#despite everything red did to them yesterday

[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 27 : Ignored scars

Sun Wukong was intently looking at the face in the mirror, eyes tracing every inch of his glamor covered curves. Everything was as it had always been for the last centuries. A face without any blemish, any trace of struggles, with golden eyes softened by the ambient lights framed by perfectly groomed locks of sun colored fur. The glamor was old, something almost imbued in his skin, a mask merging with himself. He spent a couple of minutes, each morning, to ensure that everything was in place on his face, that no part of his glamor was unraveling. 

It was a fear of him to be bare faced in front of the others, to feel their eyes dug inside of his flesh. He didn't mind living with the face of another, living with the perfect image of him built by others, as long as he didn't have to reveal who he was (what he was) it didn't bother him. He was even more careful while being on the airship, making sure no part of his old, battered flesh slipped through his disguise. It was already quite stressful to learn that somehow, someway, Macaque had seen the scar circling his head, and that his blood-like eyes were out for everyone to see during his feral state. He never asked about it (only learning about it through bits of conversation), nor did he express his discomfort at having been seen. This feeling (some would call it self-hatred, others would name it self-shame, he prefered self-preservation) was something he didn't want to share, something he would hide for eternity.

The sage left the bathroom with a sigh on his lips, he shook his head to erase the somber thoughts nipping at his mind and roamed inside of the airship in search of food. He crossed paths with the kids, which he saluted briefly, not wanting to be caught in their wild Red Son chase as they called it (something about forcing the Bull's son to let them use his hair to grill marshmallows) and slipped in the kitchen. He opened the fridge, the bluish light hitting his face, making him hiss, and took out the breakfast prepared by Pigsy. He usually ate with the others, but he slept in today. He wasn't one to sleep much in the mornings, but he had been haunted by thoughts of Macaque's lips the whole night, he barely slept, if at all. 

Just yesterday he was kissing the love of his life in the middle of a shadow haunted maze, and now he was losing sleep over said kiss, not even knowing how to talk to Macaque anymore. They tried to broach the subject before going to bed, but they ended up stuttering and avoiding the matter altogether, talking about unnecessary things instead (such as Sock's need for a cushion, considering she was always sleeping on the sage's bed, the cushion was of no use.)

The King turned towards the microwave, looking at the plethora of buttons in thought. He decided that a heated dish wasn't worth his life, Pigsy would turn him into a brown furred monkey carpet if he dared to mess with his kitchen. Sun Wukong sat at the kitchen countertop and inhaled his cold rice. He almost served Sock her food by habit, but the lil rascal had already eaten, not even waiting for him to wake up. He could have easily been fooled if he hadn't seen the cat food crumbs sticking to her whiskers while she innocently pawed at his chest, her way of greeting him in the morning. He easily forgave her though, she was too adorable to stay mad at.

Once he was done, the King dutifully washed his dishes and left with a peach in hand, he did bring some for the trip, and planned to restock his rapidly decreasing pile once he found some nearby peach trees. They were heading towards south; Red Son speculated that the second piece might be in the bustling demonic city hidden there ( The Thousand-Years City), or in the inhabited valleys circling it. If his memories served him right, the city was under the rule of quite the eccentric fellow, the Thousands-Winged Owl he called himself, despite being a duck. But Wukong hasn't heard of this city in a long time, mayhaps the ruler changed without him knowing. 

The sage walked on the deck, peach hidden in his inner pocket, tail swishing lazily behind him. He spotted Macaque sitting on the ship's forefront, face embraced by the southern winds. He looked good, highlighted by the rising sun, black fur shimmering like the night sky. Sun Wukong hesitated, suddenly nervous, not knowing how to initiate any sort of contact despite desperately wanting to. He decided to leave, not wanting to make any more fools of himself. But the second he stepped back, one of Macaque's ears twitched, and he was rendered frozen. The warrior knew he was there, fleeing would only give him a very wrong idea (the idea that Sun Wukong didn't want his company when it was in truth everything he wished for). 

The sage walked towards the other, leaning over the railing with leisure, or at least what appeared to be leisure. He stilled his leaping heart, and softly cleared his throat. 

“Lovely day, right?” As always, there were thousands of better ways to start this, but he wasn't one for subtlety, and he believed Macaque wasn't searching for subtlety either. 

“The sun is nice.” Replied the warrior, one ear fully turned towards the sage, something the King took pride in, not everybody could catch Macaque's attention like this. 

“Yeah, you slept well?”

“... I had some thoughts.” Sun Wukong gulped, knowing very well what this statement truly meant. 

“Me too.” The sage took a deep breath and lowered his eyes on the far away floor, watching intently the way the earth extended, the way everything was smaller. “I… In truth I don't know what to do, or what to say. I just…what do you want to do?” Macaque flinched, the sage didn't see it but he felt it, he felt it in the way the wind shuddered. 

“... I don't know. There is so much going on right now I…I'm kinda lost.” Sun Wukong flinched, not because he was disappointed by the other lack of enthusiasm in the matter, but rather because he was suddenly reminded of everything that was currently going on. He was quite ashamed of himself for never truly realizing that Macaque had a lot on his plate right now. The warrior has been struggling with his own body for years, losing hope as the days ticked by, always alone, always taking care of himself. But then the kids barged in, along with everyone else, and forced him on this Save the day quest, while showering him in care, something he was not used to anymore. Macaque was probably overwhelmed by a lot of his feelings, not knowing what to wish for anymore, struggling between the hope to at last live for himself without being dependent on another, and the fear of being deceived one last time. He was emotionally vulnerable, realized the King. It was quite daunting to understand this, it also bothered him a lot, he wondered if what happened in the cave was a moment of weakness from the warrior rather than a proof of love.

“Okay. Let's do nothing, then.” Muttered the sage, hiding how his last thoughts hurt him by turning away from the other. Macaque looked at him, he could feel the way his eyes dug in his skin, unrelenting and curious. “I mean, I don't think we have to decide anything right now… relationships are complicated and we're both so nervous about it. Maybe we should wait a bit. Wait until you're not… dependent on my magic anymore.”

“Surprisingly wise coming from you.” Awkwardly laughed the warrior, perhaps trying to hide his nervousness with banter, something they often both relied on to avoid more emotionally vulnerable conversation. 

“I'm not calling sage for nothing, mind you.” Chuckled the King, he leaned over the railing and turned towards Macaque, eyes softened by the sunrays. “I don't mind if you want more kisses though. Call me and I'll be there in a second.” The words slipped naturally, even though he wanted to hide them deep inside of his heart. Macaque tail loudly thumped against the floor, surprising the sage (he would forever deny the yelp passing his lips). 

“ What, you'd rush to kiss me just like that?”Asked Macaque, clearly in disbelief. 

“Definitely.” Mumbled the sage, eyes trailed on the other face. 

“Even if I'm across the world?”

“I'd go to the damn moon to kiss you. And don't test me, I already went there once, I can do it again.” Macaque threw his head back and started laughing, once he calmed down he jumped on the deck, landing beside the sage. 

“You're an idiot.” Chuckled the warrior, his gaze softened when he looked at the sage, a small smile blooming on the edge of his lips. “Thanks for being understanding… I'll call you if I want some kisses, I guess.”

“Don’t hesitate.” Squeaked the King, he tied his tail on his leg to stop its eager wags, this wasn't the moment. 

“Yeah, good luck with your therapy session with Sandy by the way. I'm going in.”

“Thanks. I'll stay here for a bit.”

“Okay, bye. See you later.” Saluted the warrior, he walked away, his tail teasingly brushing under the sage's chin. Sun Wukong followed the tail, enticed by the coolness, by the scent, by the softness. He stumbled a little, and cursed when he heard Macaque's cackling. 

“This menace.” Grumbled Sun Wukong as he turned towards the landscape below, then put his head in his arms, tail thumping in delight on the railing. “He's gonna kill me.” Mumbled the sage, worried about the hammering organ inside of his chest, persuaded that if he wasn't immortal, he would have died from a heart attack long ago. 

The King spent a few hours on the deck, watching the clouds driftings with the day, occasionally chatting with anyone passing by. He decided to leave the place in the late afternoon, going with Sandy for his first solo therapy session. It would be a lie to say he wasn't nervous, being alone in the face of the truth was daunting. At least, he could share the burden when Macaque was there, even if it was difficult, there was a sort of companionship between them, it was comforting to know you weren't the only one struggling with your own past. If Sandy had proposed this months ago, he would have refused, terrified of being alone with his thoughts, with his past. And even if he was still scared, it was easier to take the first step now that Sandy knew about his greatest sin. The guy had seen him at his lowest and was still willing to help him, this was something Sun Wukong valued, something that reassured him. 

They settled in the King's room, sitting face to face with cups of tea in their hands. Sock jumped on his lap the second he sat on his bed, pawing at his thighs to make herself comfortable. They stayed silent for a bit, enjoying their cup of tea while listening to the cats echoing purrs, before beginning. 

“If I am right. We're here to talk about the pilgrims, yes ?”Asked Sandy, perhaps to clarify what they will be doing here, and if he was still willing. It was something he quite liked with Sandy, nothing was ever set in stone, you were never forced to follow through with what you said. If you needed to stop, you could simply stop. 

“Yes.” Sun Wukong downed his cup and petted his lil bud. “I… I have been thinking about what we said at the last session.”

“About the circlet.”

“Yeah…And really I can't understand.” Admitted the sage, ears pinning down in shame, he had tried his best to understand their point of view, but no matter how hard he tried he still couldn't understand why they thought he didn't deserve the circlet. 

“You are not finding any sense in my and Mister Maquawke words?” Questioned the tea-lover, his eyes softened by something akin to sadness. 

“No… I mean, the circlet was a violent punishment, yes. I can't deny that. But ultimately it is what made me better, and it worked” Explained the sage with furrowed eyebrows. “I was… I wasn't very nice back then.”

“Why do you think so?”

“It's just… It is. I mean, Macaque might say otherwise, but Macaque doesn't know everything about me. I wasn't… the same with him.” Muttered the sage with reddened cheeks. “You're not gonna tell this to Macaque though?”

“Everything you say will never be heard by anyone other than you and me. I can't say for the cats though, they are a bit chatty.”

“Nah, Mo seems like a chill guy. And my lil sage wouldn't out me , right?” Chuckled the sage as he squished Sock's cheeks, she looked at him with furrowed eyes, offended, and pawed at his fingers. He released her with a laugh on his lips. He stopped messing with her and resumed his words with a duller tone after a bit. “I was very uncaring when I was young. Not heartless like some believed, not noble like Azure would say, but just… selfish I guess. I wasn't with Macaque though, with him I was very… caring.”

“And so you believe the circlet changed you for the better.” Concluded Sandy, there wasn't any judgment in his tone, nothing but understanding and a hidden layer of sadness. 

“Yes. I needed to be controlled… The journey made me realize what it truly meant to take a life. The journey wasn't bad, it can't be bad when it made me so good… Or do you and Macaque think I'm not good?” Tentatively asked the sage, a tremble in his eyes. 

“No, you are good Mister King.” Sun Wukong sighed in relief. “I think both me and Mister Maquawke simply don't like to hear you were hurt.” Clarified Sandy. “ Were you never annoyed at the circlet?”

“I mean… I was, at first. I thought it was unfair” Mumbled the sage, tail nervously flickering in his back.

“Why did you think it was unfair?” Carefully asked Sandy. 

“Well, it was painful, you know. And Tripitaka was a bit too naive. I was feeling like he was using it a bit too much, and that I didn't deserve that.” Explained the sage as he fiddled with his hoodie strings. 

“Why did that change?”

“... I guess I just accepted it at one point.” Sun Wukong closed his eyes, trying to remember when the shift in his behavior happened, when he learned to wholly accept the circlet and what it represented. A single moment came to mind, something that made him tremble. “After Macaque's death, I think.”

“What did Mister Maquawke's death make you realize?” This was an odd question, Sun Wukong wasn't sure how to answer, or how it would help him. 

“I just… I guess it made me realize I needed to be controlled, or people would get hurt” This was quite obvious in itself, why were they even talking about this? It was normal to control the ones that couldn't repress their own powers, the one that hurts everything around them. 

“... It isn't the first time you mention the idea of control. Did you want to be controlled at that time ?” The sage's tail thumped on the bed in frustration, there was something brewing inside of him the more he listened to those questions, a cry he wasn't even aware existed. 

“I-I guess? I mean… I didn't want to… I didn't want to hurt the people I cared about.” Sun Wukong bit his lips, trying to hold the tears nipping at his eyes. The more he talked, the more he felt like he was missing something, like was hiding something from himself. 

“Were you afraid of hurting the people you cared about?”

“Y-yeah? I mean I never wanted… I n-never wanted to hurt…I never meant to hurt him. I never wanted to live this again, I was… maybe I was scared. And I deserved it.” Everything was beginning to be blurred, he felt something fall on his cheek, but his mind was too far lost to even recognize it. 

“Why did you deserve the circlet?” Sun Wukong bit his lips harder, blood sliding on his chin. He wanted to hold it, to never let it out, to keep it inside. Don't say it, everything inside of him was trying to prevent him from saying it. He couldn't say it. It would shatter everything, it would change everything, it would break everything he believed in. The circlet was good and that's why I endured it. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to Mister-” 

He lost it. 

“BECAUSE I KILLED HIM!” Shouted the sage, surprising everyone, even himself. “Because I killed him.” He repeated, baffled by what he was even admitting. “I killed him.” The tears were running on his cheeks like raging rivers, drowning his own face. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to… The circlet tightened and I just… I struck down. But I never wanted to. I swear I never wanted to. I swear, believe me. I swear I-I...”

“Are you alright? Do you want to stop?” Softly asked Sandy as he handed him a box of tissues, Sun Wukong took it, but never used it. 

“I-I… fuck… Sandy, I think I...I was afraid of myself. I wanted to… I wanted to atone.” Muttered the sage, Sock was worriedly pawing at his belly, but he didn't have enough strength to even look at her. The tea-lover rose and kneeled in front of him, he took his two trembling paws and squeezed them reassuringly, trying to ground him here, to not let him wander. 

“I think you need to forgive yourself, Mister King.” Whispered Sandy as he rubbed circles on his palms. “ I think you were searching for a way to punish yourself and for a sense of control, and found both in the circlet. It'll be hard to admit you were hurt, especially since you… you seem to view pain as a way to redeem yourself. But I want to tell you that it is very brave of you to do that, and that it is okay to be hurt, to be in pain because of what happened, and that the circlet doesn't mean that your journey was bad, it doesn't mean that the ones using it were bad. You did change for the better, nothing is going to erase that. But it is also fine to admit the journey wasn't perfect, that, maybe, you were frustrated by it. Admitting this will not make you a bad person. You're allowed to be in pain, Mister King.”

Sun Wukong wasn't even able to nod, face drowned by his own tears. 

“Maybe we should stop here?” Asked the tea-lover as he carefully let go of his hands. 

“Y-yeah…” Muttered the King. Sandy stayed a little while with him, not leaving him alone until his tears stopped. The tea-lover had to go, after a few hours, to steer the ship in the right direction, Sun Wukong told him it was alright and that he needed some alone time to think. 

The sage stayed on his bed rethinking about everything he just said with a clearer mind. It was terrifying to admit he endured the circlet not because he thought it was inherently good, but because he was so scared of himself, so filled with guilt, he wanted something to control him, he wanted something to hurt him. It still felt like a lie, it would probably feel like a lie for a long time before he could admit it truthfully. 

Sun Wukong rose from his bed after a little bit, sitting cross legged beside his lil lady, he took a bunch of hair and created a mirror. He looked at his reflection, eyes gliding on every perfect inch of skin veiling his face. He gulped, not sure of what he was even doing, and slowly let his glamors fall, one by one. He saw his blood-like red eyes first, then his blemishes, his hollow cheeks, his freckles, and at last the scar circling his forehead.

“I forgot I had freckles.” Sadly chuckled the sage, he took a deep breath and raised a shaky hand towards his forehead, eyes never leaving the mirror. The second he dared to touch the scar crowning his head, he flinched and threw back his glamors, breath heaving. “It'll take time, I guess.” Muttered the King as he made the mirror disappear with a flick of wrist. 

Someone knocked on his door shortly after, the sage flinched, but he didn't move. 

“Come in.” Macaque entered the room, peaches in hand. 

“I heard your session ended, how did it go?” Softly asked the macaque as he sat on the edge of his bed, Sun Wukong's tail thumped in joy when he caught sight of the warrior and he immediately raised himself. 

“Well... it was… informative.” Macaque raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn't press for answers. 

“I see… I-I have peaches for you?” Nervously chuckled the warrior as he handed the fruits. Sun Wukong took them, almost swooning at the gesture. “Maybe I should do solo therapy too…” The sage was quite surprised by this, but he quickly came back to his senses, not wanting to make the other uncomfortable. 

“If you think you have some things to work on, go ahead. It's hard but… you learn things about yourself.”

“Yeah… C-can I do something to make you feel better?”And Macaque looked so earnest, so ready to do anything, the words passed his lips without him realizing. 

“Belly scratches.”

“What?”

“What?” Nervously repeated the sage. 

“You said belly scratches?”

“Who? Me ? Naaah….” He squirmed under the other glare. “maybe?”

“Do you really want belly scratches?” Asked Macaque in disbelief, an amused smile blooming on the edge of his lips. 

“It's because of that stupid wolf. It made me think about it.” Whined the sage as he hid himself in his hands. 

“Okay… Lie down.”

“Wait what?”

“Lie down.” Repeated the macaque with reddened cheeks. 

“You're really going to…”

“Wukong just lie down, please.”

The sage heeded his words, lying down with a flaming face. Macaque hesitantly hovered above his belly, before sighing and going for it. Sun Wukong yelped, despite being aware of what was going to happen, and let his tail trash around. Macaque was a bit more shy than in his memories, but it felt good nonetheless. 

“Does that really make you feel better?”Asked Macaque with a teasing glint in his eyes. 

“It feels fucking heavenly.” Groaned the sage, still hiding behind his hands, embarrassed by how good it felt. 

“The great sage, defeated by belly scratches.”

“Don't tell this to Heaven, they're going to be mad.” They both cackled at that, Sun Wukong peeked from above his hands and smiled when he caught sight of Macaque's soft expression. He immediately hid once again when Macaque turned towards him, he would never dare look at the other while his belly was scratched, it was too embarrassing.

[brittie-frog]

Watching Day 7 from soulfire pov (Tubbo, Niki, then Tina's)

- "I'm on national TV!!" But not gonna be there for the actual event

- getting an army of 7 little observer guys and naming 4 of them (Rupert, Bertie, Scoob and Caramel)

- completing a scavenger hunt and then running around trying to find another zombie villager

- switch to Niki constantly dying and then for some reason spawning in global and dying to shit tonnes of mobs but being helped by Luffy back to base

- game crashing and not seeing the cinematic then being thrown into the event with an underequipped Pierre and done Bad

- Pierre logging off and constantly dying to Etoiles and Roier until their egg is half dead

- Tina logging on, being told "it's not worth it", their egg just being removed from the game and being switched to red team

- Cellbit still trying to get to the egg and instead killing Bad before understanding

- switch to Tina POV of just taking the event as a fun time running out red's base and getting to talk to more friends again

- sneaking up on Etoiles just to say 'ca va?' And joke pvp fight during inventory shuffle then get killed

- get the final hit on Etoiles to be the one to kill him and then while having a nice chat with Bagi get attacked by Etoiles as "revenge" and Bagi try to defend her

- having another chat with Bagi and Cellbit run up say "sorry" and throw a bomb blowing up his sister to then be chased by Tina

- Foolish try to attack Bagi and Tina defend her and hit Foolish

- "my dead wife!!" - calm down they haven't been on their date yet

- then the museum, Jaiden and Tina meant to be escorting Bagi home but Jaiden has to leave so Bagi takes Tina home the long way to spend more time together while being third wheeled by Luffy (but they gave teaduo the pretty boat and they're just a baby so it's fine)

I hope that red see that Bad is a valuable ally because he put his anger against them (both teams have every right yo be angry at each other) aside for the most part to actually be helpful - he's just a competitive guard dog. With Tina running Soulfire's PR department and crowdfundraising for Bad's therapy hopefully everything will be okay, at least when they get back home and there won't be too much long lasting contempt for him/Blue team.

Edit: I forgot to add the most hilarious moment - Tina sat in the middle of a group of people but zoomed in on the 4halo convo and reading Bad's bubbles where he's basically calling Tina useless and here just sat there like "wtf??" While laughing at how he just kept going on

[atrirose]

⠀⠀⠀ ONLY FOR YOU ε🪴⁺ you making them flustered

synopsis : things you do that makes them flustered

ft . bf ! enha x f ! r cw. kissing, skinship .. sfw, fluff ✶ wc. 1k ◜ ◝ seiu : hope you enjoy ^^ its the enha pov of my pervious post that ik i did long back but its alright.

HEESEUNG

his hearts melt when you reassure him, tell him you are proud of him or compliment him, he is a sucker for it, could be any moment and he would just turn into a puddle for it.

he looked at you in disbelief as you emptied his portion of cake that he baked “yn, that was mine you already had yours” he pout, on the verge of tears “baby you baked so good it was so yummy i couldn’t control myself sorry but you are such a great cook” if he had a tail it would have been wagging right now “you think so? oh my okay you know what i will make more for you, im glad you liked it” he rubbed his cheeks on yours , while you celebrated escaping that.

“i’m proud of you hee” you plop yourself next to him as he put his head down on your lap “you did great out there” after a long day work these words are his favorite to hear, it makes it all worth it. he looks at you big eyed

“you make everything fade into the background”

JAY

pda and sweet or flirty messages always gets him smiling, though jay likes to keep it nonchalant and cool on the exterior but if you hold his hand or kiss his cheek in the public his ears will turn read despite his best efforts to stay cool “we are in public my love” he whispers “so what” you smile.

also giggles when you text him, tries his best to not show or answer your text in a fraction of a second and focus on his work but he fails miserably everytime “today was so tiring, i want to stay home with you always” collapses on you, hugging you tight “and you are a meanie too, teasing me like that” you giggled at his whiny voice “you can always come home jay”

“i could spend a lifetime just watching you.”

JAKE

being centre of attention by you, he loves attention but from you only, it makes him giddy “then this step was a little difficult but i worked hard on it, so i guess im good now, maybe?” you were doing your work but jake bust in to show his new dance to you so of course you had to give up everything and watch him “it’s really clean jake you did a great job” you got up from the sofa and pecked his cheek.

his whole face got red, not like you haven’t kissed his cheek before but nothing gets him like you sweet compliments and your dreamy eyes giving him 100 percent of your attention, even if he is trying to pull something stupid.

“i must be dreaming because there's no way you're real.”

SUNGHOON

wearing clothes he picked out, sunghoon takes pride in knowing his girl better than anyone, no surprise he picks up on your dislikes and likes, he tries his best to style something that makes you feel like the most beautiful “i was out yesterday and i thought this white dress would look great on but then i saw this necklace and then i thought its the prefect match so here” he smiles,“thank you so much i love these kind of dresses you know me so well” you hug him, inner him is jumping and rolling.

“i’m ready hoon let’s go” he turns back to see you wearing the dress he bought you “oh my goodness, how can you look so beautiful effortlessly” you giggle at his compliments, he is a gone case, a loser if you may, for you. totally smitten and starstruck.

“how am I supposed to look at anything else after seeing you like this?”

SUNOO

loves handmade gift, it gets his heart racing, he feels the most special when you sit to crochet after learning it online, even though the heart bag looks more like a square he would accept it lovingly, in fact he is the most happiest you would ever see him, he would be seen with that bag at every given moment “i love it no please” he said as you tried to take back the bag “but it’s embarrassing sunoo” , he is the type to have all your handmade cards and notes stacked in a box, polaroids of you and him, all your favorite memories to look back to.

“anything you make for me is never embarrassing, i will treasure everything with my whole heart”

JUNGWON

making direct eye contact or looking at him heart eyes when he is talking, nothing gets him all blushing mess, ears red, hiding his face like you do, you always look at him lovingly, humming and nodding, listening carefully. randomly touching his cheeks or tucking his hair behind his ears, gracing his ears “go on hun”

“no” he said burying his head in his hands, all flustered and red “why not” you giggled “because you are teasing me” he huffed glaring at you “stop playing yn”

“sorry won you just look so beautiful when you talk” you bite his cheeks “ow meanie” — “what were you going to say”

“you are so stunning i forgot what i was going to say”

RIKI

pulling him by his tie to kiss him , him being tall is extra fun when he can tease you when you try to kiss him “riki please” you tip toe to reach his lips only for him to smirk and not help you “please what yn?” you pout at his smug face boasting his height “bend down” you pulled on his tie which caught him off guard, your lips smacked on his.

his hands snaked around your waist to pull you closer him, your body flushed with his, your hands still gripping his tie “you can really make anything possible huh?” he giggled , cheeks red “you can let my tie go now” he tired to free his tie trying to hide the fact his heart is beating so fast “now you get how it feels to me teased” his hands still on your waist, he kissed your cheeks.

“how did i get so luck to be with someone like you”

[a-lexia11]

Healing vacation and World Cup (Meeting in Barcelona part 4)

Alexia Putellas x reader

Words count: Around 11k

Part 1,Part 2,Part 3 , part 5

Note: So I know that I said part 4 will be the last but I changed my mind, there will be another part.

The night of the “breakup” with Alexia was one of the worst experiences of my life. I couldn't sleep a wink; my mind was consumed with thoughts of her—her radiant smile, her infectious laugh, and the scent of her perfume lingering in my memory.

In my desperation, I scrolled through my phone, endlessly watching the pictures and videos we had taken over the past weeks. It felt truly pathetic; we weren't even officially dating, yet here I was, heartbroken.

The worst part was going to bed without receiving one of her goodnight texts. I had grown so accustomed to her sweet messages that the silence felt unbearable.

I still can't wrap my head around the fact that I got my heart broken in Barcelona. It's supposed to be the city of love and romance, not a place for shattered hearts.

——

The next day was Sunday, and despite having a mountain of work to prepare for the final week of school, I couldn't muster the energy to leave my bed—except for the occasional trip to the freezer for more ice cream.

I lay there, feeling utterly defeated, listening to a playlist of sad songs. The ice cream, which was supposed to be a comfort, tasted salty because my tears kept falling into the tub. This only made me cry even more, creating a vicious cycle of sadness and melted, salty ice cream.

At one point, my mom called me, asking how I was, and I completely broke down. I told her everything that had happened, every detail of my heartbreak and the overwhelming sadness I was feeling.

She and my dad tried their best to comfort me. My mom's soothing words and my dad's attempt to lighten the mood with his comment about there being plenty of other fish in the sea.

While I understood his intention, it was hard to accept because I had already chosen my fish, and now, we couldn't be together anymore.

Their efforts, though subtle, did provide a small measure of comfort, but the pain was still very raw.

