Beso, por favour” she asks, who are you to refuse? You kiss softly, you don’t know how many minutes you are tasting her sweet lips pass before you are interrupted by a sulky 14 year old.  “Ewwww!”

Alba appeared, making the two of you split apart, her disgust at the scene she's found making you laugh as Alexia peels herself from you, rolling her eyes.

“I’m gonna tell Mami that you two were making out instead of feeding m…ahh!” Albas accusations getting lost as Alexia chases her around the living room, ready to fight in a way only sisters can.

A strange smelling odour fills your nose. Oh… Oh no. You rush into the kitchen to find your dinner smoking on the hob.

“Oi, Putellas diablos!” You stick your head into the living room where you find Alexia sat on her younger sister whilst she tries to battle off the huge weight she finds on herself. They both pause and look at you guiltily. “C’mon, shoes on, we’re going out to eat, on me, we’re celebrating!”

Both of them unite in cheers as they childishly jump up and run to the front door in glee, shoving each other out of the way to try to get their shoes on first as you watch, affectionately shaking your head.

It will be months later, after a summer filled with memories made with your girlfriend, days at the beach, trips to the market, lazy days at home and soft moments made in the streets of Barna, that you would find yourself alone in bed.

That was weird.

You had spent the day packing with Alexia, the sadness of moving away had started to be replaced with excitement from the tall girl. Her dreams were coming true, okay, it may not be perfect, she finally understands, but it's a step in the right direction.

She can’t believe that she's going to get paid to play football.

Paid. The evening after a long day of packing was spent having a family meal at the Putellas household. Your family is also in attendance. It was a loud and joyous affair and it helped to keep the sadness out of your girlfriend's eyes. After a long evening of sombremesa Alexia had insisted on coming back with you to your parents to your house.

She didn’t want to spend her last evening in Barcelona in her empty bedroom, instead finding solace in yours. You had both talked into the early hours, in the arms of each other, trading soft touches and exchanging breaths until sleep took you. You pretended for her sake that you couldn’t hear her rattling breaths or feel the dampness of her cheeks on your fingers.

Now, however, you were alone, and unsure at what woke you up. Until a tapping comes to your attention. You sit up in bed and hear it again. What is that? You get out of bed and go towards your window, yep, there it is again, coming from outside. You throw open the curtains and peer out into the moonlit garden.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you can’t take that moment because you suddenly are hit squarely in the face by a pebble. 

“Ouch.. what the he…” you stand suddenly and bang your head on the window frame “Ow, Fuck!” “Ay Dios Mío, lo siento amor! I didn’t see you had opened the window!” Alexia's panicked voice reached your ears, why was she in the garden? What the hell was going on? “Are you okay conejito?” You take a moment to steady yourself and your mind into your new and abrupt situation. “Conejito?” “Yes, Alex, I am fine. What are you doing out there?” You’re met with silence. “Al?” The tall brunette is scuffing her foot against the pebbles of the garden that she had previously been launching at the window. “I don’t want to say. I feel stupid now.” You arch your eyebrow in her direction. You don't think that she can even see it but she knows what's aimed in her direction. “I couldn’t sleep. I was too excited. And also sad. And muddled. And I will miss you so much so I was just imagining how good it will feel when you visit, or I visit. Or when I score a goal and you’re watching. Which I know you’ve seen but now it's my job.” she rambles, pausing momentarily to take a breath. 

“Anyway, I thought about how cool it would be if I came to visit and woke you up by throwing stones at your window like in a film! You’d love that! Then I just couldn’t wait to do it. So here’s me, doing it. I’m being romantic.” She throws a crooked grin up at the window and your heart literally melts. “I..I….” and you promptly burst into tears. “Oh no mi amor no! Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to throw a pebble at your face! I’m sorry!” she gestures towards you with her hands frantically. “It’s not that Alex, you’re just such an idiot. And I love you so much. I am going to miss you so much. Get up here.” needing her arms wrapped around you. She nods vigorously and makes to climb the trellis that goes to your window. “No you idiot! Use the door! You have a key!” “Oh yeah.” you hear her mutter to herself before she scurried back inside. As you’re settled back into her warm arms, her huge hands palming through your hair. “That was very romantic Alex.” you mumble and you practically hear her purr with pride at herself. “Next time though bebe, use your key, I would much rather you be here in bed with me.” “Noted.” she mumbles into your skin, wiping away the tears that you can’t stop from rolling down your cheeks. Alexia got settled into her professional team quickly and efficiently, she was one of the youngest but easily the most talented on the pitch. You would travel up with Jaume religiously at the weekends wherever you could, your time in the week spent busy with the Art College you had enrolled in. Alba sometimes tagging along when you bribed her with snacks.

As promised you were there when she scored her first professional goal, her beaming smile sent directly to you and Jaume in the stands, stood cheering for her. You witnessed her wide eyes, after the game, as you stood waiting for your celebratory hug and maybe a cheeky kiss, when she was stopped by a little hand. “Hola.” the small girl had to crane her neck to look up at your girlfriend. She was shaking with excitement. “Hola?” she replied, confused. “Can I have your autograph por favour?” she asked, sweetly. Alexia just stood there, like a sim. 

You stepped forward with your notepad and drawing pencil that you carry everywhere, you had more drawings of inside a football stadium than anyone would need. You ripped out a page and handed Ale the pencil. “Of…of course?” She scribbled down her autograph for the young girl who beamed and ran away holding it above her head to show her mami who picked her up in glee. Alexia's wide eyes stared at you. “Did you see that?” “I saw that bebe, I handed you the pencil. I also saw your goal, superstar!” You couldn’t control your grin, which was mirrored by your girlfriend. “You played so well! Alex!” You're interrupted as she drags you over the fencing and pulls you into a bear hug. Her face nuzzled into your neck, her body vibrating with excitement. “I scored for you conejito!” she says “Well, hija, I won’t be offended, I have only been to every game you’ve played for 10 years” Jaume appears above you both still in the stands, smiling teasing his lips. “And you papa!” she releases you and pulls her papa into a hug. Dragging you back in after a moment before declaring that her first goal means that she deserves pizza and ice cream courtesy of her papa. 

Through the summer and the fall We had each other, that was all Just she and I together Like it was meant to be

You finished your college course and your love for art had never died. You made the trip to Valencia wherever possible to see Alex and she came back to Barna at least once a month to see her family and you on an off weekend. You would spend those weekends living at Alexias house, soaking up every moment together as much as possible. 

She would bring her clothes home for Eli to wash as she was useless at anything practical. You would make sure that you would always snag a sweater of hers before it was washed and keep hold of it, soaking in her scent before you could swap it out again. Alexia, used to pretend she hated it, they would always be returned with paint stains around the cuffs which would harden and she said irritated her skin.  You tried to be more careful but you didn’t stop stealing them.

You saw the same amount of her family as before she moved away, your lives had been so intrinsically linked that you had become an honorary Putellas, and she was a part of your family. You hung around with Alba and you helped Eli with her shopping when her car broke down. You were family.

Weirdly enough, it was you that met Alexia's future best friend first. After college, you started to make money from your art by being a live artist at weddings.

You knew your parents were worried about what you would do with your art. Teaching was the obvious choice but with your speech issues, it was your idea of hell.

This was perfect.

It was a niche business but you got paid well and you loved it. You got to go to weddings for a job. You got to capture people's joy on the most important day of their lives.  You would sit in the corner with an easel set up, sketching and painting guests, the dance floor, the top table. And you could immediately give your paintings to the couple and their guests, the validation was enormous, you were good at what you did. Discreet and professional.

You soon get a client list for miles and the money starts to pour in.

It was at one of these weddings that you met Mapi. She caught your eye during the speeches and you started to draw her outline. She was clearly very very gay at a very straight wedding. But it wasn’t just that that caught your eye, her tattoos intrigued you. And you loved sketching them and adding hints of colour here and there.

She looked up at you and caught you sketching, as guests often would, you were able to not let it distract you, ever the professional you offered a gentle smile.

“You like football?” a heavily accented voice reached your ears as you were adding the finishing touches to the dancefloor scene that was set out before you.

“Que?” It wasn’t often that guests interacted with you, but sometimes it happened.

“Your bag, FC Barcelona? That's not usual for a pretty girl like you, to like football.”

“Ah, Si.” You reply, your eyes not moving from your painting. “It’s my girlfriends.” you reply, emphasising your relationship status, not wanting a moment of confusion.

“Ah, boo, you have ruined my fun.” She replies, “Maria Leon '' She introduces herself, hand out for you to shake, you don’t take her hand, handing your paint-y hands up. She holds her hands up in surrender. “I see, I see. FC Barcelona though. Good team. No women's team though.”

“No, but there will be, and my girlfriend will be their top scorer when it happens”  you reply confidently. “You seem so sure?” “I am.” She lets out a laugh. “I can’t argue with that, then I will be their best defender” she offers a huge smile. Mapis smile is magic and makes you smile.

You and Mapi become firm friends. She talks. And talks and talks and talks. You don’t know how she has so much to say. But she is fun and she is kind. Your stutter makes an appearance as it sometimes does but it is perfectly offset by her inability to stop yapping. You don’t feel a pressure to fill the silence because you know she will. 

Years later, at a supercup final, you will both laugh about your first conversation. About how both of your statements came true. Turns out, people paid well for authentic paintings of their favourite moments. And as a young adult you found yourself with enough money to get yourself a small apartment in Mollet. You loved it. And you loved the independence it brought you. You think that was the happiest time of your life. You would spend days on your sun drenched terracotta tiled balcony. Painting watercolour and sketching the scenes both in your mind and your view over the square that your apartment was on. You had quite the online following and would get some commissions for your art which brought you a sense of purpose and joy. The absolute best time was when Alexia had a free weekend, or a break, she would stay with you and you would live in domestic bliss. It was an unspoken agreement. No question that she would make her base for her time back at your apartment. Even when she wasn’t there you wouldn’t sleep on her side of the bed. More of her clothes made their way into your closet. More of her sweaters would get paint marks on them. You would cook together, sing together, dance together in your small kitchenette. Feeling happy and in love as only young people can. Nothing gets between you. Training had been kind to your girlfriend, and you struggled to keep your eyes off her as she would do basic tasks. She was thick. For want of a better word. Her gangly limbs had become pure muscle, her back would ripple when putting on a t-shirt, you would find yourself staring at her forearms as she would cut vegetables. She knew what she did to you and she loved it. Often sending a wink your was and sending you into more of a stuttering mess then usual, heat climbing to your face. You felt your heart grow as you would go shopping for groceries together. Take strolls in the square, you sitting on a bench and sketching as she inevitably got herself involved in a football game with the local kids. Her favourite time of day would be Friday nights. Often, if she was lucky, she would be scheduled an early kick off on fridays. You would travel back from the game together with her papi. You took the backseat as you knew you would monopolise her time back all weekend. Giving her a chance to catch up with her family. You would get home, she would shower whilst you made a light dinner, both taking it in on the balcony before moving inside and settling on the couch. She would put on some illegally screened recordings of the game she had played in. But she would mute it as she pulled you into her chest. You would have a sketchbook in hand and continue working on your art, or a piece from a wedding that needed finishing up. You always told her the commentary wouldn’t distract you. But she insisted. Once finally saying, “I like the sound of your pencil, it soothes me, and sometimes you trace the sketch on my leg with your free hand. It gives me goosebumps. I like it.” you never asked again. You argued, of course, like any couple did. But it never lasted long. Alex would get angry when she would find paint in the sink, and you would struggle to share your space at first. But you never went to bed in a fight. Even if you tried to be stubborn your body would fail you and you would gravitate towards her in the moments before sleep, muttering your apologies or forgiveness. In those early days of young adulthood it would be the only time in your relationship where you had more money than Alex. 

Football did not pay well. It did not pay a living wage. 

You didn’t care. 

You felt privileged every time you scanned your card for the groceries, or paid for dinner on a date. You knew she hated it though. “One day conejito, I will give you everything life can offer, I promise” she would whisper into your skin whilst she tried to make it up to you in other ways. You would always tell her you had everything you needed right there with you. It was perfect. Life was perfect. You had friends, a stable job, the love of your life. Yes, distance was hard, yes, each time she left you would cry and hold her tighter to you, but you knew it wasn’t forever, and you never felt that distance in your relationship. You grew together, like a plant, your love was carefully cultivated in experiences and shared memories.

And when she was lonely I was there to comfort her And I knew that she loved me

You had never felt sadness like it. It was all encompassing. You couldn’t get away from it. You were sad for your chosen family. You were sad for your own family. You were sad for yourself. But you were devastated for your girlfriend. You didn’t know what to do with so much sadness. You couldn’t hold it in, but you couldn’t let it out. You needed to be strong for your girlfriend. Who was walking around as a shell of the person that you knew her to be. Well, that was when she was walking, she would throw herself into her childhood bedroom and stay there silently for hours. You would be okay with it if she was sleeping, but she just stared at the wall aimlessly. Her Papa was her inspiration. The reason she got into football. She would look up to him even as she towered over him. And it was so so cruel that he had been taken away from her in such a manner. A week after Jamues passing you found yourself next to Alexia at his funeral. It was a beautiful affair, a celebration of the life of a man who loved hard and was loved hard. The morning had been difficult, you had ironed Alexia's dress and set it out for her. She took your instruction like a small child, you brushed her hair straight and pulled it out from her face. You struggled to speak. Such immense grief you felt the words became garbled in your mouth, rendering you mute. But you didn’t want any pressure on Alexia. 

You knew when your stutter made an appearance she would drop everything, concentrate on doing your exercises with you, hand automatically cupping your jaw and massaging the soft area beneath your ear because she knew that relaxed your facial muscles. So you both moved around silently. That morning. As you guided her around what needed to be done. As you packed her bag with tissues you hoped that you needed to use them. You hadn’t seen her cry since she rushed home from Valencia to the news. So no, you didn’t know what to do with your grief. You loved him too. He was the first person you had loved and lost. You had your own special relationship built from long car journeys and shared snacks. He would put your art on his fridge like you were one of his own. He was kind and he was half of the person who you loved to your core. God. If you felt like this. You don’t know how Alexia was still breathing. You had been spending all week as the Putellas household. Not leaving Alex's side. But also not leaving Alba, who would lean heavily into you of an evening, seemingly crying all of the tears that her sister couldn’t. It felt healthy though, through the tears you could share memories and make her laugh. You would go to bed with Alex and the silence would continue. When you were sure she was asleep you would sneak out of bed and grab your sketch pad, settle into the corner of the room and just let it out. Her dad told you once at a game how his father worked as a coal miner. He said it proudly, he adored hard work. That's where Alexia got her devotion from. It was a passing moment, a memory that you didn't even know you had. But it stuck with you as you went into the Putellas garden and took a lump of coal from the barbeque and settled yourself into the dewey grass. Hand not stopping over your sketchpad and tears rolling down your cheeks.

The night after the funeral you stayed at your own parents house. You couldn’t handle the loneliness of your own apartment. You didn’t want to intrude at the Putellas residence, and you hoped that maybe some time with her family would be what Alexia needed to open up. You were right, but not in the way you imagined. A soft clink, clink, clink, woke you up, This time you were not frightened. You had heard this noise before. You immediately jumped out of bed and ran to your window, showing it open and shoving your head out. “Alex! What are you doing here, why didn’t you use your key?” The brunette looked up at you with sad eyes, you saw she was in her pyjamas, eyes sideways showing no car, she had walked here. “I forgot it.” she let out, morosely. “Oh mi amor, no p..p..problem, hold on I will come down and let you in.” before you had a chance to bring your body back into the house you heard her again, “You left me.” your heart cracked into two. You didn’t reply but instead hurried downstairs into the moonlit garden. She stood there, with all her muscle and height, looking everything like a toddler who was lost in a supermarket. You took her hand in yours and used your other to cup her cheek. “Oh, mi amor I didn’t leave you, I thought you wanted some space.” Maybe you expected her to agree, maybe you expected her to disagree and shout at you for getting it so wrong. You didnt realise that you were to her, like an umbrella in the rain, protecting her from the downpour. With you gone she drowned in the grief. You didn’t expect her lip to tremble and her to burst into tears. “I want my papa.”  Those 4 words broke your heart as you huddled her into your arms, rocking lightly to bring her confort. There was nothing you could say, you just brought her into your bed and held her as she cried, painting her skin with whispers of your love “I know, bebe, I know, I promise it’ll pass, I promise, and I will be here. The pain will go. It will pass Alex and I will be here.” It became a mantra that you whispered into her skin.

As she calmed down you took a moment to think. As you got out of bed and she groaned in annoyance you hushed her with your lips to her skin. “Un momento, mi amor, I have something for you.”

You presented it nervously, unsure of the reaction you would get.

It was a framed picture that you had created. Not like your usual artwork as it was made from coal. Coal from the Putellas barbecue to be exact. It was a sketch of a man in the stands of a football stadium, somehow, eyes beaming with pride, laugh lines visible on his face. A footballer with a long ponytail and similar features jumping into his arms.

It was a scene you had witnessed hundreds of times throughout the years. You didn’t need to see it again to create it. The coal added a haunting and beautiful dimension to it. When you explained your reasoning Alexia looked deeply into your eyes. Holding onto the frame with white knuckles like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” 

And when Alexia scored and helped her team to win the U19 Championship for her country not 3 weeks later. Celebrating with eyes to the sky, fingers pointed. You knew that, eventually, she would be okay. 

So the years went by I stayed the same But she began to drift away I was left alone Still, I waited for the day When she'd say, "I will always love you"

It was as though it had been destined for years but finally finally the news came that Barcelona FC would have a women's team. Mapi had texted you with glee when the news broke out, she knew that she was stuck in her own contract but the fact it existed made it a possibility for her dreams to come true. Your girlfriend, on the other hand, was a free agent. You thought, privately, that even if she wasn't a free agent that she would break every law on planet earth to play for her childhood club. She was offered a contract and signed without any hesitation. A mist in her eyes at the missing presence in her signing photos. You drove with Alba to collect her and all her things from a year in Valencia directly to your apartment. As you unpacked her stuff, Alba on a food run with money you had shoved into her hand, your small flat suddenly felt full. “Alex,” You called, from the living room, you heard her shuffle around and pop her head into the bedroom where you stood, surrounded by boxes. “Si, conejito?” she asked, breathlessly. You took in her smile, that you had missed over the months, the light in her eyes, the ease of her movements. “I am just asking, I don’t actually remember asking you to move in?” You say, teasingly, gesturing to her boxes surrounding you. It was true, you hadn’t, it had just been assumed by both of you, as well as both of your families. A blush rose up her neck, “I mean… I-i-..”. You burst out laughing. “I am just teasing you”. A glint in her eyes took over and you had half a second to brace yourself before you were tackled by an almost 6ft wall of muscle. You landed gently on the bed with a thump. “Well, light of my life. I think it’s too late for that. Maybe I can make up for my rudeness.” Her voice takes on a sultry tone, attacking your neck with kisses, making you groan. “No, No, No, No, stop it you two! Why is this my life!” Well. Alba was back, You groaned as Alexias full body weight fell onto you as she heard her sister. You had a feeling you both had plenty of time to make up for it. Living with Alexia full time was natural. You had obviously had practice from the year she spent in Valencia but you didn’t realise how easy it would be. You knew where to step to not fall over her boots in the hallway without looking. 

You amended your grocery show to include all her weird protein-packed foods. She would help you get ready for work in your evening gowns that you had to wear to fit in at the weddings, and she would stay up to make sure you got home safe and listened as you babbled on about your favourite parts, all the while taking it in for ideas for your own wedding. You continued to make money at weddings, Alexia rose through the ranks at the new Barcelona Femini team. Quickly establishing herself as a calm and serious captain. 