After we hung up, I found myself drifting back into a state of inactivity. I couldn't muster the energy to do anything but cry. The tears flowed until I was utterly exhausted, and eventually, I fell into a deep sleep, drained from the emotional turmoil of the day.

——

I woke up startled by knocks on my door. Groggily, I got out of bed and shuffled towards the front door, wondering who could be visiting so early. As I opened the door, there stood Alba, looking uncomfortable and biting her lips.

“Hola” she said quietly, her voice almost trembling.

“Hola” I responded, trying to sound more awake and opening the door wider to silently invite her in.

She stepped inside, and I closed the door behind her. We walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. Alba seemed hesitant, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for the right words.

“¿Cómo estás?” (How are you?) she asked, giving me a small, tentative smile.

I raised my eyebrows at her, feeling my exhaustion wash over me again.

Girl, I looked like a mess—my face was all red, my eyes were so puffy I could barely open them, and my hair looked like a bird's nest.

“La más feliz que he sido en mi vida“ (The happiest I've ever been) I replied sarcastically, unable to hide my frustration.

Alba just nodded and looked down at her hands, playing with her rings.

I realized that my behavior was unkind, but the events of yesterday are still very fresh in my mind, and I can't forget how she ignored me the entire afternoon and suddenly snapped at me.

It felt like a complete disregard for my presence and feelings, which is something that really gets under my skin.

While it might appear childish to react in such a manner, I genuinely don't care because the feeling of being ignored is incredibly painful and frustrating.

It made me feel insignificant and unimportant, which is one of the worst emotions to experience. I understand that everyone has their moments, but being treated like that was really hurtful and left a lasting impact on me.

After about a minute of silence, Alba decided to speak. “Um… Lo siento mucho por lo de ayer. Estaba tan emocionada de ver a Marina de nuevo que me olvidé por completo de ti” (Um… I’m really sorry about yesterday. I was just so excited to see Marina again that I completely forgot about you) she said, still looking down, her voice tinged with regret and her shoulders slumped.

Great, Alba, that does not make it any better. “Forgetting” about me just because your friend is also here… it made it worse. The sting of being overlooked, especially by someone I considered a close friend, cut deep.

I could feel the tension between us growing, the silence becoming heavier with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Alba’s apology, though sincere, did little to mend the hurt.

The memory of being sidelined, of feeling invisible in the presence of someone she deemed more important, was still fresh and raw. Right now, she makes everything worse.

I’m feeling really let down and upset with the Putellas sisters. They are the last people I want to see or talk to at the moment. The incident is still very fresh, and I need some time to come to terms with it.

If I continue discussing this with her right now, I might say something I’ll later regret.

It’s such a stark contrast to just a few weeks ago. I used to look forward to seeing Alexia and hanging out with Alba.

We would go out with our friends, enjoy dinners, and have movie nights where I’d cuddle with Alexia.

Those moments felt so warm and comforting. Now, the thought of seeing them fills me with dread and frustration. It’s heartbreaking how quickly things have changed.

I rose from my chair, feeling the tension in the air. “No quiero hablar contigo en este momento” (I really don’t want to talk with you right now) I said, my voice strained with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “Creo que es mejor que te vayas” (I think it’s best if you leave)

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked towards the front door, my footsteps echoing in the quiet room.

The distance between us grew with each step, and I felt a heavy weight lift slightly from my shoulders as I reached for the doorknob.

Alba rose from her seat and slowly made her way towards the front door. As I opened it for her, she paused right in front of me, her eyes meeting mine with a glint of unshed tears.

“I’m so, so sorry” she whispered in English, her voice barely audible yet laden with emotion. With that, she stepped out of my apartment, leaving a lingering sense of sorrow in the air.

I closed the door behind her and let out a deep sigh, resting my forehead against the cool wood.

The silence of the apartment seemed to echo the turmoil in my heart. Friendships and love are so difficult, I thought, feeling the sting of her departure.

The complexities of human connections often left me feeling both enriched and exhausted, and this moment was no different.

Settling back onto my sofa, I reached under the coffee table to grab my labtop. With a few quick clicks, I booked a flight back to New York, feeling a mix of relief and anticipation.

I really need to be with my family and friends. Spending my summer vacation in New York wasn't part of the plan—I was supposed to go to Bali with my friends but given the circumstances, that's no longer an option.

The thought of being surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of home brought a sense of comfort. I missed my parents and friends deeply, so NYC, here I come.

Just one more week of school, and I can finally escape Barcelona. The city had been beautiful and full of life, but right now, I needed the warmth and support of my loved ones more than anything.

——

Returning to work turned out to be easier than I had anticipated. Seeing all the children again brought a sense of joy and made me feel a little better, lifting my spirits.

I couldn't avoid Alba at all since we were working in the same class, but it was clear that something had definitely changed between us.

I wasn't talking to her, avoided making eye contact, and only spoke to her when it was absolutely necessary.

I maintained a professional demeanor throughout the entire week, focusing solely on my tasks and responsibilities.

It was challenging, but I knew it was the right thing to do for my own peace of mind.

I could see that she desperately wanted to talk to me; she always looked at me with eyes that seemed to say I had kicked her puppy or something equally heartbreaking.

I'm not going to lie, it hurt me more than I want to admit. Seeing her like that tugged at my heartstrings, making it difficult to stay firm in my decision.

But right now, the best thing for us, for me, is to focus on myself and my well-being. If that means I have to ignore Alba, then that's what I'm going to do.

It's not easy, but sometimes you have to make tough choices to protect your own mental and emotional health.

“Entonces, chicas, ¿algún plan para el verano?” (So, girls, any plans for the summer?) Valeria asked as Alba and I were in her office, having a little recap of everything that had happened at work.

Today is Friday, the last day of school, and finally summer vacation.

“Um…Sí, voy a Bali con mi hermana y amigos” (Um… yeah I’m going to Bali with my sister and friends) Alba said kinda quietly like she was ashamed of saying it.

Even though I’ve never told her directly, I think it’s safe to say that we silently agreed that I’m not part of this trip anymore.

“Eso es genial, Alba. Bali es hermoso, te vas a divertir mucho” (That’s great, Alba.Bali is beautiful you’re going to have so much fun) Valeria responded more exited that Alba. “¿Y tú, Y/N?” (What about you,Y/N) she asked turning her head,looking at me.

“Voy a regresar a Nueva York, voy a pasar un tiempo con mi familia” (I’m going back to New York, I’m going to spend some time with my family) I told her with a gentle smile.

Valeria smiled excitedly at me, nodded and said “¡Espero que se diviertan! Se lo merecen. Ambos fueron increíbles, y los niños no pueden esperar para verlos de nuevo en septiembre” (I hope you guys have some fun! You deserve it. You both were incredible, and the kids can't wait to see you both again in September) Valeria told us, smiling gently at us.

We thanked her.

After 30 more minutes of talking, Valeria finally let us go with a hug and a “see you in September” Alba and I made our way out of the school.

The sun was shining brightly, and the air was filled with the sounds of children laughing and playing, celebrating the start of their summer freedom.

In the parking lot, I turned to her and managed an awkward smile. “Diviértete en Bali” (Have fun in Bali) I said, my voice betraying a hint of the sadness I felt.

I was just about to turn around and walk to my car when I felt her hand gently stop me.

I turned around and looked at her, confusion etched across my face. She let go of my hand and took a deep breath, her eyes darting nervously.

“Um… quería contarte algo” (Um… I wanted to tell you something) she began, her voice trembling slightly.

“Te lo estoy diciendo para que no te enteres por las redes sociales ni nada... pero... um... Marina viene con nosotros a BalI” (I’m telling you so you don’t find out through social media or anything… but… um… Marina is coming with us to Bali) She paused between some words, her stress clearly evident as she gauged my reaction.

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her shirt, and I could see the worry in her eyes, reflecting the weight of the news she had just delivered.

I really don’t know what to say right now. It feels like they’ve replaced me with her. Y/N isn’t coming to Bali anymore, so let’s decide to invite Marina instead... just like that.

It’s incredibly frustrating and makes me feel really sad. Marina played a significant role in the fallout between Alexia and me, and now they’re still choosing to go on vacation with her.

Alba noticed my silence and quickly added, “Bianca es quien la invitó. Estábamos cenando juntos, hablando del viaje a Bali, y Bianca se sintió mal, así que la invitó” (Bianca is the one who invited her. We were having dinner together, discussing the Bali trip, and Bianca felt bad, so she invited her) she said, looking me directly in the eyes, as if to prove her sincerity.

Honestly, I don't have the energy to argue, so I just nodded and said, “Bueno, diviértete” (Okay, well, have fun) in a monotonous voice.

She bit her lip and replied, “Disfruta tu tiempo con tu familia” (Enjoy your time with your family.) I nodded again and turned towards my car.

I'm so over this. I really need to disconnect for a few weeks and stay away from them. It's the only way I can fully move on and heal from this.

——

On Sunday, I decided to go shopping since I’m leaving on Monday and wanted to get something special for my parents from Barcelona.

While I was browsing through necklaces for my mom, I suddenly heard someone calling my name from behind. I turned around and, to my surprise, it was Marcus.

I hadn't seen him since Bianca’s birthday, and seeing him there in the middle of the store brought back a flood of memories.

“Hey Marcus! How's it going?” I greeted him with a friendly hug, happy to see his familiar face.

“I'm good, and you?” he replied, his smile genuine and welcoming. “I'm good too, thanks” I answered, matching his friendly vibe.

“What are you up to here? Checking out the necklaces?” he asked, glancing at the jewelry selection.

“Yeah,I’m getting a gift for my mom. I’m heading back to New York tomorrow, so I wanted to grab something special for my parents” I explained, appreciating his interest.

“That's cool! I'm also heading back to New York soon. We should hang out” he suggested casually.

“For sure! That'd be awesome” I replied warmly, looking forward to catching up with a good friend.

Following our conversation and exploration together, Marcus's kindness and relaxed demeanor truly enhanced the entire experience.

We found a beautiful necklace for my mom, shared some laughs, and swapped phone numbers to plan a future meet-up in New York. Finally, we bid each other farewell.

I still needed to find something for my dad, and knowing his love for football and the Barça team, I decided to visit a Barça store.

The store was vibrant with the team's colors, and the energy was palpable, filled with fans and tourists alike.

While browsing through the aisle filled with various jerseys, I was meticulously going through each one, trying to find the perfect fit for my dad.

Suddenly, I looked up and there she was. Alexia.

In a promotional poster, wearing a Barça shirt, her blonde hair gleamed in the picture, and she had her arms crossed, looking intently into the camera.

Her presence, even in a photograph, was commanding and powerful.

Ugh, what did I expect? Not seeing her in a Barça store? When she's one of the best Barça players? It was almost inevitable.

I can't help but stare at her. The sight of her brought back a flood of memories, and I realized just how much I missed her.

Her intense gaze, even from a poster, seemed to reach out and touch a part of me that had been dormant for too long.

After a few minutes of just staring at that poster of Alexia, I finally pulled myself together and continued looking for a jersey. The store was bustling with fans, and the atmosphere was electric, filled with excitement and chatter about the latest matches and players.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I found the perfect jersey for my dad. It was a classic design with his favorite player's number on it. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I headed to the cashier, paid for the jersey, and stepped out of the store and in the busy street of Barcelona.

——

Later that day, I found myself packing my suitcase. I put a lot in it since I’ll probably be spending the whole summer there and will come back only in September.

The thought of being away for so long made me feel a mix of excitement and nostalgia.

While rummaging through my stuff, I stumbled upon a little box with the butterfly necklace that Alexia had given me.

Memories of the day she gave it to me flooded back, and I felt a bittersweet pang in my chest. Despite the mixed emotions, I decided to take it with me.

There was something comforting about having it close, a tangible reminder of the good moments we shared, not just the bad.

Carefully, I placed the box in my suitcase, knowing that it would bring a sense of connection and warmth during my summer away.

——

The next day, I found myself at the bustling airport, ready to embark on my journey back to New York.

The excitement of returning home mixed with a tinge of sadness about leaving behind the vibrant streets of Barcelona, even if temporary.

As much as I love the city's rich culture, beautiful architecture, and warm, sunny days, I missed my hometown deeply.

The familiar skyline, the hustle and bustle of the streets,were calling me back. With a mix of emotions, I boarded the plane, looking forward to reuniting with everything and everyone I had missed so much.

——

Landing in New York, I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I finally escaped the confines of the long flight. The anticipation of seeing my family again made every step feel lighter as I navigated through the crowded airport.

I made my way to the baggage claim area, weaving through the throngs of travelers, each with their own stories and destinations.

After what felt like an eternity, my suitcase finally appeared on the carousel. With a sense of accomplishment, I retrieved it and checked my phone.

A message from my mom popped up, informing me that she and my dad were waiting for me near the airport entrance.

As I descended the escalator, my eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on my parents. My mom was holding a sign that read “Bienvenido a Nueva York,” written in bold, colorful letters, while my dad stood beside her with a bouquet of vibrant flowers.

Their dramatic gesture brought a smile to my face, reminding me just how much I love them.

The moment they spotted me, my mom called out my name, her voice filled with excitement.

She waved frantically, her enthusiasm infectious. I couldn’t help but laugh at their eagerness, feeling a warm sense of belonging as I made my way toward them.

Stepping off the escalator, I hurried towards my parents and enveloped them in a tight hug.

I had missed them so much; their familiar scents and warm embrace brought a sense of comfort that only family could provide.

As tears welled up in my mom's eyes, I could feel the depth of her emotions, her love for me shining through every tear.

On the other hand, my dad's beaming smile could have lit up the entire airport; his joy at seeing me again was palpable, filling the air with a contagious happiness that lifted my spirits.

After our emotional reunion, my parents extended an invitation to dine at a nearby restaurant. Amidst the cozy ambiance and delicious food, I poured my heart out, recounting every detail of my Barcelona adventures.

From Valeria's kindness to the lively banter with the school kids, the bond with my new friends, and the captivating tales of Alba and Alexia, I painted a vivid picture of my life in Spain.

My parents, ever the attentive listeners, hung onto my every word. When I revisited the story of Alexia and me, my dad's protective instincts flared up, his playful threat of converting to a Madridista eliciting laughter from all of us.

Meanwhile, my mom, with her gentle wisdom, offered comforting advice and reassurance, grounding me in her maternal warmth and understanding.

——

After spending a few hours at home, I finally decided it was time to unpack my suitcase, so I enlisted my mom to help me out.

We began carefully pulling out the clothes, one by one, chatting about the trip as we went. Suddenly, my mom's eyes caught something small and delicate—a little box tucked away in a corner of the suitcase.

She gently picked it up and opened it, revealing the butterfly that Alexia had given me.

“What’s this?” she asked, opening the box and seeing the butterfly. “Wow, that’s really pretty! Where did you get it?” she continued, inspecting the necklace.

“Oh, it was a gift from Alexia,” I trailed off. My mom looked at me sadly and gave me a sympathetic smile.

“Ooh, is that your initial imprinted on the wings?” she noticed, placing a hand on her heart, touched by it.

“Yeah, it is,” I answered, feeling a little sad as I looked down at my clothes and began folding them as a distraction.

“That girl seemed to really like you, dare I say maybe even in love with you,” she said, and that made me look up at her so fast I almost got whiplash.

“In love?! Don’t be ridiculous, Mom. She is not in love with me; we’ve only known each other for barely three months,” I told her, looking at her weirdly.

“And? The heart wants what it wants, right? Time doesn’t matter; it’s the connection that you have that does. Plus, I’m pretty sure that you’re in love with her,” she said, smirking at me.

That’s ridiculous. I’m not in love with Alexia, just because I think about her every day and every second, and that I love to admire pictures of her, and that I would do anything for her, and that—oh my God, I think I’m in love with her.

I looked at my mom with wide eyes. “I’m in love with Alexia… oh my God,” I told my mom. She just looked at me, nodding her head and smiling gently.

“I know you are,” she said, placing her hand on my shoulder before turning back to folding my clothes.

Now that I think about it, it all makes sense, but it's adding layers of complexity to my feelings. How am I supposed to fully move on from her when my heart feels so entangled?

And then there's the question of whether Alexia is really in love with me. A part of me desperately hopes for a definitive answer, either yes or no, because ambiguity just makes everything more complicated.

If she is, it brings a whole new set of challenges; if she isn't, it might make it easier to let go, but it still hurts.

——

I spent my first two week in NYC just soaking up the city and relaxing with my friends and family. It felt so good to reconnect with Madison and Carter; I had missed them more than I realized.

We laughed, reminisced, and created new memories together. To make the most of this precious time, I decided to disconnect from my phone completely. I deleted all my social media apps and any other distractions, focusing solely on being present with my loved ones.

One of the highlights was inviting Marcus to hang out with us. He had mentioned he was also in New York, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to include him in our group.

Surprisingly, he fit right in, as if he had always been a part of our tight-knit circle. We explored the city, shared stories, and bonded over our shared experiences, making the week even more special.

He’s basically become part of our group now. We’re always hanging out together, even when we’re just doing nothing. I’ve gotten to know him better, and I’m not disappointed.

He really belongs with us. It’s been great to see how well he fits in with everyone. We’ve had some amazing times, whether it’s surfing in the Hamptons, grabbing a bite to eat, or just chilling at someone’s place.

He’s added a new dynamic to our group, and I can’t imagine it without him now.

This two weeks were truly amazing until I decided to go back on social media and saw Bianca’s new Instagram post.

She had posted an insta dump with pictures from Bali. There was one picture in particular that caught my eye: all of them sitting at a restaurant, smiling. Alexia and Marina were sitting next to each other, with Alexia’s arm around Marina’s shoulder.

I just stared at the both of them; they really do look like a couple. Alexia had confessed to me that at one point she felt something for Marina, and now that they are on vacation together, maybe they’ve rekindled that flame.

I made the mistake of going through the comments. Alexia’s fans were all over it, recognizing Marina as her ex and freaking out, shipping them, saying they look cute together. It was like a punch to the gut.

Huffing, I locked my phone and threw it across my bed. I fucking hate them! Well, not Alexia, but in that moment, I did hate her.

Seeing them together like that brought back so many memories and emotions. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and hurt. It's like everything we had talked about, all the feelings she had shared with me, were just thrown out the window.

I felt betrayed and confused, the comments only made it worse.

I needed to get away from it all, to clear my head and figure out what I was really feeling.

I decided to take a long walk, hoping the fresh air and solitude would help me sort through my emotions. But no matter how far I walked, the image of Alexia and Marina together kept replaying in my mind.

How can my mom even think that Alexia is in love with me when she's so openly affectionate with someone else? It's confusing and hurtful, and I don't know what to believe anymore.

Feeling jealous and angry, I decided to make an Instagram dump too. I posted several pictures of food, Madison, Carter, and most importantly, Marcus.

Alexia was jealous of Marcus; she told me herself, so I thought, why not post about him?

I included a particular picture of all of us in swimsuits after we went surfing in the Hamptons.

The picture was a selfie taken by Madison. In the background, you could see Carter sitting by himself, eating. Marcus and I were in the foreground, sitting on a surfboard.

I had my arms wrapped around his stomach, and his arms were comfortably resting around my shoulders.

The sun was setting, casting a beautiful glow over the scene, and you could see the waves gently crashing behind us. The picture perfectly captured the joy and relaxation of that moment.

And I captioned it : “ Mis favoritos momentos con Mis favoritas personas” (My favorite moments with my favorite persons)

——

As I was laying on my bed at night, I received an instagram notification.

alexiaputellas liked your post.

I really hope you liked my post, Alexia. I mean, I truly hope it brought you immense joy and satisfaction…

And then I received a message from Alexia. I quickly sat up, my mind racing as I debated whether or not to read it.

The curiosity was killing me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it might be something important. After a moment of hesitation, I decided, “Oh, screw it, I should just read it.”

La Reina👸 : Hola,Y/N how are you? I hope I’m not bothering you.I just wanted to know how you are, I saw some of you pictures that you posted,I’m really happy that you’re enjoying yourself.You deserved it.

Ugh,suddenly you want to know how I am right after I posted those pictures...

I knew it, posting that picture with Marcus definitely got to her. I mean, it was bound to happen, right?

But should I respond? I can't deny I missed talking to her. She saw that I read the message, and if I don't reply, it’ll seem rude... Plus, it's not like I want to start any drama.

So frustrating. I'll just reply casually and normally, keeping things light and friendly.

To La Reina 👸: Hey Alexia, I'm good, thanks! How about you? How was Bali?

Is it too short? Should I add more? No, it's perfect. And I send her the message, hoping for the best.

After a few minutes, her call suddenly came through. I sat up even more, almost falling out of my bed, my mind racing with questions.

Why is she calling now? Isn't texting enough? Oh no, what do I do? She knows I'm awake; I just replied to her message.

Shit! I’m panicking, I’m panicking.

Okay, calm down. Deep breaths, in and out, in and out.

With a deep breath, I finally picked up the phone.

“Hello” I greeted Alexia, trying to sound as calm and casual as possible, even though I was on the edge of a panic attack.

“Hello, Y/N,” Alexia responded softly. Hearing her voice and that familiar accent made my heart skip a beat. “How are you?” she continued.

“I’m good. And you?” I asked her genuinely, eager to hear more.

“I’m good too, thank you,” she said gently, her voice as soothing as ever.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, I decided to break the ice. “Did you have fun in Bali? Are you back in Barcelona?”

“Yes, I had a lot of fun, and yes, I am back in Barcelona,” she answered casually.

I furrowed my eyebrows. She’s back in Barcelona, and it’s like 4 a.m. there right now. Why is she awake?

“Why aren’t you sleeping? It’s late in Barcelona right now,” I told her, my concern evident in my voice.

“I couldn’t sleep. I—” she stopped in her tracks. The silence stretched for a few seconds, and then she continued, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a mix of emotions. God, why do you say those kinds of things? And at night, I’m so much more vulnerable at this time.

“Y/N? Are you still here?” she asked, worry lacing her voice, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Um... yes... sorry, I’m still here,” I answered, totally dumbfounded, trying to process her words and the emotions they stirred within me.

I sighed deeply, "Alexia, you can’t say things like that," I said with a hint of sadness in my voice.

"But it’s the truth," she responded sincerely, her words cutting through the silence.

I sighed again, feeling the weight of her words. "How is Alba?" I quickly changed the subject, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from our feelings.

"She is very good. She misses you, you know…" she trailed off, her voice softening.

"I miss her too," I responded truthfully, feeling a pang of longing.

I can't lie, I miss Alba a lot—her presence, her humor, her teasing. Maybe I should try and reach out to her at some point. I can't stay angry at her forever.

The thought of reconnecting with Alba brought a small smile to my face, despite the emotional turmoil I was feeling.

After that, Alexia and I talked for a while, but only about our vacations—how they went, what we did, the places we visited, and the people we met. I completely avoided talking about Marina.

The pain of that situation still lingered, and I wasn’t ready to confront it just yet.

Alexia also mentioned that in less than a week, she will be flying to New Zealand for the World Cup.

She was very excited about it and maybe also a little nervous. I mean, it’s the World Cup after all. She talked about how she’s been training hard and how much it means to her to represent her team on such a big stage.

She’s looking forward to the experience but also feels the pressure to perform well.

She also shared with me the various issues the team is currently facing with their coach.She mentioned that the disagreements are affecting their training sessions and overall team morale.

She seemed really upset about it.

“Will you come to see one of my matches?” she asked suddenly, catching me off guard.

“I don’t know, Alexia,” I replied hesitantly, unsure of how to navigate the situation.

“Lo cubriré todo: los billetes de avión, los hoteles, todo” (I’ll cover everything—plane tickets, hotels, everything) she quickly added, her desperation to convince me evident in her voice.

“Alexia, that’s not the issue,” I informed her, trying to convey the complexity of my hesitation.

“Entonces, ¿cuál es el problema?” (Then what is the problem?) she asked, her frustration starting to show.

“You know what the problem is,” I retorted knowingly, hinting at the unresolved issues between us.

“Sí, pero por favor, creo que es hora de que tengamos una conversación cara a cara, no por teléfono. No podemos seguir así. Te quiero en mi vida; significas mucho para mí” (Yes, but please, I think it’s time for us to have a conversation face to face, not over the phone. We can’t stay like this. I want you in my life; you mean so much to me) she said emotionally, her voice softening as she tried to reach me on a deeper level.

She was right; I can’t avoid this situation forever. I need to work things out with Alba and her. I work with Alba, and we need to make things comfortable with each other once we get back to work.

The tension can’t affect my professional life.

And Alexia is now also a part of my life. I need to work things out with her too. It’s the only solution to live in peace and move forward without this cloud hanging over us.

“Okay, I’ll come to see one of your matches,” I told her, finally giving in. I think I can squeeze New Zealand into my schedule, though it will be tight.

I’ll ask Marcus, Carter, and Madison if they want to come along. It might be good to have some company and support during this trip.

“Good!” she said excitedly. “I can pay for everything,” she started saying, but I cut her off.

“It’s okay, Alexia, you don’t have to pay for anything. I can cover it, really,” I informed her.

After a few minutes of back-and-forth arguing about whether she would or wouldn’t pay for my trip, she finally gave in.

“Now, I’ll need to go buy a Spain jersey” I told her jokingly, trying to keep the conversation light.

“You know I can give you one; you don’t have to buy it” she replied matter-of-factly, her tone amusing.

“Who said I wanted your jersey?” I retorted with a playful grin, letting out a little laugh at the end to show I was just teasing.

“Oh, so you don’t want to carry my name on your back?” she responded, her voice filled with mock indignation.

“No, thank you. I want a Bonmati jersey” I informed her.

“That’s a very good choice,” she said sweetly and honestly, her smile warm and genuine.

“I'm just teasing, I only want to wear your jersey, no one else's” I said softly, my tone becoming more tender as I gazed into her eyes.

Ugh, I'm starting to get emotional now... stop it, Y/N.

“Can you FaceTime me, please? I really want to see you” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course, you can FaceTime me” I replied after a brief pause.

I received the FaceTime call and accepted it right away.

She appeared on my screen, looking so relaxed. I could see she was lying on her bed with Nala in her arms.

“Hola” she greeted me with a gentle smile.

“Hola” I responded. “Can I see Nala, please?” I asked, and she chuckled softly. She moved her camera to show Nala, who was peacefully asleep.

“Oh, she's adorable” I whispered to Nala. I really missed that little dog.

Alexia brought the camera back to herself. “You got a tan; it looks great on you” I complimented her.

“Gracias” (thank you) she said “Sabes, me habría divertido más si hubieras estado aquí con nosotros” (You know, I would have had more fun if you were here with us) she added, sounding a bit sad.

I sighed deeply, feeling a bit lost on how to respond.

“Maybe one day, we'll be able to go there together again” I suggested, smiling warmly at her.

“I would love that” she replied, her smile mirroring mine.

“Um... I saw your pictures on Instagram. You and Marcus are friends now?” she asked hesitantly, trying to choose her words carefully to avoid sounding rude.

There it was. The unmistakable hint of jealousy I had been expecting.

“Yes, we ran into each other again in Barcelona. I told him I was heading back to NY, and he mentioned he was going too. So, yeah, we've been hanging out” I explained, trying to keep my tone casual.

I couldn't resist asking, “I saw Bianca's Instagram. You and Marina seem to be getting closer too” I pointed out gently, not wanting to sound accusatory.

“Sí, somos amigas” (Yes, we're friends) she said simply, and I nodded, though doubt lingered in my mind.

It's hard to fully believe her right now. Noticing my hesitation, she looked at me through the screen and said firmly, “I promise you, nothing happened with her. She's just my friend”

I nodded again, her earnestness making me think she might be telling the truth. I decided to trust her.

Alexia then yawned, clearly exhausted from our long conversation. We had been talking for at least an hour.

“Alexia, go to sleep. It's late, or rather early, for you” I gently urged her.

“Quiero seguir hablando contigo, no hemos hablado en tanto tiempo, te he extrañado más que a nada” (I want to keep talking with you, we haven’t talk in so long, I missed you more than anything) she whispered softly, her voice full of longing.

Oh, Alexia, I miss you so much too, more than anyone or anything but I decided to ignore the comment

“Let's talk tomorrow, okay? ” I told her, trying to convince her to go to sleep.

“Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night, cariño” she said casually, her voice soft and drowsy.

I don't think she realized the pet name she used because she was half asleep. It caught me off guard but made me smile.

“Goodnight, Alexia” I said simply. She smiled gently at me through the phone, and then there was a soft click as she hung up.

Having this conversation with her was really good. I feel so much lighter now. All the anger that had been weighing me down just disappeared. It feels so good to talk, even though we didn't address the problem directly.

Just hearing her voice and knowing she's there for me made everything better.

——

Over the next few days, I reached out to Carter, Madison, and Marcus to see if they were interested in going to New Zealand for the World Cup. They all responded with enthusiasm.

We then went online to purchase Spain jerseys. I chose Alexia's jersey, while Marcus and Madison went for Aitana's jersey. Carter, like me, opted for Alexia's jersey.

I sent a message to Alexia, informing her that we would be traveling to New Zealand to watch her play. She was thrilled and thanked us for the support.

We all agreed to invite Alba to join us. I feel it's time to finally forgive her. The three weeks apart have allowed my anger to dissipate, and I've realized how much I miss her.

This trip seems like the perfect opportunity to mend our relationship and enjoy an unforgettable experience together.

So that’s why I’m calling her right now.

“Hola” she answered the phone, sounding really confused.

“Hola, Alba,” I replied warmly. “Cómo estás?” (How are you?) I continued sweetly.

“Hola, Y/N. Estoy bien, ¿y tú?” (I’m fine, and you?) she asked back, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

“Estoy genial, gracias” (I’m great, thank you) I answered, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. “Te estoy llamando porque quería preguntarte algo” (I’m just calling because I wanted to ask you something) I continued, feeling a bit nervous.

“Dime” (Tell me) she said, her tone encouraging.

“Quería saber si te gustaría, ya sabes, venir a Nueva Zelanda conmigo y mis amigos” (I wanted to know if you would like to, you know, come to New Zealand with me and my friends) I asked, my voice wavering slightly. “Tuve una conversación con Alexia hace poco, y vamos a ver algunos de sus partidos y también pasar un tiempo allí de vacaciones” (I had a conversation with Alexia not long ago, and we’re going to see some of her matches and spend some time there for vacation as well) I continued, rambling nervously.

There was a moment of silence that felt like an eternity before she finally answered, “¡Sí, me encantaría ir con ustedes!” (Yes, I would love to come with you guys) she said, and I could hear the genuine smile in her voice.

“¡Eso es fantástico! ¡No puedo esperar! Um, ya sabes, también nos dará la oportunidad de hablar sobre, ya sabes, lo que pasó” (That’s fantastic! I can’t wait for it! Um, you know, it will also give us the opportunity to talk about, you know, what happened) I added, my nerves showing through.

“Sí, me gustaría hablar de todo eso contigo también” (Yes, I’d like to discuss all that with you too) she said, sounding relieved and perhaps a bit emotional.

“De acuerdo, te enviaré toda la información.” (Okay, well, I will text you all the info) I informed her, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

“Sin problema, estoy feliz de que hayas llamado“ (No problem, Y/N. I’m really happy you called) she said, her voice filled with emotion, and I returned her words before we said our goodbyes.

——

We’ve been in New Zealand for about two days now.

After an incredibly long flight, we have finally landed in New Zealand two days ago.Alba is supposed to join us today, and I’m sure her arrival will make the trip even more exciting.

I did not have the chance to see Alexia in those two days,since she does not have much days off.

The Spanish team has played three matches so far and has won two of them, which is amazing. The excitement of the matches is palpable, and I can’t wait to see more of them in action.

Besides the matches, I’m looking forward to exploring this beautiful country with you all and creating unforgettable memories.

“Where is she? We've been waiting for like 20 minutes! Send her a message” Carter complained for what seemed like the hundredth time. We are currently at the airport about to pick up Alba.

“Oh, look, there she is!” Madison pointed out Alba and greeted her excitedly, waving and calling her name with enthusiasm.

Alba turned her head and upon seeing us, her face lit up with a big smile. She quickened her pace and approached us swiftly.

When she finally arrived, she greeted us all with tight hugs and kisses on the cheeks, her joy palpable.

When she reached me, she put her hand on the back of my head and hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe, but I hugged her back just as tightly, feeling her warmth and affection.

“I've missed you so much” she said in English with a voice that was almost breaking into tears. I hugged her even tighter if that was possible and echoed her words, feeling the emotion of the reunion.

We parted with a kiss on each cheek and, with a mix of laughter and chatter, headed towards our rental car.

After returning to the hotel, Alba and I engaged in a deep and emotional conversation that lasted at least an hour , with a few tears shed here and there.

She confessed how terrible she felt about the hurtful comment she had made and how she had ignored me when Marina was around.

Her voice was filled with genuine remorse, and I could see the regret in her eyes.

Alba promised that she would never behave that way again and, in a light-hearted moment, even said I could slap her if she ever did. She went on to tell me how much she missed me and how everyone in Bali missed me too.

She mentioned that the trip would have been so much better if I had been there, and hearing that truly touched my heart. It made me realize how much I mean to them and how much they value my presence.

I forgave her wholeheartedly, understanding that time has allowed me to heal and that it’s now time to move forward. I feel that this experience has the potential to make our friendship stronger than ever.

Perhaps we needed this argument to reinforce our bond and understand each other better. With a tight hug and a playful slap on my ass, we left the hotel, ready to explore the vibrant city of Aucklan.

——

After a long day of sightseeing, we finally got back to the hotel to freshen up and prepare ourselves for the match tonight. Spain is playing against Switzerland, and the excitement was palpable. I headed to the bathroom for a quick shower, eager to get ready for the evening.

As I was getting dressed, my eyes fell upon that familiar small box with the butterfly necklace inside. I hesitated, debating whether or not to wear it. After a few minutes of contemplation, I decided to put it on, feeling a sense of comfort and connection as I clasped it around my neck.

While rummaging through my suitcase for my jersey, Alba emerged from the bathroom, her hair still damp and a playful smirk on her face. Her eyes immediately went to the necklace I was wearing.

“Lo sabía, se vería realmente hermoso en ti” (I knew it would look really beautiful on you) she said, her smile gentle. “Yo la ayudé a elegirlo, ¿sabes?” (I helped her choose it, you know.)

“¿De verdad?” (Really?) I asked, genuinely surprised.

“Sí, pero fue idea de ella añadir las iniciales. ¿Verdad que fue lindo?” (Yeah, but it was her idea to add the initials. That was cute, right?) she added smugly, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

I couldn't help but smile back at her. I had missed her teasing more than I would like to admit. It felt good to have this moment, a reminder of our deep bond and the shared memories that made our friendship so special.

I playfully rolled my eyes at her and was about to put on my jersey when Alba stopped me.

“Espera, no te lo pongas todavía, tengo algo más” (Wait, don’t put it on yet, I have something else) she said, rummaging through her suitcase with a determined look on her face.

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, curious about what she could possibly have. She finally pulled out another jersey of Alexia’s and handed it to me.

“Alba, es la misma camiseta que compré” (Alba, it’s the same jersey that I bought) I told her, puzzled, as I was about to give it back.

“Dale la vuelta” (Turn it around) she said, rolling her eyes with a knowing smile.

I turned the jersey around, and there, on the number 11, it was written with a sharpie, “Una camiseta especial para alguien especial” (A special jersey for my special someone.) I immediately recognized Alexia’s handwriting, and my heart skipped a beat.

My cheeks blushed at that, feeling a warm rush of emotions.

“Alexia me dijo que te la diera” (Alexia told me to give it to you) Alba said, smiling gently at me before returning to the bathroom to continue getting ready.

I put the jersey on, and it smelled exactly like Alexia, bringing a sense of comfort and closeness. She is so sweet.

Take that, Marina—I bet Alexia didn’t give you her jersey with a cute message like this.

——

We arrived at the stadium, and the energy was palpable with a crowd already gathered. We found our seats near the field, eagerly anticipating the events to unfold.

The atmosphere shifted as the Spanish team players emerged from the tunnels, greeted by enthusiastic cheers. Alexia, with her slightly faded pink hair, immediately caught my eye. She looked impeccable in her suit, AirPods in, exuding confidence and focus.

As Alexia and her teammates inspected the field, their concentration was evident. They took in every detail, preparing themselves mentally for the match ahead.

Then, Alexia turned her head, and our eyes met. A wide smile spread across her face as she waved at me. I waved back, feeling a rush of excitement. Noticing she had her phone, I gestured for her to check it.

“Thank you so much for the jersey, I love it” I messaged her. I looked up to see her reaction. She read the message, then looked up and blew me a kiss with a wink, making my heart flutter.

Alexia then spotted Alba, Marcus, Carter, and Madison. Their faces lit up with big smiles and enthusiastic greetings. Alba blew her a kiss, which Alexia caught and placed on her heart, a gesture of the deep bond and affection among friends.

After a while the players all went back to the tunnels.

——

The whistle blew, signaling the end of the match. Spain had an easy victory, dominating Switzerland with a 5-1 scoreline.

The stadium erupted with cheers, singing, and dancing as fans celebrated Spain's qualification for the quarter-finals. Alexia and her teammates were visibly elated, their faces beaming with joy and pride.

After soaking in the jubilant atmosphere for a while, we decided to leave the stadium. It was quite late, and our stomachs were rumbling, so we headed to a nearby restaurant to grab a bite to eat.

The streets were alive with fans celebrating Spain's victory, adding to the festive mood.

While we were at the restaurant, I received a message from Alexia. She told me that she would have some time off the next morning and asked if I wanted to join her for breakfast. Without hesitation, I accepted her invitation, eager to spend some quality time with her.

Later that night, as I lay in bed, I continued texting Alexia. She seemed very angry and frustrated because there were ongoing issues with the coaching staff. I did my best to comfort her, offering words of support and encouragement, but it was tough as she was clearly very upset.

I hoped that our breakfast together in the morning would lift her spirits and bring some much-needed positivity.

——

I stood in front of the hotel, my heart racing as I waited for Alexia. She had texted me moments ago, saying she’d be here in just a few minutes, but each second felt like an eternity. The anticipation was almost overwhelming—I hadn’t seen her in what felt like forever, and the thought of being near her again made my chest tighten with longing.

And then, suddenly, I saw her. She was across the street, her figure unmistakable even from a distance. Alexia was dressed in a Spain training kit, the familiar colors bringing a rush of memories flooding back.

Her pink hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, some strands gently framing her face. In her hand, she held a bouquet of flowers,more specifically roses,my favorite.

The sight of her took my breath away, and for a moment, I could do nothing but stand there, captivated.

She hadn’t noticed me yet, and I felt a sudden, urgent need to be closer to her, to close the distance that had separated us for too long.

Without thinking, I stepped off the curb, my eyes locked on her. But I was so mesmerized by the sight of her that I didn’t see the car coming.

The blare of a horn jolted me back to reality, and I snapped my head to the right, just in time to see the car screech to a halt.

My heart pounded in my chest, but I quickly raised my hand in a gesture of apology to the driver, mouthing a hurried “sorry” before practically sprinting across the street.

As I drew nearer, Alexia’s eyes finally met mine. She must have seen everything—my near miss with the car, the way I had been so lost in thoughts of her that I hadn’t even looked before crossing.

But instead of the concern I expected, her face lit up with the brightest smile, one that made my heart swell with so much emotion I thought it might burst.

She opened her arms wide, and I didn’t hesitate for a second. I rushed into her embrace, wrapping my arms around her with all the pent-up longing I had been carrying for so long.

Being in her arms again was like coming home. The familiar scent of her skin, the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the way her strong arms enveloped me—it was everything I had missed, everything I had dreamed of in the quiet moments when the distance between us had felt unbearable.

I buried my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

Alexia’s hug was firm and reassuring, and when she lifted me off the ground, spinning me around, a laugh bubbled up from deep inside me, full of pure, unfiltered joy. I could feel her laughter too, rumbling softly against my chest as she held me.

“¿No te dije que miraras a ambos lados antes de cruzar la calle?” (Didn’t I tell you to look both ways before crossing the street?) she whispered into my ear, her voice teasing but full of affection.

Her breath was warm against my skin, and the sound of her voice sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t help but laugh again, the tension and anxiety that had been building up inside me all day finally melting away.

“I missed you so much,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, but I knew she heard me. I could feel her smile widen against my cheek, and she squeezed me even tighter, as if she never wanted to let me go.

After what felt like both an eternity and an instant, we finally pulled back, though neither of us seemed eager to break the contact entirely. She gently lowered me back to the ground, her hands lingering on my arms, as if grounding me, keeping me close. Then, with that same tender smile, she held out the flowers she had been carrying all along.

“For you,” she said softly, her eyes full of warmth and something else—something that made my heart skip a beat.

“Thank you, Alexia,” I replied, my voice thick with emotion as I took the flowers from her. I brought it to my nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance, but all I could really smell was her.

I looked up at her, unable to keep the smile from my face, and I knew in that moment that no matter how far apart we had been, we were here now, together.

"Let's go eat; I'm hungry," she said with a smile, extending her hand toward me. I reached out and took it, her touch warm and familiar, and together we started walking.

The time I spent with Alexia felt almost surreal, as if no time had passed since we were last together. It was like slipping back into a comfortable rhythm, where everything between us just flowed naturally.

We talked about everything and nothing, our conversation as easy and effortless as it had always been. Laughter filled the air, and for a while, it felt as though the weight of the past few months had lifted.

We just catched up on those few weeks that we spend apart.

But eventually, the conversation turned to the topic we had both been quietly avoiding—my decision to end things between us. We spoke a little bit more in details about it, all the things that I could not said that night that I “broke up” with her I told them now.

I could see the sadness in her eyes as we talked, a hint of melancholy that tugged at my heart.

Yet, despite the pain, she listened carefully, nodding in understanding. She didn’t try to argue; instead, she respected my decision, something that only deepened my admiration for her.

The maturity and grace with which she handled the situation reminded me of why I had fallen for her in the first place.

At one point, her gaze dropped to the necklace I was wearing—the one she had given me. Her eyes softened as she noticed it, and I saw a flicker of surprise mixed with something like relief. I realized then that I had never properly thanked her for the gift.

So, in that quiet moment, I finally expressed my gratitude, telling her how much it meant to me and how I had kept it close, even after everything.

She smiled, a genuine and heartfelt smile that made my chest tighten with emotion.

After about an hour,Alexia walked me back to my hotel, our hands brushing against each other occasionally as we walked side by side. When we reached the entrance, she turned to me, her expression gentle and full of warmth.

Leaning in, she placed a soft kiss on my cheek, the gesture simple yet filled with affection.

“I'll text you later,” she promised, her voice soft, almost a whisper. I nodded, smiling at her, knowing that even though things were different now, there was still something strong and unspoken between us.

As I watched her walk away, I felt a mixture of emotions—gratitude, sadness, and a lingering sense of connection. It was a bittersweet reminder that while things may have changed, some bonds are too strong to ever truly break.

——

I’ve been in New Zealand for just over a week now, and it’s been such a refreshing experience. The country is absolutely stunning, with its breathtaking landscapes and peaceful atmosphere.

I’ve spent most of my time simply enjoying the beauty of the surroundings and taking some much-needed time to relax and recharge.

Marcus, Madison, and Carter all left the day after the intense quarterfinal match between Spain and the Netherlands. It was an exhilarating game, with Spain emerging victorious once again, solidifying their place as one of the top teams in the tournament.

After they departed, it was just Alba and me for a few days, which gave us some time to bond and explore the area together.

Later, Eli and Alexia’s uncle and some friends joined us minus Marina,she had to word thanks God. That added a new dynamic to the group and made things more lively.

Spain then faced Sweden in the semifinals, and it was another thrilling match. Spain pulled off another impressive win, which meant they secured their spot in the final. The excitement among everyone was undeniable. The atmosphere was electric, with celebrations all around.

Alexia, in particular, was over the moon with joy, as were her teammates. You could really feel the pride and happiness radiating from them—it was such a special moment for all of them.

When it comes to Alexia, I haven’t been able to spend as much time with her as I would have liked. Her training schedule has been intense, so she’s been focused and busy preparing for the matches.

However, I did manage to carve out some quality time with her and her family, which I really cherished.

Even when we weren’t physically together, we stayed in close contact through phone calls, FaceTime, and constant messaging. It was nice to keep that connection strong, even with everything going on.

——

Today is the big day—the World Cup final. England versus Spain. The anticipation is overwhelming, and I can’t help but feel incredibly nervous yet excited for the outcome. I’m really hoping Spain takes home the win.

They’ve worked so hard and gone through so much to get here, and they truly deserve to lift that trophy after everything they’ve endured.

The atmosphere in the stadium was absolutely electric, with the tension and excitement hanging thick in the air. Both English and Spanish fans filled the stands, their voices blending into a roaring sea of cheers and chants for their respective teams.

The energy was contagious, and you could feel the passion radiating from every corner of the stadium.

Alba, Eli, Alexia’s uncle, and all of Alexia’s friends were completely caught up in the moment, cheering at the top of their lungs. The excitement was overwhelming, and we were all proudly sporting Alexia’s jersey, a united front of support for her. We were on the edge of our seats, anxiously waiting for that breakthrough moment.

Finally, after nearly 30 minutes of nail-biting tension, Spain scored. The stadium erupted into pure chaos. Everyone around us was euphoric, jumping up and down with pure joy, screaming and hugging each other.

It was a moment of collective celebration, with emotions running high and the feeling of victory inching closer.

As the clock ticked into the 90th minute, the anticipation grew even stronger. Then, finally, Alexia stepped onto the field. The crowd’s response was immediate—cheers and applause filled the air as she joined the game.

Her presence alone seemed to elevate the energy in the stadium even more.

With 15 more minutes added, the tension was almost unbearable. Then, at last, the final whistle blew. A wave of emotion washed over the field, and every player seemed to collapse—some from sheer happiness, others from the weight of disappointment.

From where I stood, I could see Alexia lying on the pitch, surrounded by her teammates who were leaping onto her in celebration. It was a moment of pure joy, a culmination of everything they had worked for, and it was incredible to witness it all unfold.

Eli pulled all of us into a heartfelt group hug as we celebrated the incredible victory. Our cheers were filled with uncontainable joy, and the tears streaming down our faces were a testament to our deep happiness.

It was an emotional and beautiful moment, seeing Spain triumphantly win the World Cup. The sense of accomplishment and elation was palpable, and the scene was truly unforgettable—one we will always cherish as a perfect culmination of their hard-fought journey.

Once we finally managed to steady our emotions, the scene on the field was nothing short of magical. The players were awarded their well-deserved medals, and the moment Spain lifted the World Cup trophy was met with a surge of cheers and applause.

The stadium buzzed with an electrifying atmosphere as fans celebrated the culmination of a remarkable journey.

The players took their time to engage with the crowd, posing for photos and signing autographs. Their joy was evident, and they seemed genuinely thrilled to share this victory with their supporters. It was a beautiful display of gratitude and connection between the team and the fans.

As the crowd began to thin out, a few of us made our way onto the field to find Alexia. The security staff, allowed us access. When Alexia spotted her family, she didn’t just walk; she sprinted towards them with such speed and emotion that it was as if she was propelled by sheer joy.

She embraced her mother and sister tightly, tears streaming down her face, her happiness radiating in every direction.

Her interactions with her friends were equally heartfelt. She greeted each one with the same infectious enthusiasm and warmth, her smile never fading.

I stood a little to the side, giving her the space she needed to enjoy these precious moments with her family and friends, while I chatted with the families of other players who were also basking in the afterglow of the victory.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Alexia scanning the crowd, her gaze searching for someone. She turned to her mother, who pointed in my direction.

When Alexia’s eyes finally locked onto mine, a look of recognition and excitement crossed her face. She made a beeline towards me, her expression filled with joy and relief.

As we met halfway, she enveloped me in a tight, heartfelt hug, lifting me off the ground with an energy that matched the day’s celebrations.

I whispered, “You did it,” into her ear, and as she buried her face in my neck, I felt a tender kiss graze my skin—a fleeting, sweet gesture that spoke volumes.

After a few moments of this intimate embrace, we slowly pulled away, but Alexia kept me close, wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

She led me back to where her friends and family were gathered, her presence and warmth a constant source of comfort and joy amidst the ongoing celebrations.

After a while of mingling, celebrating with friends and family, and capturing memories with photos, it was just Alexia and me left on the small stage situated in the center of the field.

The revelry had started to wind down, and the festive atmosphere was beginning to settle into a more intimate moment.

We sat close together on the stage, surrounded by a sea of confetti that glittered in the fading light. I found myself idly playing with the colorful pieces scattered around us, a tangible reminder of the day’s excitement.

“I still can’t believe you’re a world champion now,” I said, my voice full of excitement. I gently touched the medal draped around her neck, admiring it’s shine and significance.

Alexia looked at me with a mix of disbelief and joy. “I can’t believe it either,” she responded, then, with a smile, she carefully removed her medal and placed it around my neck.

The gesture was both symbolic and heartfelt, and I couldn’t help but grin as I felt the weight of her achievement resting on me.

She moved even closer, wrapping her arms around my shoulders in a tender embrace. I leaned into her, feeling a deep sense of contentment as she planted a soft, affectionate kiss on my cheek.

The warmth of her touch and the intimacy of the moment made it feel even more special.

In a hushed tone, she whispered, “Estoy lista” (I’m ready.)Her words were gentle but filled with a depth of emotion that caught me off guard. I looked at her, confusion and curiosity mingling in my expression.

“I’m ready to start a relationship…with you,” she continued, her voice steady but heartfelt. “I want us to be together officially.”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

He broke through to the surface, taking large desperate gasps of air before getting sucked back beneath by the current. Danny fought against the water as hard as his little paws would allow.

Just when he felt all hope was lost and he was sinking, a large hand enveloped his entire body and hefted him back into the open air. Shivering and coughing out water he didn't catch whatever the man had said. He continued shivering violently as the guy wrung out Dannys fur.

The mans hands were warm despite the brown leather gloves covering them. They made Danny feel comforted and energized almost as if the man had...oh gods! He did! The man had ecto inside of him! Thank the ancients! Now he just had to stick with glove guy and he could recharge! It would be slow but still!

"Here we are little guy." The man said and Danny noticed all at once that the man had been walking the whole time Danny had been stuck in his head. He looked around and noticed the Animal Shelter sign in front of them.

No. No! Danny needed to stick to this guy if he ever hoped to become a human again. But despite how he dug his claws into the flesh of the mans exposed arm and yowled the man in the red mask managed to get him lose and left him in the care of an animal social worker.

Danny was checked out and placed in the tiny jail cell alongside other kittens and cats, many who were scared, miserable or just desperate for love and attention. This of course meant he needed to plot a jail break. Fortunately, he could still used most of his powers but without any ecto around he would have no way to recharge them outside of food or indulging in his obsession.

Needless to say Jason was a little startled when he woke up the next day to not one, but five little kittens meowing at him for food. He swears the one sitting smugly on his chest is the same one he dropped off at the animal shelter yesterday, but that couldn't be right...

One call confirmed it. All of thier animals had escaped last night and there was a suspiciously animal sized arch taken out of the wall with an unknown tool. Demon brat would be delighted at the news.

Unfortunately for Hood the smug little black cat he rescued yesterday had decided that his shoulder was the perfect perch and stayed there more often than not. Little guy got into food often but refused to eat kibble and any attempt to get the kitten away from the mashed potatoes resulted in violence or density shifting to get back to the food.

At this point danny almost didn't care if he returned to being human so long as he got to eat more of his humans cooking. He swears Jason is magical because everything he makes tastes amazing

[charnelhouse]

no promises

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (Red Fox) Wordcount: 2.6k Warnings: rough smut. size difference. infected wounds. hangovers. sex on a cot. Summary: The first time. A/N: for all you babes, who been asking for their first sexi time Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist

Ghost is wounded.

It’s not grave. It’s not critical, but it’s a bitch. The kind of pain where, even for him, tears prick his eyes and pressure grows fat behind his nose. 

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck….”

He sits up and the shifting of his weight irritates the poorly stitched slit along his ribs. It’s swollen with infection, the skin puffy and screaming red last he checked. It reminds him of a howling infant. He thinks of howling himself, but the desire to cry out sits firmly at the center of his esophagus. He swallows it before gingerly lifting his shirt. He can’t see it at this angle, but it feels wet.

He lightly touches his side and the pain is excruciating. He chokes. 

“Ghost?”

Red steps through the doorway, the shadows collecting at her edges. The rest of the safehouse is silent and asleep aside from Gaz on watch.

“It’s nothin’,” he assures her before accidentally touching the stitches and jerking again, hissing in agony. Wordlessly, she makes her way toward him on bare feet. They’re pretty, but everything about her is pretty. In fact, the thought of her looking at his purple, pus-filled injury makes him nervous. “Red, it’s not-

“Hush,” she chastises, knocking his hand away and turning on the light. She’s clinical about it. Shirt up. She leans in and the stench wafting from his bandages is enough to curl wallpaper. It smells like a corpse and Simon knows the exact perfume of rot. He thinks of Roba - it screeches through his mind before he banishes it to the lockbox in the furthest corner of his head. 

“Smells like it’s infected,” he says to fill the unbearable silence. 

“Ya think?” The corner of her plush mouth twitches as she tugs his shirt higher. 

Her fingers are cold against his burning hot skin and he shudders.

“Did that hurt?”

“Yes,” he lies.

“I’m sorry,” Her gaze flickers up to meet his. “It’s more than infected, Simon. We need to get you to a medic like yesterday.”