She took her role seriously,  she would study games religiously at home as you would paint or sketch. Your easel set up in the living room or on the balcony. She would rub your shoulders as you painted, eyes set on the TV at the game. The shared time doing your own activities matched you both perfectly. And just like that, years passed. Years in domestic bliss. Spent together and with your families. Vacations in Ibiza and even a pet cat called Pablo Petcatso, or Pabs for short, entered your little family unit. He was a ginger cat who loved a cuddle and loved getting into Alexia's kit bag, he even made it to the training once or twice, and you had to drive over there to pick him back up. Dragging him away from 22 cooing footballers. 

Women's football grew, as did Alexia's paycheck. And with that, you think, looking back, as did the cracks in your relationship.

“We're here!” Alexias excited voice explained, you had pulled up outside a tall apartment building in the centre of Barcelona. She hadn’t shared with you where you were going. Insisting it needed to be a surprise.

“And where is here?” you looked up at the towering glass building above you, you didn’t come into the city much, you preferred the quiet of your suburb.

“You’ll see, you’ll see!” Her excitement was catching, and you found yourself giddy as the elevator took you further into the skies of the city.

“Ta-da!” She presents a huge open plan space before you, the glass fronted living room has views over the city to the sea. You could count at least 3 bedrooms from where you stood in the hallway. The kitchen was sleek, straight lines and clean granite. 

“What is this place?” you ask, confused, taking in your surroundings. “It's our new apartment!” What? “What?” you breathe out. “Don’t you love it?!” Alexia remains giddy, her excitement not fading and she fails to notice your unenthused reaction. Your mind whirred. “Come look, come look!” she grabbed your hand, and pulled you further into the apartment. Proudly presenting each room to you. “And this room. I thought you could have it as your art studio!” “Art studio?” you whisper. “Yeah! Isn’t it so cool, and so much space. Now I wont get cross at you for getting paint all over the kitchen! Pabs will have so much room to explore!” She turns around and pulls you into her embrace, you are still shellshocked at everything presented to you. “I promised you, didn’t I? I would give you the world conejito.” Her eyes are so bright with joy, the smile so wide on her face, you couldn’t help but smile. Yes, the sleek lines, the large space, and the modern kitchen were beautiful. You didn’t see it for yourself, you preferred your terracotta tiled balcony and your plants overtaking your kitchenette. You loved painting in your living room when Alexia would watch a match. Pabs crawling over your shoulders, your little bubble with your family. But you could see how proud Alex was of herself, of what she had achieved. You must have taken a moment too long, as her eyebrows furrow. “You don’t like it.” you said, plainly, “No… No Alex, I do! I was just so surprised. I love it, and I love you.” “Yeah?” her eyes brighten again. You kiss her lips softly, “Yeah.” “Good! And think conejito, maybe one day there would be room for a bigger family?” she asks, shyly. Your heart melted as you nodded frantically and threw yourself into her embrace. As Alexia's career grew, so did the pressure on her. She was often away, it was something your whole relationship had survived, but now, being away with both club and country, as well as in an apartment that had never truly felt like home. You felt lonely. You would come home from weddings with only Pabs to greet you, you would create art in your studio without the background noise of Alexia watching a game, or preparing a smoothie. She would do that in the living area. Nights together were rarer. Your love never dimmed. Alexia showed you in her every movement that she adored you. Date nights, whilst few and far between, were the highlight of your week. Though that soon became the highlight of your month. The one saving grace during this time was that Mapi had finally joined Barcelona Femini and you took it on yourself to be her personal Barcelona guide. As Alexia's fame grew, you shied more into the background. You weren't an extrovert. You would never hide your relationship and you never asked Alexia to but the only social media that you had was that to promote your artwork. Meanwhile, Alexia's followers grew and grew. A few crazed fans had deep dived into her archives and knew of you but that was only a portion of the fanbase. She hated the delving into her private life, and that caused her to stop posting anything of you onto her public accounts. Any trace of you, gone. Before being a footballer, in Alex’ mind, she was your protector, that hadn’t changed from 15 years ago. With 2021 came great change. All of the years of dreams and hard work had paid off and Barca had reached the champions league final. You travelled to Gothenburg with Eli and Alba, a nervousness in your stomach more than usual. For both your girlfriend and your best friend. You celebrated the win with a euphoria you had rarely felt. Everything felt worth it. The lonely nights, the travel around the country, the sacrifices you had to make as the partner of La Reina.

And as she pulled you into her arms after the final whistle, and pulled you over the barricade the same way she did when she scored her first professional goal your heart couldn’t swell more with pride. You don’t want to say that Alexia changed after the Ballon D’or. Because she didn’t. Well, maybe she did, she suddenly sported bright blonde locks which, you admit was sexy, but you missed the softness her natural hair gave her face. By the second Ballon D’or you thought maybe it was you that changed. Maybe it was you that put up a barrier. One that couldn’t be identified easily. But with study it could be noticed. The problem was that Alex wasn’t there to notice. Yeah, you were together, you did things together, you made love and you made memories. You went back to Mollet regularly and ate with your families and you went to games with Alba.  But Alexia was busy. She had brand deals, she had interviews, she had achieved her dream of being the best footballer in the world. You knew she was since you were 12. But now the world knew too. And the world wanted her attention. 

Oftentimes she was exhausted when she got home. She didn’t want to cuddle on the couch. She didn't want to walk around the plaza. She didn’t want to hear about your day. She would ask, but you could tell her mind was elsewhere, in some contract somewhere, so you started to lie. To give answers which would satisfy her without arousing suspicion. Always trying to put her ease first. 

You would decline for nights out with her teammates, you even lied once or twice and said you had a wedding to paint, just to avoid suspicion. Alexia would take your answer as the truth, and kiss your cheek lightly as she left the apartment which quickly felt like it had become your prison. Mapi could see through you. She would try to get you to talk, but she was Alexia's team mate. Alex was her captain. It didn’t feel right to discuss your relationship issues with her. Not when you wouldn’t even talk to the woman in question about it. You found yourself in the familiar seats of the Johan Cryuff stadium taking in the first home game of the new season. Alba and Eli by your side. The first game was always a family affair. With the Putellas cousins in attendance, a restaurant booked for this evening for you all. It was an easy win for the Champions of Europe. And as you stood with Mapi and her new girlfriend Ingrid at the end of the match chatting, Patri bounded over, sweat on her brow and joy in her eyes. “Hola Senora La Reina” she teased you, kissing your cheek, you had been around the team so much that they all knew you well. “Ay, Idiota, hands off” and large, familiar hands wrapped around your middle, a kiss planted to your other cheek as you melted into her embrace. “Congrats bebe” you muttered, craning you neck you see her looking down at you with a smile. “Senora Reina, you’ll come out for drinks with us to celebrate the win, won’t you?” Parti asked, full of joy. 

The attention of the 4 footballers on you suddenly unsettled you. Maybe it was the busy environment. Maybe it was being with Ingrid who you’d only met a few times. Maybe it was Alexias hands around you for the first time in what felt like months. But you struggled to get your words out. “Ah, gra…grac…gracias  for the invite diablo, but m…m…me…” “She’s coming out with mi familia Patri, it’s tradition! You know that! Vamos, I will come out quickly for a drink then join you all, conejito” Alexia interrupted you, planted a final kiss on your cheek and headed to the changing rooms. She didn’t feel you freeze in her embrace. She didn’t see Patri and Mapis expressions change. She didn’t see Ingrid's look of confusion. You felt sick. You felt like you were about to burst into tears. Your throat burned and you struggled to swallow. 

You felt small. You shuffled your feet on the ground and looked up to see Mapis' face had grown furious, her girlfriend's arm had come to rest over her shoulders, trying to settle her but unsure why. You went straight into damage control. Alexia has protected you your entire life. She had never interrupted you, she knew you couldn’t stand when people would finish your sentences. It was the worst thing you could do to someone with a stutter. She knew that. You don’t know why Alexia's endless patience ran out that day. But you knew you wanted to protect her from your best friend's rage. You knew it would happen one day, you just wish it had happened without any witnesses. For both of your sakes. “Mapi, it's fine.” “It is not fine!” Patri backs away from the situation with a kiss to your cheek and an apologetic look. “I don’t know what's wrong with her lately. I am going to kill her…” she moves towards the changing rooms but you pause her with a soft hand. “Maps, please don’t. It’s f…f…okay. I am okay. Ju…just go get changed and go on your night out. I will t..text you tomorrow. Please.” You look to Ingrid for help, you don’t know her well but she has the power over Mapi seemingly, and as she guides her to the changing rooms the small Spaniard seems to settle down. 

Not enough though, apparently, because as soon as she sees her captain again, a flicker of that rage comes back to her. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” Mapi hisses to her captain, “Maria, stop” Ingrid tugged her by the elbow, trying to take her away. Alexia looked up from her phone with a look of indignation, yes she was Mapis friend but she was still her captain, and they were in front of the whole team. Her defensive wall immediately came up. “Discuple?” Her eyes cast across the changing room, their team mates continued to get changed and pretended they weren’t eaves dropping into the mini argument that had developed.

“I said, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mapi spat out. “Why did you interrupt her?” Something in Alexia's stomach dropped. Her hands become clammy, her body reacting to the accusation before her mind could. “What? I didn’t. I would never.” she whispers in reply, but more to herself. “No, No I didn't.” she said more surely, somewhat desperately. 

Mapi takes in her best friend's demeanour, the usually stoic and strong captain looked devastated, maybe even petrified? Mapi knew what she had done, but could see that Alexia would punish herself more than Mapi ever could. She stepped away, guided by Ingrid. Leaving Alexia to replay the last 10 minutes, desperately. Mapi saw the moment that realisation came to the Catalan Captain, as she bolted out of the changing room, hair damp, throwing her shirt on as she sprinted back into the stadium. Which is where she found you, moments later. You were sitting in the friends and family section, Alexias new baby cousin settled onto your knee, playing with your hands and babbling to himself. You made cooing noises and spoke softly to him and all her Tias and Tios got rounded up for your meal out. You felt her presence behind you, you could practically feel her anxiety coming off her in waves. You looked back quickly and confirmed your suspicions, her blonde hair damp and wetting her shoulders, her foot twisting against the concrete floor, hands knotted together and bottom lip drawn into her lip, chewing anxiously. “It’s fine Alex.” you said, as you turned, attention back on the baby in your lap. She must have seen this acknowledgement as her body surged towards you, she loudly collapsed into the seat next to you, the anxiety coming off her in waves. “Conej…” she started. “No Alex, I pr…pr… I swear. It’s okay. But I’m currently holding the ba…bab…ba… child.” you take a sigh. “I am holding the child and I don’t want to cry so p…please. It’s okay.” If it's possible. She looked even more devastated. Her whole face collapsed. She hated when you would revert to old techniques to speak, by changing up your words mid sentence. Alexia was your protector. It was her proudest badge. Before she was a footballer, in her mind, she was your partner. And she had let you down. She had done the worst thing she could have done. To an outsider Alexia's moment of impatience may have been a minor indiscretion at most. But to you? To Alex? It was the basis of your whole relationship. You felt safe with her. You had a voice, she said, all those years ago when you fell in love, and you deserved to be heard. And now she has brought that into question. “Can I touch you?” she asked, gently. This brought tears to your eyes and you nodded, whilst still entertaining the baby in your lap with coo’s and a false smile. She touched your knee, the heat of her hand bleeding into your skin. “You don’t need to mask in front of me y/f/n.” Alexia never used your name. “Please. Use the words you want to use. I am here to listen. Always.” You are interrupted as Alexias Tia comes to claim her baby, who you hand back with a last pat on the stomach and raspberry to the cheek. You are trying to avoid the next 5 minutes you know will happen. Alexia is somewhat rude when her Tia offers her congratulations, eyes boreing into your head. You sweep your hair back as you face her, having had a moment to think you get your words out easier. “Alex, it’s okay. It was bound to happen one day. Don’t worry about it. Please. Go out with your friends. I will go to the meal as planned. I promise. Alba will drive me home later.” “No.” Alexia says desperately, clutching your hand in hers, “Let’s just go home, amor. Please.” “Ale I made a promise to your mami. I am going to eat. I will see you later.” you press a kiss to her cheek and wander off towards her family.  As she stands, watching you interact with her sister and her mami, her teammates call her over. She feels torn. She just wants to go home with you. She just wants to wrap you up in cotton wool and keep you in her arms. Safe. But you don’t want that right now, so she turns to do as instructed. Throwing one more glance your way, missing Albas worried face as she wipes a tear from your cheek.

Lonely and forgotten Never thought she'd look my way And she smiled at me and held me Just like she used to do Like she loved me When she loved me

You came home early. You asked if Alba could drop you off as soon as you had finished your meal. She was happy to oblige, worried about your silence the entire meal. You were looking down at your phone as you entered your apartment. Assuring Mapi again that you were fine and she should enjoy her drinks. You go to flick on the light in the living area when a stream of light below the door of your studio distracts you. You push the door open cautiously and see Alexia standing there, looking at your work in progress. It was different to your usual work. A close up sketch of a hand, wrapped around a flower, tenderly, it was in the early stages, you could see the lines of the palm and the blades of grass in the field behind. It was mounted onto canvas on your easel and the splashes of colour you had started to add contrasted against the paleness of the room. She hadn’t heard you enter, too lost in the image before her, but Pabs making a run for the door as it opened brought her attention to you. As you stand there, under her gaze, you struggle to remember the last time you saw Alexia in your studio. Yeah she would bob in to let you know dinner was ready, or that she was heading out, but she didn’t come in often enough to take in your work anymore. Now it wasn’t forced on her in the living space. It seemed Alexia had the same realisation as she broke her gaze with you and gestured towards your painting, and then further, to your desk overlooking the window, where more of your work lay. “You’re amazing. I didn’t… I.” a deep breath. “I hadn’t forgotten but I think I… Got lost? Somewhere along the way?” you tilt your head curiously. You don’t know what she’s talking about. “I have been a bad partner to you.” 

“Alex…” “No. I have. And I’m not interrupting you but I won’t let you lie to protect me.” her eyes go again to your easel. “You’re amazing. You are so talented. You are filled with so much kindness. You deserve so much more than this.” her eyes fill with tears and she looks at you. “I tried. You know? I promise I did. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this,” she gestures towards you and around you “was what you deserved. And it is. But more than that you deserve everything.” She takes a step towards you and grasps your hands with hers, her hands are cold, you note. As you take her in you see dried tear tracks down her cheeks, and… damp hair. “Alexia, did you not go out with the team?” “How do you think that I could go out with the team after what I did?” she asks, aghast. The reminder of the way the evening went washes over you. Alexia panics when she sees your eyes fill with tears. And she pulls you into her chest. “I am so, so sorry mi amor. I am so sorry” she whispers into your hair. “I have broken something sacred between us. And I will never forgive myself.” she swears to you. Though that doesnt bring you any joy. “I forgive you Alex.” she shakes her head in despair, joining you in tears. “You said it was bound to happen someday,” she starts, “Do not think like that amor. It was not. This is not your fault. In any way. It is mine. Please don’t think that, you deserve to be heard. I am so so sorry. So sorry. I will never do it again, promesa.”  All you can do is nod into her chest.

She pulls you from the room and settles you both into the sofa, keeping the light off, only the skyline of the city illuminating your living room through the large, glassed wall. 

She lets you cry into her t-shirt, soaking it more than her damp hair, and through the darkness you pull away and take in her face, she looks youthful. Gone, the professional make up, the expensive jewellery, and hair darkened by the dampness from her shower. You take in a large choked breath. “We need to talk.” you let out. Fear takes over her features and she starts to shake her head. “No, Mi Conejito please no, don’t do this.” she wails. It is a heart wrenching sound. She thinks she's going to be sick. “Woah, woah, woah” you place your hands on her cheeks and pull her panicked eyes to yours; “Mi amor I am not breaking up with you.” you state, clearly. “I am not. Now breathe with me.” Her eyes steady from their darting around the room in fear, and you place your hand on her chest, making her breathe with you. “Okay, okay… okay. Yes, please. Talk to me.” she begs, trying to get oxygen back into her lungs.  “I feel alone. I feel… sa…sad. A lot of the time. And I know… you y…you aren’t doing it on pur…purpose.” Your girlfriend looks heartbroken. Like she had just found out her entire family had died. But refuses to interrupt you as you speak. But you have needed this conversation for so long, that the words start to tumble out of you. Getting lodged in your throat. Har large hand comes up to that familiar place, and massages the soft tissue behind your jaw. Trying to help you without interrupting. “You aren’t doing it on purpose.” you repeat. She pauses for a moment and doesn't ask what you thought she would. “Why am I making you anxious?” she asks, cutting through your thoughts. You move away from her and settle your elbows to your knees. Rubbing your face as you feel a large hand settle onto your back. You hated your stutter. You hated that it ruled your life, but most of all you hated how it exposed you. You were like a child who can’t hide a blush in front of their crush. “You aren’t, Alexia.” “Alex.” she corrects, “I am Alex to you” she insists, “your Alex. It’s just me, mi amor.” she looks at you desperately. “I feel alone, you are never here, and when you are here physically, you aren’t here in your head. Your head is in the clouds, it is with your agent, with your coach, it is not with me.” you’ve started now, so you won’t be able to stop yourself “it is me and Pabs and, even though you're dumb as bricks bebe, you're a better conversationalist than him” you try to joke, a half smile on your face. Which she matches, hand not stopping her ministrations on your back. 

“I cannot remember the last time we just sat together, the last time that we cooked together. Can you Alex?” you don’t receive a reply, 

“I haven’t had your eyes, look at me, really look at me for months. You give your time so easily to those around you, your team mates, people I see you out with at events. I can’t blame you, this is what you always dreamed of. But… I miss you.” Your speech is strong now; “and I love you. That will never change. But you need to know how I am feeling. So it's fair to you. I feel as though you are bigger than the world. And I am just the girl you saved in the art room.” She is openly crying now. “Don’t say that, you are everything” she mumbled, through tears. 

She knew that she had been busy. But she didn’t realise the damage that she had done. She had been to events, you had been at her side. But. When was the last time she asked about a wedding you’d worked? God, you used to sit for hours describing the beautiful scenes, and she’d store away ideas for your own wedding.  The last gallery you had shown at? When had she last visited your mami and papi, who had been there for her her entire life? She kept you off social media for your protection, but she didn’t mean to erase you. When had she become so god damn selfish. “Amor, I think that somewhere along the way, I had forgotten, and forgotten to remind you. There are more important things than football. Well. Football is second”.

You are thrown back to a memory, a school championship 15 years ago, sat on the bleachers watching your school get destroyed. The lanky football captain sat by your side. You can’t help it but tears fill your eyes. You missed her. That girl. The one you were and the one she was. “But.. you told me once, that I could have both.” she whispered, into your neck, “and you can, Alex. Of course you can. But you have to want both. And at the moment. It feels. It feels like you don’t want me.” “No! Mi Amor, Mi Vida, Mi Conejito. You are everything. Eres mi mundo. I am nothing without you.” she takes a breath, deep and shuddering. “I will fix this. Thank you for telling me how you feel. I have a chance to fix this. Si?” she asks, desperately. You nod, “Of course Alex, and it's for both of us to fix, I should have said something sooner.” She refuses your admittance of guilt and drags you into bed. She sticks to you like a second skin. Moves with you to brush your teeth. Standing waiting whilst you use the toilet. She places a fresh glass of water on your bedside table.You want to tell her to give you a bit of space, but the fear in her eyes prevents you from doing so. As soon as you crawl into your side of the bed she has pulled you into her embrace and the warmth that fills you goes beyond the shared body heat. For the first time in a long time, you wake up in the strong arms of Alexia. She hasn’t moved in the night an inch, and you take a moment to take her in. This is what you missed. Just breathing the same air as her. Just existing in the same space. As though she can feel you looking at her she begins to stir. Taking a moment to come to her senses, her arms grip you tighter around your waist. “Hola, Mi amor” she whispers into the air. Your response is a kiss to her lips, which she steals, hungrily. As you deepen the kiss you feel her begin to pull away. “Lo siento, mi amor, we cannot get carried away. Things to do.” your heart hurts again. You roll off the taller girl and reach for your phone as a distraction. 