“I’ll survive.”

“Not if it infects your blood, baby.”

He goes rigid as does she. Her eyes are round and expression aghast and he realizes that she had just said what he'd thought she said. He didn’t mishear her. Christ - he gets fucking hard at the pet name and he has to wrestle the blankets over his lap.

She bites her lip. “Um,” she slowly draws his shirt back down. “I meant to say that.”

“Did you?”

“100%.”

“I believe you.”

She shakes her head, her lashes fluttering against her cheek. She looks embarrassed and it surprises him. She isn’t one to trip up or make mistakes that cost her that unflinching coolness. It’s something Soap chases, perhaps something that he already thinks he’s mastered. Soap thinks he's a helluva lot smarter than he is.

Ghost finds Red disarming, an enigma. She can go from perfectly composed to a siren-fury in the space of a second. She can be cold - an ice queen as many others have called her. But with 141, she's anything but. Despite the violence in her eyes, she has a sweetness that she reserves for them.

Her hand on his skin, her quiet voice tinged with concern as she hovered in the doorway: Ghost?

Baby.

“I didn’t mind it,” he says suddenly.

“Mind what?”

“What you called me.”

She smiles with all of her teeth before huffing softly. She leans closer and he knows he will deny her nothing. She slips her fingers against his neck, trails them down to the hard muscle of his chest. “There are a lot of things I’d like to call you,” she confesses before kissing his clothed cheek and calling Gaz for EVAC. 

***

A month later and he’s next to her on a small, yellowing cot. He takes the floor, his back glued to the wall and legs spread out. She’s crumpled on the thin mattress, deathly hungover, completely ill. She twists onto her side to stare at him. 

“I fucked up.”

“I warned yah about that homemade shit.”

“Alejandro said-

“He didn’t know what he was talking about. He’s been hugging a toilet since last night. Soap hasn’t even left the couch, claiming he’s gone blind.”

She sniffles.

“Are you crying?” Granted, he’s a little hungover too, but still…the girl had been shot before. 

“It hurts, Simon,” she whines. “I honestly feel like I’ve been stabbed between the eyes.” 

He hates when she calls him by his name. It sounds too lovely. It sounds like something good.

He wordlessly hands her another cold glass of water, which she takes gratefully. She drinks too fast and most of it lands on her shirt, turning the white fabric transparent. Bleedin’ Christ. He can see her nipples. He doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know why he feels like he has to hover over her like a mother hen. She got so drunk, he was worried she’d hurt herself or wander and - 

Well - he fuckin’ likes her. He wants her to be safe. 

She readjusts onto the mattress, legs kicking out at the threadbare sheet. She’s wearing flannel shorts and her legs are smooth and shiny underneath the wane light. After a moment, she asks, “Would you - shit - uh would you lie on here with me?”

At first, he doesn’t think he’s heard her right. He scrapes his hand over his face before turning to regard her fully. “Come again?”

“It would help,” she explains. “It would really help.”

She doesn’t ask the same question. She doesn’t repeat the desire to have him get in her bed and he realizes she’s left the ball in his court. He can pretend like he didn’t hear her initial question and they can continue on like before or - 

To his own surprise, he stands  and awkwardly fits his enormous mass into the bed. He can’t not touch her due to the narrowness of the space, but she seems to love it.  She throws her arms around him, kicks one leg out, tangling it with his thigh. He grunts and he can feel her cheek against his heart. He can smell her hair. 

“You’re like an octopus,” he accuses. 

“Yes,” she replies simply before snuggling her head into his chest. She’s burrowing, pressing herself into him. More. More. Go deep. 

“Is it better?”

“So much.”

He aches for her. That was it. Plain and direct. He ached. 

He throbbed.

He pulses with the same repetitive thump of his organs, the circulating system of his veins. The continuous reminder that he wanted Red in a way that consumed him.

I want her to consume me.

He’s far too big for her and still he imagines her being able to swallow him whole even if he throws her down and claims her.

He’s hard between his legs and he prays she’s asleep. She’s rising and falling with his chest, slipping into the gentle pace like lapping water. 

But then he feels it, she shifts slightly and skates her hand down his belly before she brushes it over his crotch.

It could be a mistake.

She does it again and he twitches. He rumbles.

Silently, he draws his arm back and begins to stroke the nape of her neck, the bare skin of her shoulders. She’s silky and feverish and he can imagine just how hot she is between her legs. 

Wet. 

“It would help,” she whispers and it’s all the consent he needs.

***

It’s terribly awkward at first. They’re both clumsy, both not feeling their best due to last night’s party. He moves on top of her, arm braced above her head, hand clutching the metal frame of the cot. He wedges himself between her spread thighs. 

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.”

He rocks against her, hips grinding down so that the bulge of his cock drags against her clothed cunt. She sighs, arching into him. Her nipples tight and pinched against the fabric of her shirt.

“What if I want to kiss you?” she asks in such a timid voice that it stops him. He studies her for a moment before quickly standing up, locking the door and flicking out the light. He yanks the mask off, breathes deep. It’s freeing. The cool air brushing his skin, the slope of his nose and sensitive mouth and he’s already back on the cot. He’s on top of her and she immediately fists his sweat-damp hair. It’s mussed and unshowered and she grins against his lips.

“I can feel you,” she says, dazed and awed as he rucks her shorts and underwear off her legs. In the gloom, he can make out the shadow of her pussy. He touches it, allows his finger to linger against the warm, soaked slit. He pets at her and she moans. She tries to curl into herself, but he restrains her, pinning her hip and thigh to the sheets. 

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he admits and this is just sex. It’s just about feeling better.

“You can’t see me,” she argues. 

“I can see you.” He lowers his face to her cunt and tastes her. She gasps. “Got eyes like a bat, you know?” He licks her again, savoring the salt of her flesh, the secret part of her. He eats her until she shakes, until the walls of her womb clamp down on his fingers and her clit throbs against his tongue. He does it again until she has to kick him away with her heels. He sits back on his haunches, his hand lifting to circle her dainty ankle. He glances down to study her pretty little foot against his broad chest. “You’re like a doll.” His Duchess. 

“C’mere,” she begs, arms out and as he sinks into them, she wraps them snugly around his shoulders. He turns his head until his lips match up with hers and then they kiss for real. The first true kiss they’ve had aside from the one on his mask last December. He sucks her lower lip between his teeth, nibbles until she inhales sharply. He takes advantage of her parted mouth to thrust his tongue against her own, the slick, warm muscle lazily strokes and strokes until he’s rutting between her spread thighs because it’s driving him into a red-haze.

“Want me to taste you?” she whispers as she holds his face between her hands. Her thumb draws a circle over his cheekbone, digs into the scar that runs underneath it, taking advantage of his nakedness.

“‘Nother time, pet,” he replies as he undoes the button of his jeans. She helps him kick them off and when he finally stands, her eyes widen comically. Her hand falls against her chest, flutters like a bird. 

“Oh,” she says. “Oh - um - Oh.”

He glances down to where his cock has curved up against his belly. He’s rock-hard, nearly ready to blow. Red and twitching. He knows she’s soaked. He’s made sure of that. He’s used three of his fingers on her to get her ready, but she still looks nervous. 

“We don’t have to,” he assures her quickly. “We can just not-”

“No!” she protests, almost hissing. “I want to - I do. There are condoms.” She gestures vaguely to a desk in the corner. “In there…maybe.” 

He gets them and returns to her, her fave still twisted into something weary. “Do - do you think those will fit you?”

He laughs. “Yeah, kid. They’ll fit.”

She lies back down, her legs splayed open and, even in the dark, she is obscenely beautiful. To him. Objectively. To anyone. He’s heard the men say it. He’s felt it. He’s memorized her face and those half-parted lips and used the image to jack off in the shower like a school boy and - 

“Simon,” she says, an edge of impatience scraping her teeth. “Get inside me.”

He rips the wrapper with his teeth and slips it on. He climbs on top of her and he intends to be careful, treat her like something fragile. He’s so big that her legs have trouble wrapping around his waist. His shoulders so wide that she has to throw her arms out to encircle them.

He grips himself as he slides the tip of his cock against her slick heat. She breathes deeply, wiggles her hips and then he begins to press into her. “Hold onto me,” he instructs and she does, nails digging into the muscles of his shoulders as he sinks to the hilt inch by inch. He can feel himself battering against her womb. Her cunt sucks him in with a near-violence. She grunts, but doesn’t cry or whimper. He can make out her eyes in the dark and they’re trained on his. Determined - as if she’s fired up to handle a drill.

“Good girl,” he praises when his hips make contact with hers. His groin is nestled against her mound, her tits crushed against his chest. He noses at her cheek before brushing his lips over hers. “Can I move?”

“If you don’t,” she sighs. “I’ll fuck you up.”

He laughs before drawing his hips back and driving forward. That particular move earns a yelp from her and then he takes control of the dance. He fucks her in deep, powerful strokes, circling and angling down to hit that fleshy, soft patch buried too far for his fingers to reach. She burrows her face into his chest as she clings to him. The room echoes with the slap of flesh, the wet, dirt noises of his cock repeatedly sliding to the hilt.

“Jesus,” she whimpers as he grips her under the knees and forces them against her breasts. He bends her in half as he continues to thrust, snapping into her with a relentless, determined hunger. The bed creaks, the coils screeching and he’s certain it might break beneath them. It wouldn’t stop him. Not at all. 

“Feel so good,” he marvels as he clasps her cheek in his palm, bends his head and plunges his tongue into her mouth. He kisses her like he’s fucking her and when that’s too much, he flips her onto her stomach. 

Her fingers fist the sheets and he grabs the pillow on the floor and shoves it under her hips. From behind, he spreads her open, spits against her bruised, puffy cunt before sinking to the base. He braces his arm above her head, leverages his weight so that he doesn’t put all of it onto her shuddering form. 

“You got this, kid,” he murmurs as he sucks a mark into her neck. He delivers a sharp thrust that sends the tip of his cock hammering against her womb. It knocks her with the force of a punch and she clamps down around him, rocking back against him as she wheezes: please please please -

“Touch that pretty cunt for me, yeah?” he orders, his own voice broken on a husk. His length drags through her, sears hot and molten, stretching her in two pieces. She’s so tight, but he can feel himself open her up, mark her for himself. She slips her hand beneath her and her lower muscles bear down, constrict like a knot around the base of his dick. “Fuck - fuck - just like that, duchess. Get yourself all wet for me.”

She lifts herself, snatches his forearm and bites down as he continues to fuck her. He groans, hips stuttering against her ass, but the pain is welcome. It centers him, focuses his pleasure as it expands through his limbs. She’s covered in a thin film of sweat, her hair sticking to her back, caught in his hand. Every rut of his cock makes her ass jiggle and he thinks he’s buried so deep that he’ll never be the same. There will be no one else after this and he, to his horror, admits it:

“Fuckin’ hell, Red,” he growls into her ear as she climaxes a third time that night. “You’re so good. No one else like you.”

She’s half-mad. She’s gone and he doesn’t think she’s heard him and maybe it’s better that way. This is about feeling good. This is about comfort and relief and as he reaches his own end, his orgasm ripples through him. It unfurls through his torso, the muscles of his thighs and groin and everything pulls tight and that white scar tissue over his ribs from his infected wound begins to throb, but in a damn fine way and oh - he feels it. He really feels it.  

Her fingers tangle through his, winding like creeping myrtle. He crushes her hand against the metal railing, he holds it down and flat until the bones creak.

"Ghost," she whimpers, and he realizes he's embedded inside her, taken root, left his seed.

He thinks of all the promises he's given her the last few years:

We're getting out of this.

Focus on me, Red. We're good. We've already won.

It's just a scratch. You're fine. I've got yah.

He wants to make another, it scratches his tongue, stings like a burr. He chokes on that unspoken promise until it tumbles down his throat and allows him to pull away.

[marypaol]

Skin To Skin

Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Draco knowing who his soulmate is, yet he can’t bear to face her.

Warnings: Teasing, Boggarts, mention of fears, mention of the Hospital Wing, the Weasley twins being themselves, etc.

Note: This is Part 2 of “Copy Of A Copy”, so check it out before you read this! (And I’m sorry if this one is bad)

Copy Of A Copy

Masterlist

Request Reauirements

This person believed in me so here you go! : @theomalfoy

Draco wasn’t the want-everything-to-go-back-to-the-way-it-was-after-complaining-about-it-type.

Well, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But he knew deep down that he did want everything to go back to the way they were, because every time he looked at his hand, that deep red spot of irritated skin was slowly fading away and he wanted to find a reason to create it again.

She’d stopped drawing. And normally Draco would find that a good thing; now he didn’t have to harshly wipe them off and be left an embarrassing red spot on his hand. But he found himself thinking back on how the drawings actually looked good, despite him being annoyed at the fact they repeatedly showed up on his skin, and he wanted them back. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous if you were to look back on how he acted towards the other drawings that previously showed up on his hand.

But he missed it. Missed watching the lines form one by one, letting him know she existed. He even couldn’t get the image of her face out of his mind, ever since he saw her in Care of Magical Creatures. He couldn’t help but think she was decently pretty.

Draco’s hand has unwanted sweat on it so he harshly wiped it on his robes, a disgusted expression lying on his lips. He knew the reason for the sweat though, his quill once again hovering over his skin, the same skin he used to aggressively rub almost everyday as his soulmate drew mindless doodles on her hand.

He dipped the quill tip in the ink, the noises of everyone scattering about being the last thing on his mind, in fact the occasional “SHH!” from Madam Irma Prince was quite helpful to encourage him to focus once the students followed her orders.

He sighed softly, taking a deep breath while staring stupidly at his pale skin he was about to ruin.

He leaned down, the quill tip making contact with his hand two times, forming two dots. Those were eyes, he decided, and drew a straight line below them, making a face that represented him at the moment. His eyes were full yet his lips held uncertainty, hesitant to do this.

Once it was over it didn’t seem so bad anymore, as long as he could manage to hide it from Crabbe and Goyle. The thought of them teasing him about it, teasing him about actually writing back on his skin was unbearable. He could only hope that they don’t stare at his hand.

“Don’t be scared now, it’s just a Boggart.” Professor Lupin explained, his wand held with two hands, a grip on each end.

“Now, Boggarts like tight dark places, and I found this one in the wardrobe yesterday. I asked Dumbledore if we could use it for the lesson and thankfully he said yes. Now, does anyone know what a Boggart looks like?”

The usual hand of Hermione Granger was shot up at the speed of lightning, and once she was called on, she answered not only the right answer but was awarded points for her House.

“No one knows, sir. It takes form of the deepest fear of whomever it faces.”

“Correct, Ms. Granger.” Lupin said, smiling while Granger went slightly pink.

Draco rolled his eyes, irritation seeming to be boiling within them.

“But, everyone, we have an advantage against this creature. And that is?”

“There’s so many of us, it doesn’t know what to turn into?” Potter answered, and Lupin replied with a smile, and awarded more points to Gryiffindor.

“Exactly!” Lupin exclaimed. “Now, though, there is a way to get past a Boggart. And that spell is Riddikulus!” Lupin said, doing the hand movement with the one that possessed his wand. “Say it with me now…”

“Riddikulus!” The class said together.

“This class is ridiculous.” Draco mutters under his breath, Crabbe nodding in agreement beside him while he heard a snuffled laugh somewhere near. His head swerved and he spotted the same girl he saw in Hagrid’s class, trying not to smirk at his joke. He found a smirk coming to his own lips, proud of himself.

“They feed on fear, so think of what you fear the most, and turn it into something funny.” Lupin once again explained, and brought up Neville as a demonstration. “Now, Neville, tell me, what do you fear the most?”

“P-professor Snape.” the boy mumbled, having to repeat the same thing again but a little louder since the Professor didn’t hear him.

“Ahh.” Lupin said amusingly once the name was repeated. “I suppose he does intimidate us all in some way.”

There was a pause before Lupin continued to project to the class, for he was having a quiet conversation with the student before him. “Now Neville, I want you to think of your Grandmother’s clothes very clearly in your mind, can you do that?”

Neville nodded, shaking in his shoes. The door opened and Snape stepped out, looking normal as ever like you’d see him everyday but Neville was scared.

“Wand at the ready!” Lupin reminded, Neville held his wand up and squeaked, “Riddikulus!”

Snape seemed to spin around and he soon found himself in Neville Longbottom’s Grandmother’s clothes, a red handbag on his right arm.

The class laughed, Neville’s face slowly turned into an expression of relief.

Draco scoffed basically the whole time, not ending up actually facing the Boggart but watching as his peers did.

Weasley was practically having a seizure as he faced the spider, helplessly whimpering the spell causing the spider to have roller skates, legs swinging everywhere.

Draco couldn’t help but be curious on what the girl’s fear was, but she didn’t end up facing it just like him.

There was an exited buzz in the air as the students left class, each of them wanting recognition for how brave they were while facing their biggest fears.

“-did you see how I faced that snake-”

“-just said the spell and it went, pop!-”

“-the spider was huge!-”

“-never seen that kind of creature before-”

Draco grumbled angrily, grabbing Crabbe and Goyle’s arms and leading them out to the courtyard in front of the Black Lake.

“That was stupid. Why did he let us do that anyway, and for Dumbledore to give permission…wait til by father hears of this.” He mumbled, looking down and adjusting his arm bandages, thinking back when he insulted the Hippogriff. (He still didn’t regret it, the creature did look kinda ugly to him.)

“Right. We should owl him right away.” Crabbe suggested.

Draco looked up from his arm, eyes flaring. “‘We?!’ I’ll do it. It’s my father after all.”

His friends nodded, Crabbe going pink in the ears.

Goyle’s eyes then shot to Draco’s hand. “Ha! What’s that, Malfoy?”

Draco acted confused, and looking down, acted like he’d seen it for the first time. He pretended to look disgusted. “Gross I tell you, I’ll wash it off later.” He said, looking back at them. Both pair of eyes were still on him.

“Well? What are you looking at?” He snarled, and that seemed to do the trick, both heads bending down as they suddenly found interest in the grass.

“Do this Potion before you leave class, and then a portion of it on my desk with your name on it.”

Snake’s sharp voice echoed through the dark classroom, his gaze seeming to meet all of their eyes before he turned around, adding one last part of his instructions in the black board and heading to his desk, long nose lurking over the surface covered in parchment.

The girl sighed, opening the book to the page instructed and starting to chop the first ingredient. She liked to think of herself good at Potions, but sometimes little things like the reactants would mix up in her mind. But nonetheless if she focused hard enough and followed each step carefully, than she was proud to say that she could do it almost perfectly.

It was only then that she noticed the black markings on the back of her hand, and, looking more closely by bringing up her hand to her face, saw it was a smiley face. It looked smeared a little and the lines were wobbly, but she liked it since she wasn’t the one to draw it.

Scurrying through her bag pretending she was looking for something important, grabbed a quill and dipped it in another student’s ink when they weren’t looking. Then, turning back to her hand and covering it behind her cauldron so the nosy Professor wouldn’t see, drew two eyes next to his, a soft smile beneath it to show her gratitude. He didn’t do much, just too dots and a line, but the reason was all that mattered to her.

She just knew that he missed her somewhat forms of affection, so he acted upon himself to continue it.

“Ridiculous, I tell you, why’d he look at me like that? The audacity of some peop-”

“Sorry.”

Draco didn’t realize he ran into someone else, too busy rambling to himself about an annoying First Year who glared at him out of nowhere to notice his body ran into another. It ended up being a Third Year Hufflepuff, quickly scurrying around the corner to avoid the Slytherin.

Draco rolled his eyes, turning back to the direction he was going and continuing to walk to the Common Room. He muttered the password, climbing into the space full of couches and chairs, all in front of a burning fire, flames high and bright, full of color.

He sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for Crabbe and Goyle to get back from the Hospital Wing; the Weasley twins caught them in the hallway, convinced them to eat some candy, and now their faces were covered in red dots that got bigger by the second. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes at the news when Madame told him before making his way to the room.

He currently sat with a Potions book in his hands, long fingers running across the pages that helped his eyes read it better.

He turned the page, but the page he turned got caught on his robes, and, using his left hand, went to fix it before he froze. On his left wrist, he had another smile face beside the one he drew, this one with an actual smile this time not a straight line like his.

He fought a grin that was threatening to pull the corners of his lips, reaching over to pull his robe sleeve over it so no one could see.

-Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!

Person I think would like this: @dunningz :)

[sanguineterrain]

Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

[disneyprincemuke]

meet me in the afterglow * fem!driver

does sorry even work after you hurt the people you love?

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, sebastian vettel x fem!driver

notes: once upon a time, this 2025 szn only had like... 3/4 parts? and because i have 0 self control, it's now split into 9 parts... i promise the next part is actually the last part and there's no more surprise angst so here's the kind of comfort fic...? lolsie

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

she stares into the restaurant where the group of blondes sit, trying to count in her head if she should finally announce her presence.

she’d been lurking in the group chat watching them make plans. plans that included her by default yet she still hesitated to bring herself out to meet them.

perhaps it’s too soon to be here? unless oscar wasn’t lying when he said that her other friends miss her too despite isolating herself for more than half the year.

“what are you doing lingering out here in the cold?” a familiar voice fills her ears with a soft chuckle. “come on in and join us for lunch, silly.”

“oscar,” she laughs sheepishly, scratching the back of her head. “i’m afraid it’s too soon for me to be here. i’ll just head back home.”

oscar tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows. he watches her turn on her heel and starts walking in the direction of her apartment. “what?” he grabs her wrist and yanks her towards the entrance of the restaurant. “no, you told me you’d join us today. you got ready and everything — even did your makeup! you look great, mate.”

she tries to pull herself back. “i don’t even know if they want me here.”

“remember what i told you yesterday,” oscar stops in his tracks and turns around to face her, “sometimes it’s all in your head. this time, trust me when i say it is. liam and mick missed you just as much as we did.”

she hesitates for a moment but eventually nods. oscar cheers and pumps his fist in the air. “great! then let’s go.”

oscar guides her into the restaurant and slowly approaches the table where their friends sit.

liam scowls at logan, “i’m seriously curious about whatever the hell goes in your head.”

“what do you mean?” logan asks, slightly hurt, “it’s a legit question. they’re just infected — sick, perhaps — so technically they’re still human.”

“point taken, but like… i wouldn’t consider them human still,” mick mumbles hesitantly, seemingly in deep thought over logan’s question. “but that’s just a very… peculiar question.”

“if rocky was here, she’d entertain me unlike you losers,” logan scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “your answers are basic. i want an actual nurturing conversation about zombies and their human rights.”

“you guys got an extra seat for me? i have opinions about zombies and human rights,” she says softly with a smile. “i know i haven’t joined you in a while and i’m sorry. but if you let me—”

“oh, you’re here!” mick jumps up from his seat. he rounds the table and shoves oscar away from her then throws his arms around the small girl. “there’s always a seat for you! what do you mean?”

“welcome back,” liam beams with a nod. “mick here has a list of gossip he wants to talk to you about.”

logan scowls, “gossip that he refused to tell us unless you’re around.”

“well, why would i tell you boring idiots are gossip i worked so hard to get?” mick scowls, rolling his eyes. he starts to guide her towards his seat and pulls out a chair for her to sit next to him. “for a bunch of uninterested answers and sighs?”

“i could be—”

“whatever!” mick says exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. he sits her down in the seat and takes his own, pulling his phone out from his pocket. “so i have a list. let’s start with whatever the hell is going on with red bull and max.”

liam watches the girl walk out of the restaurant first, with the ruse that it’s too warm inside the restaurant. he excuses himself from mick, waving him off nonchalantly as he tries to settle the bill.

“i’m glad you’re back,” liam hums with a smile, approaching her with his head dropped and kicking rocks on the ground. “missed you, mate.”

“thanks,” she laughs, looking up from her phone. “i’m sorry i clocked out for a while there. i didn’t know how to cope with the year we were having.”

“it would’ve been nice to have you around,” he admits softly, finally stopping by her side. “this season has been so cruel to us. wish we had each other a little bit more, you know? we could’ve just gone through it together.”

she throws her head back. at some point in the year, she did consider that. but she’d tried getting herself to reach out to liam, but by that time, it felt like a case of too little too late.

“i know,” she sighs with a small smile. “i’m sorry. i thought you were doing perfectly fine without me.”

“the world’s always been a little harder on you, let’s admit that,” liam rests his arm on her shoulder, “we’re just glad that you’re back. you look like you’ve gotten back the colour in your face.”

“yeah, it’s about time,” she nods. “so, about your offers from other teams. anything that stood out to you yet?”

liam grins. “i’ve been meaning to talk to you about that after summer break. i didn’t think i’d see you til then,” he laughs. “they’re gonna announce it on the first race weekend from summer break.”

“you made a decision!” she shrieks. though, she feels her chest slightly tighten. liam avoiding a direct answer can truly only mean one thing and it’s that she’ll have to cozy up with some new driver that isn’t one of her closest friends. “that’s amazing, i’m so happy for you!”

“i’ve re-signed with andretti, mate. a year extension and if it goes well next year, i’m definitely staying a little longer,” liam jumps up and grabs her shoulders, “we’re going to be teammates forever!”

“what?” she almost drops her phone from the bombshell he’s dropped on her. “you’re not leaving?”

“don’t tell the guys yet, it’s a secret til then!” liam immediately recomposes himself when the doors open and their friends walk out.

“what are you girls giggling about?” oscar snorts, shaking his head. “keeping secrets from us?”

“it’s a teammate thing.”

“what are you doing still in the car?” logan hums, hunching to look into the car. the girl continues to sit in the passenger seat and looks ahead blankly. “oscar’s already at the door, dude. let’s go.”

“what if they hate me forever?” she frowns, turning to logan with slight tears in her eyes. “i sucked. not very family-friendly of me to act the way i did. and missing the anniversary party? not very cool either.”

“just get out of the car,” logan snorts, finally opening the door for her. he points towards the house and looks back at her. “come on. your dad told us he made your favourite cookies if it will help get you inside.”

she rolls her eyes. “you told papa i was coming?”

“just him, i promise.”

“boo. you suck.”

but she follows logan out of the car anyway. she watches as logan drags both of their bags towards the door and gives her another smile. then he walks down the pathway through the front yard to make his way to the front door.

she watches from the car as the front door opens, revealing her mother with a wide grin as she greets logan and oscar with open arms, yanking them in for a tight hug and kisses on cheeks. she only gets noticed when oscar steps aside to point at the car.

“you’re here!” her mother shrieks, hands on her cheeks as she pushes past the 2 boys in front of her. “my love, i missed you so much! i’m so glad you’re here!”

she remains in her position, hands fisted by her side as she watches her mother thread the stone pathway to walk over to her. “you look amazing. i’m so happy that you’re here.”

arms are thrown around her tightly, catching her off-guard. she’s barely even got the chance to get her carefully constructed apology out. for how she’s acted, for how she treated everyone in that house for the couple of days she spent in it.