You thought, maybe, just maybe, for today at least. You would spend the day together. “Things to do!” she repeats, jumping out of bed with glee. “Where’s your passport”. That grabs your attention. “Que?” you ask, confusingly. “Your passport amor, Vamos!” She had long ago left the bed, and had started moving around the room, picking up various bags which had definitely not been there when you went to bed and moving them into the hallway. She was like a ball of energy, she stripped off her oversized t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving her standing in just her boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight. Well, you think, at least all the time not spent with you was doing something good. You find yourself in a trance, practically salivating at your view.

A change of clothes being thrown at your head brings you out of your stupor. “Dressed. Go.” Alexia teases you, definitely having caught you starting. This makes you finally start to move as you shrug on the jogging bottoms and hoodie she threw at you. Happily, you note, it's one of hers that you’ve already destroyed with paint marks on the cuffs. “Why do you need my passport Alex? What's with the bags?” “We’re going on vacation!” That stops you, half in, and half out of your hoodie. Getting yourself stuck. “Vacation?” you ask, voice muffled by the fabric. You hear Alexia make her way over to you, then feel her gently pull you free from your fabric prison. “Si…” she gently tells you. A look overcomes her face which you can’t distinguish, then she kisses your nose, softly. “Vacation. Just me and you amor.”

“But what about work?” you ask, still catching up. “You don’t have anything booked for 6 days, I checked your calendar. And where we are going, you can bring all your art things if you need them. I’ve packed the basics in my carry-on already.” “Not my work. Alex, your work. You have a busy week.” at this point you seem to have lost her attention as she turns to your question dismissively. “I cancelled it.” she replies, simply. “You cancelled it.” you repeat. “Si.” “Alexia! Have you lost your mind! You have training, you have that meeting with Oakley - you have the pre-euros media to do! You have a game in 3 days”  you reel off her calendar, watching as she continues to dress and pack her toiletries. She heaves out a sigh and turns back to you.

“Conejito, I know what I had, you don’t need to tell me I have just spent all night cancelling all of them. I spoke to Jona and he’s happy for me to miss the game. The rest of it doesn’t matter.” she moves closer to you again, “So no, I have not lost my mind. But, I did almost lose you, so please. Please tell me where your passport is so we can get on the plane I booked. Mapi will be here in a moment to take Pabs for the week.”  You find yourself standing there, stunned. She seemingly had thought of everything. You look into the hall at the bags packed there ready to go. Pabs sniffed them curiously. She’s looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. There's nothing else for you to do you suppose. As you turn from her and open your bedside table,  a smile can’t be kept off your face, you turn triumphantly with your passport held high. “Voila!” you present it to her; “What are you waiting for then Alex! We've got a plane to catch!” as you scurry out of the room and you hear the front door knock. Alexias cackle behind you. Alexia was always full of surprises when she wanted to be and she remained tight lipped all the way to the airport, refusing to tell you your destination. 

You assumed it would be one of the islands somewhere, with the size of her luggage maybe somewhere farther afield, sun, sea and a pool somewhere promised. But she shocked you. When you got to the check in desk and realised you were flying to Switzerland you could have been knocked down with a feather. Your Alex, who was upset when she even had to wear a bikini top in the month of August, has booked for you to go to Switzerland? 

She ignored your curious stare and just continued to sweet talk the check in lady, upgrading you to business class. As you descended hours later, between the snow peaked mountains against a stunning orange sun you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your hands itched to claim the sketch book from Alexias carry on. Soon, after collecting your luggage and Alexia picking up a hire car that has also been pre booked (seriously did this girl sleep at all the night before?), you found yourself being driven through a mountain forest, as a lodge that seemed to cling to the mountainside came into view, isolated and beautiful. You stood on the wooden balcony, hands gripping a warm drink as you took in the view of the sun setting behind the mountains. “Look at that, Amor.” you felt, more than heard, whispered against your ear. Lips planting a kiss at your jaw as strong hands settle over your stomach. 

You fell back into her embrace. “It’s so beautiful.” you replied, eyes focused on the scene before you. “I saw this advert. Months ago.” she continued. “Just in the back of a catalogue at work. They will have the Euros near here, you know, 2025?” That made you snort with laughter. “Ah, I see Putellas, now it makes sense how you’ve been dragged from the beach, scoping out the environment are we? Anything for that competitive edge.” your teasing is clear in your voice. 

You feel a pinch on your stomach, “No, idiota,” though the laugh is clear in her voice. “I saw that advert and I couldn’t get it out of my head. It is so beautiful here.” you hum in agreement, “But what I could not get out of my head was that I wanted you to see it. I love seeing the world through your eyes.” 

She turns you in her embrace and she places a gentle kiss to your forehead as you feel her breathe you in. “You see things so beautifully, Amor, and then you paint them for the world to see. You are so special.” Your heart melts at the blonde, and you feel some of the despair that had settled into your stomach over the last months shrink. Here Alexia was, at work, flicking through some promotional material between interviews and training, and her thoughts are with you. “And I will not let you forget how special you are, ever. Never again”. You spent those days in pure bliss. You spend the days hiking - her pretending to be as tired as you at the peak of a mountain, she was a terrible actress but you appreciate the sentiment non the less - having picnics, exploring the mountain villages, and on one particularly spicy day, skinny dipping in an isolated mountain lake that a swiss teammate had told Alexia about. Evenings were spent looking up at the stars together, you firmly in alexias lap on the balcony, sharing a glass of wine which you held. She pointed out stars that her Papa had shown her and given silly names to, and you were there to catch her tears. She would complain only minimally that she was cold, and you would offer to warm her up and she would lead you gently into the bedroom. Nights spent in each other's embrace, sighs shared and no alarms to wake you. You would dance around the kitchen, play cards at the table, share wine and stories and just catch up. 

The pit in your stomach mended with each kiss, each peel of laughter and each stroke of the skin. 

One evening, after the skinny dipping adventure in which the footballer insisted that she must have hypothermia and had taken herself off over an hour ago telling you she wasn’t coming out of the warm shower until she had become a prune. You had started to add the finishing touches to a sketch of the scene beyond your lodges window when you felt the blonde return into the room, You eyed her quickly, flannel tartan pyjamas covering her tall frame, hanging over her wrists, matching shorts which are despicably short. Fuzzy socks on her feet. She looked absolutely adorable. 

You didn’t know why she was staring at you though, She moved towards you and you made space for her on the couch.  “You have your glasses on, Conejita.” she mumbled, and you reached up, as though to confirm they were on your face, “I didn’t know you still wore them.” You didn’t, too be honest, but with the long day of fresh air and a strong sun on the mountainside your eyes had grown tired. You shrugged at her, as she placed a soft kiss on your lips. Lovesick look in her eyes. “You’re so hot.” She mumbled, more to herself. You hear though, and the blush runs up your neck. 

You moved to get your work off your lap but she stopped you, pulling you back into her embrace and you automatically moved your knees up to rest your sketchbook there. “Carry on, please.” her chin rested on your shoulder. You hesitated, you didn’t come all this way to not spend time with the blonde, you wanted to soak in every minute. You wouldn’t be happy if she started to kick a ball around in the kitchen. She could sense your hesitation, “please. Remember, I like the sound of your pencil.” she moves your free hand to her bare thigh, “and it gives me goosebumps.” You fell in love again over those 6 days. You never fell out of it. But maybe you both just needed reminding. You felt whole, your communication about how you were feeling had worked, Alexia had listened. You just had one worry though, as the plane landed back in Barna you couldn’t hold it in. “Alex.” you said, before the seatbelt sign came on, gripping her arm lightly. “This was the best trip of my life. Thank you.” Her smile cracked her face, and she looked immensely proud of herself. “Mine too, Amor.” she agreed, easily, her face was peaceful . “But. I can’t go back to how things were again, si? I don’t think I could survive it, not after this week.” she's already shaking her head. “It won’t, I promise. I will not let that happen. Me and you, Si? That is all that is important” you take a moment, “And Pabs.” you amend for her, breaking the tension. “Si, of course” she rolls her eyes, “and Pablo Petcatso.” 

When somebody loved me Everything was beautiful Every hour we spent together Lives within my heart When she loved me

“Hey, Al?” you shout, into the living room as you enter your flat. It's been a few weeks since you returned from your impromptu get away. A busy few weeks. You have been booked up and Alex had to make up for the time she had lost, Barca were still in 4 competitions so the match load was heavy. You could see she was trying though, so that made the darkness that had started to creep back in more bearable. She wasn’t home from training yet. Which disappointed you more than usual. You were giddy. 

You had just found out that your art had been selected to be shown at a huge gallery opening in the centre of the city. An established and high-end gallery. It was a big deal, and it was potentially your big break. You got flutters in your stomach even thinking about the commissions it could make you. Pabs popped his head around the door and you picked him up giddily and span him around, his meow in response you took as a congratulations as you danced and laughed. You didn’t hear the door behind you open but you heard your favourite voice in the world, “And what have I walked into here, hey, a party with my favourite two? Without me?” Alexia laughed.  “Alex, we're celebrating!” you let Pabs free from your grip as he scurried away from his crazy mama. Her arms loop around you as you move into a slow dance, grinning up at her; “Ah, Si? And what are we celebrating?” “I got chosen! For the gallery!” Your feet leave the floor as the taller girl fully brings you into her arms, lifting you and spinning you around in glee, the squeal she lets out is full of childlike joy. “Of course you did! You are amazing!” she plops you back down and attacks your face with kisses. “I’m so proud of you Mi Amor and I am so excited to see your gallery. Oh I can get all dressed up and be your arm piece!” The thought brings you pure joy, the image of Alexia standing by your side, proudly, champagne in hand. Your Mami and Papi and Eli and Alba all present. Pabs in a little bow tie. “Si?” you ask, shyly, much more used to being by her side, “You’ll come? It is in 4 weeks. The 16th. You should be just starting on break.” A shadow of sadness passes her face at your insecurity, “Amor even if I was not on break I would not miss this for the world. If I had the world cup final I would call in sick. I will be there.  I will be the girl with the biggest bouquet of flowers in all of Barna with the lovesick look on her face.” It had been a whirlwind of a month, you had to put the finishing touches on your pieces. 

You have chosen to showcase your best landscapes. 

Scenes from the road to Valencia, The Square in Mollett, Beach Scenes in Barca, Snow capped mountains of Switzerland.

It was the story of your love for Alexia. Told through scenes only the two of you could understand the significance of. 

In the week leading up to the opening, you would spend late nights at the gallery, setting up lighting with Mapi and your Papi. Eli would walk around straightening frames on the walls. As you settled into bed each night, Alexia would open her arms and bring you into her warn embrace. 

You couldn’t wait to share your love story with the world. Alexia was having a bad day. It started bad. And continued to be bad. First, she woke up alone, which she hated. 

She recalled a kiss to the forehead and a whispered ‘I'll see you later’ before she'd dozed back off.  Then she realised that she had forgotten to charge her phone and was therefore late to training. Well. Not late for normal people. But late for Alexia. Then she forgot her socks and had to steal some of Irenes. She had a bad training session and Patri beat her in all their 1v1’s. And then the icing on the cake. She was dragged out from her gym session to do media which she hated. By the time she had finished the changing rooms were mostly empty, with only Pina and Patri left, scheming together in a corner.

“Ah now, Capi! Turn that frown upside down!” Pina teased her, “Ay, come out for a drink with me and Patri, the girls are all coming later, a bonding session before the break!”

And Alexia would usually say no, she wasn’t one for massive social events. But a drink sounded good. And it was the last day of training before the break.

Which is how she found herself 4 drinks in, deep in a booth in Patris favourite bar downtown. Most of the girls had joined them and laughter and chatter filled the roped off space. Something was missing and it took Alexia a moment to realise that there wasn’t a yapping in her ear.

“Ay, Pina, where are Mapi and Ingrid?” 

“They text the group, they had something on but they’re going to join us after. Ah… here they are!” Pina turned as Patri dragged her to the dance floor. Alexia turned to where Pina had pointed and saw Ingrid and Mapi walking towards her. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave, as they got closer she took in their state of dress; “Ay, sexy mamas, it’s only a night out with the team. Why are you dressed so nice? Have you just come from your wedding?” Mapi looked at Alexia. But really, really looked at her. “What?” nothing. “Maria, what? Why are you looking at me like that? Ingrid?” she faced the usually kind woman but she wasn’t met with her usual smile, “What’s happening? Wh-ohmygod.” It hit Alexia like a freight train. Like 10 freight trains. She physically had to hold onto the chair to her side to remain standing.  “No, no, no, I didn’t, I couldn’t have done.” She starts to pat herself down and pulls her phone out, dead, still uncharged from the night before. She holds it up to Mapi, as evidence, evidence of what she doesn’t know. As though it gives her a lifeline. She knows it doesn’t. “Ingrid? Ingrid please tell me I didn’t miss it.” she asks, desperately. The tall girl looks away, as though she can’t even face what the captain had done. “Alexia.” The rage is barely contained in Mapis' voice. “I can’t even look at you.” Mapi turns to leave, but it's as though her anger wont let her; she turns again and spits out; “Do you think she needed a reminder on her phone to know when the Champions League final was? Do you think… I can’t… I have just come from her gallery opening. Her life's work. A life shared with you. And here you are. At a bar. Celebrating, what?  A game of football? A half season well done? Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck. Off” Ingrid grips her hand and tries to pull her away. All Alexia can do is stand there and take it, it's not a hundredth of what she deserves. “No Ingrid.” She pulls her hand free and pushes her finger into Alexia's chest. “You are a selfish monster. She thought you must be hurt. That's what she thought. She thought you were in a ditch somewhere. She almost cancelled the whole thing to run around hospitals to find you. But then Alba saw you on Patris instagram. And here you are. La Reina.” Mapi looks her up and down, pure disgust on her face. “Your Mamis held her as she sobbed. Alba redid her makeup. I would steer clear of her Papi for months if I were you. She is strong, and she gave a speech.” Alexia couldn’t breathe. You gave a speech? She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there.  “Please, Maria, stop. I can’t listen.” Alexia couldn’t take it. She moved Mapis' hand off her chest and ran to the door of the club. One thought in her mind. Get to you. Get to you. “It's too late Alexia.” Mapi shouts to her back. She ignores her. It can’t be. No It can't be. She jumps out of the uber onto the unfamiliar street. The lights to the gallery are off but she desperately tries the door regardless. Banging on it with her fist in frustration. She lets out a scream into the empty street. Peering through the windows she sees wall after wall of your work. Scenes she recognises from her life. Football pitches. Beaches, Mountains. The scene from your balcony in Mollet. It was all so beautiful. So carefully curated. And she wasn’t there. She takes off at a run. It’s not too late. Mapi is wrong. It’s not too late. She will die if it is too late. “Y/N!” she barged into the apartment. She must have ran 10 miles. “Y/N are you here?” She runs from room to room. But there is no one there. When that's established she plugs her phone into the charger on the breakfast bar and makes her way back through the apartment. She goes into the bedroom. No, please no. The wardrobe is open, your side is empty. She looks around. Your things are gone.

The kitchen remains largely unaffected. Though the picture of you and your parents no longer sits on the shelf. Your trainers are gone from the hall. Your favourite blanket from the couch. She looks at the walls. Anything you had painted. Gone. Alexia always insisted that your art be on the walls, in each home you shared together. “Why would I want strangers work on the walls, Mi Amor? When I have the best artist in the world here?” she would say, making you blush. She was addicted to that blush. She walks back into the hallway. One picture remains in pride of place. The picture you presented to her in her darkest moment. You would never take that away from her. It was a gift of pure adoration. All it does is make the stabbing pain in Alexia's heart worsen. She pushes open the door to your art studio. All that remains are paints and blank canvases. Except. In the middle of the room. The easel. A picture she had seen before, in its early stages. A hand. A hand holding a beautiful flower. But it had changed somehow. Pressure lines had appeared. The flower beginning to wilt under the force. It wasn’t your usual work. Alexia stood closer. Entranced. As she inspected the image she saw the light tease off still wet paint. You had touched this up recently. Her eyes search, frantically for anything of your last moments in the apartment when she catches it. Too light for anyone not searching for it. 11. Blended into skin at the wrist of the image. A tattoo. So lightly painted but it etched itself fiercely into Alexia's soul. This was her hand. This hand that was silently destructive, was hers.  She saw a post it note stuck to the leg of the easel and in your looping handwriting: ‘Love is giving someone the power to destroy you and trusting that they won't use it.’

She brought her hand up to her mouth and let out an audible gasp. She runs into the kitchen and dry heaves over the sink. There, she watches as her tears splash into the marble. And as she watches. She takes note of a single paint droplet. Her tears joined it, creating the most heart crushing piece of work she had ever seen.

God. She used to get so angry at that paint in the sink.

It's been years, she thought, years since she found paint in the sink. How much did you have to lessen yourself in order to be with her?

She collapsed into a seated position. Back against the kitchen cabinet. And brought her knees to her chest. She sobbed. And sobbed. She was joined at one point by Pabs. She thought you’d taken him with you. But no, in a typical act of kindness you wouldn’t leave her alone in her despair.

His little bow tie still sat around his neck, skew-whiff, as he looked at his mama curiously. He licked her nose and she sobbed harder.

Weeks passed.

She doesn’t know how she got through those weeks. Thousands of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. Went unanswered.

Alexia didn’t hear from you. Her Mami and Alba had forgiven her after Alba had found her in a state and unable to look after herself but they made it clear they were on your side. Mapi wouldnt look at her. They wouldn't tell her where you were, they wouldn’t pass on any message.

She was too frightened to go to your Mami and Papa.

She hadn’t trained well for weeks, She arrived at training exhausted. Sleep would never find her. She was barely clinging on. Jona still insisted she play. She was La Reina.

And then she broke. And that's where Irene found her, after another match of lacklustre performance. In a back corridor of the stadium. Broken and staring at the wall in front of her.

A ghost of the woman she was. 

Her phone lay next to her. A message from you. A response to her apologies, her thoughts, the pain she had told you she felt for your failed relationship. 

Finally, Word you were alive. 

3 words in fact. “It’ll pass Alexia.”

[hannie-dul-set]

YOURS TO KEEP.

p — SHEN QUANRUI x female! reader. g — college! au, exchange student! ricky, fluff, very very lightly angsty. w — swearing, alcohol consumption. kdrama references and misquoted quotes. 3.2k words.

note — dreamt of ricky. vomited out.....ricky as ur cute bf who behaves like a cat and whose favorite forms of cross-cultural exchange is receiving headpats and watching kdramas. only 2 scenes are actually inspired by my dream 😭 if someone guesses which line/s were extracted directly from my dream, i'll reward u with a gyuvin drabble how about that 👍

you picked up a cat from the university’s foreign exchange program.

however, he did not come in a box. he came in a louis vuitton tracksuit and balenciaga sunglasses, which very much caught you off guard when you came to meet him at the admin building, and you greet him after mustering the courage to finally walk up to the cat’s imposing presence. “h—hello! are you perhaps shen quanrui?”

he takes off his sunglasses, meets you with a pair of pretty swoopy, pretty eyes, and says, “oh. yes. are you my owner?” 

you pause. you’re taken aback because that...that doesn’t sound like the right word. “ah, um. i’m the person assigned to help you around the campus and the city for the semester, yes! it’s nice to meet you!” but you brush it off because of language barriers and all. his mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape when you tell him the correct term.

“oh, sorry.”

“it’s alright!” you say. “hope we get along!”

quanrui tells you that you can just call him ricky, and gives you a small smile. one of many that you’ll be graced with for the duration of the semester.

“i’ll be in your care.”

your new cat is a little intimidating at first, clad in all black at all times. the night you helped him first settle into his dorm, even his pajamas were reminiscent of an abyss— like a white ragdoll trying to disguise itself as a panther because you later find out that he’s actually a really sweet, really polite, and really clingy cat.

“um. knock, knock.”

you look up from your laptop, ricky in a long leather coat hesitantly peeking out from your half-open bedroom door (you gave him a copy of your apartment key. your cat needs a way to get in by himself somehow). he texted you earlier, asking if you can help him out with an essay, and you assume he’s right here right now for that very reason.

“do you have your paper?” you ask, closing your laptop. he nods and lifts up his ipad, showing it off. you have a very cute cat. you scoot aside and pat the empty space on your bed, and ricky comes padding in, mattress sinking when he settles beside you, making sure to maintain a respectable enough distance and hands you his device with the google doc open.

“oh. i marked the parts where i’m not sure about my vocabulary,” he mentions the moment a yellow highlighted part came up on the screen. 

you give it a once over. “i think this is right. yeah, you did good.” when you turn your head, you’re met with a pair of proudly sparkling eyes. you stifle out a laugh. “what? do you want a head pat for that?”

“maybe i deserve one?”

you let your fingers sink into the fluff on the top of his head. again, he’s really sweet, really polite, and really clingy. but maybe a little too clingy sometimes, especially when he finally got a lot more comfortable around you.

comfortable enough to hiss at your friends.

“oh, you signed up as a student-helper for the exchange program too?” hanbin asks after seeing you walk in the classroom with ricky in row, trailing behind you like a shadow. 

“yeah, i can’t miss the extra points prof choi baited us with.” you nudge ricky with your elbow, noticing how tense he is all of a sudden and how he’s looking at your senior with a bit of a glare. perhaps he’s threatened by another feline presence.

“nice to meet you!” hanbin greets with a bright, an arm outstretched before you, meant for ricky, but he keeps tucking himself behind you with his hands fixed on your shoulders.

hanbin has his hand left unshaked for five seconds too long now. you nudge him again. he won’t budge.

“ah, ricky is still a little shy!” you exclaim, trying to salvage the situation by grabbing hanbin’s hand instead with both of yours, swinging it around, left and right. you’re lucky your senior is so easygoing. he laughs along with you and says of course, of course, he totally gets it, merrily swinging your arms together back and forth. “he’s still not that confident with his korean. right, ricky?”

“keep holding her and i’ll claw your eyes out.”

you freeze. you leer back at ricky shen, giving him your what the fuck are you saying look? he maintains his stance, tugging you back by the shoulders. you twitch out a smile and try your best to defend your clingy and jealous cat. “ahaha. he’s picked up some weird things from all the dramas he’s been watching,” you say. “sorry about that seonbae! we’ll get to our seats now!”

“haha, it’s alright! nice to meet you ricky!”

“what was that?”you snap back at him the moment hanbin leaves the premises. all ricky does is shrugs and steadies his hold on your shoulders, aiming your body somewhere and he starts making you walk to the back of the classroom— far, far away from where hanbin is sitting.

your cat is a little weird sometimes, sure. gyuvin finds him entertaining enough though. they play tennis every weekend, and ricky started picking up even more weird things from him and all the rest of your friends that you’re starting to think they’re not very good influences.

case in point—

“if you drink this, we’re dating.”

the grape juice he poured into your paper cup nearly spills over from shock. you look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed, cheeks burning and heart racing because what the hell? “seriously, where have you been learning these things?” 

ricky looks satisfied for eliciting that kind of reaction. he pours himself a paper cup of grape juice as well because it’s a weeknight, and you have a quiz tomorrow, and getting wasted is off of the table, so you two settled for juice and chips on your living room floor to relish in your academic misery.

“jiwoong hyung and gunwookie recommended me some movies for me to watch.” he sets down the juice bottle after screwing the cap shut, and you fear the other movies those two gremlins recommended him come from a list of top 50 movie pick-up up lines to woo an unsuspecting victim. next thing you know, he’s gonna invite you to have ramen at his place or go see freaking butterflies with him. “i just watched a moment to remember earlier. my pronunciation is getting better, right?” 

ricky is looking at you with his eyes all big and his lips all pressed together expectantly. he’s waiting for your praise. you feel your chest swell. the grape juice feels heavy in your hand. gosh, he’s such a needy cat. a needy cat that deserves all the praise in the world.

“yeah. i’m proud of you. c’mere.”

you leave your cup on the table to focus on more important things— that is, giving ricky his well deserved pats on the head. you don’t recall how your relationship with him managed to get this far, still remembering how intimidated you felt when you first met him. now he’s on your living room floor, head laying back on your couch with a drama playing on the tiny laptop screen settled on the coffee table, both of you barely paying attention because he’s looking at something on his phone, and you’re gently rubbing his head as you reply to some messages on yours.

“ah, gyuvin is seriously annoying,” you complain. “he’s trying to get me to join his club. coding club he says, when i’m pretty sure he’s just starting it as an excuse to play games on campus.”

“are you going to join?” he asks, bumping his head against your palm when you stop giving him scratches.

“mm, i don’t think so.” you set down your phone to pour all your focus into satisfying your needy cat’s attention requirements. ricky lets out a satisfied rumble when set his head down onto your lap, raking your fingers through the tufts of his hair as he lets his eyes flutter to a close. “i’m already too busy this semester to bother with those things. maybe next time if he’s that desperate to fill in the member numbers..”

“yeah,” he mutters. “you’ll be too busy spending most of your time with me.”

your fingers stop moving.

ricky looks up at you, confused as to why you stopped petting him, and you’d eat him right up if you could. but you can’t keep your cat for too long. it’s only a matter of time before you get your last opportunity to coddle him like this, to shower him in unabashed affection disguised as friendship because the exchange program is temporary, and he’s returning back to china at the end of the semester.

so why is he raising your hopes up if he’s just going to leave anyway?

“i meant my acads, silly,” you say, picking up your untouched juice cup from the table, feeling the weight of the drink slosh around the paper cup as you let it hover in front of your lips. 

he’s raising your hopes up and you’re letting him. you know this is gonna end in a disaster.

still.

“but if you put it that way—”

the sharp taste of sweet grapes hits the back of your throat, swallowing down the lukewarm juice that’s been sitting since ricky poured a cup for you. if you’re gonna crash down at the end of this, might as well crash down from two thousand feet above the ground. 

“are we dating now?”

you set the cup back down on the table, gaze flickered down at ricky, whose face is flushed in surprise one moment— easing into understanding the next, and he props himself up from your lap, reaching out for the back of your neck to pull you into a sugary tart kiss.

yeah, you think, feeling the softness of his lips brush against yours, his eyelashes tickling your cheeks when he pulls you in even closer. if your time with him has a deadline, might as well make the most out of it.

“i was disappointed when you didn’t drink it the first time,” he says, drunk on sweet juice and the feeling of your mouth against his. “jiwoong hyung said that line was effective.”

“can you not think about another man when i’m kissing you?”

he lets out a laugh, “‘m sorry,” then presses a fluttering kiss on your temple, tip of your nose, until his lips meet yours once more at last. “let me try again. ahem. i like you. i don’t need a rainbow.”

“you got the line wrong, baek yijin. try again next time.”

if he’s going to leave anyway, might as well make his departure as heart wrenching as all the dramas he’s so fond of watching.

“looks like our friend here got more than just extra credit for volunteering to help out the exchange students.”

you look up from the stack of papers on your table, only to have more dropped off by taerae with a thunk. hanbin, gyuvin, matthew and ricky are also loitering around the classroom— not that they’re helping you and taerae check the test papers your profs asked you to grade as a favor. at least the constant yelling and arguing and meowing noises(?) are making things a lot more lively.

“congrats, you lucky bitch,” he says.

“you sound like you want to covet my cat,” you raise a brow at him, adding the new set to your pile as taerae grabs a new stack as well.

“your cat for this mutt,” he points his thumb at matthew, who’s currently tucked in the to answer an evaluation sheet on taerae. ricky’s doing the same evaluation about you, somewhere. you’re not sure where your cat went, but he’s probably just around. “are you perhaps open for negotiation?”

“matthew isn’t a mutt. he’s a cute golden retriever.”

“well, your cat doesn’t seem to appreciate you calling someone else cute.”

taerae swerves off to reveal a pouting ricky. he’s got his arms crossed, the evaluation sheet folded in between the fingers of his right hand, and you have to hold back a laugh. “did you finish my evaluation?” you ask.

“i did, but i wanna redo it now. negative points for you,” he protests, but lets you snatch the paper from him anyway. you scoot your chair to the left to give him some space next to you. he grabs an empty armchair and nudges his nose close to your face when you start reading his note at the bottom.

“mid-semester evaluation. my student-helper is very acommodatimg. she has been helping me adjust to korea very well. you spelled accommodating wrong, angel.” 

“i did it on purpose to test you. good job. you pass.”

you roll your eyes, free hand absentmindedly reaching out for the top of his head, and you hear ricky let out a noise of satisfaction. “she always answers my questions and is…very pretty and smells nice,” you set the paper down. your cat is looking at you expectantly. “ricky, i don’t think you can submit this.”

“why not?” he asks. “professor choi said to be as honest as possible.”

your cheeks grow warm.

gosh. this makes things even harder knowing your cat has to leave eventually.

“what did i tell you?”

the convenience store lights need to be replaced soon, you note. it keeps flickering intermittently against the dim night— reminiscent of how you’re feeling right now when you called jiwoong out for a few drinks two weeks before finals, but you’re not depressed because finals are near. you’re wallowing in tear stained sniffles because the exchange program will be over soon, meaning you only have two weeks until ricky has to pack his bags and leaves.

“not to get too attached because he has to say goodbye eventually,” you lament, a puddle of soju burning your lips. jiwoong looks at your pathetic state with remorseful sigh.

“and what did you do?” he says.

“got too attached and now i have to say goodbye to him eventually.” you groan and swallow down a shot. you’re about to pour yourself another, but jiwoong pulls back the bottle— maybe your third one of the night, you’re not sure— away from your reach, and pushes you a plastic bottle of water instead. 

“you just had to go ahead and start dating him like an idiot,” he cracks open the water for you when you don’t do anything with it. he pours it in a shot glass, and you take the bait, drinking down the water, eyebrows furrowing when it doesn’t burn your throat like you expected. “maybe if you tell him to say, he might listen to you.”

you let out a gasp. “i can’t do that! that’d be so selfish of me!”

jiwoong can’t do anything to help you but share your miseries tonight. he simply sits in silence, waiting for the owner of the number he texted a while ago to make an appearance, and listen to your drunk ramblings at eleven in the evening.

“i miss my cat. i haven’t seen him the entire day because he says he had things to do with hanbin and hao.” you’ve melted into the table. high pitched whines aside, he’s surprised you’re still coherent at this point. “bring me back my cat. i miss him so much. i miss my cat. i miss my ricky. i wish he’d never leave me.”

jiwoongs eyes flit up. “looks like your cat misses you too.” he pulls himself up from his chair and picks up his jacket from the backrest. “took you long enough.”

when you tip your head back in confusion, wondering who the hell jiwoong is talking to, you’re pleasantly surprised to see the upside-down face of the cat you’ve been missing.

“ah,” you sound out. “you’re here.”

“thanks, hyung,” ricky settles a hand on the top of your head. you blink. now you understand why he liked headpats so much. “i’ll take care of her from here.”

this is eye opening. you feel your eyelids growing heavier as ricky continues to massage your head, his and jiwoong’s faraway voices talking about something, something you can’t really hear, until jiwoong waves off, and it’s just you and ricky in front of the quiet flickering lights of the convenience store entrance.

you hear yourself whine when ricky’s hand disappears from the top of your head. “you should’ve called me if you missed me,” he says, circling from behind the chair to being in front of you now. he crouches down, settling his crossed arms on your lap, and he looks up at you with his pretty swoopy eyes. “why didn’t you call me?”

“i need to get used to you not being around even if i miss you,” you say, letting your fingers sink into the soft strands of his hair.

ricky lets out a questioning hum. “why wouldn’t i be around?”

“because your deadline is near,” you grumble. “i have to return you to where i first picked you up, but i don’t want to. but you have to. this sucks so much.”

you’re still saddled with insobriety, and the fact that your sweet cat isn’t purring like usual when you’re patting his head is making your bottom lip quiver and your eyes sting because you fear you might’ve said something wrong. “aren’t you gonna ask me what i did today?” he simply asks. you suck in a wavering breath and swallow a lump in your throat.

“what...did you do today?”

“hanbin hyung helped me settle the requirements for my transfer” ricky lands a gentle hold on your wrist and brings your hand down to the side of his face, cupping his cheek. it’s warm. “i’m going to continue attending here. hao hyung is too.”

you blink at him. “w—what?”

“i don’t have to leave. you don’t have to keep missing me.” he brings your hand down palm to the front of his lips, pressing a kiss into your palm. “i’m not going anywhere. i’m yours to keep.”

it takes you a moment to register ricky’s words, so you stay there for a while— sitting frozen in cold silence until the warmth of his messages finally settles in to thaw you out. oh, you think. “oh,” you repeat out loud, voice wavering. ricky hums out a smile at your reaction. he rises, pulling you up to your feet, and you stumble into him.

“i think i know the perfect line for this moment,” he says, steadying a hold on the small of your back. “what was it? if I don't see you, i get upset. If you're depressed, i get curious. something like that?”

“it’s the other way around, dummy.” you sniffle. “why do you keep quoting nam joohyuk?” 

“because he’s cool,” he says. “let’s go watch start-up at your place once you’ve sobered up.”

the cat you picked from the university’s foreign exchange program is clingy, sweet, and is for some reason obsessed with quoting the dramas he’s been watching. he keeps an arm around you when he walks you back to your apartment after grieving over his departure, only to kiss you with the news that you don’t have to return him any time soon.

YOURS TO KEEP. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[restinslices]

小天使

Bi-Han x Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 2036

Summary: Who would have thought that raising a child would be the hardest thing in a world full of gods, Edenians, sorcerers, war, and whatever else life decided to throw in the mix.

Translations for future reference: 小天使 - Little angel. 爸爸- Baba/dad. 我爱你! - I love you! (I got all these translations from Google, so they could be wrong).

If someone were to ask Bi-Han which was harder, being a Grandmaster or having a young child, he'd say the latter without hesitation. 

It's not that he didn't like being a father. It's just that kids… well… they're special creatures. Special in the sense that things that made sense to them, made no sense to the adults around them. 

Here are just a few moments that made Bi-Han wanna face the wall and never be seen again. 

Bald People 

“Chew with your mouth closed 小天使” Bi-Han used his hand to push your jaw up then wipe juice from your mouth, earning a giggle from you. He had no idea what was funny, but he learned long ago to not ask many questions. Your brain would never make sense to him and vice versa. 

To say it was a nice day would be an understatement. For the first time in days there was no rain in the area, the cold didn't bite at anyone's exposed flesh (something he didn't mind, but your body didn't process the cold the same way his did. At least not yet), the clouds didn't cast the world into darkness, no. Nothing like that. It was clear. Not a cloud in sight. No rumbles of thunder. Just a clear day. Perfect for eating fruit with his little buddy outside. 

Bi-Han made a fatal error though. He allowed himself to get too comfortable. He stopped being on his guard. 

“爸爸!” You shouted. “爸爸 WHY IS THAT GUY BALD?!”. 

Please let that be a hallucination… 

He followed where your finger was pointing, and to his disappointment, he wasn't hallucinating. You were pointing to a Lin Kuei ninja who had taken his mask off to reveal his smooth and bald head. The man- well, not just him. Every ninja looked over at the two of you in shock. 

“Hey!” he pushed your hand down. “What'd I say about pointing?” he scolded. It was all he could think to say. What was he supposed to do in this situation? He had never been advised on what to do if his child suddenly became interested in bald people. 

“BUT HE IS BALD! WHY IS HE BALD?!”. Bi-Han said a silent prayer to the Elder Gods to give him the strength to not strangle you. 

“Stop yelling! Eat your fruit!”

“But why is he bald?” at least you weren't screaming anymore. Small wins. “I'm not bald. You're not bald. I've never seen a bald person in real life. What's the word for 'bald’ in Chinese? I can't remember-”

His hand covered your mouth. He sighed. If only he could stay like this forever. 

As the Grandmaster, he wasn't afraid of confrontation. That'd be ridiculous. Didn't mean he wanted you poking at some random bald guy though. 

Your small hands pulled his down from your mouth. He hated you were so cute, with your wide eyes and chubby cheeks. It made it a lot harder to be stern with you. 

Bi-Han having trouble with being stern? You definitely had changed him. 

“But he's bald” the last word came out your mouth in amazement. Had you really never seen a bald person before? He never felt the need to show you one. Why would he? “Come on, child of mine! Let's go watch bald people today!”. Kuai Liang had kids of his own, but he hadn't brought up kids could become fascinated with bald people. Was this normal? 

Parenting was so confusing. 

“爸爸!”

“Eat your fruit” he practically begged. 

“I'm gonna go ask him why he's bald!” You exclaimed. “Excuse me! Kind stranger! Hey-” with a sigh, Bi-Han threw you over his shoulder, grabbed the bowl of fruit, and walked towards the house. 

“Hey!” Your small hands hit his back and your legs kicked up in the air. “Hey I was talking to him! Hey! Hey! Kind stranger! Why are you bald?!”. 

You continued your shouts of curiosity, all while Bi-Han continued carrying you over his shoulder. And once you both got back inside, you still hadn't understood what you did wrong. 

“It was just a question” you defended as you bit at your nails and swung your legs from your seat. “Can I have ice cream?”. 

Bi-Han sighed. 

War was easier than this. 

Duckies

As soft as you had made him, he still pushed you when it came to training. 

And as silly as you were, you were still a fantastic fighter. 

It filled him with pride to watch you use your small size to your advantage. You'd dodge under the other ninjas legs, kick them in places like their shins, you'd even crawl up their bodies and startle them. 

His perfect little warrior. 

But before being a warrior, you were still a child. So it was to his disappointment, but not surprise, when you gasped and pointed behind him. Something had gotten your attention. 

“Look! Look!” You exclaimed as you ran past him. 

What he expected to see was something like a rainbow. Something that made sense to get excited over. What he didn't expect to see were two white ducks waddling next to each other. 

“They're ducks” 

“They're ducks!” You repeated after him. “They're so cute!” You ran at him and tugged on his arm. “Can I have them?! Please please please?! Can I have them both?!”. 

Would it be terrible to make a joke about cooking them?

More than likely. 

“No” he said sternly and grabbed your arm. “Go back to-”

“I wanna go draw them” you whined. You tried to pull away from him, even going so far as to try and pry his hand away, but you were a small child. 

By the Elder Gods… maybe if he screamed everytime he woke up, he'd have more patience. 

Bi-Han tried his hardest to say “go back to your training” as sternly as he could, in hopes it'd spark obedience in you. You weren't an obedient warrior though. You were a child. 

You did what he hated most. You fell to the floor, becoming dead weight in his hand. You mumbled whines he couldn't, and didn't care to hear. Everytime he tried to pick you up, you fought to stay back down. It didn't matter that he threatened to take away everything you loved. Even using the typical lines about Santa didn't work. You didn't care about Santa, or your toys, or getting an earlier bedtime, or no longer having candy, or anything else he could think of. You were in love with these stupid fucking birds now and all you wanted to do was draw them. 

“Fine!” he shouted. “Go draw your ducks!”. 

Of course, your sour mood was gone now. You ran away, leaving him behind to dismiss his men and debate on asking one of his brothers to babysit. 

Bi-Han hoped that this phase would only last a few days. 

But hope never really did anything. 

The phase lasted months. There were drawings of ducks everywhere. There were framed pictures, pictures on the fridge, pictures in between couch cushions, he even found some in the bathroom. Why the hell were you drawing in the bathroom? 

The sound of crayons scribbling on paper and you humming filled his ears when he entered your room. Ducks again he was sure. Duck this, duck that, duck every fucking thing. 

“Come on. We're visiting your uncles today”

“One more minute”. 