“i’m seriously so glad you’re here. good thing i made your favourite,” her mother shrieks, starting to yank her towards the house. “and papa made cookies! then blythe stocked up on the ice cream you like hoping you were coming by with oscar and logan.

“dalton’s going to be so glad that you’re here.”

“dalton?” she asks in surprise, lifting an eyebrow as she follows her mother into the house. “isn’t he mad at me?”

her mother grins and stops right before they enter the kitchen. her cheek is cupped by her mother tenderly and the other hand brushes through her hair. “blythe sat both ciara and dalton down and told them off. i’m sorry i didn’t see you were struggling — i thought i was helping. i didn’t know.”

“you know?” she tilts her head with furrowed eyebrows. tears fill her eyes as she slumps her shoulder. “i didn’t mean to take it out on you. you know i love you, mama.”

“it’s okay. you’re still just my baby,” her mother sighs, pulling her head in to rest on her shoulder. “i should have known you were just overwhelmed. i’m sorry i didn’t notice and drove you even further.”

“oh, cool! you’re here!” dalton’s voice echoes in the house, making her jump off her mother. “i made you cookies!”

“did not,” ciara scoffs, rolling her eyes, following dalton down the stairs. “we had to buy a new batch of ingredients cause he put the egg whites in with the batter.”

dalton shakes his head disapprovingly as he passes the mother and daughter. “they told me too late. they’re not the best at instructions and that’s why you can tell ciara works all by herself in a measly little studio — can’t lead for shit.”

ciara smacks the back of his head. “fuck you.” the younger girl turns to her oldest sister with a smile. “welcome home. we set up just dance so we can watch logan trip over his feet all evening.”

“hey!”

apologising should come easy, she’s already done it attempting to make amends for the past 2 weeks with everyone. though she can’t ignore the churning in her stomach as she walks down a familiar hallway.

drafting the apology speech in her hotel room came naturally to her. with logan and oscar’s nod of approvals, suddenly she was ready to head out.

but there’s still the worry that it could be rejected.

who would want to take her back, anyway? it’s a miracle that everyone else in her life has received her with open arms after the way she acted.

she stares at the plain door for a moment and takes a deep breath. she just has to say she’s sorry, that’s all. just like how she told her friends she would.

she bites down on her lip as she finally musters the courage to land a knock on the door.

“give me a second!”

“okay, no rush.”

footsteps from inside the apartment halt for a moment. she hears heavy footsteps approaching the door and something dropping on the floor, then stumbling, making her smile to herself. then she hears the locks click hurriedly before it’s yanked open.

matt sighs in relief and throws his head back. “thank god it’s actually you. i thought i was going crazy hearing your voice.”

“over exaggeration,” she points out with a small smile. she sucks in a deep breath and exhales shakily. “hi.”

“hi,” he slouches slightly and leans on the door frame. “why didn’t you tell me you were coming? i could’ve picked you up from the airport.”

she waves his concerns away with a soft laugh. “it wouldn’t be a surprise if i asked you to pick me up, would it?” she looks down and extends her hands, a bouquet of flowers pushed into his chest. “these are for you.”

“what?” surprised, yet he still takes it into his hands. “what are these for?”

“i’m sorry,” she says softly, pursing her lips with a soft shrug. “i didn’t wanna do it over the phone or make you fly to london just so i can do it there… i blew things out of proportion and i pushed you away when all you wanted to do was help. i’m the one who burned us down.”

“they’re apology flowers?” he points out, slightly amused, scanning the bouquet with a smile. “you came all this way to say that to me?”

“i didn’t know how else to show you how sorry i really am.” she shifts uncomfortably and tucks her hair behind her ears. “i’ll spend forever making it up to you, i promise. i should have coped better and—”

“i missed you,” he says in a sigh. he puts the bouquet down on the top of his shoe back and lunges forward to throw his arms around her. he squeezes her tightly and buries his face into her hair. “you seriously should have told me you were coming.”

“matt—”

“i’m so excited that you’re finally here! i was taking kota out on a walk the other day and i walked past this new ice cream shop. i think you might really like it there,” matt starts to ramble, pulling away. “just give me 20 minutes and let’s head out for a date? how does that sound?”

she blinks, slightly taken aback by how he’s reacted. “what?”

“i haven’t been away that long, have i?” he stares at her curiously, furrowing his eyebrows. “you still love ice cream, don’t you?”

“yeah, but… you know… i was so mean to you for so long. shouldn’t you be a little angrier at me for what i did? i was such a bitch.”

“you were having a hard time,” he says immediately as she tries to berate herself. “i don’t blame you for that. it’s okay; we’re okay.” he pulls her into his apartment. “i’m just glad you’re back — my girlfriend’s back!”

“hi,” she greets with a smile, catching the older man off-guard as he approaches her. “fun summer break?”

sebastian flinches slightly and looks around him. there is nobody else here that she could be speaking to but him. “hi?” he smiles hesitantly. “it was. how was yours?”

“it was alright,” she shrugs, pressing her lips together into a thin line. she moves towards her bags to leave an empty space open for sebastian. “i got you something over the break. i went to los angeles for a couple of days.”

he tilts his head and jab his finger into his chest. “you got me something? on your trip?”

“yeah,” she grins. she turns away momentarily to grab something out of her bag and turns to present a pair of mugs to him. “i’m sorry i broke our matching mugs that one night in the paddocks. and i’m sorry i was a total bitch the entire season and that i was a big fat meanie, as dalton put it.”

he laughs, throwing his head back. if you’d asked him, he would have been more worried if they started the second half of the season with her still in the trenches.

it’s relieving to see that she’s gotten colour back into her face, making conversation and looking well put together. if her behaviour continued any longer, he’s afraid it would have become permanent at some point.

“you’re okay now?” sebastian grins, patting her on the head. she beams and nods. “okay enough to eat some ice cream?”

“yes,” she sighs exasperatedly with the roll of her eyes. “i can’t believe i haven’t eaten ice cream for 2 months. can you believe i stayed away that long?”

“honestly, i thought all this stemmed from the lack of ice cream,” sebastian jokes, poking her shoulder. “welcome back, kid. let’s make the best out of the rest of our season, okay? no more cowering into the corner — we face it head on.”

she nods firmly. “okay.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[mrpldiddles]

"I mean, everyone already thinks we're dating"

still not my best work but this one's fun :)

summary: when trevor shows up at the party with the matching costume to yours, setting you guys up to look like a couple, sparks fly

word count: 827

warnings: none :)

"I mean, everyone thinks we're dating"

"My lip gloss is all over your lips"

Despite what everyone else at the party thought, mine and Trevor’s corresponding costumes were not at all planned. It was simply coincidental that he happened to be dressed as Flynn Rider while I had dressed up as Rapunzel. But no matter how many times we denied it, absolutely no one was convinced.

“Y’know, I can distinctly remember Jack wearing a very similar costume to yours at last year's party,” I shouted over the music, clutching onto his shoulder to keep him crouched at my level. His hair brushed my cheek as he turned to look at me, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

“Well I did tell you my costume was a bit last minute since it didn’t get here in the mail until yesterday.” His voice sent shivers down my back as his lips barely brushed my ear. I raised my eyebrow at him as he sent me a wink. Jack’s costume last year had been the inspiration for mine this year and he just so happened to be one of the only people I had told about who I had planned to dress up as tonight. 

“He told you, didn’t he?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, blondie,” Trevor attempted to deadpan but his mouth betrayed him as it turned up into a smile. “Yeah, he told me. I needed an idea and he let it slip that you were dressing up as your favourite princess.” My heart fluttered slightly, knowing that he knew my favourite princess off the bat. It wasn’t even something that was all that important to me but it meant that he had remembered such a small factoid that I had told him. And that meant everything considering the crush I had been secretly harbouring for him practically since we’d met.

“So you decided to pretty much do an unofficial couple’s costume with me?”

“I mean, everyone already thinks we’re dating,” he shrugged. “What’s the harm in kidding them a bit?” I paused. This was my opportunity.

 “Why stop at just dressing up as a couple?” His brow quirked up over the rim of his red solo cup. “Or am I kidding myself by saying this?” My words came out quieter but the look on his face was enough indication that he had managed to hear me over all the background noise. His eyes were big and round as they bore into mine, his mouth slightly open as his cup lowered. My breath hitched and my heart pounded against my ribcage as he stepped even closer and bent down slightly to be eye-to-eye with me.

“Am I kidding myself if I kiss you right now?” My cheeks flushed as his eyes dragged over my face. My head shook slightly as my eyes flickered from his eyes to his pink lips that quirked up at the corners at my reaction. “I’m gonna need words if I’m going to do this, babe.”

“You’re not kidding yourself, Trev,” I uttered, meeting his eyes through my lashes.

“So?”

“So if you’re gonna kiss me: kiss me.” His face parted in such a large grin I was sure his face might split in half. His unoccupied hand came up to cup my cheek as his lips met mine. His other arm snaked around my waist, cautious not to spill any of his drink over my costume. My arms wound around his neck, my hands finding their way into the soft curls at the back of his head. His lips were soft as they moved against mine. I could taste whatever he was drinking on his tongue but I was too deep into the haze of my emotions to care. With him this close, practically flush to my body, I was engulfed in everything that was Trevor. His scent, his taste, his hands. Everything that made up the boy I fell for. The boy who remembered my favourite Disney princess. Who took me for McFlurries at three in the morning. Who made me laugh more than anyone or anything else but who I also trusted with my most precious secrets.

His lips turned up in a smile causing my own to do the same until the kiss was more teeth and laughter than anything else. I pulled away only for him to follow and place one, two, three more soft kisses on my lips. His forehead came to rest against my own, my arms still wrapped around his neck as his dropped to my waist and pulled me even closer to him. His face was flushed, his lips swollen and red and his eyes bright as they looked into mine which I’m sure held a similar quality. 

“Y’know my lip gloss is all over your lips now,” I uttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Good. Now everyone will know who I’m here with and who I’m leaving with.”

“Like our costumes don’t already give that away.”

“That was the plan all along, blondie.”

[heyimkana]

24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 2

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The second episode of a mini-series where you’ll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Humor Word Count: 9K Warnings: no plot, just a compilation of fluffy scenes that you share with your whipped, super annoying husband, Satoru. there's a bit of a smutty scene but it's not explicitly written.

Episode 2: Daylight

07.04 AM

The morning sunray seeps through your windows, kissing your skin with familiar warmth. The red roses Satoru bought you yesterday greet you with their sweet scent as they sit prettily in a glass vase that glimmers like crystal underneath the light. You take a quick scan around, expecting the worst but surprisingly, besides the bedroom, your place is still recognizable despite the drunk antics that you and your husband did last night after finishing a whole bottle of wine to yourselves. 

Your work doesn’t start until nine, and although usually, you would leave at 8.15 to avoid the risk of turning up late, after noticing what day it is, you reckon that traffic won’t be so bad. Plus, your home is only around ten minutes away from your office anyway. It’s the main reason why Satoru insisted on buying this condominium in the first place—to give you more time to yourself (and for him to cuddle with you on the sofa because you always look so snuggly in the morning). Maybe you can take it easy today. Brushing your teeth and changing your nightgown into an oversized hoodie (Satoru’s) and a pair of comfy sweatpants, you get yourself to work.

Among the clutters on the floor are your cocktail dress and Satoru’s expensive suit and tie, scattered all over the carpet, giving you a quick flashback of what happened after you arrived home from the fancy restaurant he took you last night. The exchange of heavy, scorching kisses in the elevator… Your spine pressed flat against the wall with his head between your thighs the second the front door was shut close… A bottle of red wine tasted directly from each other’s tongue… And…

You glance down at your hands, feeling heat flaring in your cheeks as your eyes land on the thin, but quite noticeable, purple bruises that circle your wrists like dark bracelets.

Last night was… wild. 

“God, we’re not young anymore,” you mumble to yourself, shamefaced, as you head toward the kitchen. There are empty plates and half-filled glasses left abandoned on the aisle, and a pizza box that you ordered at two in the morning for an emergency snack (Satoru always gets hungry after sex), but it will only take you a few minutes to clean everything up, so everything’s fine.

Today’s start isn’t so bad.

The condo that you and Satoru bought together felt too spacious and grand at first. The neat white walls somehow screamed lonely, desperate for human touch. But after living here for three years, three whole years of a happy marriage with occasional fights that never lasted a night, it felt truly like home—the kind that you’ve never had the joy to experience before. 

Silly Polaroid photos of the two of you are plastered all over the fridge. A collection of your favorite novels sits on the bookcase among healthy pileas that tumble elegantly over the shelves. Satoru’s favorite Hatsune Miku figures are there too, despite your constant begging to just throw them away, but that’s marriage, isn’t it? You just have to compromise on every single thing. Even when the color of Hatsune’s stupid hair—why does it have to be turquoise of all shades?—ruins your aesthetic.

A huge, beautiful mural showcasing the map of the world can be found painted on one side of the wall. In some countries, there are words written by colorful markers, telling a story of the memorable journeys you’ve had together. Satoru’s messy handwriting used to be there but you scrapped them all because drawing a bunch of arrows pointing at different cities and writing down the words “We did it here” or “We also did it here” and “We toooootally did it here” with wink faces on the sidedon’t exactly seem appropriate, especially since Megumi’s son often comes by to visit his favorite uncle. (The word ‘favorite’ here is self-proclaimed. Megumi never said that. His son also never said that. Satoru is just delusional.) 

You catch a whiff of your husband’s perfume, still somewhat lingering close, a sweet reminder of your chaotic days in high school and the moment your romance bloomed during your college days. Oh, also, coffee. You’re gonna need a lot of that if you want to get through all of your work meetings today. The smell of freshly brewed coffee is one of your favorite scents in the world and you smile to yourself as you pour it into your mug. 

“Someone looks happy,” Satoru sniffles as he places his chin on your shoulder, long arms winding themselves around the dip of your waist. And cuddly, he adds in his head. Though he always finds himself swooning seeing you in your cocktail dress or work attire, he adores this look the most. Messy bun, bare face with acne patches on your chin and nose, his hoodie covering your body to the middle of your thighs. You're precious.

He won’t say this to you though, not today.

“Someone sounds a bit grumpy.” You tilt your head just enough to peck him on the cheek. “Took you long enough to finish.”

“Well, it would’ve only taken me ten minutes if somebody was kind enough to lend me a hand.”

“What, your two hands aren’t enough?”

“They don’t feel as good as yours.” He’s pouting. Even if you can’t see it, you can tell he is. “I didn’t finish, by the way. Thank you for asking.”

A chuckle escapes you. “Honey, you finished, like, four times last night.”

“You’re missing the point,” he sighs. “I don’t think I’ve told you this but…” He turns your body around, making you face him with your cup between your hands and your back leaning against the kitchen counter. He’s still in his boxer shorts, you notice, but he’s made the effort of throwing on a green pastel shirt, hanging loose on his body and unbuttoned to his chest. Satoru rests his palms on the surface, trapping you between his arms. “I think I’m getting so dependent on you now that I can’t even cum on my own.” 

“You can’t do anything without me these days, actually,” you comment, running your mouth without realizing that he’s desperate for your sympathy. He gives you a look, staring flatly at you. “And I can’t do anything without you, my love,” you add with a smile, tapping his cheek. “There. Happy now?”

“Wouldn’t kill you to say it once in a while,” he answers, and you roll your eyes. “I’m just saying, I used to do it so easily, you know? I didn’t even need to look at actual porn to jerk off. I was so in control of my body. Just had to picture you naked on your knees with my di—”

“Careful.”

He cuts himself short. “—and I’d be done in, like, two minutes.”

“I see. And here I thought today was going to be boring,” you reply, sarcasm running thick in each word.

“But these days…” His eyes droop. “It hasn’t been that easy. Sometimes I couldn’t even, umm… get it hard,” he admits, blushing. It’s a bit of a confession that he’s been trying to keep to himself for a while.

“What, really? Like, at all?” 

He sheepishly nods. “There’s this one time when you were away on a business trip and it had been so long since we had sex so I wanna… You know…”

“Play with your carrot?” You suggest, taking a sip of your coffee. “Rub the eggplant? Stroke the banana?”

There’s a momentary silence where he just looks at you, unamused. 

You, also, stay hushed. 

Then, “Caress the fresh zucchini—”

“I think that’s enough, babe.”

“Oh, so when I say it, you don’t like it. But when you say it—”

“You’re not saying it at the right time—You know what? Forget it.” Satoru pushes himself away from the counter, fuming and you laugh. 

Catching him by the wrist, you whirl him back to you. “I’m sorry. You’re just so cute. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you act like this.”

“Can you be serious, please? This is actually very important to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You stand on your toes, kissing his pout away. “I’ll pay attention, I promise. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m a bit scared,” he says, his shoulders sagging. He looks like a sad puppy. A giant, 193cm tall sad puppy. Even your puppy didn’t look as depressed as him now when she was on the verge of death. “What am I going to do when you’re away for two weeks and I can’t even jerk off once?”

You know you don’t have to jerk off, right? Your mouth is itching to say the words. “Two weeks aren’t even that long.”

“Of course, they are!”

“Okay, so you can’t jerk off for two weeks. What is the big deal—”

“What’s the big deal?!” He gasps, as dramatically as ever, one hand slapped against his chest. “You’re asking me what’s the big deal?! What if this is a sign of early erectile dysfunction?!”

Hereeee we go. “From someone who came four times last night, what are you saying?!”

“Excuse me, are you a doctor?” His voice drops, his face solemn. “Are you an urologist?”

You sigh. “No.”

“Do you have a penis?”

“Satoru—”

“Do you?”

You’re rubbing your head, headaches incoming. “You wouldn’t have married me if I had one now, would you?”

“Not true but okay. Anyway—”

“Wait, hold up, what does that mean—”

“The point is,” he puts pressure on his words, pinching your nose so you’ll stop talking. “No penis, no opinion. Also, multiple studies by Chinese researchers have shown that in order to avoid getting prostate cancer, men should release their sperm around two to four times a week. And—” He holds up a finger in the air, shutting you down before you even begin to open your mouth. “When you orgasm, your brain releases a surge of dopamine, right? I need that, especially when you’re not around to help me manage my stress.”

You press your lips together, as tightly as you can, afraid that you’ll break into another bout of laughter if you don’t. “I see.” It’s so hard to keep your voice away from shaking. He’s so serious, it’s almost out of character for him to be this serious. “So you’re, uhh… You’re stressed, huh?”

“Oh, I am, baby. I’m so stressed out.” He swats his bangs out of his eyes, pushing back his hair. “Look at me. I just woke up and I look like this. You think it’s not stressful to look this handsome every day? I have to work twice as hard as anyone else in my building just to be taken seriously. Especially by the CEO.”

“You mean your daddy.”

“My CEO.”

“Who’s your daddy.” Right after you hear yourself saying the line, you snort, failing to contain your laughter. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just had a flashback of the time when you said those words to me in bed and—” You wipe a tear away, your body shaking from your titters. “God, that was cringe.”

Satoru narrows his eyes. “So you are laughing at me.”

“Yeah, but not because of the things you’re saying right now.” The more you try to explain, the more he seems insulted. “Sorry. Continue.”

His nose flares. He would’ve been vexed if you didn’t look so adorable holding back your giggles. “All the other workers think I’m not fit to be next in line—to lead the company. They think I get everything I want just because I have a pretty face and I’m his only son.”

Well, I mean, they’re not wrong, you ponder to yourself, though you know if you mention it out loud, he’s going to cry. “They’re jealous of you.”

“And then of course there’s that guy, Kenjaku, who clearly wants to take my place so he’s been trying to get close to my dad,” Satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Can you believe they went golfing together? Gol. Fing. My dad never even let me touch his golf club!”

Oh, he’s ranting. He’s so upset, he’s ranting like a tired housewife and it’s hilarious. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” You spread your arms, offering him a smile. “Do you want a hug?”

“Okay,” he mumbles cutely, moving toward your embrace with his lower lip jutted out. He goes down to his knees, tangles his arms around your waist, and nuzzles his face against your belly. 

“I think they just feel intimidated by you.” You land a hand on his head. For some reason, his hair is always extra fluffy in the morning. “Smart, charismatic, and sexy? They don’t stand a chance against my husband.”

Usually, you would have him go back to his feet (figuratively and literally) right away after hearing such words, but Satoru only lets out a small hum—responding but not quite agreeing—as he buries his nose deeper in your fabric. Seems like this one is serious. “Toru, you’ll be okay.”

“I can’t do it without you, babe,” he says, his voice muffled by your hoodie.

“What, getting that promotion without people judging?”

“No. Cumming.”

“Oh, we’re going back to that.” You chortle lightly, stroking his strands. “Okay, listen.” Cupping his cheek, you lift his face to meet your gaze. “You don’t have erectile dysfunction.” You return the small space between you, your lips curving up beautifully as you bend down and give him a light kiss on his forehead. “And next time, I’ll take care of your needs. Promise.” Noticing how his eyes take a quick look at the kitchen counter, you add, “Not right now, Satoru.” 

“Meanie.” Your husband groans, playfully biting your hand. “And how are you planning to take care of me the next time we’re separated from each other?”

“I’ll do something to help you, uhh… do whatever it is you need to do.”

His eyes light up. “Will you FaceTime me and give me a strip dance with Closer by Nine Inch Nails playing in the background?”

That’s… oddly specific… “And why does it have to be that song, if I may ask?”

“No reason, really…” He averts his gaze. “Just… You know, it makes me think about you…” He seems a bit shy.

Wait. Shy? Satoru is?

How does the song go again?

You tear down my reason  It's your sex I can smell  You make me perfect  Become somebody else  I wanna fuck you like an animal

You send your husband a blank stare. Look at him. This pervert is asking you this while acting like an embarrassed schoolgirl standing in front of her crush. “If it’s not too much to ask,” he says, so cutely as if he was asking you to make him his favorite dish for dinner.

Of course, it’s too much to ask, are you insane? “Or,” you suggest calmly with a forced smile. “We can do slightly more romantic stuff like calling each other on the phone and—”

“DO PHONE SEX?” Stars in his eyes. There are stars in his eyes.

“Uhh…”

“Please say yes, please say yes!”

That isn’t exactly what you have in mind, but can you even decline when he’s like this? Telling him no right now would feel just as awful as when you (because of Satoru, of course) accidentally revealed the truth about Santa to your nephew, giving Megumi a hard time feeding his son who started a hunger strike as he went into depression mode for three days. (This is a horrible comparison, by the way. One child was asking about Santa while this one is asking for the opportunity to whisper “I wanna fuck you like an animal” in your ear when you’re a hundred miles away from home. Two totally different cases, but you know Satoru will behave the same way as your nephew if you reject his wish. Probably even worse.)

With your head throbbing, you murmur, “Maybe just a little…”

“Promise?” He holds up his pinky, grinning from ear to ear.

All that positive energy you had this morning? Drained. “Promise…”

“Yaay~” 

As you break into a cold sweat thinking about the unfortunate event that will soon befall you (aka the phone sex), Satoru, is already back to his giddy and frisky self. Well, as long as he’s happy, I guess. 

“What are you having?” He asks, jumping back to his feet. “Coffee?”

“Mm. You want some?”

“Nah. I’m craving hot chocolate.” He reaches a hand toward the high drawer to get hold of his favorite mug, looming above you and intentionally knocking his chest against your face as he traps you in between. He giggles when you glare. He’s childish that way.

“How very girly of you.”

“It’s to relieve my stress.” He pokes you in the stomach. “Also, liking hot chocolate doesn’t make me look girly.”

“Sure, but trying on my skirt does.”

“Babe, come on,” Satoru whines, his earlobes turning scarlet. “How many times are you going to hold me on this? I was just messing around!”

“Honey, you were alone in our bedroom, wearing my maxi skirt and checking yourself in the mirror.”

“It was a dare from Suguru.”

“And taking selfies.”

“So I can send some proof to Suguru.”

“Not the point, Satoru.”

“That is the point! Babe, can’t you see? Saying no to the stupid dare would’ve made me seem less manly than he is.” 

“So you’d rather put yourself in a skirt?”

“Well, duh!”

You can’t find the logic in his excuse, you really can’t. “In my defense, though,” he adds. “I thought you were gonna be out for a little longer.” 

“What would’ve happened if I were? Gonna put on my thong next?”

“No,” he scoffs, trying to regain whatever amount of dignity he has left. “Also, it’s not like you’ve never done something embarrassing before. Remember that time when we went to Megumi’s birthday dinner and you ended up telling his nana a dick joke?”

“That was also you.” 

“No, no. I meant, that one with the salaryman meeting a guy in a horse costume—” His realization falls upon him. “Oh my God, it was me.”

You shake your head, amused. “It’s okay.” You turn to face the counter once again, placing your mug on the surface before you reach forward to grab a bit more cream.   “After being married to you for three years, the only thing that will surprise me is if you grow another head. Anything else, I can manage.”

“Why does this sound comforting and insulting at the same time?”

“Because it’s both.”

With his lower lip protruding, Satoru hugs you again from behind, his chin settled on the top of your head this time. This is why he claims to be all stressed out whenever you’re away. He’s so keen on physical touch that he can’t bear even a few inches of distance between you when you’re around. He reaches up to open the counter, grabbing a jar filled with cocoa powder. His chest is pressing against your spine, his other arm never leaving your waist. “I think we run out of sugar,” he says. “Wanna drop by the mart after work? I’m gonna have meetings all day today, but I can ditch the dinner party.”

“You’re not coming?”

“Hell no. Suguru’s hosting. He makes the worst parties.”

“Isn’t he the guy who’s rumored to be in love with you? I heard about it from Shoko.”

“Yeah,” Satoru snickers, very childishly. “I was the one who started the rumor by putting a note on his desk that said ‘I wish one day you’ll look at me the way you look at your wife. Your silver hair and pretty blue eyes have captivated me from the moment I laid my eyes on you. I dream of tasting your soft lips every night.’ It was so easy to copy his handwriting, I just couldn’t help it. Yuki found out about it and she started gossiping and by the end of the day, everyone knew. I took the note away before he noticed. Suguru never found out I did that, didn’t even know what was going on. He was so confused when people tried to cheer him up. I saw Choso giving him a pat on his shoulder, saying ‘We all love you for who you are, never change.’ And Suguru was like, ‘Uuuh, thanks, but I don’t want to be a salesman forever.’ And so both of them were confused.”

Your mouth twists into a grimace. “You are evil.”

“I prefer the term genius,” he corrects you, seemingly proud of his deed. 

“Also, soft lips?”

“Aren’t they?” He seductively raises an eyebrow. To be fair, yes, they are. Even on the coldest night, they’re still as soft as a butterfly’s wing. He has claimed many times that he only used a lip balm if necessary but you don’t buy it. There must be witchcraft involved. He puckers his lips, ready to kiss you and make you experience the thick jealousy you have of his pretty mouth—because, really, all these lip balms you have and your lips are still chapped during winter. You dodge, pushing your palm against his face instead. The big puppy that he is, he licks it.