He sighed. He kept giving you “one more minute”. You were supposed to have left ten minutes ago. There wasn't a set time you both were supposed to be at Kuai Liangs home. He just wanted to be there by 2:30pm, but it was 2:25pm and you still hadn't left. 

“No more minutes” he didn't know why he kept trying to be stern with you. “We're going. Now.” 

He walked closer to you then, prepared to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off if he had to. Thankfully, you slammed your crayon down and showed off your drawing with a wide smile. 

“I drew us as ducks!”. 

It was true. Though the ducks weren't entirely anatomically correct, Bi-Han could still see the two ducks holding hands and smiling. You even added hair on both of you, and on the bottom in pink sat the words “我爱你!”. 

He pointed at the words and asked “who's saying that?”. 

“Both of us” you answered. “Cause I love you and you love me!”. Very true. Even if you made his head pound sometimes, he loved you more than life itself. “It's a gift for you”. 

Was it stupid to feel happy as he held the paper in his hands? It was just ducks after all. 

But in the same breath, you took two things you loved and put them together. Perhaps it was insecurity, but sometimes he worried that you weren't aware of how much he loved you. He was glad to know that although he pushed you, it didn't change how you felt for him. 

“Do you like it?”. 

Did he like it?

He left a kiss on top of your head and nodded. 

Maybe ducks weren't so bad. 

Party Time!

When Bi-Han felt himself being shook awake, he knew it could only be one person doing it. So, being the reasonable and mature adult he was, he decided to ignore the person. 

“爸爸. 爸爸. 爸爸” You whispered while shaking him. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to still be asleep. “Dad. Dad. Daddy. Dada. 爸爸”. He groaned and tried to shake you off while still pretending to be asleep. Unfortunately for him, you inherited his stubbornness. 

He felt your breath on his ear as you whispered “are you awake? Wake up”. 

Fuck. You weren't gonna stop. Maybe you'd tire eventually, but it wouldn't be anytime soon. 

He sighed, opened his eyes, then looked at you. “Why are you awake?” he grumbled, noticing the lack of light coming through his curtains. 

“I can't sleep” you complained. “I had a bad dream”. Well now he felt a little bad for ignoring you. 

“Come lay next to me-”

“I don't wanna go back to sleep” you whined. You fully collapsed on top of him, which he wished you didn't do because your head was now on his throat. “I wanna stay up. Let's have a party!”. 

“No” he answered simply. He pushed you off, much to your dismay. “I'll read you a story-”

“Nooooooooo” you whined from next to him. “Party time! Let's have a party! Dad and kid party!”. He rolled his eyes at your jazz hands. Parents needed a daily salary. 

“We're not having a party,” he said. He wasn't even sure what kind of party you were even talking about. Either way, it was far too late. “I will read you a bedtime story. You'll like the story. Then you'll go to sleep”. 

More whines. “Then the monster will come back”. 

That made him raise a brow. “The monster?” he questioned. 

Your frown deepened. “The monster” you repeated. “In my dream, there was a monster. You left me behind”. 

Oh his heart was so soft when it came to you. He could've told you to suck it up and that it was just a dream. Instead, his eyes softened and he rubbed your cheek. Your hand gripped his in response. 

“I wouldn't leave you behind”

“You wouldn't?”. 

You sweet child… 

“Never” he said firmly. That answer seemed to satisfy you. You burrowed yourself into his side and let out a sigh of relief. Poor thing. He wished he could prevent you from having bad dreams ever again. 

He stayed awake beside you, patiently waiting for you to fall back asleep. 

You frustrated Bi-Han. That much was true. You gave him headache after headache and confused him beyond belief. 

It didn't matter in the long run. It didn't matter how many times you said something inappropriate in public, or how many obsessive phases you went through. 

It wouldn't matter how many tantrums you had, or how many times you woke him up while the moon was still high in the sky. 

None of that would matter. 

He would always stand beside you. 

He would always love and adore you. 

His warrior. 

His little duck. 

His 小天使.

I haven’t written x reader fanfic in a hot minute, so I’m still a little rusty. I hope y’all enjoyed either way! While proof reading I realized that Kuai Liang would more than likely live with Bi-Han and wouldn’t have his own home to visit. But uuuhhhh it’s already to written 😀. So let’s all just ignore that little error.

[chososdiscordkitten]

Obsessive!Choso♡ pt3

pt 2 here content: Choso refers to reader as his gf- other than that no use of pronouns. mention of reader wearing lipstick, obsessive crush to stalker arc :>

(a.n) this is slowly becoming a fic and I don't hate it. I felt lack of inspo last night and did a deep dive into what stalkers do- the red flags before they start the actual stalking lol

taglist: @flam3bird

Obsessive!Choso who almost felt his heart burst when he saw you wave hi at him when you walked into class. Smile on your lips as you walk down to your seat. Hearing your friend speak a little louder than a whisper while taking a practice test, seeing you look back at him and make a face almost asking him, ‘can you believe what she's saying?’ before turning around again, watching your friend lean in close to you and keep pestering you. His eyes watching you turn your phone on under your desk, ‘During a test? What are you thinking-’ he thought, mentally scolding you.

Obsessive!Choso who almost died when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, pulling it out and seeing that you had texted him. ‘can u hear her from all the way over there ?’ reading it and hearing your voice. The realization of, ‘you were thinking of me?’ making him slouch in his seat, feeling his heavily pieced ears start to warm. Staring at your text, looking down at you, noticing you had the conversation still open. ‘Are you waiting for me?’ he asked you in his mind. Quickly screenshotting the notification before opening it, ‘yeah, i can.’ he typed, sending it and seeing you turn your head and smile at him. Seeing you look down at your phone, his heart beating quickly when he saw the typing bubble show up. ‘she keeps asking me what the answers are’, smiling when he saw that your auto capitalization was off, another thing you two had in common. ‘is this not a practice test?’ he typed, thinking how crazy it is that he was talking to you. To you! Person of his dreams, everything he wanted in a partner. You. The person who always greets him with a warm smile, who's always nice to him.

Obsessive!Choso whose heart skipped a beat when he saw you move your shoulders, indicating that you were trying not to laugh. ‘I make you laugh?’ looking down at his phone and seeing you had texted again. ‘dont think she knows that’  you replied, putting your phone away and getting back to the paper in front of you. Making sure to remember to ask you why you're friends with someone like that. ‘You're not the same kind of person- or even on the same level mentally. So why would you be friends with someone who does nothing but bother you?’  Thinking he knew everything about your friendship with this person. 

Obsessive!Choso who went to the campus coffee shop, in hopes that maybe you'd be there. Knowing from your instagram stories that you usually came to pick up a coffee after one of your classes. Only this time you weren't here. Pulling out his trifold wallet before paying, looking to see he didn't have any cash, trying to find his card. “Pretty girlfriend.” the cashier said, breaking the awkward silence while looking at the photo of you in his wallet. “Sorry?” he asked, looking at them when he found the piece of plastic. “Your girlfriend-” they continued, eyes pointing at the picture. The sentence made him flustered, not paying attention that some people notice small things like that. Smile on his face as he mumbled a quiet ‘I know.’ before tapping his card onto the screen. 

Obsessive!Choso kept those few words in his mind whenever he caught a glimpse of his wallpaper. ‘My girlfriend.’ he'd think, smile on his lips when he would refer to you as that.

Obsessive!Choso saw a picture of your laptop and a notebook next to it in your story. Knowing you were home, knowing that you were waiting for him to text you, you had to be right? Opening the google doc on his computer, seeing that you were on it as well. A few minutes of him watching your cursor type a sentence and delete it. Before seeing a message from the upper right corner of his screen. A message from you, ‘Hey, I know it's late. But I hit a wall with this stupid project- could I call you?’ he read, eyes widening at how right he was. Clearing his throat at how forward you were being. Call? As in on the phone with you? 

Obsessive!Choso who almost choked when he heard your voice on the phone. Pressing the phone closely to his ear, closing his eyes with a smile when he heard you say- “Heyyyy”, not being able to find the words to say to you. A small ‘hi’ leaving his throat. Hearing you let out a small giggle before hearing you place your phone down. “So i'm on the doc- and I saw you were on it too-” you started, Choso pictured you. Sitting in front of your laptop, smile on your face while speaking. He could tell by just your voice that you were smiling, smiling while talking to him.

Obsessive!Choso who desperately wanted to record the conversation- well, more like record your voice. He wasn't the one speaking a whole lot. You had gotten used to filling the silences he left in the air, being able to tell that he wasn't much of a talker. But little did you know that he was thinking longer replies, but only thinking them. Smiling when he’d hear you ask a question. You started reading aloud what you had written- making sure it sounded right. Choso accidentally let out a low ‘Mhm’ while hearing you read, closing his eyes in regret when he heard you stop. “You sound so different on the phone-” you started, almost a whisper. He exhaled quietly in relief when he heard your fingers start to press onto the keys of your computer. The call didn't last longer than 20 minutes, you just wanted to ask him his opinion on if what you had so far sounded smart or not. But in his mind, the only real reason you called was to speak to him- to hear him. 

Obsessive!Choso who felt like he could die when you told him ‘thank you’ for his help. But when you mumbled a tired, “Goodnight Choso-” before you hung up, made his cheeks flush and his heart pound in his chest. The first time you had ever said his name. Immediate regret filling his gut when he remembered he didn't record it. But he would always remember it, always keep it close to his heart in memory. 

Obsessive!Choso was walking to the campus coffee shop after class. Seeing you speaking to some guy- probably one of the so called friends you choose to surround yourself with. Slowing his pace when he saw you slowly backing away from him- and nodding no at him. Seeing this guy, reach for your arm, speaking over you as he stepped closer. Even from a distance he could see your face look uncomfortable. At that moment, Choso didn't know what came over him. He walked over- more like storming over. His face full of anger, slapping a sweet smile onto it when he saw you look over at him. “I was just about to go find you.” Making sure to keep a sweet tinge in his tone when he spoke to you. Smile of relief on your face when you saw him. Dark eyeshadow and combat boots almost making you feel safe. A quiet ‘hey’ trailed from your lips, feeling the stranger's hand fall from your arm, taking a step back. “Me too, I wanted to bring up-” you started. Rambling about what the professor had taught today, noticing the guy back off before walking away. Seeing you exhale before looking at his face. “Thank you.” you whispered, looking down at your shoes. “A friend?” he asked, his tone deeper than before. Using the same tone he spoke to you while on the phone. “Absolutely not-” you smiled, looking back up at him. “Just some guy from my public speaking class. He's been bothering me since the first day.” You laughed, seeing him crack a small smile, his hands fidgeting with his rings. “Are you busy? I was just about to go grab a coffee-” you started, looking away from him in the direction of the same coffee shop he was going to.

Obsessive!Choso who thought; ‘Aren't you forward. Trying to spend more time with me?’ as he nodded no, “I'm not.” he replied, his hands in his pockets.

Obsessive!Choso who was convinced you were starting to feel the same way he did, even if it was only a week since they paired you together. I mean, who would ask someone if they wanted to have coffee with you? “Sorry if you had plans- or whatever.” you started, walking slowly next to him. “I didn't.” he mumbled, hearing his boots drag onto the concrete. “The least I could do is buy you a coffee!” you exclaimed, ‘No need to thank me- who else but me will protect you from all the horrible men in the world?’ Choso thought, looking over to see you, remembering all the people who have been broken by men who didn't love them. Knowing that you would never have to worry about those silly things with him. 

Obsessive!Choso who purposefully switched the two coffees you had paid for- in hopes he'd be able to share an indirect kiss with you. Knowing if he tried to pay, you'd see the picture of yourself he had in his wallet. Sitting down at one of the round tables, heavily ringed hands around the cup as he looked at you pick up his coffee. Making a face when the sour taste hits your tongue. “I think they switched our cups-” You smiled, pushing his cup towards him. Seeing him mutter a feigned ‘Oh’ as he gave you the correct cup. His eyes focused on the light print of lipstick you had left on the black lid. “I could get you a new one- I know some people are huge germaphobes.” You smiled, taking a sip from your cup to wash the bitter taste from your mouth. “There are worse things in the world than sharing a drink with someone.” He murmured, slouching in his seat, seeing you give him a sweet smile in return.

Obsessive!Choso who took one sip of his coffee, only to assure you that it was okay that you had drank from it. Who felt his knee start to bounce with anticipation when he felt the satiny feeling of your lipstick on his bottom lip. Hearing words falling from your mouth, but not listening to them. Thoughts of how technically that was your first kiss with him. Seeing your phone light up on the table, hearing you sigh loudly. And it continued to light up- repeatedly. “Jesus- this girl doesn’t know how to take a hint.” You exhaled, picking up your phone and typing something. ‘Must be the girl from class.’ he thought.

Obsessive!Choso whose lips moved before his brain could process what he was saying. “The girl from class?” he asked, seeing you look up at him and smile. “Yeah- she keeps trying to come over to my house for a sleepover.” You placed your phone down, “That girl is the epitome of peaked in highschool.” You mumbled, Choso finally found an opportunity to ask you. “Why are you friends with her?” he questioned, seeing you inhale at his words. “I chose this college to get away from all the bullies and all the pretentious people who would live the same boring suburban lives.” You started, “And to become myself- to find myself.” You mumbled, looking away from him. “Imagine my disappointment when I got here and it was full of superficial delta chi’s-” You laughed, seeing him return a smile to you. Humming in response to your words. “I was never good with confrontation- The idea makes me anxious and uneasy.” seeing him look at you with his head in his hand. Eyes half lidded while listening to you. His pointer finger tracing doodles onto the table. Liking the way you opened up to him, letting him get to know you. Being able to hear your unfiltered thoughts, not the bullshit you over thought before you posted on your story. 

Obsessive!Choso who paid close attention to what you were saying, hanging onto every word that fell from your lips. Feeling yourself cringe at how you just aired out your business to someone who was practically a stranger, not knowing why it was so easy to speak to him. Somehow never sensing any judgment or lack of interest in what you said. Feeling a wave of relief whenever you were able to speak to him- a real person who didn't care about people's opinions. “Honestly I don't know why I'm still friends with her- I've tried to sit in other seats, hoping she wouldn't sit next to me in that class anymore.” You spoke, finally answering his question. ‘I know. I watched you every time you moved seats.’ Choso replied to your words mentally. “I think the reason I'm failing that class- is that I can't focus on what is being taught because she's in my ear the entire time.” You smiled, easing up on the heavy topic. ‘Aha. I knew you were failing- just like me.’

Obsessive!Choso wanted to suggest that you to sit next to him, knowing your childish friend won't follow you if you did. “Failing?” he asked, eyes scanning your features. “Yeah, I was hoping this-” You sighed, “stupid project would help my grade at least a little.” Closing your eyes and leaning back into your chair. ‘Ask me. Ask me and I'm yours. Ask me to help you.’ he thought, fighting off his excitement when you looked at him. Lightbulb practically popped up above your head, “You're doing good in class, aren't you?”  you asked, smile on your lips as he nodded yes without thinking. “I know that we were only paired for this assignment- but would you be ok with helping me study?” You smiled, eyes so bright he swore he could see the universe in them. “Of course.” He smiled, seeing you exhale and look down at the table with a smile.

Obsessive!Choso who almost let out a small giggle when he saw your face flush. ‘Are you- blushing?’ he asked himself. The question you asked him didn't make him nervous. He understood most of what was being taught, but he didn't have the energy to physically write the essays, and besides- Choso preferred spending his free time thinking of you. Not of the stupid course work that he didn't need for real life. Trying to get to know you better through your social media. Dissecting every single photo you posted. Zooming into the background of your bedroom, seeing if he could find anything worth researching. A band poster, a shirt on the floor, a stranded bottle of nail polish he could buy so he would match with you- anything that would let him see you. The real you- not the person that you pretended to be with the fake friends you had. The person he saw a flicker of that day at the cafe. The person you came to this college to become.

-

pt 4 here

(PLS LET ME KNOW IF U WANNA BE TAGGED IN THE NEXT PART PLSSSS) omg thank god I posted this. I am alr writing pt 4 I don't CARE. this is my new passion, wrote this while listening to 'Such Small Hands- La Dispute' Choso thinks this is all fun and games, what happens when he sees I am crazier than he is ?

[fcwoso]

Personal tattoo artist · Mapi León

Summary: Mapi helps reader to overcome her fears but not without a cheeky proposal (fluffy)

MASTERLIST

María has always loved tattoos. It didn't matter if she was the one getting them or someone else, it was something she felt passionate about. She saw the body as a canvas, one that would tell it's own story as time passed by. The drawings and words each represented something, a thought or a feeling. Even if it referred to a miniscule moment. It wasn't a surprise when she announced that, that would be the career path she'd follow when her time as a soccer play would come to an end. On one side it was a scary thought, football is all she has been doing for most of her life.

"Amor (love), come on. You trust me, right?" María pouted as she put her sketchbook down. The book was filled with her creative ideas, she even dedicated a few pages to you. Sketches that reminded her of you, ones that she'd love you to get tatted. The Spanish woman pulled you closer and nuzzled her face in your neck. You could feel her sighing for the umpteenth time this evening, but not before she left a trail of kisses on your warm skin. She wasn't really frustrated, she just loved being a bit dramatic.

The evening started out relaxed. María had training in the morning which meant you two had the rest of the day to spent together. After Googling for a nice place to eat, you decided to go to a restaurant not far from your appartment. Unfortunately once arrived at the place, you stumbled upon a poster that said the place was under reconstruction.

The mood was pretty much killed after that but María came up with the brilliant idea to cook something at home. The muscles in her legs were still aching and all she wanted was to have a nice meal and watch a good show, was what she said. In reality she prefered cuddling on the couch with you. Her muscles were completely fine, she felt great even.

The now empty plates were placed on the glass table in front of the lovers while the tv was still on in the background. "Yes, cariño (honey). Ofcourse i do. It's just that i'm scared i'll regret it." You admitted. A few weeks ago you two went to visit an old friend of hers. That friend is a tattoo artist and offered you to get a tattoo of your choice. You actually had something in mind but backed out last minute. It was this intense fear of regret that kept your mind wondering if it was a good idea to continue, so you didn't.

María's hands found yours as she noticed you were actually worried. It really wasn't that big of a deal, but she didn't want to downplay your emotions. Your thumb grazed over the rose that was displayed on her palm. The rose was her own work, it was a piece she was proud of. And so were you, you were so proud of her courage. The exact courage you were currently missing.

"You know, it's okay to feel that way." María engulfed one hand of yours in hers while the other one travelled to your chin. "I just don't want you to regret not getting it". She softly placed a kiss on your lips and smoothed out the frown between your eyebrows. It's true, it's been a couple of months since you've started talking about this tattoo. Your lips found hers again right after she pulled away, missing her reassuring touch. Her eyes twinkled as she stared at your face, a child-like smile growing on hers.

"Just a reminder, i can do the job as well." María said with raised eyebrows. She wrapped her arms around your waist, you could feel her getting excited at the idea because of the way she was almost restricting your blood flow. "I mean..." You wondered. It's María. Mapi. Your partner in crime. How would you ever be able to regret this tattoo?

She did have the equipment for it, she had the skills as well. "Princesa." María stood up firmly and placed her hands on her sides. "I believe in you." You started giggling, not being able to take her seriously because of the look on her face. "You're lucky you're cute." You said. Eyes following her frame when she made her way out of the living room. She came back with another book, a smaller book than the one she was drawing in earlier.

"What's that?" You asked, curiosity growing bigger by the second. "Oh, this old thing?" Maria huffed and laughed nervously. A few strands of hair were covering her face, she started to scan the pages of the mysterious book. "Escúchame (listen), i have this theory." You couldn't help but laugh at her behaviour, your fingers stroking her short hair back behind her pierced ears. "You should go for something totally different, you don't want to get a tattoo you've had major doubts about."

"Okay, but what does this book have to do with it?" You asked, still not fully understanding the purpose of it. The book was quickly placed in your hands by your lover. The woman next to you started to grow shy under your stare, which is unusual for her, feeling as if she had just exposed one of her biggest secrets. "These are sketches i've never shared with anyone. I'm sure you'll find one that perfectly suits you." María admitted with a soft smile on her face. You couldn't help but pull her closer in your arms, leaving a couple of kisses to the side of her face and on her now slightly red cheeks.

"Thank you." The sincere words were very much appreciated by the footballer. "I'd love to share some other ideas, though." The Spanish woman gained her confidence back in a matter of time. You suddenly found yourself sitting on her lap, legs on each side of her strong body. Her hands wandered around your waist and eventually rested on your thighs that were covered by one of her joggers. "There's this really cool name, something along the lines of Mani, Mapi?" She began. One of her hands moved and rested on your lower back, you quickly understood what she was proposing. "Yeah, there's no way i'm getting a tramp stamp."

[bluegiragi]

Hello again!

I wanted to ask about how you came to this fandom and how you learned anatomy. Muscular guys are not my thing, but I’m learning to draw them and, to be honest, I often watch how you do it. and one more question. How do you feel about Ghost designs that don't look like yours? do you feel like an important figure in cod fandom?

(Sorry, i like funny pictures)

sdfljaskld you draw me so cute omg im like a spiky accordion...that's definitely how i feel whenever i get up to answer asks that's for sure.

how did you come to this fandom?

i got into this fandom from watching edits on tiktok and im only a little embarrassed about it. there was one that really pulled me in that was just a compilation of all the ghost/soap banter in that 'alone' mission - i sorta instantly fell headfirst into the fandom after that, and didn't look back.

how do you draw muscular men?

it's really flattering to hear you sometimes look at my work as a reference, but im speaking honestly here when i say i have a loooot that i need to work on and my stuff might not be the best resource. I take a lot of my pointers from anatomy studies i find on pinterest, and build on the basics by googling male mannequins in google images. I find that it helps to break things down into sections like this.

i dont include this level of detail in my day to day work though, this is more to try hammer it into my brain how things work at certain angles.

how do you feel about ghost designs that don't look like yours?

i don't feel any which way about different ghost designs tbh :) i think it's a strength of this fandom that ghost's face never gets fully revealed in game, so any of our interpretations could be correct. i like my interpretation of him and konig, but i don't feel any particular possessiveness over them.

do you feel like an important figure in this fandom?

er...not really? i hope i'm not, i think that label comes with a lot of responsibility, and anyway i try not to really think of things that way. i'm just here having fun with these characters and sharing it, and if people like it then i'm glad! but i like to keep to myself and a small circle of fandom friends and that's all i really need :]

thanks for the interview lis :) and the cute drawing <3 i hope this answered your questions alright

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Imagine Bucky turned into the Winter soldier, after you read the words and he heard them. Even when it's an accident and then he comes to you and bands you over the table or something.😩🥵

The Winter Soldier bending me over and fucking me? YES PLEASE!😩🥵

The Winter Soldier Comes Out To Play » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Winter Soldier x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s girlfriend (the reader) accidentally reads the trigger words out loud without realizing that it turns Bucky into the Winter Soldier and he decides to have some fun with her.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex, praise kink, hair pulling, choking, spanking, degrading, name calling (slut, whore), pet names (doll, кукла [doll in Russian])

I used google translate for the Russian translation of doll.

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found this gif on Pinterest.

DIVIDER IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to @silkholland

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

You were cleaning up and putting stuff away around yours and Bucky’s apartment. At the moment, you were rearranging stuff in the closet in yours and his bedroom. You bumped into a box and a red book with a star on it fell out of it. You picked it up and opened it. You’ve never seen this book before. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when you came across a page with words that were in Russian, but had English next to them.

“Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, One, Freight Car.” You read out loud to yourself.

You weren’t sure what the words meant so you just went through the rest of the book. You were looking down at the book as you were walking out of the closet and bumped into something. You looked up and seen Bucky.

“Oh hey, Bucky. I didn’t know you were home.” You say.

“Where’d you find that?” Bucky asks, referring to the red book in your hand.

“It fell out of a box in the closet when I was cleaning and I started reading it.” You say.

Bucky snatched the book out of your hand making you flinch a little. You’ve never seen Bucky act this way.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Bucky? I was just reading it.” You say.

“Why do you keep calling me Bucky?” He asks.

“That’s your name.” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know who the hell Bucky is.” He says.

“What do you mean you don’t know who-” A gasp left your lips and your eyes widened. “Oh my god.” You say quietly.

“Those words I read in that book must be the words that turn Bucky into the Winter Soldier.” You thought to yourself. Bucky has told you about how he used to be the Winter Soldier and the things he did as him, but you’ve never seen him as the Winter Soldier. You stood frozen in your spot, scared to move a muscle.

“Why are you quiet all of the sudden, кукла?” The Winter Soldier asks, walking around you.

You whimpered in fear. You didn’t know if you should talk or not. All of a sudden, he wrapped his metal hand around your throat and roughly pinned you against the wall behind you, a yelp left your lips as you put your smaller hand over his metal wrist.

“I asked you a question. It would be smart of you to respond.” He says, applying pressure to your throat.

“I-I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean t-to read th-the book!” You apologized, stuttering in fear.

The Soldier laughed at your fear.

“That’s right. You shouldn’t be snooping in things that aren’t yours.” He says, tightening his grip on your throat again.

His face got closer to yours. Your breathing got heavy and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I don’t know who the hell this Bucky guy is, but his girlfriend is hot as hell.” He says.

You slowly opened your eyes to see him licking his lips as his eyes scanned your body from head to toe.

“A-Are you going t-to kill me?” You asked.

“No. I have other plans for you.” He smirks.

The Soldier let go of your throat, letting you breathe. He then grabbed your upper arm tightly and led you out of the bedroom to the table in the dining room. Your heart was beating so fast that it felt like it was going to burst through your chest. You didn’t know whether to be scared or turned on. He roughly bent you over the table. He yanked your shorts and panties down your legs in one go.

“For someone who’s scared of me, you’re wet like a slut.” He says, rubbing a metal finger between your wet folds.

A moan fell from your lips. You heard a clink of his belt hitting the floor. You looked over your shoulder to see him pulling down his pants and boxers. His cock was hard and leaking with precum from the tip.

“I’m sure Bucky won’t mind me borrowing his girl for a while.” He says, pumping his cock in his right hand.

The Soldier wrapped your hair in his metal hand and pushed your head against the table. He rubbed his tip through your folds, bumping your clit and teasing your entrance making you whine. You yelped when you felt a harsh smack on your ass.

“Quit your fucking whining.” He says.

He slid his whole cock inside of you, not giving you time to adjust to his size. His thrusts were fast and brutal. He was relentless. Your hands scrambled to grab the edge of the table.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” The Soldier groans.

His metal hand let go of your hair to hold on to your hips with his right hand with a bruising grip. Moans and screams left your lips as he fucked you hard.

“S-Soldier!” You moaned.

“What is it, кукла?” The Soldier asks.

“More!” You moaned.

“You want more? Well here you go.” He says.

His right hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you up so your back was against his body.

“You’re my whore now, кукла.” He whispers in your ear.

Him calling you his whore made your cunt clench around his cock.

“You like that? You want to be my whore?” He asks.

“Yes! Please fuck! Make me your whore!” You moaned.

His hand left your hair. He gripped your tank top and ripped it off, throwing it on the floor. Both of his hands were placed on your breasts.

“Look at these gorgeous tits.” He bites his bottom lip.

His fingers pinched and tugged at your nipples making a tingling sensation shoot through your body. Your eyes fluttered shut and your head fell back against his right shoulder. He took the opportunity to kiss and suck hickeys on your neck, marking you as his. His right hand snaked down your body, stopping on your clit and began rubbing it in fast circles.

“Oh my god! Fuck yes!” You moaned loudly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, кукла?” He whispers in your ear.

“Mmm, yes! Don’t stop!” You moaned.

You reached your hands up, blindly feeling your way to his hair. He stopped rubbing your clit to grab your arms, pinning them behind your back and bend you over the table.

“No touching.” He growled.

You yelped when you felt a harsh smack on your ass. His metal hand reached around to your front to rub your clit. You jolted at the cool sensation of his metal fingers against your clit. You’re cunt clenched around his cock at the feeling.

“Fuck! You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.” He moans.

His metal fingers continued to rub your clit. You felt your lower stomach tighten. Your orgasm coming closer and closer.

“I- oh fuck! I’m gonna cum!” You moaned.

“Beg me to let you cum.” He says, quickening the rubbing on your clit which is now sensitive.

“Soldier, please I- fuck! Let me cum please!” You begged desperately.

“Such a desperate little slut. Go ahead. Cum for me, кукла.” He says.

Your eyes fluttered shut. Your jaw dropped, his name left your lips that was followed by a loud moan. You came harder than ever before. You were laying against the table, a moaning mess with tears of pleasure streaming down your face.

“That’s a good girl.” He praises. “Gonna cum inside of this pretty cunt.” The Soldier moans, tilting his head back.

“Fuck yes! Fill me up, Soldier!” You moaned.

“I love it when you beg me.” He says with a groan.

Your name left his lips as he came inside of you, painting your walls. His thrusts came to a slow stop. He let go of your arms and slowly pulled out of you. You whined at the loss of contact of his cock.

Bucky slowly went back to his normal self. He blinked a couple times, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when he seen your clothes, along with his on the floor. He seen you bent over the table with his cum dripping out of your cunt and bruises in the shape of hand marks on your hips.

“Oh god, doll. I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t-” You interrupted him by putting your finger on his lips to silence him.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, Bucky.” You say.

“But he- I-” You interrupted him again.

“It’s fine, babe.” You smiled softly. “If I’m being honest, I enjoyed every single second of it.” You say biting your bottom lip.

“Y-You enjoyed it.” Bucky asks.

You nodded your head yes while biting your bottom lip.

“So you’re fine?” He asks to be sure.

“I’m completely fine.” You say.

Bucky cupped your cheeks and kissed you sweetly.

“I love you so much, doll.” Bucky says against your lips.

“I love you so much too, Buck.” You smiled, kissing him again.

-Bucky’s Doll

[tightjeansjavi]

♡ Barbie Girl ♡ | AU!Joel Miller x f! Reader

A/N: this was such a fun lil idea to pursue and I love the idea of Joel wearing pink just cause he knows how happy it makes Sarah ♡

~word count: 1.5k~

Summary: Joel, Sarah and Tommy go to the Barbie movie opening weekend

Warnings: none, lots of fluff, Joel is a feminist icon, soft dad vibes, Joel is a girl dad himbo, he’ll do anything to make his kid happy, Sarah is an icon on her own, Tommy is Tommy of course but he’s so himbo too, AU that takes place in 2023, Joel is a progressive dad, Sarah loves him for it, little bit of flirting with Joel and the reader, no age gap, some spoilers for the Barbie movie! (+18 for language) minors dni.

July 2023, Austin Texas

Joel Miller never would consider himself to be a ‘girl dad’ as the younger generation would refer to him as. He had to literally look up what the word ‘DILF’ meant when Sarah told him one day after school that all of the moms thought he was attractive. He had Google on speed dial just so he could feel like he was ‘hip’ again. 36 years old and he felt older than ever. Sarah was a big help of course and steered her dad in the right direction political wise. Her dad was a good man of course, but nothing made her happier than when she had his full support as a young woman. Before the Barbie movie came out, Joel and Sarah spent every weekend volunteering at a local women’s shelter. The bumper of his truck was decorated with women-empowering stickers including a sticker that said, ‘Abortion is Healthcare’ and ‘Women’s Rights Are Human Rights.’ He didn’t stop there of course. He also had a BLM sticker, ‘Dismantle White Supremacy’, ‘Eat The Rich’ and he still had a Bernie sticker front and center.

The weekend that the Barbie movie came out, Joel had already pre ordered tickets for him, Sarah and Tommy as well who had multiple pink shirts for Joel to choose from. Sarah had insisted that they all had to wear pink and Joel would do just about anything to make his baby girl happy.

“Are ya sure your old man doesn’t look silly in this?” Joel gestured to his hot pink tee-shirt with a soft huff as he observed his appearance in the mirror.

“Dad, why do you think you look silly? Pink is totally your color!” Sarah responded with a genuine smile as she playfully placed the Barbie baseball cap on his mess of brown curls. “Do you or do you not feel Bonita?”

Joel stifled a chuckle, shaking his head as he fixed the cap on his head. “I feel Bonita.”

The drive to the movie theater consisted of listening to a Barbie inspired Spotify playlist off of Sarah’s phone. Joel and Tommy proudly knew every word to the Barbie Girl song of course. Once they arrived to the theater, Joel was awe-struck at the amount of people who were dressed in pink and he felt less self-conscious about his hot pink shirt when he saw numerous guys and dads wearing pink shirts as well.

At first he was confused when a group of women around his age said, “Hi Ken” to him and Tommy, and “Hi Barbie” to Sarah who immediately responded with a wave and, “Hi Barbie!” She gently nudged her dad with her elbow as he stood there blinking, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Dad, you gotta say hi Barbie! Back.”

“Oh. OH! Shit, sorry sweet pea.” He cleared his throat under his breath before he raised his hand with a sheepish smile. “Hi Barbie!” He was looking right at you out of all of your friends. You were dressed head to toe in pink and you mirrored the same sheepish smile that he did. Joel turned to his daughter afterwards, cheeks feeling inflamed. “Did I do alright? So, I say that everytime someone says hi Ken?”

“You did great, dad! Yeah, so everytime a Barbie says, ‘hi Ken!’ You say, ‘hi Barbie!’, and when a Ken says, ‘hi Ken!’ You say, ‘hi Ken!’”

“Yeah, brother. It ain’t that hard.” Tommy chimed in and wrapped his arm around Joel’s shoulders and gave them a light squeeze.

“Shuddup Tommy.” Joel grumbled under his breath.

Your friends from your college days insisted that you join them to go see the new Barbie movie. At first you were against the idea until you read reviews and once you saw it was a movie that empowered women, you were all in. It was your idea in the end to dress head to toe in pink and you and your friends each had a comfort Barbie in your purses as well.

When you saw Joel Miller across the way looking confused as all hell when your friends said ‘hi Ken!’ You thought he was adorable for two reasons. One being he clearly was wearing pink to support his daughter and two, he looked proud of himself after saying ‘hi Barbie!’ To you and your friends.

“Now, that’s a real man if I’ve ever seen one!” Your one friend, Jessica excitedly whispered to the group as if she was back in her highschool days in the passing period hallways.

“Okay, but his brother? Jesus Christ, if I wasn’t married I would be all over that!” Avery chimed in with a giggle.

“How do you know that they’re brothers? They could be two dads taking their daughter to the movies.” You responded with a shrug as you pulled up the tickets on your phone.

“Nah, they look related and besides, the one with the baseball cap was looking right at you babe!” Jaimie commented with a small grin as she nudged your side gently.

“No, he wasn’t.” You responded with a light laugh and shake of your head.

“Girl, he looked like a blubbering fish when he saw you.” Your friends all affirmed.

Your friends were right on the money with that one. Joel Miller was doing his absolute best to check you out in the most respectful way he could while he was in the line for popcorn. Sarah of course caught the way her dad was looking at you, and she was determined to get him to muster up the courage to talk to you after the movie.

The movie was everything Sarah had imagined it to be. She laughed, she cried and Joel and Tommy had teared up during some of the scenes. Especially when Barbie and Ken travel to the real world and the first thing she experiences is being cat-called and objectified by men. The patriarchy was alive and well outside of Barbie land and as a straight, white man, Joel recognized that he and Tommy had an easy life compared to their female counterparts. This didn’t mean that they agreed with it. In fact, Joel and Tommy were fully against the patriarchal system.

Sarah found herself hugging her dad tightly as the credits rolled and he was gently smoothing down her curls and kissing the top of her head. Sometimes Joel felt guilty over the fact that Sarah no longer had a mother figure in her life, but it was moments like these that reminded him that he was just a dad doing his best for his kid who he loved so dearly. “I love you so much, baby girl. I’ll always fight for you. Okay, kiddo?” He whispered softly with his lips against her temple.

Sarah hugged him tighter. “I love you so much dad. Thank you for always being there for me.”

Tommy was tearing up again.

The three Millers took a selfie with the Barbie poster just outside the movie theater with their faces squished into the frame. The picture was being taken while you were standing outside of the women’s bathroom waiting for your friends. You watched as Joel struggled to get his phone at the right angle, so you took it upon yourself to go over and help. “Hi Kens, hi Barbie! Would you guys like me to take a picture of you?”

Joel already felt his cheeks begin to heat up. “Hi Barbie. That would be great if ya could. Can never get these damn angles right with this thing. I uh—I like your outfit. It’s very Barbie.” He commented softly.

“Thanks, Ken. I really like your baseball cap.” You responded with a genuine smile as he handed you his phone. You took a few steps back so that all three Miller’s would be in the frame. You took a few photos before handing him his phone back just as your friends were departing from the bathroom.

“Hey, Barbie? Before you go, my dad is way too shy to say it but he thinks you’re super duper pretty.” Sarah proclaimed without skipping a beat.

Joel was beet red now as he scrubbed a hand down his face, fingertips scraping across his beard. “Sarah! You can’t just—” He sighed with a nervous smile. “Okay, it’s true Barbie. I do think you’re super duper pretty. Cats out of the bag thanks to my daughter.” He gave Sarah a playful warning look and mussed up her curls.

“Well Ken, it’s your lucky day because I think you’re really handsome. Do you wanna see Oppenheimer with me next weekend?”

“I would absolutely love to go see Oppenheimer with you next weekend Barbie.” Joel didn’t hesitate to respond.

“It’s a date. See you next weekend, Ken.” You exchanged phone numbers before you made your way over to your friends who were waiting for you.

“This Barbie has a date next weekend!” You told your friends the good news and they all excitedly cheered for you.

As soon as Joel and Sarah got home, Sarah dug out her old box of Barbie’s and brought them down to the living room, while Joel had found all of the Barbie DVD’s that Sarah insisted he keep. They spent the rest of the evening playing with her Barbie’s and watching the Princess and the Pauper; Sarah’s all time favorite Barbie movie.

Tag list: @chaotic-mystery @saradika @cavillscurls @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @morning-star-joy @cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @last-girl @tessa-quayle (you will love this one)

Creator divider made by @saradika

Barbie divider made by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[dwreader]

Emphasizing Louis's Beauty

I've talked previously about how Louis in the 2nd half of the season is rarely seen in suits anymore but what about the earlier episodes when he wears a wide array of colorful suits while he is still performing his role in human society? What stands out is how many vibrant colors and patterns we see him in vs. Lestat who is always in some kind of tan, gray or navy. A lot of this is simply historical record as vibrant colors were more typical of black male dress of the era and we see that Louis is trying to maintain appearances, but on the show his bright costuming always stands out from other background male characters black OR white (confirmed by the costume designer that his colors are like a flame drawing Lestat in) and the tailoring and color choices often stands in contrast to Lestat on screen next to him in a more traditional masculine (aka duller) color. I mean compare this to how romantic period dramas typically style the men and women.

Beyond the historical nods, which most tv viewers don't have detailed references to as there aren't many color images we have from that era, I think the show does a great job of connecting cultural references everyone can immediately pick up on (the Leydecker outfits were obvious examples). For example, if you think of a white stripey suit from the 1910s, the image that came to mind was probably Rose in Titanic. So even as Louis is projecting what was period standard masculinity, what the modern viewer is likely thinking of is a tailored suit worn by the female protagonist in one of the biggest movies of all time. These looks screams high fashion latest designs from Paris, decked out pampered princess of the ship ("prince of your district").

In the same vein, when you imagine an iconic green period costume you're probably thinking of Keira Knightley in Atonement. In fact if you google "green suit in period film" all the results are of women. Rarely are men put in these colors in period romances particularly. I mean I think they put Keira in that green dress simply because she looks incredibly beautiful in that color and that's also how I feel about Louis in his green outfit.