“I think I’ll be out of the office around seven today,” he informs as you scrunch up your nose in disgust, wiping his saliva away.

“Okay. Pick me up first?”

“Like you need to ask,” Satoru smiles, granting a cute kiss on your forehead. He dabs his thumb on the corner of your lips, rubbing off a little bit of sugar from the leftover doughnut that you enjoyed with your coffee. He cleans it off his digit with his tongue, randomly ruffling your hair as he makes his way to the living room. 

“Oh, wait, almost forgot,” he says, retracing his steps.

“Hmm?”

Satoru snatches a jar from the counter—the one that you just used, filled with cream—and puts it in the highest drawer, the closest one to the ceiling. “Just a little payback,” he sniggers. “For giving me blue balls this morning.”

With him being 193 cm tall, he simply needs to stand on his toes for a little bit to reach it, but you? “I think you’re gonna need a ladder.” His teeth flash in an irritating grin. “Enjoy your creamless coffee for the next few weeks, Sweetcheeks—OUCH—BABY, THAT’S MY KNEE!”

“Grab the jar.”

“Fine.” He retrieves it with a grumble, handing it back to you. “But I’m reporting you for domestic abuse.”

You raise your wrist, showing the actual bruises he left on your skin. “I’ll see you at court then.”

“Babeeeeeee~”

***

07.21 AM

“Satoru.”

Your dear husband has been lying down on the couch for the past ten minutes, a head of velvety hair—which somehow still smells pleasantly like your favorite shampoo—resting on your lap. With a pair of round glasses perched on his nose, he turns deaf ears to everything that’s going on, focusing on nothing but moving his thumbs to win the next round of Momotetsu. As his eyebrows wrinkle in deep concentration, Satoru punches the buttons on his Nintendo Switch, glaring at the screen and swearing under his breath.

“Satoru.”

“Wait, babe, I just need to choose this card and—NOOOOOOOO!” He launches himself forward, sitting up with his mouth gaping, his eyes shaking in horror. “Did I just—yep, lost a million yen. Fuck this game. A Martha card?! A fucking Martha card?! Oh, I’m gonna—” He slams his console against the cushion. Repeatedly. He’s 29, and he throws a bigger tantrum than Megumi’s three-year-old son. 

“Watch your blood pressure, Honey.”

“Who even invented this game?! Stupid as shit. Babe, do me a favor and don’t ever let me play—” His phone rings before he can finish. Throwing one glance at his screen, Satoru mutters, “Oh, great. Here we go.”

The name Dumbass Monk is written on his phone. You wonder who it is.

Satoru answers through gritted teeth. “Fuck you, Suguru.”

Ah, yes, of course.

“No, how the fuck should I know that the card was gonna choose me?!” he barks, his voice bouncing off the walls. “I wanted it to choose you—oh fuck off, asshole, you’re broke as hell, you smell like wet socks, and your wife hates you. Wait, what was that?” He suddenly switches his voice, doing his best impersonation of a nosy old lady talking about the latest gossip. “You don’t have a wife? Not even a girlfriend?” He maniacally cackles. “I don’t know, man, I don’t think I’m the loser here. Unlike you, I’ve got a super hot wife who loves me unconditionally.” 

You flip a page of the book you have sitting on your lap. “Only ‘cause you’re rich.”

“And—” Satoru continues yapping on his phone but he makes sure to poke you on your side for your unnecessary comment. “She’s not just hot. She’s a complete package. She smells like daffodils, she makes me breakfast every morning and she looks so fucking gorgeous when she fucks—”

You slap a pillow against his head.

“—feeds me cookies,” Satoru finishes lamely, wincing, one hand raised in the air as a form of surrender before he takes another hit. “No, I’m not gonna pay you, idiot, you won purely by luck!” He then gasps, his jaw dropping low. “Did you just call me a monkey? Oh, that’s it—” 

Satoru is on his feet, shouting, growling, fingers jabbing and clenching as his mouth runs wild. You can somewhat hear the other man’s voice, giving you enough idea of what they’re arguing about although you can’t make out every word. Suguru’s tone is always soft and melodious when he speaks, but his insults are truly on another level. Chuckling to yourself at the strings of expletives that tumble out of their mouths, you watch your husband yell until blood pools on his face, “Fine! Don’t come crying to me when you have erectile dysfunction, which, based on all the non-existent sex you’ve been having, I know you will! Good day!” Suguru is still calling him names when Satoru ends the call with, “I SAID GOOD DAY!”  

You flip another page of the novel you've been trying—and failing due to someone’s endless shouting—to immerse yourself in. “Seems like you two are close.”

“Oh, he can die, I don’t care.” Angrily, he tosses his device away, landing his head back on your lap with the loudest groan he can muster. “Whatever. I’m still a better player than he is.”

“Of course, you are, honey,” you respond, your hand naturally falls back to his hair, caressing it like you’re stroking a cat’s fur. 

It only takes a few seconds before your husband stops shaking in vexation, even looking a bit sleepy from your comforting touches. “Were you talking to me before?”

“Mm. There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Placing a bookmark in between the pages, you close your book and set it down on the coffee table next to you. “About before, when you told me about your co-workers. How did you know that they’ve been thinking about you that way?”

He blinks, not expecting you to return to your previous conversation. “Aaaw, honey, are you worried about me?” From wishing someone to suffer crucially from impotence to wiggling in joy like a thirteen-year-old girl at the slightest sign of affection, your husband really does have an emotional range of a teaspoon.

“Of course, I do. You’re my husband.”

His mouth curves upside-down, his eyes glimmering, “Babeee, that’s so sweeeet.”

Though you're not so sure why he’s so happy when you just stated a fact, you let him be. “So what happened?”

“I heard them chatting when I passed by the smoking room one afternoon. I don’t smoke—you know I quit a long time ago—so I didn’t know they were ganging up on me and talking shit about me behind my back. Isn’t it gross for a bunch of thirty-year-old men to gossip?” His face scrunches up in disgust. He, the same man who spent two hours on the phone talking to the Dumbass Monk about the recently hired secretary, Maki Zenin (who’s apparently so strict and vicious that, in Satoru’s words, “Almost made me cry in fear when I arrived late at my lunch meeting last week.”), actually had the audacity to ask that question.

"What did they say?” You ask him.

“They said if it wasn’t because of my family name, I would’ve never gotten promoted to C-level.”

“But that’s not true!”You catch him off guard with your sudden fervor after spending the last conversation acting so dull. “I’ve seen how much you worked for this! Satoru, you earned that position fair and square!” Your husband might act frivolous almost every hour of the day, but there were times that he missed his sleep trying to come up with a new marketing strategy to promote their upcoming products. There were hours spent with him taking one conference call after another with his clients, even at two in the morning from the comfort of your living room due to the difference in their time zones. He’s the CEO’s son, true, but he worked just as hard, if not more, as everyone else in the company.

The more it sinks into your brain, the more irked you become. “Who said this?” You snap. “Huh? Who talked shit about you behind your back? I want names.”

Satoru lets out a chuckle, his eyes thinning into a line. It’s been a while since he last saw you being this protective of him. It reminds him of the old days in high school when you, despite acknowledging yourself as being his archenemy, were always quick to defend him when someone threw shade at him. “Honey, relax—”

“Was it Naoya? Or was it Toji? It was Toji, wasn’t it? Oh, that bitch—”

“It wasn’t Toji,” Satoru says, holding you by the hand in a futile attempt to calm you down. “Though you could still punch him if you want.”

“Why, did he do something to you?”

“I just hate his face.”

That’s very Satoru behavior of him that you don’t even bother to comment. “Nobody talks shit about my husband. If they think you get things done easy for you, it’s because you’re so smart, you make things look easy.”

He sits up, turning around to face you with warm, round eyes. “You think I’m smart?”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the smartest man I know.” You give him a light punch on his chest. “If I were your dad, I would’ve still given you that promotion, regardless of our relationship. You’re just that good at your job.”

“That’s…” He swallows. “This is the first time you’ve complimented me like this.” It’s a surprise to him, a very pleasant one, causing contentment to fill his heart.

You feel awful once you notice that even though you constantly thought of him this way, you never spoke your appreciation out loud. “Satoru, I’ve always admired you.” You rest your fingers on his knuckles, apologizing. “I know you complain about having to wake up early to go to work every morning, but despite your flippant attitude, you bear a deep sense of responsibility. You always manage to surpass people’s expectations—surpass mine and I already thought highly of you.” You give him a squeeze, smiling more with your eyes than your lips. “You make me proud. Every day you make me proud.” 

Satoru mirrors your expression, a soft blush painting his cheeks as his joy engulfs him whole. He wraps his arms around you, sinking his nose in your hair as he pulls you close. “You’re not throwing compliments at me just to cheer me up, are you?” He whispers and it’s only during times like this that he lets his vulnerability show. Satoru always shines like the brightest star, his eyes brimming with confidence, but there’s still a part of him—part that he conceals from everyone else except you—that needs to be consoled. He’s still a little boy who wishes for a gentle pat on the head and you always give the warmest one.

“I’m not complimenting you, I’m telling the truth. But yes, I am trying to cheer you up.” You return his embrace, your hand sliding up and down his back. “I wouldn’t have said this if you were okay ‘cause I know it’s gonna boost up your ego even more. You’re already annoying the way you are, so…”

He titters. “Can we stick to you being nice to me?”

You echo the noises he made, returning the space between you just wide enough to kiss his cheek. You cup his face with your fingers, your thumb caressing his cheekbone. “I’m sorry people said mean stuff about you… Are you okay?”

“I am now.” His smile is softer than the clouds. He leans close, cutely nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours. “This is why I need you in my life. You act aloof around me but you always think about me more than you think about yourself. You pretend to be ignorant, but you never fail to notice all these efforts I made. You care about me more than anyone else.”

Watching him put your feelings into words makes you feel flustered but you don't deny it. Not when he speaks only the truth. “I can also kick everyone’s butt for you.”

“As someone who has witnessed your heroic tales in high school, yes, you can, one hundred percent.” You feel his smile forming on your skin as he kisses your temple. “But just having you around me right now is enough. And it’s fine. I don’t care what anyone else thinks about me, at least not anymore. As long as you’re proud of me.”

“I am,” you say without missing a beat. “I’m proud of you, Toru.”

He takes away your hand that’s been warming his face, kissing your wrist while he maintains eye contact with you. “That’s all that matters to me.”

Your stomach swirls at the intensity of his gaze, his voice—just above a whisper—bears the same kind of tenderness and affection he portrayed on the day he asked you to marry him. His lips rub against your veins, the softest kiss against the softest skin. Your hand seems tiny in his grip but it’s a perfect fit. Every part of you is when it comes to him. 

“So, uhh…” You clear your throat. “What are you going to do now?”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep doing my best so I can prove them wrong.” His grin returns. “I’ll make my wife feel even prouder of me.”

He replies to your little chuckles with a kiss, light but sweet. Despite your heart wanting more of his touch, of the heat of his lips against your own, you focus on the matter. “Why have you never told me about this before?”

“Because I never cared about it too much,” he replies with a shrug. “Work only feels overwhelming when you’re not around. When you’re with me, no matter how stressful my workplace is, I’ll feel at ease instantly.” He lays his forehead on your shoulder, rubbing his face against the fabric. “So, don’t leave me, okay? If I have to go out of town, I’ll have you hide inside my suitcase so I can carry you around.”

You chortle lightly. “And if I have to go?”

“Well…” He pulls away, his eyes fixated on the shape of your lips as he caresses them with his thumb. He looks back at you, his fingertips resting on your nape, holding you still. You find your breathing stalled as his own fanned your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to convince you to stay.”

And when he kisses you again, you know that he doesn’t mean with his words.

***

07.34 AM

“Bunny!” Satoru calls from the bathroom, his voice reverberating loudly through the hall. “Baby, come over here!”

Standing in your apron with your hands moving to fetch your chopped onions from your kitchen aisle, you try your best to focus on your cooking while answering him at the same time. “For the last time, Satoru, I’m not interested in taking a shower together with you!” You sprinkle some pepper into the dish, wiping your sweat away from your temple with the back of your hand. You take a glance at the digital clock nearby. “Not when we have to leave in an hour!”

“But I’ll let you shape my hair!”

“Not interested!”

“I’ll even let you give me a mohawk!”

“Not intere—oh shit—” It’s a given, really, that you’d accidentally pour too much salt into your cream soup from all this diversion. Taking a deep breath, you start to glare at your ceiling as you chant don’t get angry, don’t get angry inside your head. This is the reason why you try to keep him off the kitchen floor as far away as possible whenever you’re making food but even when he’s meters away from you, he still manages to annoy you somehow. 

“Babe, I couldn’t hear you. Was that a yes?”

“NO!”

***

07.41 AM

“Oooh~ Something smells good~” Satoru chirps, popping back into the living room with a toothy grin and a white towel wrapped around his hips. It’s hanging low on his body, showcasing very distracting V-lines that you (secretly) adore. You look away. No good can come from staring at your husband’s lean, perfectly shaped stomach at this time of the day. 

But then you catch a glimpse of the scratch marks you left on his back from last night, your face aflame since you can barely remember how hard you dug your nails into his skin. Satoru always likes it when you’re not careful with him—just like how you love it when he’s rough with you—but were you really that… desperate to keep him close, clutching onto him like that?

You shake your thoughts away. “Dry your hair properly,” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the plates you’re currently setting on the dining table. “I just mopped the floor.”

“Okay, Mom.” Dabbing a smaller towel against his hair, Satoru walks closer to your spot and pulls back a chair.

You eye him cautiously. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a seat, what do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re not gonna wear your clothes first?”

“Do I have to?” He takes a sip of your half-finished coffee, smacking his lips before he throws a naughty grin. “I mean, I fucked you right here last night. Surely you won’t mind eating breakfast with me only in my towel?” Before you can say a word—and you have lots to say—Satoru adds, “I’m just giving you a chance to ogle at my body as much as you want as you enjoy your food. I know you’re too embarrassed to ask, so you’re welcome. And if you’re willing to take a day off, I can be your dessert too.” 

You make a face. “Gross.” 

“And yet, you don’t deny the fact that you’re planning to stare.” Peering into your eyes, he places his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table. The haughty look he displays on his face is supposed to irritate you, but what it does is make your heart pound harder. “You’ve seen and touched these babies for years, and you still can’t get enough? Babe, come on.”

“You seriously calling your abs your babies?”

“Yep.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “But if you play nice, I’ll let you call them—”

“Just eat your breakfast.”

***

07.46 AM

“Babe?”

“What?”

“I have something to say but promise me you won’t kill me after I said it.”

“Okay…” You look up from your plate, feeling a bit concerned. “What is it?”

Satoru has never looked this serious in his entire life (because face it, Satoru and the word serious don’t really belong together now, do they?). 

Taking hold of your hand, he gently squeezes it, providing the comfort that you might need.

“This soup is salty as hell.”

***

07.58 AM

With the taste of salt still lingering thickly on his tongue (and a bump on his head, a masterpiece done by your fist), Satoru steps inside the bedroom with a yawn, his fingers scratching his undercut. He unwraps the towel from his waist, tossing it onto the sheets without care.

Your husband smiles the second he notices the way you’ve prepared his clothes so neatly on the desk, all the way from his tie, his belt even down to his socks. His dress pants are ironed to a crisp seam, and his phone is fully charged (after being married to him for three years, you’ve learned all of his little habits). You’ve selected a matching dark tie to go with his suit, one that he recalled was given to him as a gift during last year’s anniversary. He loves it. He loves how you always buy the things he needs instead of what he wants, even when he, himself, didn’t realize how essential they were. But what makes him the happiest is when he sees the way it makes you smile so warmly every time he wears it, like a painter landing a final stroke on her masterpiece. For someone who doesn’t speak romantic words so often, your little gesture never fails to portray what’s on your mind. You love him and it shows. 

“I’m being spoiled, huh?” Satoru mumbles to himself, nothing but elation in his chest. He spots the little notes you left him on the same table, your handwriting scribbled on a piece of paper. “Ooooh~ A love note?”

Dear husband, If you leave your wet towel on the bed again  I’ll kill you.

“Not a love note.” Wincing, he immediately retrieves the towel from the bed, his mind playing a traumatic flashback of you scolding him about it for two hours straight (because suddenly it wasn’t just about the wet towel, was it? The forgotten toilet seat. The countless jackets hanging on the coat rack because he kept grabbing a new one. The pile of hentai doujinshi piling up on the coffee table. All of them.)

With the thought of skipping today’s work lingering in his head, Satoru forces himself to dress. As he turns around to face the mirror, he captures a brief look at the kiss marks blooming on his neck, ones that you painted on him last night. They’re faint because, unlike someone in this condo, you make sure to always be considerate of his appearance (though Satoru wishes you weren’t), but even the lightest shade of red seems vibrant on his fair skin. 

Although he acts nonchalant most of the time, your husband is quite the possessive type, so it’s a given that he likes the idea of having his marks on you. He gets a kick out of watching you struggle to hide the love bites he left on your neck, even more so when someone notices it. But, of course, nothing beats the feeling of having your marks on him. If you allowed him to, he would’ve worn every bite and bruise like a medal. Proudly. Contentedly. The same way he exhibited every present you’ve given him. Satoru just loves the idea of having a wife—of having you as his wife—and he would showcase that to the world in every second of his life if he could. 

He traces the bruises with his fingertips, drowning himself in the thoughts of you gasping against his ear, your teeth grinding against his neck as he pushed your knees further against your stomach with every thrust of his hips. He wasn’t lying when he said you looked absolutely gorgeous during sex. The way you parted your lips. The way your eyebrows stitched together in pleasure. The little noises you made when you breathed out his name as you bounced on his lap—

Satoru looks down. There it is again, the ache between his legs. Funny how you’re already so distracting even without doing anything—or being in the same room for that matter. Sighing, he grouses, “Guess she’s right. No signs of erectile dysfunction.” Willing his indecent thoughts to go away, he tucks his hands into the sleeves, buttoning up his shirt before he circles his tie around his neck.

“Satoru!” He hears your voice resonating from the bathroom. “Toru, can you come here for a sec? I need your help!”

“Oh, now she’s calling me to have sex with her.” He rolls his eyes. “After I finish taking a shower. So much for playing hard to get,” he scoffs. It’s ironic that he says this because right now he’s the one who’sacting that way. With giddy hands, he unfastens his tie, rushing to take off his pants again and almost tripping on his way out. He dashes toward the bathroom, opening the door while he strives to keep his excitement in check.

“WHOA!” You yelp in surprise, your body nude and drenched, hiding behind the door with only your head peeking out. “Why are you naked?!”

He frowns, confused. “Cause we’re about to have sex?”

Now you’re confused. “Uhh, no?”

“Why did you call me then?”

“I forgot my towel.”

“You’re asking me to get you your towel?” He sounds so appalled as if that thought never occurred to him when it’s supposed to be the first thing that should pop out in his head. Before you can respond, however, his mind, delusional as always, answers the question for him. “Oh, I see,” he smirks. “You’re using codes.”

“What?”

“‘I forgot my towel’—isn’t that, like, our code for ‘let’s have sex in the shower?’”

“Satoru.” You hold yourself back from ripping the silver strands out of his head. He’s testing your patience. Again. “We don't have any secret code.”

“We don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Oh…” It almost feels a bit cartoonish the way his shoulders sag upon hearing your words. There he is, a 29-year-old male standing in front of you in all his naked glory, saddened to his core over the fact of not having a cipher for sex. Well, for three seconds anyway. “So… You wanna make this our secret code, effective immediately, or—”

“Get the damn towel.”

With a stomp, Satoru leaves the bathroom only to return with your towel in one hand and his eyes squinting in a glare. Being the brat that he is, instead of handing it directly to you, he lets the thick cloth fall to the floor just a few inches away from where you’re standing. 

“Oh, you’re so annoying.”

“Isn’t that your secret code for saying you love me?”

You throw a jab to his stomach.

***

08.24 AM

Pushing your hair out of your coat, you call out your husband’s name. You examine your appearance one more time in the mirror, tidying your strands until they frame your face perfectly. The condo is fairly clean. Your stomach is full though you can’t seem to wash away the saltiness of your soup just yet. You’re only seven minutes late from your original plan, which isn’t bad. You’re all set. 

“Toru, you’re ready to go?”

Your husband is still yawning when he meets you in the foyer, carrying his handbag with his shoulders sagging forward. He’s dressed sharply in a white button-up shirt, combined with a black suit that accentuates the broadness of his shoulders. He looks handsome. He always does.

“Well, well, well, hello, Mr. CMO,” you snicker, pulling him by the tie while seductively batting your eyelashes at him. “Do you have time to spare? I would like to have a private meeting with you.”

He’s so tired, he doesn’t have the strength to keep up with your flirting, which says something since it’s usually the other way around. He spreads his arms wide open, his pout turning more prominent by the second. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I need my twenty-second hug.”

So, apparently, Satoru believes in this theory he found recently on the internet that said when you hug someone for, at least, twenty seconds, your body begins secreting the hormone oxytocin which is known to boost the immune system and reduce stress. He said that but you know that he’s just doing it so he can squeeze your ass, and that’s a fact, not a theory.

“Fine, but don’t grope my ass.”

“As long as you don’t grope mine.”

“I literally never did that.” You bury your face in his chest, tangling your arm around his waist. Satoru’s warmth is really one of a kind, or maybe he’s just as warm as a normal human being and you’re just too intoxicated by his scent that you stop making sense. No matter what the reason is, it’s comforting to be in his arms and if he doesn’t make a big deal out of it every time (acting like you’re the one who desperately wants to embrace him), you’d probably spend hours of your day just hugging him like this.

He buries his nose in your strands. “Your hair smells different.”

“I used your shampoo.”

“Yeah? That’s hot.”

You close your eyes, basking in his warmth and enjoying the smell of his perfume. He’s wearing a different brand today, just for a change, and although it’s not as sweet as his other one, this somehow feels much more comforting. Soft and fresh, reminding you less of summer and more of spring this time. “You smell different.”

“I used your perfume. And your bra.”

You’re not sure if you’re laughing over his terrible joke or his deadpan delivery, maybe a bit of both. Nuzzling your face against his chest, you titter, “Yeah? That’s hot.” 

And he’s not sure if he’s smiling over your reply or the way you just sounded so cute giggling like that—no, definitely both. He tightens his arms around your shoulders, squeezing your body against him until you start pounding your fist against his chest, begging for a time-out before he steals all the air in your lungs. “I think we should just skip work today,” he mutters as he releases you. “We can watch a wildlife documentary and count on how many times Benedict Cumberbatch mispronounced the word “Penguin” as ‘Pengwings.’”

“That sounds productive. If you want Maki to kill you.”

He shudders in fear, pulling you back to him. “Just for that, I’m gonna need another twenty.”

Though you feel the urge the roll your eyes, you let him tug you back into his arms and rest his chin on your head. After all, he’s your personal teddy bear. You can spend your eternity just sinking into his embrace like this.

“Satoru?”

“Hmm?”

“Your hands are on my ass.”

“Yeah, but I’m not groping them.”

“You are now.”

“Well now that you mentioned it, I just have to, don’t I?”

You break away, giving a playful slap on the chest. “Enough, we’re running late.”

“Where do you find the energy to go to work every morning?” He asks with weariness in his eyes. “I am this close to throwing myself back to the bed.”

Funny how literally an hour ago, he promised you that he’d work harder to make you feel even prouder of him. “Well, I guess, it all started when I turned into a fully grown woman.” You smiled at him, fixing his tie before you dealt with his collar. He might be the youngest person to enter C-level in his company, but he still dresses as clumsily as a five-year-old if it wasn’t for you to keep his appearance in check all the time.

“I’m a fully grown man too and I still wish I could lay around all day,” he sulks.

“You’re a man-child.” Tugging on his tie, you pull him down until your lips meet his in a chaste kiss. “But I love you. Body, mind, and soul.” You beam at him with your widest grin. “How’s that for your energy booster, Gojo-san?”

To your surprise, Satoru answers you by tossing his handbag to the side and dipping his head down once more to re-attach your lips together. He kisses you with the same fervor he had last night, tongue sneaking inside to taste the minty scent of your toothpaste. You gasp against his mouth, fingers fisting the fabric of his suit as you struggle to maintain your balance. Can’t help but take a couple of steps back from how hard he’s kissing you, you stop only when your spine meets the wall. “Satoru—” You attempt to push him away by placing your hand on his chest but he clamps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it over your head.

With his body pressed against yours, you wonder if he can feel your palpitating heartbeat beating against his own. There’s no stopping him when he gets this aggressive with his kiss and it’s not like you can find any willpower within you to stop him. Fortunately for you, he breaks away, wetting his bottom lip once as his eyes still glaze over your bruised ones.

“Spirits lifted,” he smiles against your lips, sending blood to pool in your cheeks. “Thanks, babe.”

When he lets you go, you find it almost impossible to stay composed. Three years… Three damn years you’ve been married to him and he still knows how to make your knees buckle with a single kiss.

“Babe?”

You push yourself away from the wall, your fingers tangled in your hair when you try to fix it. “W-what?”

Putting on his sunglasses, he casts a smirk, “You might want to fix your lipstick.”

“Oh, I hate you.”

He pecks your cheek. “I love you too, baby girl.”

***

08.32 AM

Despite you being the better driver—better as in I’m not gonna try and bribe an officer with a brand new iPhone whenever I get pulled over or threaten him with my family name when things don’t work out my way—Satoru always insists on having his hands on the steering wheel every time you’re with him. “A gentleman wouldn’t let his lady drive, especially when she looks this pretty in that skirt,” he always says, and yes, maybe this is his gentleman sidetalking—even when the said gentleman had put on the same skirt and caressed his own butt in front of the mirror a few days back. But honestly? You know this is just a part of his master plan to control the music playlist for the next ten to fifteen minutes.

“We’re not listening to Hatsune Miku again,” you say, putting on your seatbelt. 

“Oh, we totally are,” Satoru cackles, his fingers sliding up and down the touchscreen. He has seventeen different playlists consisting of more than a hundred songs in total, all taken from his favorite albums. Which is not much, really, considering Hatsune Miku is featured in around two thousand songs by now (a fact that you, honest to God, don’t care but he keeps reminding you of).

“Satoru, if you play one more Hatsune Miku song, I swear I won't put out tonight.”

“Well, if I have to listen to cookbook again—”

“Jungkook.”

“If I have to listen to cookbook one more time then I won’t put out tonight.”

“That's fine with me,” you shrug.

“Fuck,” he clicks his tongue, desperately jumping to the next option. “Okay, uhh… Oh, I know! You’re not getting my credit card ever again.”

You have one finger hovering above the screen. “So which Hatsune album are we listening to today?”

He sends you a dead stare. “Do you only love me for my money?”