I've talked before about the use of red on Louis but looking at the actual context of when Louis wears red they are specifically scenes of lust (w/ Jonah), shame (the slutshamig w/ the soliders) or anger/revenge (killing the Alderman) and hello look at these!!

And this is really an exclusively female character trope where vivid color costuming is used to convey mood or emotion! When a man is angry or lustful in a film, he's never wearing red, he's just wearing a boring color like black or grey. Evil and goodness are conveyed by black vs. white costuming with men (i.e Lestat's evil black darth vader get up) but rarely any colors not on that b&w scale.

Also speaking of cultural references in costuming here's this again.

[maximwtf]

“I’m sorry all the same”

Astarion x Reader

Words: 2600

Google Docs Pages: 4

Warnings: Haarlep’s deal’s effects, yk how it goes so I won’t have to tag it all :”D Some spoilers from act 3, such as quotes and a tiny bit of lore. Guilt, emotional hurt/comfort, after graveyard scene Astarion

Opening: Haarlep held onto his promise. Using your body, your form, to do as he pleased. And you were foolish enough to believe that you could ignore it. But perhaps you should have considered that at the very least someone would notice a change in your behaviour. 

AN// So wtf I write for bg3 now? I guess so :”D Mainly interested in writing for Astarion, Jaheira and Zevlor. But we’ll see how I’ll manage c: OH, GN reader. Yall also I’ll open requests again once I finish the last Legolas one I have :3

“I’m sorry all the same”

After the battle with Raphiel, everyone had been so worn out and in need of a breather that you hadn’t even had the time to truly consider what you’d lost. Or even truly notice the price of what had been lost in exchange for information. Or what that could possibly mean for the future or the people around you. And if any of those thoughts had had the chance to cross your mind, it would have only been the latter. What would the others think? How would it affect them? How would the exchange you’d had with Haarlep affect the people closest to you?

And it usually came to the same conclusion. Even if the bother from it would be minor, you’d chosen to try and avert the others from paying their mind to it. To let the incubus do as he pleased, as long as you could lead the party onward without slowing it down. But even the strongest of leaders had to fall in due time, that was fate set for those who chose what you had. Which in this case referred to the facade you’d built, shattering, cracking at the seams at times. And no amount of laughing it off could shake away certain people when they at last noticed what was wrong. 

And so had fate decided once more. The feelings of phantom touches trailed here and there. And as he had promised, you knew exactly what was being done and when. And there was no way of stopping it. Only the thought of this being what you chose lingered in your mind as the touches travelled that evening. Making you shut down of the usual glow you held when talking to others, hope of no one noticing your state still somewhere at the back of your mind. 

And it did work, for most of that evening. Fluently talking to the town’s folk and the people by your side. At times the feelings even faded, disappeared into thin air. Giving you hope that the incubus had stopped for the day, freeing you from the locked state as it felt. But what use was it, if even within those free moments it spiralled at the back of your mind. Reminding you of its existence and the chance of it all returning. On the edge of hoping that it would come back, so you wouldn’t have to suffer so with the thoughts. Because at times, it felt like those empty moments were the ones most pained. 

You tried to soothe the feeling of a never ending hell by telling yourself that this was momentary. The form was new and the creature knew exactly what it was doing. But as time passed, he’d surely get tired of the repeating game and move on to something else. And even if this truly was an infinite infernal road, you had chosen to walk it for a reason. You’d avoided a battle and gotten important information out of the man, which in truth cost a great deal. But if it meant that no one got physically hurt, it did seem like the right thing in the end. 

Inevitably, the time passed as it always had. The sun set, which led you along with the rest back to Elfsong. And for once, there was time in the late evening to sit around and talk. There was nowhere to go, no tasks to run and nothing so important that it couldn’t be left to be dealt by tomorrow. The morning was always smarter than the night, anyway. 

But there was something that wouldn’t allow itself to be left alone, to linger until the sun rose once more. The now more intense phantom touches, the caresses that haunted you. Had ruined most of the day and seemed to plan on continuing to do so. 

As it made itself more known, demanding your every bit of attention, it slowly reached your limit. The top of which when it hit, would at last shatter that rather fragile facade. The facade that at times felt like it was being held together by whatever cheap adhesive children held the glitter on the cards they brought to their parents. Weak. 

The fireplace flickered calmly as the few people in the middle of the room sat on the couches and chatted. You tried your best to throw in a few comments but from your perspective they all sounded the same, forced. It was no use, after being driven to a corner as you’d been. So in order to save face, you stood up and informed the others that you’d be heading to bed to catch up on those countless hours of disregarded sleep. And most seemed to have believed that, wishing you a good night as you slowly walked to the comfort of your bed. 

Though, there was one who’d joined in on the others, wishing you a good night. But they didn’t hesitate to stand up and follow along after you’d left. And they didn’t exactly make the noise of their steps unknown either. Never sneaking up on you, especially at moments such as these. Which was a hint enough to make the conclusion that he knew what was going on. You’d feared for that earlier. Earlier when a pair of eyes had followed your movements and interactions with the others. 

So of course you knew who it was, who it always was. It gave you enough peace of mind to sit down calmly before turning around to face him, attempting to keep up the nonchalant facade of an expression. He stared down at you, the expression on his face awaiting. Like he expected you to tell him something. Making it almost feel as if this was frequent enough to make you expect him and tell him you knew why he was there. And that sadly was the truth. How awful that he’d started to care now that you’d gotten yourself into a mess. But there was a way to dodge this bullet. “You can feed on me tonight if you’d like?” And all you could do was watch his expression fall for a moment, taken aback by the response to his knowing look. But the fun of that didn’t last for very long, he was serious. “Darling, no. This isn’t the time, and you know that yourself.” He answered. Boring, you thought. But regretted the rebellion in your mind straight after. “Well in that case, I’ll get some rest,” you informed him before tucking yourself under the familiar blanket. You knew the vampire couldn’t say much else, nor do anything. He didn’t wish to start any commotion. So the only option left was to drop the topic, there was no use in trying to force anything out of you. And he knew that, respected the choice and left for his own bed. 

But the sleep you’d told yourself would eventually come, never did. The touches never relented, at times becoming more faint but at that point it meant nothing. The sound of the others slowly drifting to their beds and the chatter quieting down got your attention for a moment. But after that it all fell back into the same old silence, in which the condition you were in felt the worst. Because breaking the silence at times like these with any of the sounds you’d held back would have shattered whatever crumbs of self respect you were holding on to. 

Saying that hours had passed since the others had fallen asleep sounded like an overestimate, but then again it wouldn’t have been a surprise. This wasn’t the first time the incubus had done this, you wouldn’t have been oh so familiar with all of this if it had been so. And just like any other time, you laid awake. And to truly follow the usual protocol, the decision to leave and get a breather was the next obvious choice. 

With careful steps, which through thorough practise had learned which plank didn’t squeak, you escaped the pestering silence. Then again, this time of night it seemed just as quiet anywhere you went. A lucky catch if you heard commotion somewhere nearby when entering the terrace outside. Which is where you’d headed, sat down on one of the chairs that sat lonely in a corner. 

It wasn’t necessarily the fresh air that helped, the night air was always so cold anyway. But it was the feeling of not being a bother, not letting absolutely everyone around you have to listen and worry. Worst of all, feel bad. 

A shaky sigh mixed with something like a whine escaped as you leaned back against the wall behind the chair. Eyes closed, there was finally a moment of something that resembled peace. Peace, if you fully excluded the plaguing touches and caresses. A sound dangerously close by got your attention though, getting your eyes to snap open. Nothing but the endless hell with the incubus seemed to last that night. 

In the faint light of the terrace it took you an embarrassing amount of time to even make out a shape. Nevertheless, figure out who it was. But maybe you could blame it on the feelings you were experiencing, later on. Just to save face. 

The figure, now determined to be who you should have expected. Astarion, made his way over. He sat down rather calmly and stayed quiet before drawing in a breath and talking. “Assuming you won’t tell me otherwise, I hope there's nothing troubling you my dear?” You always hoped that his arrival would have been more of a fifty fifty in the usual protocol, but it never was. Neither were the things he said, or how he treated you when it came to this. “Perfectly fine.” You glanced at him, another hitched sigh making its escape, tired of being held back. “That’d be funnier if it was anyone but you,” he said while shifting his chair a little closer. The silence he gave you after was plaguing enough in the cold of the night that it forced you to say something. “It’s all the same, no matter what I do. If only I’d be strong enough to completely ignore it.” You shook your head before turning to look at him, expecting a certain answer from him. Knowing he wasn’t very happy per say about your recent approach to this. Yet, never angry. He took a fast breath but the words he’d prepared never came out. Hoping that the pleading look you’d given him had softened some of the words he’d originally thought of. “I know what it’s like, to lose control of what you have. But you of all people shouldn’t have to.” The rest of the words he’d held back escaped with an exhale at the end, left unspoken. But in truth, you wouldn’t have heard them anyway. The other questions so often filling your mind had appeared back the second he’d come after you. And as per usual, there was no holding them back as they escaped your lips. “Were you ever angry with me for the choice I made?” The exchange of yourself for a piece of information. And as often as you found yourself rewording these same questions, he took the time to answer them. Each time so swiftly that you had to believe he was telling you the truth, “Of course not, dear. More so at the creature itself.” But he couldn’t possibly leave it there. “The control you had was not complete. You don’t have to blame yourself.” 

Awful how he cared, making it harder to keep yourself together. “I’m not sure if I blame myself exactly. I’m not sure if it was worth it. I wonder if it ever made anyone, you, angry.” A shudder ran along your spine, shaking your head slightly to get rid of it before continuing. Not daring to look at the man next to you for longer. “But maybe he’ll get tired of the form eventually. In due time, I’d be mostly free. It’s just…he’s been..active today.” You rambled, eyes resting on the comfort of your lap. But even then, you could almost feel the pair of red eyes piercing through you in the dark. Filled with an emotion you didn’t dare to name, not to even look in fear that it would confirm the care for you he’d formed. 

He stayed quiet, the sound of his and your breathing keeping the silence at bay. Even the breath he drew sounded loud, but his words never seemed to be. As per protocol. “Come inside. I’ll be with you, however you want for me to,” he offered so kindly it almost caused you to cringe. Maybe there was still some getting used to you had to do before this would become more comfortable. But you knew he was trying to fix something within himself as well by doing this. He was trying to offer you something he was never given. So maybe taking a hold of his hand and accepting the offer wasn’t for your sake, but for his. 

His steps were as careful as yours has been, as he led the both of you to his bed. You sat down first, flush against the headboard, wishing it would have provided some sort of comfort from the touches. Astarion stood beside the bed for a moment, holding back on a question before it slipped from him, “what would you like to do, darling?” He asked, making you wonder what it was you wanted. To have the peace of mind you had before. Well, what had been left of it after the tadpole had nestled itself somewhere back there. The shiver that ran along your spine interrupted that train of thought. The only thing you could still achieve and wished to have was rest.  “To sleep,” you answered while observing the man sit down and lean against the headboard. He’d left space for you to come over if you so pleased, a silent invitation. 

You knew he probably wasn’t the most ideal person to comfort someone, but also could see that he felt a form of compassion when it came to this. And knowing that he saw a fragment of himself within you hurt deeper than any deal with an incubus ever could. 

You climbed up to him, leaning your back against his chest before kicking the blanket to a comfortable position. The space was so silent, but hearing Astarion breathe removed any thoughts of that. Keeping your attention on how his chest rose and fell in a familiar rhythm. 

His arms snaked their way carefully around your waist, careful as if there was a chance you’d tell him to back off. But you would never, not when he’d finally allowed someone to care for him and come close. He leaned forward just enough to be able to talk quietly. “It won’t last forever. But I’m sorry all the same.” He said, leaning his head back to rest. And there was an ounce of truth in his words, even if he had meant that this time wasn’t going to last forever. Most likely not even until the next morning. But that the deal wouldn’t last forever either. Astarion himself had assumed the same of his fate, but had gotten the chance to change that path in the end. And the thought of that gave you some form of peace of mind, at last. 

And at last the rest you’d been craving for came, slowly and late. But it didn’t matter anymore. The knowledge of not having to be alone and having someone to care for you was hard to accept but maybe you’d get used to it someday. 

[oddballwriter]

Personal Nurses

Summary: You get sick with something and need to stay home, and so your lovely boyfriends take up the job of nursing you back to health.

Warnings: Mentions of being sick (sore throat, stuffy nose, and fever). Taking medicine. Half Google translated Spanish, my high school Spanish is really rusty the grammar may be weird. Other wise a nice wholesome sick comfort fic.

Author’s Snip: Fun fact, this was originally going to be a fic where it was about Abi (the reader and system’s daughter that have a bit of an unofficial series with) getting sick. But I decided to make it about the boys taking care of you because I got a nasty cold a while ago and wanted to see this.

Notes: Again, the grammar in Jake’s Spanish speaking might be not so good because my Spanish is rusty as hell.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 692

Being sick wasn’t that great. Sure, it got you out of needing to do things, but you also had to deal with actually being sick. And that’s never great.

You went to bed last night with a tickle in your throat and runny nose that you thought would pass in the morning, but then you woke up dying for water, barely able to breathe through your nose, and now you were burning up like a whore in church.

When Steven eventually woke up and found you in the kitchen you could tell he knew. You made an attempt to brush it off by saying “I’ll just drink some tea and sit under an air conditioner today.” but you could see Steven and the rest of them in that brain vote no on even letting you get out into your work clothes.

So now you get to wallow in bed and have three personal nurses.

Since Steven was the one who woke up with the body, so he was the one who set everything up. He politely shooed you back into bed, placed extra pillows, called your work for you, made you your tea and breakfast, and brought all that to you in bed with a cold rag and medicine. He also checked your temperature which, of course earned an “Oh, love. That’s no good.” that seemed more like him thinking out loud.

Steven was the one mostly in charge of your comfort and doing things for you when you’re sick. If you wanted an extra blanket, you got one. If your fever rag got lukewarm, he made it cool again. Do you want more water or tea? You got it. Is it too bright? He’ll draw the curtains for you. If anything he was more of a bell boy than a nurse. But it still made him blush a little when you called him that.

Marc was the one in charge of making sure you got your medicine in, and he was on top of it. Apparently, when you were taking a nap after eating breakfast, Marc took the body to go to the pharmacy and get new medicine and vitamins because “The one we have isn’t strong enough.” as if he was able to tell just by looking at you. When he came back, he had you eat some bread, saying “So that it doesn’t mess with your stomach if it's empty already.” and also “It helps it stay down. It has something to stick to.”.

“How do you know all this?” you questioned, to which Marc simply said “Trial and error,”, “Now take the vitamins. It helps your immune system fight it off.” Marc orders. You just shrug and comment “Whatever you say, Nurse Spector.”.

Jake was dead set on making food for you, making Marc go to a whole different market while he was out, just to buy ingredients for the soup he wanted to make you.

“Qué no, Marc. No puedes compras los sopas enlatadas.” Jake said to himself with a laugh. “Mind letting me in on the joke?” Marc asked as he watched Jake cut up the ingredients from the reflection in the soup. “You couldn’t buy them canned soup, Marc. Canned soup doesn’t do it. You gotta make it.” Jake explained, clearly referring to the whole ‘make it with love’ thing. “Well, that’s what we would have,” Marc mentioned. “Because that’s all we got.” Jake said back, “But not for them.” he added as to pointed to where you were resting. “They’d do the same for us.” Jake stated confidently.

When the soup was settled and done, and cooled down enough, Jake brought the bowl straight to you in bed. You thought he was going to bring a little table like Steven and Marc did, but it was clear when Jake kept holding the bowl and took up a spoonful of it and held it towards your mouth. You say his name with a scoff and he smiles. “Come on, mi amor. Steven and Marc got to play nurse today.” Jake teased. You roll your eyes and decide to humor him and let him feed you.

[darling-i-read-it]

Please Don't Kill Me Mr. Ghostface!

Ethan Landry x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k 

Warnings: SCREAM 6 SPOILERS 

Very susceptible reader, Ethan’s reaction to Richies death, heavy insinuations to smut, faking the reader and Quinn's death, the slight cringe from scream movies dialogue <3, they literally have sex in the stab shrine room (when will it be my turn), (that is all skipped over), me being unsure of which ghostface was at which part of the movie. I have only seen Scream 6 once and was just going off what I remembered from it! So if things are wrong (timing, Ghostfaces, etc) then I’m sorry! 

Author’s Note: This one requires some suspension of belief lol. I don’t know HOW to justify the reader doing all these things except Ethan was cute and this is fiction <3 I hope you enjoy love!! Also I wasn’t 100% sure on if Ethan’s name was Landry or Bailey. I went with Landry (which I’m sure is fake but what we all know him as! So when I refer to the house under that name, I was torn lol)

Requested by anon, ooh ok so can i request ethan x reader where reader is in on the ghostface thing (but she’s not killing people she just knows about it) and like helps them with stuff (maybe with like faking quinn’s death and stuff like that idk) but also it’s somehow fluffy relationship stuff in there too lol (sorry it’s kinda all over the place😬)

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You were laying on the back on Ethan’s bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. His room was as familiar to you as your own was. You had practically grown up at the Landry’s home, going to school together for your entire lives and staying close to Ethan throughout it all. Once you had hit your senior year in high school, it seemed only fate the two of you would start to date.

You put down your phone with a gentle huff. Ethan was sitting in front of his computer, doing homework. You turned your head to face him, trying to telepathically ask for attention. As if he could read your mind, he spoke. 

“Give me five more minutes.” 

“I told you taking chemistry for your lab credit was dumb,” you said gently, wanting to sneak in an ‘I told you so’ but also not wanting to agitate him. He was brilliant but he couldn’t always grasp the concepts he had too. You suspected some sort of undiagnosed learning disorder but you were far from a doctor. You were just his best friend. 

“I don’t remember you being there when I picked classes,” he said quietly. You rolled your eyes. 

“I was there in spirit.” You grabbed your phone again, flipping onto your stomach. You opened it back up, looking past the screensaver of you and Ethan over the summer before, when you had been on vacation with his family. You reopened Instagram to continue your doom scroll. The first story you opened was that of a friend from school. 

You usually skipped through them, not even registering what they said, but paused at the large bolded letters over a black screen. 

Rip Richie <3 

You didn’t deserve to be caught up in that. 

You squinted, trying to place a Richie that you knew. The first that came to your mind was Ethan’s older brother but just as quickly as the thought came it left. It couldn’t have been him. He was with his girlfriend in Modesto or something. Plus, how would this rando in high school know before you and Ethan? You kept flicking through your friend's stories, confused. Someone had posted a blurry picture of some sort of a crime scene. It was clearly reposted over and over so the picture itself was almost lost. You squinted and then opened your google app.

“Okay I’m done,” Ethan said, shutting his laptop with triumph. “I’m gonna ace that test tomorrow.” He looked over your face and could read you with ease. Something was wrong - or at the very least, confusing. “What?” 

You googled Richies name. A flood of reports came up. Your lips parted in surprise as you looked up at Ethan. 

“What?” he repeated. Before you could explain, his phone rang. You both looked towards where it was resting on the bed beside you. You picked it up. A picture of his dads face was on the screen. 

“Oh God,” you whispered, unable to contain it. 

“What?!” He grabbed his phone and answered it quickly. You sat up, tossing your phone aside and getting off the bed. You knew right now that he was going to be grieving more than you. You had to be there for him. “Hello? Dad?” You stood beside him and watched as his face fell according to the muffled voice coming from the receiver. His eyes were laced with confusion and then a flash of pain. “What do you mean Richie-” He was cut off. 

There were a few more words and then his eyes went dead with emotion. You weren’t sure what to do so you stood beside him. He hung up the phone after a moment and then looked up at you. 

“Richie?” He nodded. His mouth was ajar, stunned. He threw his arms around you and you embraced each other as he stood up. “What happened?” you questioned. He was silent. You didn’t think you were going to get an answer until he spoke, quietly. 

“He was murdered.” 

-

“It’s actually kind of easy to rig the roommate system,” you muttered, sitting at a chair in front of your computer. The room behind you was filled with the remaining Landry’s. 

You turned around to the curious eyes. 

“So he’s in?” Wayne questioned. You nodded. 

“He is going to be Chads Meeks-Martin’s roommate,” you explained. He slapped you on the back in approval. You had always been on good terms with Wayne. He was the kind of dad who would ask if you had a boyfriend and then wink at his son after the question. He had been slightly overjoyed when Ethan told him you were dating. This came only after, he caught you and Ethan making out in his bedroom. It was mortifying but he was pretty okay about it. 

“Thanks kid.” 

Wayne was not on board with telling you about the trio of Ghostfaces he had planned but Ethan insisted. You had been there when he found out about Richie and you had been there through all of his hardships. 

“And you’re okay with coming around my place when we have to…you know…” Quinn made a gesture of slitting her own throat. “I mean, I need someone to drag my body out of there while my dad brings a new one.” 

You tried to ignore your moral dilemma to this. Ethan had promised you wouldn’t be implicated in any of this. But sometimes when Wayne looked at you during this you knew that you would go down with them if he went down. You were in on this now. You couldn’t exactly back out. 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

Quinn smiled brightly. She was slightly too excited about this. Part of you still didn’t think it was actually going to happen. You couldn’t imagine Ethan actually killing anyone, even when his eyes lit up while talking about it. 

“For Richie,” Ethan promised, placing a hand on your back. You nodded, getting up and out of your seat. You gestured to the computer. 

“I didn’t think this is what I would be doing with my computer science classes,” you admitted. Ethan smiled gently at you, ever soft, even when planning people’s literal murders. 

“For some reason I feel like she’s gonna have no problem faking our deaths but is gonna have a major problem not getting to hang out with Ethan everyday,” Quinn teased. You rolled your eyes. You wouldn’t be able to see him when he’s hanging out with his new group of friends. At least, you would have to act like you didn’t know him as closely as you actually did. You were meant to be Quinn’s friend in all of this. 

Wayne was grabbing papers off the table, presumably planning. He actively tried to burn everything after memorizing it. You thought it was dumb of him to write anything else. 

“You gonna be okay?” Ethan questioned, jokingly. You rolled your eyes. 

“You shouldn’t be worried about me E. I’m not the clingy one in this relationship.” 

-

Sam and Tara shouldn’t have been as nice as they were. You recognized the hate in Sam's eyes, the paranoia that was justified. She was out, attempting to get Tara from a party she went to. You sat in the apartment with Quinn. She was working through some homework. You were still amazed she did all that during this planning. 

You walked around her room, making sure that all of the blood that needed to come out, would come out. You liked to double check. You blamed the nerves. 

“Is he supposed to be here soon?” Quinn questioned. You glanced back at her. 

“You know we aren’t supposed to talk that much over the phone.” You were standing on top of her bed. Everything was in place for when your Ghostface arrived. You hopped down. She turned away from her computer. 

“I know you’re not supposed to. I also know he can’t help himself.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Soon. Within the hour,” you admitted. She left her computer open, to show that she was ambushed. You and Quinn were supposed to die tonight at the hands of Ghostface. After Sam and Tara left, he would sneak in and find you both, unsuspecting and oh so helpless. By the time the sisters returned home, you would both be dead, or close to it.

You glanced down at your phone which was still open to your texts with Ethan. 

Can’t wait to stick something in you tonight ;) 

You rolled your eyes, flushed, and turned off your phone. 

Quinn helped you to make sure everything would look as realistic as possible. She explained, again, that they would blame Sam for all of this. Once she was dead and Richie’s death had been paid for, the two of you would be able to return to society as though Ghostface had held you captive. 

You were too far in to back out now. 

You heard the front door open. Quinn shut her blinds so that no one would see Ethan maskless. It had been a couple of weeks since the two of you had been alone (or alone with Quinn). He walked in through the front door, which Sam had left unlocked in her rush, and quickly made his way to Quinn’s room. 

You met him halfway, throwing your arms around him. His laughter was muffled by the voice changer. You took his mask off of him, eager to get your lips on his. You couldn’t believe you were really doing this. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend was going to fake kill you. 

He kissed you before you could get to it. 

“Alright alright love birds,” Quinn grumbled. “Get in the closet Ethan, the girls are gonna be back soon.” 

“Will you give us one sec?” Ethan questioned. Quinn looked like she wanted to argue but knew that an argument would just continue this further than she wanted to. You stood outside of her door, leaving it ajar. He looked around carefully to make sure no windows were in view. You were alone. 

You took the mask from him. You felt it in your fingers. You hadn’t seen him in the outfit yet. You had seen Quinn and you had seen his dad but you hadn’t ever seen him in the full get up. 

“You’re so scary,” you whispered, a buzz in your voice. “I would be terrified.” 

“Are you scared?” He put the mask up to his face. “What’s your favorite scary movie?” You scrunched your nose, shaking your head. 

“What’s that part in the first Stab?” You thought for a minute, pressing yourself up against him. He looked at you with adoration in his eyes. He had missed you desperately. You had grown up together and spending a long time apart was proving to be more difficult than he thought it would be. “Please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface. I wanna be in the sequel!” 

He chuckled lowly and clutched your face, leaning over to kiss you. You let him, relishing in his lips. Who knew when he would slip away again to see you. You would be sentenced to hiding until all of this was over. He placed his other hand on your side, holding you in his grasp. 

“Alright you two! Andele, andele!” Quinn opened up the door. He let you go. You grabbed the mask with both of your hands, rubbing it with your thumb. It was scary. It wouldn’t be hard to act the part. 

“You ready to die?” he asked but his voice was so gentle it was almost comical. It was like he was checking in on you. 

“Yes sir.” 

You put the mask over his face and then he was no longer your boyfriend. He was Ghostface. You slipped into Quinn’s room and prepared for your end. 

-

“Maybe I should’ve joined in on the killing,” you muttered, looking up at the ceiling. You were stuck in the Ghostface shrine that Richie had created. It was fun for a while, considering there was so much to look at, but there were only so many times the Stab movies were interesting to watch. Quinn came and went but mostly went. You weren’t sure where Wayne was keeping her otherwise. 

The burner phone in your pocket buzzed. You quickly reached for it. 

“Hello?” 

“Lemme up.” 

You knew that voice. You also knew he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near here until much later. This room wasn’t even supposed to be found yet. He hung up the phone. You walked to the elevator and pushed the button to lower it. It took a few minutes but you heard it come back after a while. 

Ethan practically threw the gate open. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He threw his arms around you. 

“Those people are really fucking annoying.” You scoffed. You were grateful for the company but not at the behest of his cover. “I missed you.”

“Does your dad know you’re here?”

“I’m supposed to be in a study group.” 

“Skipping study group to see me? Tsk, tsk Ethan.”

“Shush.” 

He dipped his head to kiss you. You put your hands on his cheeks. You melted into him. You tried to imagine what Quinn would’ve said if she was here. Probably some crude joke that all three of you knew to be true in the end. 

You pulled away from him and kissed his jaw as you did so. 

“Bet you’ve never made out in the Stab shrine before,” he questioned jokingly. You scoffed. 

“Alright Ethan,” you scoffed. “How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about feelings,” he whined. “I have to be back soon.” 

“You came all the way up here to have sex in front of all these dead peoples possessions?” He paused. He knew how that sounded. He also knew he had faked your death. He wasn’t super sure how to handle this one. 

“Yes?” 

You narrowed your eyes. 

“I’m not gonna see you before the whole big thing. You sure you don’t wanna talk about it?”

“Pillowtalk,” he breathed. You pretended to think. 

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

-

You sat up against the wall of the backrooms. You dragged him away from the prying eyes of all the killer memorabilia. 

“Are you scared?” you questioned. He had his head resting in your lap. He had to leave soon, you both knew it. 

“No,” he said quietly. “My dad will be there. He wouldn’t let us die when he’s with us.” You were brushing your fingers through his curls. You looked down at his big doe eyes, a faint smile on your face. 

“I’m scared.” 

“Don’t be.” 

“You can’t stop me,” you promised. He rolled his eyes. He hummed pleasantly from your touch. “You’ll be safe, yeah?”

“I’m going to kill someone.”

“I know. I know.” You tried not to think of it. You couldn’t imagine his eyes going black, killing people without remorse. Even when he was rushing at you with the knife, you knew he was just Ethan. “I still want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe.” 

“You have to go.” He groaned. You pushed him gently so he would get off of you. You would be stuck here. Maybe you would have another Stab marathon. You were beginning to like even the shitty ones. Stab 3 started to become an odd comfort. “I’ll be here when you’re done.” 

“You promise?” 

“Yeah E. I promise.”

[the-broken-truth]

Al'akh Al'ashghar - Jamil Viper [Platonic Yandere] [Male Yuu][Part 2 of 3]

Summary: After the accident, you awaken in a room at Scarabia Dorm while recovering from your poisoning. Jamil has taken the responsibility of taking care of you, but there's something mysterious behind those silver eyes of his. You can't shake off the feeling of unease around him. What is he hiding, and what could be the reason behind your discomfort around him?

Notes:

Al'akh Al'ashghar means 'Little Brother' in Arabic; considering Jamil's Name means 'Handsome/Beautiful' in Arabic, I thought this would be fitting to use. (I don't speak Arabic - I used Google Translate)

This story will be told in the Second POV.

Jamil will refer to the reader as 'Yuu' - if you so choose, replace Yuu with your own name.

PARTS: ONE | TWO (YOU ARE HERE) | THREE

Your body was warm - almost as if you were sleeping in the sun or under a large heating lamp for reptiles, but the lack of light hitting your eyelids made it clear to your awakening mind that there was little to no light around you. Your throat was dry and begging for water. Your body was relaxed and laying on something soft, almost like a cloud while something with a decent amount of weight and warmth was pressed against your chest and up to your next. You wanted to wake up but your body wasn't allowing you to - leaving you to stand in the dark void of your mindscape.

You stood in the endless void, thinking about how you ended up here and everything that led up to this moment in...whatever time it was in the waking world.

You remembered the invitation to Scarabia for a Grand Dinner, personally written by Jamil as he stated that you were going to be his personal guest during the party; what he meant by that, you were not entirely certain.

You remembered getting dressed, leaving Ramshackle with Grim, and arriving at Scarabia a few minutes before the scheduled time on the invite before being stopped by Jamil himself, who asked if you had any consideration to his offer of joining Scarabia Dorm as a permanent resident. However, you told him that you were not interested in joining Scarabia and left him standing there when Kalim arrived and pulled both you and Grim from the Vice Prefect of Scarabia.

Dinner soon came after that and everything was going well until the food actually came; Jamil served you and Kalim personally, even gifting you a custom cup made of silver with your name on it as a thank-you for everything you had done for Scarabia and himself.

You talked.

You ate.

You drank.

And that's when everything went to Hades.

You could feel your life slipping through your fingers as the poison started coursing through your veins and stealing your breath away until Jamil took you into his arms and poured the antidote that he happened to have on him down your throat; he held your and caressed your face while cooing you into calming down and slipping into an unconscious state of mind.

You were lying in a comfortable bed, wrapped in warm blankets that were helping to thaw your cold body. Your vision was hazy, and you could barely make out the ceiling of the Scarabian Room. You wanted to move, but your body felt incredibly heavy, and you could barely lift a single finger. Suddenly, you heard the sound of the door opening, and the light from the hallway briefly illuminated the ceiling before the door closed once again. You then heard the sound of glasses gently clinking together, followed by the warm glow of a lamp on the nightstand hitting your face. You summoned all the strength you had left to turn your head towards the source of the light, coming face to face with Jamil Viper, who had a concerned look in his eyes and was holding a serving tray. The tray included a small water pitcher, a glass, and a bowl of soup with a piece of bread sticking out of it. As you tried to speak, Jamil shushed you and placed a warm hand on your cheek.

"Shhh, Al'akh Al'ashghar. Your throat is too dry due to your body being dehydrated from the poison in your system." Jamil grabbed the glass off the tray and filled it with the water from the pitcher before using his other hand to lift your head gently and placed the glass to your lips, "Drink slowly. Can you do that for me?"

With a nod from your weakened head, Jamil slowly fed you the glass of water; the refreshing liquid soothing your cracked throat. Once the glass was empty, your throat was still sore from being dry for so long but you were able to speak softly.

"What...happened?" You asked.

"I have inspected the food and drinks, and everything appeared to be fine. However, upon examining the cups that the drinks were served in, I found traces of a quick-acting poison on the rim of your cup. I am unable to comprehend why someone would poison you and not Kalim. The only assumption I can make is that the intention behind poisoning you was to get you out of the way so that the perpetrator could have an easier chance at getting to Kalim." Jamil exhales before lowering the hood on his head. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you, Al'akh Al'ashghar, I should have been more careful."

"G...Grim?" You asked in a hushed voice.

"Don't worry, I contacted the Adeuce Duo and had them pick Grim up and return him to Ramshackle; they are going to take care of him until you get better. From what I learned, the poison is going to remain in your system for about 2 weeks." Jamil reached into his pocket and pulled out a pill bottle, opened it, and took one pill out before holding it up to your lips, "This medicine is going fight the poison, but it's gonna make you sleepy. Here, take this and I will feed you your dinner and you can go back to sleep."

You look at the pill before opening your mouth and allow Jamil to place the pill in your mouth and follow it with another glass of water before he feeds you the soup, bread, and one last glass of water before he makes sure you are comfortable before leaving the room. You looked at the ceiling for a while before the effects of the pill took hold and you closed your eyes and drifted off into an unconscious state of mind.

Every day, you wake up when the sun rises, and Jamil brings you breakfast. After feeding you, he helps you take a shower in the attached bathroom, dresses you in fresh clothes, and gives you another pill to take. You fall asleep again until your classes are over. Kalim and Jamil then come to visit you, telling you about their day. Jamil later forces Kalim out of the room and stays with you until dinner time, when he brings you food, feeds you, and gives you another pill. You fall asleep once more, and the cycle repeats itself the next day. Despite this routine, you have not gotten stronger, and you know that the time frame of Jamil's estimate of the poison remaining in your system has passed.

While your body has not improved since the night you were poisoned, your mind has become sharper and you know how to count. Since your time in this room, you have counted 14 sunrises - 14 days - 2 weeks.

Even if your count was off, a conversation that you overheard yesterday confirmed your count and made you even more suspicious about what really was going on here:

Your eyes were closed as you attempted to fall asleep without the aid of the pill since Jamil was taking too long to get back in the room when you heard two people talking outside the door; you slowed your breathing and tuned into conversation.

"They came back again, today." A Member of Scarabia said.

"You made sure to send them away, correct? I don't want them around my Al'akh Al'ashghar." The sound of Jamil's Voice came in response.

"Yes, Vice Housewarden. We explained that the Prefect was rested and should not be disturbed... Sir, they get getting angry with the delays; other members of different dorms have been coming to see him and we have been turning them away per your request, however, they are getting annoyed and we even had to stop a possible fight. They are starting to say that we should return to Prefect to Ramshackle and..."

"No." Jamil cut him off, "My Al'akh Al'ashghar will remain here, with me, where he is safe. Soon enough, those annoying insects will forget about him and will stop coming here. Once everything is put into place, I will move on with what I have planned. Now, you are dismissed and let me know if Kalim needs me. I need to tend to my Al'akh Al'ashghar & I do not what to be disturbed if it's not important."

As per your recollection, that particular day kept playing back in your mind, leading you to contemplate other things. It all started with the night you were poisoned. Jamil, the one who invited you, had informed you that the poison was found solely on the rim of your cup, which was different from everyone else's. While others were served drinks in golden cups, yours was silver, and it was easy to distinguish it from the rest. This struck you as odd since it was the first time you were served in a different cup while attending parties and dinners in Scaraba. You couldn't help but wonder why Jamil had given you a silver cup while everyone else drank from golden ones.

The second strange thing was the fact your body was still in the same condition from 2 weeks ago, showing no improvement and still weak as ever; you needed someone to aid you and Jamil refused to allow you to see anyone else who were not him or Kalim, even then, he barely allowed Kalim to see you.

The third issue that concerned you was the disappearance of your cell phone. A week after your poisoning, you asked Jamil if he had seen your phone. He explained that he had kept it in his room because he did not want the constant ringing to disturb your rest. However, when you asked him to return it to you so you could talk to your friends, he dismissed your request. He said he had already informed everyone that you were okay and refused to give it back. After that conversation, every time you asked Jamil to return your phone, he refused to discuss it.

Upon analyzing all the available information, you arrived at the conclusion that Jamil was intentionally keeping you weak to prevent you from leaving Scarabia and maintaining control over you. However, you lacked evidence to support this claim. You had some time to ponder on this when Jamil arrived with your breakfast and a glass of water, with the intention of making you take a pill. Jamil assisted you in sitting up, served you breakfast, and instructed you to open your mouth to take the pill. He placed the pill in your mouth, but before you could drink the water, there was a knock at the door, prompting Jamil to leave the room to attend to it.

This was the moment you were waiting for.

After spitting the pill out of your mouth, it landed on your bed. With the limited strength you had, you managed to hide the pill between the mattress and the headboard under your pillow. Just then, Jamil walked back into the room and made you drink some water and swallow the pill. Fortunately, he didn't notice that you didn't actually swallow the pill. Jamil smiled at you and gently laid you back down before taking the tray and leaving the room again. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to drift back to sleep.

You woke up after an hour or two to find that Scarabia was still empty of other students. You realized that your body felt lighter than before and you summoned the strength to lift your hand from under the blanket, which worked. This confirmed your suspicion that Jamil was using pills to keep you weak and tired so that you couldn't leave him. It was clear to you that your mission now was to pretend long enough to regain your strength and escape Scarabia when everyone was asleep. However, it was easier said than done. Then again, as the Prefect of Ramshackle, you had to find a way to get back to your life and away from Jamil.

It had been a week since you embarked on your mission, and by some means, you had managed to avoid taking any more pills. This was either because Jamil was constantly distracted or you had tricked him. As your arms grew stronger, you began throwing the pills out the window into the vast sea of sand. However, you held on to the very first pill that you had spat out, as you intended to give it to Progressor Crewel for analysis. Your body was now strong enough to execute your final plan, but for that, you needed to wait until nightfall.

The sun was finally gone.

The Halls of Scarabia were cricket silence empty.

It was time to move.

Removing yourself from the bed, you grabbed the hidden pill and placed it in the pocket of the Scarabia Outfit that Jamil placed you in earlier in the day. Shoeless, you crept over to the door and placed your ear on it it make sure no one was in the hall before you slowly opened the door, slipped through the crack, and closed the door behind you softly before you started looking around to see where you were in Scarabia. The door should not be too far away but you knew if you broke out into a sprint right now, Jamil or someone else was going to find you.

Exhaling, you started silently stalking through the halls of Scarabia like a phantom when you stopped in front of Jamil's Room; you knew that your phone was in there but you knew it was too much of a risk; Jamil was Kalim's Protector and he had better hearing that you. If you tried to enter his room, he was going to catch you and only Sevens know what he would do to you after finding out you caught on to his plan. You needed to get out of Scarabia, you could come back for your phone later.

You kept moving until you were right next to Scarabia's Main Opening, that was when you booked it down the path and through the mirror, ending up in the Hall of Mirrors before you took a sigh of relief. You turned your back on Scarabia's Mirror before you made the long trip back to Ramshackle: Sleeping in your own bed, Seeing Grim and the Ghosts, Talking to your friends again... That is all you want at the moment.

If only you knew the reaction of a certain Vice Dorm Warden when he found that you were gone when the sun rose.

[TO BE CONCLUDED IN PART THREE]

@universallyweaselwobblermuffin - Outro? Please?