“Oh, honey…” You rest your palm gently on his face, cupping and stroking his cheek. “Of course, I do.” You give him a tap that goes a little too hard than you intended but then again, he kind of deserves it. “Now, drive.” 

Satoru doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a retort. Exhaling in defeat, he kicks in the gear while you, with your face crumpled in repulsion, try to pick the least insufferable Hatsune Miku song. Unfortunately for you, Satoru catches a title that steals his attention.

“OOOH go back, go back! I want to listen to that one!”

You sigh, selecting his song choice. “It’s too early to listen to—” Beaming with joy and oblivious to the hatred you have for that one song, Satoru sweeps in and cranks up the volume until you feel your ears ringing from the inside. 

“Oh my God—” You flinch. If his loud nagging didn’t bust your eardrum, this definitely will. “Does it have to be this loud?!”

“Of course, my goddess is singing!” He shouts, grinning from ear to ear. He starts singing along, just as loudly, if not more. At this point, you swear there are people jogging on the sidetracks looking at your car with their faces contorting into frowns. 

 “I’m the number one princess in the world, so that's how you'll treat me,” he sings, slamming his hands against the wheel, head bobbing to the beat. “Oh my God, this is the soundtrack of my life!”

Still scowling, you have no choice but to listen further to the lyrics.

It's not like I'm acting selfish, I'm not asking for much  I just want you to think from the bottom of your heart that I'm adorable I'm the number one princess in the world  Notice me! Hey! Heeey!  Keeping me waiting is out of the question  Just who do you think I am?  Whatever, I think I could go for some dessert!  Yes, right now!

You grimace. “It really is.”

***

10.54 AM 

11.45 AM 

01.10 PM 

01.29 PM

02.05 PM 

02.29 PM 

03.22 PM 

04.02 PM

05.28 PM

06.11 PM

07.06 PM 

***

AN: Thank you so much for reading! I'm so sorry for the amount of cringe that you had to suffer through while you were reading this 😭

[missmonsters2]

—KAIROSCLEROSIS | TEN (FINAL)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything comes to settle in the aftermath. You're healing and Wednesday takes the time to consider what she's experiencing until she picks it apart in a way she can tolerate it. You are hers, though. That is for certain.

Warnings: softsoftsoftsoft. so soft. Wednesday is soft. cuddling. happy ending. healing. bantering. did i say soft? crying it's so soft. satisfying aftermath. the nickname bet comes to an end. soft in case you were unaware.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist, but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: book 1 has come to an end! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this series <3 Sequel is on it's way along with some oneshots! series masterlist has been re-edited with info.

Part Nine

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Kairosclerosis: Noun. The moment you realize that you're currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it's little more than an aftertaste.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday sits beside your hospital bed, quietly reading Goody's spellbook. The only noise is the sound of your quiet breathing and the steady beeping from the machine that monitors your heart rate. 

The spellbook is coming in handy already. Wednesday has just discovered a better remedial salve—one that should actually speed up the healing process. Once Enid arrives, Wednesday would be free to go and gather the ingredients she needed. She would need some honey from Eugene's bees, and she recalled a plant in the greenhouse with the pulp she needed.

A particularly deep breath draws Wednesday's attention from her book. Her head tilts slightly over as she peers at you. Your eyes are closed, unaware of anything as you slept on. You had to be put on your stomach so that your wings could rest without anything touching them. 

The reopened wounds had to be stitched back together and then bandaged, which the doctor noted would have to be for two weeks and frequently changed. Wednesday was merely waiting for you to be discharged, and she could take your healing into her own hands. The nurse earlier had received a scathing glare when she was not delicate in changing your bandages yesterday, causing your brows to furrow as you slept on. 

Morons, Wednesday vehemently decided then. They couldn't be trusted with you. 

"You should wake up soon," Wednesday says, even though you never reply. She doesn't even know if you're listening. "It's much too sunny without you."

"Wednesday," Enid sighs as she walks into the room, a new bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Why are you up again? You're supposed to be resting too. You got stabbed in the arm!"

"This is hardly anything," Wednesday raises her brow as she closes the spellbook and puts it back into her bag. "It honestly hurts more when I punch Pugsley."

“You mean when Pugsley punches you?”

“No.”

"Still," Enid frowns, looking over her roommate. Despite only having been two days since the ordeal, Wednesday threatened the hospital staff to discharge her mere hours after she got cleaned and fixed up. 

You could barely tell that Wednesday was injured by the way she continued wearing long sleeves, tidy braids, and lack of reaction. The only visible sign was the bandage she had to wear over her temple. 

"Fae will be upset if you refuse to rest and heal when she wakes up." Enid looks over to you, biting her bottom lip. A part of her wants to cry at how banged up you looked. She knew—could smell how much blood there was that night. But now you really looked broken with the machines hooked up to you and the red-stained bandages wrapped over your wings. 

It was worse than when Eugene was in the hospital last year. 

Wednesday looks at you once more as she prepares to leave. Your back rises and falls with each steady breath. "Then I suppose she'll have to wake up if she wants me to even consider listening to her grievances against me."

Walking out the door, Wednesday doesn't spare you another glance as she walks down the corridors. The nurses give her a wide berth, the lights flickering as she walks. 

A room comes up as she makes her way to the stairwell. There are two police guards posted outside. As she passes, she looks into the window and sees a lanky boy with messy hair and gauze bandages wrapped around his eyes and head. He's completely unaware. 

Wednesday smiles sinisterly. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Miss Addams," Weems greets as she puts down her fancy fountain pen, gesturing for Wednesday to come closer.

Wednesday wordlessly takes a seat, her face impassive. 

They stare at each other for a long moment before Weems lets out a long, tired sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose before she looks at the macabre girl. 

"How are your classes going?" Weems asks.

Wednesday looks unimpressed as she lets out a dull "Fine."

"I hear you're taking class notes for Fae when she wakes up," Weems smiles then, and Wednesday narrows her eyes.

"Only because Enid's writing is so cacographic that it'd be more legible if it was put through a shredder."

Weem merely chuckles, rubbing her temples. "The reason I've called you to my office is that the investigation is finally coming to an end." Weems folds her hands together on the desk in front of her. "I know you've given the police your statement, but I thought I'd get the event recounted by you myself."

"I've assumed you read the report?" Wednesday asks, her chin jilted slightly. 

Weems nods.

"Then you already know what happened. I will not be changing my story," Wednesday raises her brow. "She was kidnapped. I found the clues to where she was and the fact that Henry was the culprit. When I arrived, she was unconscious and chained to the table, poisoned with a draeconium potion."

Wednesday watches as Weems's hands tighten slightly.

"Henry gave his unremarkable sob story before we engaged in combat. The noises woke her up, and she freed herself before she defended us against Henry."

"I noticed you weren't very descriptive in this area in your report," Weems points out.

"Everything she did was something only a high lord's daughter or a night faerie would be able to do, so I will keep it to myself. The police are welcome to come and try to get an answer out of me," Wednesday's eyes glint as she gives a sharp smile, "but at their own risk."

Weems gives a wry smile and waves her hand for Wednesday to continue.

"Henry's desperation to attack us and gain the upper hand led him to strain his eyes and lose consciousness. At that moment, Enid and everyone else barged in as they finally escaped his mindscape. We all made our way back here to get medical help."

Weems stares at Wednesday after the girl finishes recounting the story. "I see," the principal says evenly after a moment. "And that was what happened? Henry lost consciousness and you left him there immediately after?"

"Yes. I wasn't going to go out of my way to bring back a kidnapper and our attempted murderer," Wednesday shrugs. 

"He could have died," Weems emphasizes pointedly. "Which would've been another death here at Nevermore two years in a row."

"His failure to kill us both is his own fault. He should deal with the consequences of it himself. The authorities were able to get them, were they not? I hear he's resting in his own guarded room." There was a telling smirk on Wednesday's face.

"Yes," Weems's voice is hard. "Though I'm sure you know the guards are useless, considering he no longer has eyes and can't use his gift anymore."

"I heard rumors around the hospital," Wednesday's face was indifferent again. 

"Wednesday," Weems sighs. "This was a disaster. Henry Morrison Sr wants to further investigate the disappearance of his son's eyes. He's convinced that they were surgically removed and considering there was only you in this situation that was conscious, he wants to press charges against you."

"Is he an absolute moron?" Wednesday raises her brow. "Is he not aware of what his son attempted to do?"

"Yes, well—"

"I encourage him to try to press charges against me with the lack of evidence he has. This case would be so laughable, I wouldn't even need to hire legal help with how guaranteed my victory is."

"Yes," Weems cuts in before Wednesday can say anything else. "And I told him as such."

Wednesday sharply looks at the principal, her eyes full of suspicion. She has no doubts that Weems knew she had gouged out Henry's eyes. After all, she had timed it perfectly for the authorities to arrive on time before he could die. 

The optic nerve was completely severed to ensure his psychic abilities could never manifest again, and then she fed his eyeballs to the fish in the river as she rowed her way back. 

"I have informed Mr. Morrison Sr that back in 1956, there was a similar incident where a psychic had over-exerted himself, resulting in his eyes bursting and it seemed that may be the case here." Weems's eyes seem to search for something in Wednesday, but it doesn't seem like she's looking for the truth. "There's no proof indicating otherwise. With that, Henry Jr is expelled, obviously."

"Will he be going to jail like Tyler?" Wednesday's quick to ask.

"Well, considering only one student attacked—no, I'm not counting you as you foolishly went after Fae alone—it's not enough to warrant having the academy file charges—"

"Of course," Wednesday hisses disdainfully. "We wouldn't want to potentially harm the school's impeccable reputation—"

"—That being said," Weems cut in forcefully, giving Wednesday a stern look. "As Fae's guardian, I am personally filing charges. I'm quite confident Morrison Sr will want to accept the plea bargain when we meet next week, lest he wants a long, grueling court battle where I will drag his family name through the mud."

Wednesday went quiet. She doesn't apologize, but there's a mild look of respect in Wednesday’s eyes. Her eyes flicker down and then back up. "Why did you want me to recount the report if the investigation has obviously concluded?"

Weems gathers the paper on her desk, shuffling them to line up. "I merely wanted to hear the events in your own words, as the police will still want Fae's matching statement when she awakens."

Wednesday stares on.

"I'm dismissing you for the day," Weems says as she puts the papers back on her desk. "I'm rather tied up with things I cannot put off, and I have a meeting in half an hour. There's a car waiting for you at the gates."

"Why—" Wednesday starts to ask, but she can feel her heart thudding against her ribcage almost painfully, and she relishes in it. 

"I have let the hospital staff know you'll be arriving to check her out on my authorization. I have already handled her discharge papers over the phone earlier. Listen to me for once and arrive before the police do," Weems says, dismissing Wednesday.

Wednesday gets up and walks out of the office briskly. She begins to walk towards the gates outside but stops. Turning towards her room, Wednesday first goes there and picks up the fuzzy black blanket, folding it neatly together, then draping it over her arm. She grabs a single grape lollipop from Enid's desk before she takes the shortest way to the front gates. 

The ride feels tediously long, and Wednesday snaps at the driver to drive faster. It barely comes to a stop before Wednesday gets out and walks through the hospital doors. She doesn't make herself known to the front desk receptionists and takes the stairwell up and down the memorized pathway to room 316. 

The door is already open, but there's no noise inside. There's a moment when Wednesday's heart drops at the lack of noise. Wednesday's used to feeling miserable; it brings her comfort and joy now even to feel so. Occasionally, she'll feel a type of misery she could live without. 

Wednesday's never been aware of how un-miserable she wants to be as she approaches your door. 

The moment Wednesday steps in, her face doesn't change at all. If anything, she looks more dispassionate than usual. 

But she blinks. 

"Hi, Wednesday."

You've probably said it hundreds of times now. You've said it in the same tone over and over, but Wednesday suddenly feels like it's better than any music she's heard. It even sounds better than Pugsley's screams. 

You're smiling at her. You look tired with the bags and dark circles under your eyes, but you're alive, and you look so—Wednesday clenches her jaw—hers. You just look like hers. Franz Kafka said it best: you are the knife she turns inside herself. 

"You are so cruel, Wednesday. I wake up to make your world less sunny, and you bring me only one grape lollipop? Rest assured you'll be listening to the grievances I have against you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"We should get up soon, I need to apply your salve."

"Can't you just apply it like this? You did yesterday."

"Need I remind you how long it took and in the end, I had to get up to get to the places I couldn't reach."

"I think I can stretch my wings further today. You might not have to get up."

Wednesday sighs at your mutterings but leaves it be. You'll probably be more agreeable to moving in an hour anyway. 

Your body is a steady weight on top of hers, and you radiate a warmth that Wednesday thought would make her uncomfortable with how cool her body normally is. But it just makes everything tepid, and Wednesday finds she has a penchant for it. 

Your head rests against her chest, and you once commented how eerie it was that it was such a slow and quiet heartbeat, like she might as well be dead. The words were entirely flattering. 

Wednesday stares at the ceiling; she knows you're slowly falling asleep again. The past two weeks, you've been rather boring as all you can do is rest, but Wednesday finds it gives her a lot of time to think.

Her story has slowly been changing—it has been ever since she's grown closer to you. Between the mysteries and the morbidity of everything, her main character seems to be experiencing something else too. 

Wednesday thinks about what it means to her and comes to an utterly disgusting conclusion. 

She's happy. 

It's so repugnant that Wednesday constantly sneers at herself. She has no desire to expand on it, but she'll catch herself thinking of useless things. It dampens the happiness into something Wednesday's also unfamiliar with, and she can't decide which is worse. 

Wednesday's fingers trail over the arches of your wings, feeling the bone just underneath the soft feathers. Your wing twitches, but you say nothing. She continues her exploration of her wings, careful over the wounds that are still slowly healing but have been much better with the salve she created using Goody's spellbook. 

Your wings start trilling when Wednesday reaches further toward the middle. The skin is thinner there, but the feathers are lush and thick.

"Tickles," you mumble, your brows furrowing but not opening your eyes.

Wednesday glances down at you before she pulls the blanket up higher. "Come with me to my manor on the next Parents' Day."

You let out a big yawn, ruffling your feathers with a small shake. "Are you sure?" You mumble, still sleepy.

"My mother invited you."

You hum. "Sure, it'd be nice to see where you live. I think I'll want to have dinner with Larissa on Friday night, but I can leave after."

"We'll go together on Saturday morning."

"'kay," you mutter sleepily. 

There's a lull in silence again, and Wednesday feels discontentment in her chest. She wonders if you can hear it as you lay over her heart.

Wednesday clears her throat. "I have thought of a moniker for you."

She can feel you smiling.

"Oh?" You say amusedly, but you continue to lay there with your eyes closed. "Let's hear it."

"I believe we should just stick with Fae. We've already gone on too long, and there'd be no point in changing it now. Even if other faeries came to this school, there's still only one Fae. You'd merely confuse everyone with a new alias."

You let out a laugh then, shifting in Wednesday's arms. "It took you six months to come to that conclusion? Did you even come up with anything else?"

"Nothing that I would allow anyone else to call you," Wednesday huffs with annoyance, still cursing her father's passed-on nicknaming abilities.

"Why not?"

Silence again. Wednesday seems to be debating her discontentment before she says, "you are mine."

It's so simple, the words and the way she says it. 

You finally open your eyes as you lift your head to look up at Wednesday, who is resting against the headboard of your bed. She looks at you as if challenging you to say otherwise. 

"So, we're dating?" You tilt your head.

"Yes," Wednesday says with finality but also looks pained at the frivolous words and then sighs. "I never thought I'd be capable of wanting someone like this. I don't do feelings but all you make me do is feel things I have to research later."

"What kind of words?"

"Ridiculous words that I'm convinced are fake," Wednesday deadpans. "Regardless, I don't do feelings, but the idea of not experiencing more with you is unbearable."

"You're mine then?" you say, and it's more of a statement than a question.

"I am," Wednesday confirms.

You let out a soft laugh, and Wednesday tilts her head. 

"I never thought I'd ever have anyone to call mine," you say with a quiet smile. "I have very few things, Wednesday. I promise to treat you very well."

Wednesday nods once, her fingers tracing over a feather. You lift yourself higher with your hands, coming face to face with the grim girl, your nose brushing against hers. She was so serious looking.

"I discovered last year that I'm capable of evolving," Wednesday says quietly, her lips brushing against yours as her hands rest on the small of your back. "It's inequitable how much you've affected me."

You smile widely then, your lips parting in a huff of laughter. They're so ridiculous. Really, you're made for her, and she's made for you. "Wednesday, you've changed me since the day I laid my eyes on you." You kiss her, and the only noise in the room is the sound of your wings gently fluttering with excitement and Wednesday's stolen breath.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I believe I've come up with an acceptable arrangement of your epithet," Wednesday declares. "I'm owed your phone number."

You don't even look at her as you blindly reach for your phone on your desk, too comfortable to move from lying on top of Wednesday as you cuddle.

Wednesday watches you fiddle around on your device before her phone in her sweater pocket vibrates. 

She pulls her phone out and sees there's a text from you.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx: save this number 😗

"What is the meaning of this?" Wednesday asks, her voice low and dangerous, but you seem unbothered.

"You have my number now?"

"You had my phone number this entire time?" Wednesday feels something brewing inside of her, and it's mainly murder. 

You nod, still lying on top of her with your eyes closed. "Enid gave it to me after the bet was made."

"Why?" Wednesday demanded.

"Because I asked for it?"

"Then why make the ridiculous bet? Did you enjoy listening to such brainless suggestions?" 

"I told you," you smile. "I only make bets where I'll win either way. I wanted you to come up with something and win to give you the excuse of asking for my number. If you didn't, then Enid was already giving up and about to suggest we stick to Fae the next time it got brought up. I would've texted you after the bet was over."

Wednesday stares down at you, and she bores into the side of your head and plots silently.

"You are detestable, but I respect your strategy and deception. Although, regardless of the fact you are mine will not save you from my revenge."

You finally look up at Wednesday's unimpressed stare and smile at her. 

"Threatening me with a good time again, are you?"

END

EPILOGUE 1

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Hope you enjoyed the series! :)

I will be opening up a temporary taglist of 50 people to be notified when the oneshots and sequel is up! Comment or reblog on this post only to be added (pls don't send to my inbox bc i will miss it 💔) you can still always follow my library blog for notifs @missmonsters2-library

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Chocolates and euphoria

pairing: cpt. John Price x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: afab!reader, nsfw, food play, p in v, unprotected sex, desperate sex, slight cockwarming, 18+ so minors please DNI

a/n: a late valentines blurb inspired by this post

John Price MASTERLIST

Just imagine John Price not greeting you by the door when you come home from work, and he's returned from deployment while you were away. Instead, he answers your greeting by beckoning you further into your shared flat with an 'In here, love'. 

You drop your things to the floor, more concerned with seeing Price after weeks of him gone than the temporary shucked-off and slipped-out jacket you leave behind in the foyer. 

Your flat is not big, but his voice had been faint enough that you know he must be in the bedroom, probably unpacking his stuff, sorting what needs a wash -more or less everything- from the weapons that needed to be locked into the gun-safe. 

Imagine your shock when pushing the door open to not find him straightening from a bent-over position of his bag on the bed but sprawled in it with only a measly bit of the duvet, the one you changed yesterday just because you knew how much Price likes to come home and feel free from sand and dirt, over his crotch, legs partly intertwined but giving you a tantalising view of his bare thighs down to his shins, hands behind the pillow propping his head up. You stall, freezing in the entrance as you blink, perplexed at the sight you couldn't even imagine finding your Captain. Not even in your wildest dreams.

"Happy Valentine's, love."

His greeting falls on partly deaf ears. You hadn't given it much thought, even if it was hard not to notice the copious amount of red, pink and white hearts or love-shaped everything you'd passed the last few days on your way home from work. But with a heart-shaped box of chocolate square on top of Price's crotch, it clicks in your head that the 14th of February coincided with his return home.

You let out a short laugh because you seriously don't know how to react to what your eyes rove over again and again. 

"Not appreciatin' the welcome-home gift I've got for you?" 

Despite the slight shuffle as he props himself on his elbows and the box of chocolates sliding nearly too much to not tug the duvet down with it, your eyes ascend until they meet Price's. 

There's an evident mirth practically shining in them, crow's feet highlighted in the edge of his eyes as he attempts to fend off his smile. 

With the lack of any and all seriousness concerning the situation, you purse your lips, head ducking into a shake as you can't contain an amused chuckle, moving from your spot.

"Love it", you can barely get the words out. Your feigned straight face crackles as you walk closer, eyebrows scrunching together, chest convulsing from trying to not break into another laugh. "My very own hairy Cupid".

It's Price who breaks the facade with a timbre low chuckle and head craning back as you slow down when reaching the edge of the bed.

"I tried." He gives you a shrug, and you notice the now upward tug of his lips once he looks up at you.

"A very appreciated attempt", you giggle, settling on the side of the bed, leaning to the centre where Price rests. 

He meets you halfway, pulling you closer with one hand clutching the back of your neck, almost dragging you down as well, and you need to catch yourself against the mattress in your now twisted position. You both chuckle into the kiss as the chocolates rattle in their casing after your hasty movement and Price's shuffle to get closer to you.

"God, how did you think of this?" You glance down his body towards the most eye-catching object at the moment, smile ever-present like the silent laughter in your eyes when they return to meet him.

"Gaz showed me a not-so-subtitle photo he thought was funny". You closed your eyes, chuckling at the mental image of the situation.

"Should thank him the next time I see him". Price rolls his eyes when you look at him again.

"You and Kyle bother me as much off duty as them two sergeants do on". He scoffs fondly. 

You cock your head, bottom lip jutted out. "Don't be too hard on them".

"Easier to chew their ear off than your pretty face", he murmurs deeply with a considerable drop in his voice. "C'mere".

Rather than give in to his pull, fall deeper into the closeness he beckons you; you pull away with a giggle and crawl down the bed until you settle between his legs.

He cocks his head, both elbows now planted on the bed again as he stares down at you, eyeing how your kneeling form is hidden beneath your skirt, the fabric flowing out and filling the space he'd unconsciously given you between his legs.

"Not where I imagined you".

You place a hand on Price's abdomen when he goes to sit up, pursuing your lips with a feigned sad furrow between your brows. "Why? Where else would I be able to taste the chocolates you gave me, John?".

What's not hidden in the perfectly innocent face you pull and direct at him is the glint in your eyes and the way you rap your fingers against his stomach rather than pulling your hand back to your side. But Price decides to play into it. 

"Be my guest", he waves his hands towards the box, somehow still balancing enough to keep the small part of Price's covered front hidden. 

Oh, imagine the nearly audible gulp, that delicious heave of his chest you only managed to pull out when catching him off-guard, as your slightly cold hands settle high on his thighs as you bend down, keeping eye contact with those blues intently watching, as your lips slot around one of the chocolates, leaning away only when it's securely clutched between your teeth, only for you to raise a hand and with one finger push it into your mouth.

You hum in content, eyes fluttering as you wiggle a little with a smile, no doubt the taste of chocolate spurring your reaction. But Price's imagination is running rampant, the box of chocolates a plastic shield between where your mouth was and the very place all his blood now is flowing to. The taste he wants to fill your mouth is not that creamy delight that's excited you all in your teasing.

You raise your brows as you lick your lips, watching him. Price blinks out of his stupor when you cock your head, realising you're waiting on something.

"What?" His rough and hastily asked question makes you giggle.

"I asked if you want to taste one?" 

Price nearly misses your question again when you start stroking your hands up and down his upper thighs, fingers brushing over the place where his thigh joins with his hip. But he does notice your vixen-like offer, purred in that innocently-laced voice you like to dip into when you play with him. And, like always, he walks head-first into the allure of sirens. 

"Go on then".

You bite your lower lip in anticipation as you pluck one of the heart-shaped sweets and lean over his body to reach his lips. Price's hands find your waist, stabilising you as he cranes his neck, snagging the chocolates from your fingers, making sure to excessively lick the pad of your fingers in the process. An adorable scrunch of your nose is the reaction he searches for and is rewarded with. 

Price only smirks as he falls down against the pillow as he bites into the chocolate.

"So?" You remain hovering above him, both hands now resting beside his head.

"Good, but not as sweet as you". He squeezes your waist.

"God, you're such a flirt tonight". You chuckle with a roll of your eyes.

"Mhm?" He hums in return, the edge of his lip upturned when you look down at him again

"Mhm", you reply, tongue rolling over your lips before catching it between your teeth, offering a smile in return.

A low sound vibrates deep in his chest, his voice sending shivers down your spine. It's silent for a few seconds as you look at one another before gravitating closer. 

Your lips are soft compared to Price's slightly chapped ones, telling you he continues to vehemently avoid the chapstick you send along with him when he's deployed, but they're equally as sweet, the taste of chocolate fresh as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He groans appreciatively at your willingness, readily intertwining your tongue with his with a slight sigh.

Price wants you flush against him, feel you after weeks away from you, but when his hand travels to the curve of your back, arms about to wrap around you, you pull away, eyes fluttering open.

"They're different kinds?" You light up; this time, it's hard for Price to know if it's genuine curiosity as your attention falls to the box perched on his lap again. But when you hastily sit down on your haunches again, he can't help but chuckle, watching you pick up another chocolate with intrigue. 

Neither of you had anticipated the caramel suddenly pouring out of the half-bitten heart, making you jerk slightly forward. With wide eyes, our gaze falls to the light-brown liquid having dripped onto Price, your eyes flickering between the pooling of fluid in the dip of his hips.

You giggle, and with a quick flicker of your eyes to his and then down again, Price knows what's coming before you move, your intention shining like a beacon in your eyes as you stuff the last bit of chocolate into your mouth and swallow quickly. 

He feels the groan rumbling in his chest even before you lick a broad stripe along the skin not hidden by the box or covers. The press of your tongue so close to where he's throbbing for you makes his eyes flutter but never close fully, hips jumping, disturbing the box somehow still resting on his lap. Far longer than he'd anticipated originally.

"God, women", he groans. "That's 'nough of that", Price finally caves to your teasing, hard as a fucking rock and nearly breaking out in a sweat at the swings between lewd and sweet actions you've put him through the last few minutes. 

He moves the box of chocolates aside, gently enough for none to escape the box, and tugs you forward until you sprawl over his naked chest. You have the nerve to giggle, but it quickly turns to a gasp as he rolls you over, his weight pressing you into the bed.

The flimsy part of the duvet between his crotch and your lower stomach does nothing to hide his hard and heavy girth pressing into your still-clothed. But as he urges you on your front, nothing but your clothes limits his access as he kicks away the duvet altogether, grinding against your backside with heady rolls of his hips.

"Fuck, missed you, love", he would drawl so sickly hot but sweet at the same time into your ear, making you arch against him. Price would it as encouragement, undoing the sip along the small of your back before tugging your skirt form your body, throwing it aside with much less care than the box of chocolates. Your shirt soon met the same fate.

And when you lay in nothing but your undergarments, you would feel something being placed on your spine, but before managing to crane your neck to see what it is, Price's thumb would crush what you quickly realised is a piece of chocolate filled with caramel, smearing it along your back. Your mouth drops open, eyes flittering to meet his gaze rather than down your back. He's grinning, satisfied his payback worked.

Price would keep your gaze as he lowered himself until close enough to your back that you couldn't see him as much as feel his hot tongue collect the mess he made. You would gasp, head jerking forward, face pressing between the pillows and the mattress. Feeling him hum pleasantly at the taste of you combined with the treat coating his tongue would make the hair on your body stand at its end, your back arching like a wave to get as close to Price's tongue as possible. His chest swells from how reactive you're to him, nearly crooning when he grasps at the fleshy part of your hips, digging his fingers into your skin, eliciting a muffled mewl.

He would take your bra off while licking your skin clean of the treat he smeared across your body, rewarding you with a cheeky nip of his teeth as you wiggle out of the fabric he then discards somewhere. 

While Price would pepper kisses all over your back, shoulders and up to the nape of your neck, one hand would slide between your legs, past your panties and graze right over your weeping pussy. A small gasp leaves you as your hips move a fraction, your head now practically going lax at being surrounded by him. 

His fingers do wonders to your clit, and more choked sounds leave you as he plays with your body like he never had left and returned with new callouses on his palms rubbing sinfully against you.

The very patience Price is known for, and the cool-headedness everyone who meets him praises, would snap so quickly you could think all those comments were for a facade he kept up. But seeing you desperate, whimpering, whining, arching and grinding back against his hot cock pressed against your ass would do things to the most stoic man.

He wouldn't even bother taking off your panties. Your more than naked state enough for him to paw and grab at. They would merely be pushed aside, hoked somehow to the side by your thigh and ass as he guides the head of his cock over your heat. Low groans and bordering gruffs would press from his lungs while moans and staggering breaths leave you as he guides his cock over your heat to collect your wetness.

Price would groan in pleasure when he finally pushes all the way into you in one slow push, burying his cock so deep inside, the thick head of it kissing a spot that only he can reach. You always felt tighter, wetter the first time he fucked you with all the pent-up frustration and adrenaline yet to subside from his body after a tour.

His burly body would envelop yours as he fell down to his elbows, holding you close as the slow rock of his hips soon picked up speed, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass filling the room.

Your walls would throb, squeezing tightly around his girthy shaft as he pumps in and out of you, whining into the pillows you'd buried your head into before craning your neck to the side his hot breath fanned from.

The kiss would be uncoordinated, tongues intertwining and lips slipping before remaining open as you panted and moaned against each other. Everything tastes of chocolate and euphoric highs as a particularly lewd mewl escapes your mouth and vibrates against his. Price's beard would scrape against your chin and jaw, the scratchy feeling making you roll it onto your shoulder as it added to your overall pleasure, giving him access to your neck. He would shower the newly offered skin in kisses that wouldn't fade just because his lips left, giving some extra love to the sweet spot below your ear that made you clench so deliciously around him.

Your orgasm would crash over you a second later, body twitching, mouth remaining open, panting against the side of his face as he growled a 'there you fuckin' go, feels so good flutterin' 'round me' straight against the shell of your ear. 

Price doesn't let up, fucking faster and harder into your pussy while your brows would crease against his forehead as he tries to dip his head to taste you again. But he can't, his own open-mouthed groans met by nothing but overstimulated puffs of silence from you. 

And then his thrusts started to get sloppy, bucking every few times until he moaned against your mouth whilst spilling deep inside you, hips rocking and pushing against your ass as if to climb into you.

Price's body weight would press against your back, your arm worming out from beneath your body and around his neck to let him know he could take his time, you didn't mind his heft against you. He would worm his arms around your body, one circling your waist, the other your chest, huffing a sigh of bliss, pleased by your nails raking against the nape of his neck as you caught your breaths.

There was no doubt you'd have to change the sheets again later, either because of the mixed fluids you could feel trickle out of you or the chocolates that, without a doubt, had stained the white duvet.

Taglist: @starlitselkie @melancholyy-hill @redheadonfire20

[jeannineee]

Intertwined (Ⅱ)

Batboys x Reader

a/n: part two is heeeeere!! Hope you guys enjoy!! Part one can be found in my masterlist. This was quickly proofread, sorry for any errors.

Side note: my requests are still open, I have 2 smut fics in the works for Azriel. Working on part 3!!

PART THREE

warnings: canon-typical shit, misogynistic Illyrians, sexual suggestiveness

You gawked like a fish at the three men in front of you, where you still stood in Rhys’s foyer.

That…feeling had subsided slightly. But it was still there. A pulling sensation, in your chest.

No, deeper than that. In your soul. In your very being.

You didn’t dare consider what it was. Couldn’t bring yourself to—

“Y/n?” Azriel called to you, brows furrowed with worry. Cassian and Rhysand shared the same look on their own faces.

“You checked out, for a minute there,” Cassian said, smiling sheepishly. “Everything okay?”

“Y-Yes.”

Rhysand studied you, as though he were trying to piece together what just happened. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, taking a tentative step towards you.

You inwardly checked your mental shields—not that Rhys would intrude, but you checked anyway.

You stepped back, clearing your throat awkwardly. “I’m fine. ‘M gonna head back to the house. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day, so…”

They knew something was wrong. Did they feel it, too? They didn’t act like it.

“Well, let one of us fly you,” Rhys offered. There was nervousness in his voice, now.

“No,” you said, the word coming out harsher than intended, judging by the way all three of them flinched. “I just mean—I can winnow. I’ll winnow myself.”

You didn’t give them the chance to reply before you followed through, finding yourself back at the House of Wind within seconds. You went straight to your bedroom, ignoring the growling of your stomach as you readied yourself for bed.

You were sure any food you ate would taste like ash in your mouth, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you woke early, dressing yourself in fleece-lined Illyrian leathers.

You didn’t dare go downstairs. Not yet.

You sat on the edge of your bed, burying your face in your hands as you allowed yourself to ponder on what happened, yesterday. You knew what you felt. Knew what that snap was.

The mating bond.

Or was it? Was it even possible to have three mates? You’d heard stories of two…but three?

An insistent knocking at your door jolted you from your thoughts, sending you to your feet.

“Up and at ‘em, sweetheart!”

Cassian.

You took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from your palms onto your pants, before opening your door.

Cassian stood there, in his leathers, red siphons gleaming. He looked down at you, a lopsided grin plastered to his face. You interrupted him before he could speak.

“The next time you pound on my door, you lose your kneecaps,” you told the general, silently praying to the Mother that he couldn’t hear the way your heart was racing.

“Mean,” Cassian said, daring to dip his head even more. His warm breath tickled your face.

“You haven’t begun to see ‘mean,’ Cas.”

His grin widened. “Gonna show me?”

Your face reddened. Cassian smirked, his body almost flush against yours, now.

“Don’t back out now, sweetheart,” he murmured, tracing a calloused hand down your side. “Show me that attitude again.”

Your leathers were far too tight.

Mor’s voice echoing downstairs snapped you both out of the moment. “Get your sorry asses down here!”

Cassian moved from your doorway, allowing you through. But once you reached the top of the staircase, he grabbed your arm, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. “This isn’t over, y/n.”

Mother save you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saying the Illyrian Steppes were cold was an understatement.

Icy. Frigid. Bone-chilling.

You couldn’t think of a word that would do justice to the way it felt.

The shivering, teeth-chattering cold, despite being in Azriel’s arms as you flew to Windhaven. He was warm. So warm. But even that wasn’t enough against this frozen hellhole.

Azriel’s bridal-style hold on you tightened, his hazel eyes scanning over your form.

“Won’t be much longer,” he said, attempting to sound reassuring. “They’ll have a cabin ready for all of us. A fire, warm food.”

“You’re teasing me,” you replied as you pressed your face against his chest, greedily absorbing his body heat.

Azriel’s voice was calm and quiet as he said, “This isn’t teasing, trust me.”

‘Trust me.’

You tried not to let your mind wander towards the ways the Shadowsinger could really tease you as you descended upon Windhaven.

Rhys landed next, and then Cassian, with Mor in his arms.

Lord Devlon already waited, a couple of Illyrian grunts on either side of him. He didn’t spare you, or Mor a single glance as he acknowledged Rhys.

“We’ll need accommodations,” Rhys said, sounding almost bored.

“Already done,” Devlon replied.

You tried to ignore the way the men around the camp eyed you and Mor, like prized mares. Rhysand caught on, a low growl leaving his throat as he spoke again to Devlon.

“Tell your men that if they value their hands, they won’t touch y/n or Morrigan. If they value their eyes, they won’t look at them for too long, either.”

Devlon looked inclined to protest, but thought better of it as he nodded. “You have my word.”

You doubted his word meant much as your group was escorted to the cabin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mor stole the warm bath first, leaving you, Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel to pile around the fireplace.

Those three tethers that snapped into place yesterday roared in their presence. Even more so as Rhys spoke in your mind.

There are other ways to warm up, besides a bath, you know.

So go find an Illyrian woman to warm your bed, you quipped back.

There’s only one woman I want in my bed.

Rhys looked at you pointedly.

Poor baby.

You swore he chuckled faintly in your mind.

“So, are we going to discuss what happened yesterday?” Rhys questioned you aloud.

Cassian and Azriel both perked up at that, waiting for your response.

Shit.

“After the meeting tomorrow,” you finally said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Rhys hummed. “Leaving us in suspense, darling?”

“Cope.”

Cassian snickered at that, and even Azriel’s lips twitched up. Rhysand’s violet eyes gave you a painfully-slow once-over, the gesture sending heat pooling between your legs.

“Tomorrow, then.”

[superlarva]

Happy Father’s Day!

Okay, okay, considering what my fic is about I felt obliged to post something today :)

Here is the prologue. It’s just Rex finding out he’s a dad (he’s gonna be happy about it I promise, he’s just a little overwhelmed). Also, sorry, no baby domino twins yet, we’ll get there soon (Next Sunday).

Next chapter: 01

Rated: Teen

CW: Implied child abuse

Rex turned restlessly in his sleep, his forehead dotted with sweat despite the chill of the December night air. The room was silent but for his quiet breaths, dark but for the soft red glow from the digits on his alarm clock. It was not set to go off for another two hours.

Rex shifted again, rolling onto his back and throwing off the covers, a small, uncomfortable groan escaping from his parted lips. Then, his breathing hitched and stopped completely, his chest failing to rise. His face paled, shining against the dark sheets in the dim light.

Nothing moved.

Not the flutter of a curtain or the twitch of a muscle.

Everything was still.

Then, in an almost imperceptible movement, Rex’s eyes cracked open. Not quickly, the way one does when pulled from the depths of a nightmare, but slowly, as if from a dream one cannot quite place, a dream that is forgotten as soon as it is over.

The stillness was now broken, and the silence soon followed as he gulped down ragged breaths to refill his depleted lungs. He did not sit, not yet; he lay, content to breathe and stare at the ceiling above him.

It was Tuesday. Before dawn. Yesterday he had closed one of his biggest cases. Today he would be writing up his reports. A thought like this normally bothered him. He would itch to get back into the field, to be assigned a new case, not to sit at a computer painstakingly entering information into charts, but today he felt this desire eclipsed by another. Perhaps from the dream or something else, he did not know.

 Rex pulled in next to the only other car parked outside the 501st district police station. He did not need to look to know it was Cody’s. His brother always seemed to be in the office and for once, Rex was grateful towards Cody’s insomniac tendencies. He could use the company.

Rex cut the ignition and sunk back into his seat, closing his eyes. He had felt off ever since he woke up. There was a strange feeling in his chest he could only describe as anticipation: a mixture of excitement and dread, nervousness and hope. The feeling was not new to him, but the way it sprouted seemingly out of nowhere was.

He sighed, opening his eyes, and running a hand through his short blonde curls. He had thought the hot shower and quiet 5 am drive down to the station would have soothed the feeling away, but clearly he had been wrong. Rex took a few more minutes to collect himself before he stepped out of his car and made his way into the station.

Cody was sitting behind a large oak desk, hunched over a thick stack of papers lying on top of an opened manilla folder. When Rex moved into the doorway of his office, he looked up, eyes going wide before darting over to the clock above the door, then narrowing in on Rex.

“Rex?”

“Cody.”

“You’re here early.”

Rex nodded, dropping heavily into the chair in front of his brother’s desk.

Cody glanced down at his papers, hesitating, before pushing them aside and leaning his forearms on the desk, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Rex fidgeted, suddenly embarrassed. He didn’t even know how to explain his feeling to himself, how could he explain it to his brother?

Cody cocked an eyebrow, waiting for Rex to elaborate. When he didn’t Cody leaned back in his chair, “You look tired. There’s a cot in the closet, I could—”

“No,” Rex cut him off, standing abruptly. “I just… I just need to work. To focus on work.”

Cody hummed knowingly, sliding the folder back in front of him as Rex made his way out.

 Work that morning was slow and by lunch the past six hours of typing up reports felt more like six days. Rex dragged himself into the kitchen to make a second cup of coffee and maybe grab something to eat from the vending machine since he forgot to pick something up on his way in.

As he was flattening a crumpled dollar bill to fit it into the vending machine, he heard rustling behind him. Rex turned around and saw Wolffe holding out a brown paper bag.

“Apparently I’m Cody’s delivery boy now,” Wolffe said, nodding to the bag, “It’s a Reuben.”

Rex took the bag and mumbled an apology before ducking his head and reaching for his wallet in his back pocket for more money.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s covered,” Wolffe said rolling his eyes—well, his eye—and hitching his thumb towards Cody’s office. Before stalking out of the kitchen, Wolffe leaned in and smirked, “You look like shit, man.”

Rex grimaced and sat down with the sandwich. It was good, he had to admit, but hard to enjoy. His mind kept wandering to the feeling of anticipation coursing through his veins that had only been growing as the day wore on. He had been doing so well recently. He had wrapped up a major gang related violence case and gotten a promotion, been best man at Bly’s wedding, and had just agreed with his therapist that he no longer needed weekly counseling sessions.

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, and Rex took in a short sharp breath, then shook his head, chuckling; maybe Kenobi had been wrong in his assessment of his wellbeing. He sighed, dumped his half-eaten sandwich in the trash, and made his way back to his desk.

 Rex was in the middle of a meeting when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. All eyes turned to him, and he quickly reached into his jeans and switched it to silent mode without checking the number.

Cody paused, crossing his arms in front of his chest before continuing to brief him and the rest of the 501st on… whatever it was he was briefing them on. Rex was too focused on counting his breaths and trying to suppress the awful feeling that kept washing over him. It only became worse with every passing minute. He felt his eyes glossing over and he diverted his gaze to the floor, vaguely aware of his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Rex?”

Rex’s head snapped to attention, eyes focusing in on Cody’s creased brow as his older brother knelt down in front of him. Rex shifted in the chair looking anywhere around the now empty room except at Cody.

“C’mon, old boy,” Cody said trying to catch his eye, “What happened?”

Rex shrugged; he honestly did not have an answer for that.

“Do you…” Cody trailed off, eyes darting back and forth, “Do you want to come over for dinner?”

Rex began to shake his head to refuse the offer but stopped when he met Cody’s pleading eyes. His brother was just as worried as he was. About what, he had no clue, but it would be better to have something to distract himself with, even if that something was Cody grumbling at the TV about which play they should have made during the football game.

“Okay.”

Cody smiled and straightened up, “Alright, give me five and we’re out of here.”

As Cody left the meeting room Rex dug his phone out of his pocket and scoffed as his screen showed the time to be 4:55 pm. Of course Cody would make sure they left no earlier than 5. The scoff died in his throat as he caught sight of two new notifications.

A missed call and a voicemail.

Both from the same number.

The caller ID was labeled “KCPS.”

Rex blinked. His face went pale, and he clutched his chair like at any moment the gravity in the room might reverse.

He was done with the system. He had been done with the system when Cody, one year his senior, had aged out and assumed responsibility for him seven years ago. They couldn’t make him go back. They couldn’t—

Rex shook his head, trying to steady his labored breathing. They couldn’t make him go back because he was a 24-year-old man. He was no longer a child. He no longer depended on the system.

His breathing evened out and slowed. He clicked open his phone. If CPS wasn’t calling to collect him, then what were they calling for? He hit play on the new voicemail and held the phone up to his ear.

Hello. This is Taun We from Kamino Child Protective Services. We are trying to reach Rex Fett. If you are Rex Fett, please call this number back immediately. Our number is…

Rex dropped the phone from his ear and redialed the number. His heart was pounding in his chest. As the first tone rang Cody appeared in the closed glass doorway. Rex held up a finger and turned so the phone would be visible to his brother. Cody gave him a thumbs up and a quick smile just as the call connected.

“Hello?” Rex started, his pulse beginning to beat in his temples.

Hello, this is Taun We from Kamino Child Protective Services. How may I help you?

“I, uh, received a call earlier today asking for me to call you back,” Rex said before hastily adding, “This is Rex. Rex Fett.”

Yes, of course. Mr. Fett.

The woman on the other end of the line paused for a moment to shuffle around papers. After a few seconds she found what she was looking for and continued.

Your children Echo and Fives Se have been removed from the custody of their mother Nala Se. Because you are their biological father, they will now be placed in your care. Are you currently residing in the country?

“Yes,” Rex froze, unable to do anything other than answer her question.

And you are currently employed as a police officer of the 501st district?

“Yes.”

Are you physically and mentally fit to care for a child?

“Yes.”

Rex couldn’t breathe.

We will be waiting for you at the Kamino CPS office at 32 and Broad Street where you will be able to collect your children. At what time do you expect to arrive?

Rex opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked to Cody for help.

Cody’s mouth was set in a tight line, brows pushed together, concern written across his features. As soon as he saw Rex’s eyes meet his, he pushed his way through the door.

What? Cody mouthed, stopping an arm’s length away from Rex and eyeing his phone.

All Rex could do was shake his head, eyes wide and teary.

A woman’s voice crackled to life from the phone. Excuse me, Mr. Fett? Are you still there? What time will you be arriving?

Now that Cody was in the room, he could hear the woman on the other side of the phone clearly. He extended his hand towards Rex’s phone, seeking approval from his eyes before taking it gently from the death grip Rex was holding it in.

Cody held the phone to his ear and put a hand on Rex’s shoulder, gently squeezing, “Good afternoon, this is Cody Fett. Rex’s brother. He had to… step out for a moment. Where are we to be arriving to?”

Please report to the Kamino CPS office at 32 and Front Street. Mr. Fett will be able to collect his children there. Will you be arriving this evening?

Rex was just starting to be able to sort through his thoughts as he felt Cody’s warm hand suddenly tense up on his shoulder. Rex looked up at his brother, whose tan face was quickly draining of color. His brother felt his gaze and looked down at him, flashing a quick, sad smile before responding to the CPS worker.

“We can be there in 45 minutes,” Cody looked over to Rex for confirmation and received a small nod. “Thank you. Have a nice night.”

Cody hung up the phone before the woman had a chance to respond, turned to his brother, and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

After a minute Cody pulled back to look at Rex. Rex’s tears had remained unshed, and he quickly blinked them back, “Cody, I—”

Cody held up his hands, “I know, Rex. I know. It’s alright.” Then, only after seeing Rex relax a little, “Let’s go bring them home, okay?”

Rex nodded, “Okay.”

[piscespetals]

summary: in which sevika becomes your roommate. read part three here

content: gay pinning, fluff, smut

word count: 7k

thanks for waiting! i hope you enjoy <3

Chapter Four

By the time Sevika returns, you’ve already showered, painted your nails and returned to bed.

Your body is in a lot of pain, which means that you have to take more time than usual to complete these tasks. It’s when you’re back under your duvet and taking some pain medication that you hear the apartment door open. 

There’s shuffling and multiple footsteps, surely from Monica and Sevika. So you crane your neck (which is surprisingly painful) in an attempt to hear them better. But you can't.

A few moments pass of quiet murmuring and then the pair of footsteps sound again. This time they pass by your bedroom. The apartment door opens and closes. And you hear the bolt slide shut.

Your find that your muscles begin to tremble from tensing so much, and your neck holds a dull ache from the way that you're lifting it off of the pillow. You exhale slowly, relaxing into the billows and soft cushioning that your bed provides. Everything will be okay. 

You know that Sevika is making her way towards you before it even happens. That pull within you…that incredible burn that won't seem to go away–No matter how much you will it to—only grows stronger. For her.

So when your door knob twists, and the wooden door creaks open, you expect it. She stands there before you, eyes rimmed red and puffy, sniffling quietly with hardened lines almost everywhere on her face. A frown—one simple expression that would probably scare others away—is what you notice the most. A telltale sign of her distress; the ultimate reason for your worry.

Silently, she walks into your room, boots clanking loudly against the floorboards. Her feet drag, as if her conversation with Monica has been the most exhausting activity of the day, despite it only being Noon. 

Your duvet not only keeps you warm, but keeps you from getting out of bed. It keeps you from going against your better judgment, and it listens to the ache of your strained muscles from the accident of the previous day. 

Sevika still remains in her coat, even though it’s considerably warm in your room. It doesn't seem like she’s given herself much time to get settled, with her boots still on as well as her coat, and her car keys being clutched tightly in her hand. 

She sits in your bed with careful consideration, even though the air around her stirs with unease. As if she’s afraid to break your bed—as if she’s afraid to startle you. 

Her grey irises watch you just as carefully. They hold the same glimmer as yesterday evening when you found her in the hospital waiting room; the same soul-crushing tenderness.

“Why?” You ask. You wince as you try to sit up against your headboard. That alarms her. “I’m okay,” You reassure. “I’m just…” You wince once more. “A little sore. Nothing the doctor didn't warn me about.”

“Did you take your medication?”

You nod, “A while ago.” 

You probably should've taken a heavier dosage, but you know that either way, you’d still feel a little pain. 

“Okay,” She nods, accepting your answer with furrowing brows. She swallows thickly, eyes leaving yours and darting towards the covers of your bed. They stay there as she remains deep in thought. You watch silently. 

“So,” She continues.

A small smile graces your lips. “So…” 

Her tongue darts out and brushes against her lower lip swiftly. You try not to follow the movement too closely, but you’d be silly to act like it doesn’t affect you.

“I broke up with her.”

You give her a small nod. “I heard.”

“She didn’t take it well.”

“I figured.”

Another lapse of silence filters into the conversation. 

“You can always talk to me, you know.” You continue to watch her, despite the fact that she’s currently avoiding your gaze. “Even if it may be a hard conversation…I just want you to be comfortable.” 

“Hmm.” Sevika seems to be far away–mentally.

You don’t know how to bring her back to the present. Back to you.

“Did you know–” Her voice breaks and eyes dart to you. “I was married at one point.”

Your mind swarms. Suddenly, you're pushed back to last week, when Mel accidentally revealed Sevika’s divorce to you. It was a shocking secret to be told. But you felt guilty being told such a thing. So you desperately tried to store it in a place in your brain where it would be easily forgettable.

Until now.

“What am I saying–Of course you know.” She mumbles. It’s quieter. Almost an afterthought. “Mel called me and explained that she had accidentally told you. At first, I was upset. But I realized that she told…you, of all people. You would understand. You always do.” She presses her left palm into the duvet, leaning nearly all of her weight on it. “So I waited for you.” Her eyes lift to yours. Your breath catches. “...To say something,” She rushes. Oh. Clearing her throat, “I waited for you to bring it up. But you never did.” She looks at you like she’s never seen you before, registering every detail of your face with a sense of wonder. “Why?” 

You look back with slight confusion because the answer feels obvious. At least for you it does. “When I find out information like that, I want it to be because you’ve told me. And if it hasn’t come from you, then it's not my place to know.”

“I would have told you–”

“Sev,” Your hand lands on hers. Her skin feels soft underneath yours. “I love learning new things about you because I know how you are. Opening up doesn’t come easy for you. But you’re not entitled to me. So I’m happy to experience whatever parts of yourself that you’re willing to share. And if that means that it takes you a while to tell me things like this,” You shrug, squeezing her hand. “Then it takes you a while. I’m okay with that. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well, of course you aren’t. You’re bedridden.”

“Oh god.”

She laughs. 

Her hand twitches underneath yours, knuckles grazing the inner parts of your palm. “My wife and I were together for 12 years.” She starts again. “We got married young, and for a long while, things were good.” She peers out of your window, her brown study returning. “But we grew up–we changed. She wanted kids and a life outside of my parents house. She didn’t like that we had moved. She didn’t like the town. She missed the city. She missed our old way of things. And my parent’s death…Well, I’ve always believed that it was the beginning of our end. Our trajectory of life stopped coinciding. That made me angry. I had lost my parents. I had lost my current life; the comfort of routines and traditions that I had made. And now I was losing her too. That felt–” Her lips press into a thin line. “I don’t think I had ever felt so hollow before then.”

It’s almost as if the light that consistently hovers above her is now dimmed. You try to imagine a Sevika that isn’t full of life. 

A Sevika that doesn’t find even the tiniest bits of happiness in the most mundane activities. A joyless Sevika who doesn’t find humor in your cooking failures and embarrassing childhood stories. A Sevika who you do not know–who is so different from the one that sits before you today. It’s nearly unfathomable. 

“I tried to make things right but it just wasn’t working. Living in my parents house was too much. And even more so after the divorce. Too many memories. Too many emotions. The town…Well, there was a reason that I originally moved away from there in the first place. She had moved across the country anyways, and hadn’t looked back after our papers were finalized. I wanted a fresh start too. So I sold my parents' home, packed up and flew back here.”

Somehow, while she was talking, her fingers had become entwined with yours. For a moment, you believe that you feel her pulse. It’s racing. 

You feel boneless from the realization.

You want to open your mouth and ask her if she’s alright, but a part of you also doesn't want to push her too quickly. 

“When Mel and Alicia told me about you, that you were looking for a roommate,” She wets her lips again. “They had given me all these warnings about you. How particular you are about things. That you’re easily…perturbed. And slightly immature. And a bit odd.” 

You scoff, ready to object and fume at the thought of them doing such a thing. But she only regards you with a warm chuckle and smile.

“And,” She adds quickly. “I was a bit thrown off at first. But I also knew that there was a reason they were recommending you to me. And when I met you, it clicked. It just made sense. That feeling of being empty,” Her hands grip yours tighter. “It was gone the first time I saw you. And I’ve just become fuller and fuller and fuller everytime that I'm near you. Everytime that I breathe the same air as you–everyday that passes with you in my life. That's not…that's not normal. It wasn't my normal, at least.”

Something inside of you breaks. 

“And the fact that we were becoming friends, and that we lived together?” She continues. “It felt dangerous. Seeing you that much, being near you that much, and wanting to have more of that. While also not not wanting to ruin things…” You can tell that she’s struggling to vocalize her thoughts in a comprehensible manner. It almost feels as if she wants to say so many things at once. “Then I met Monica. And that was good. That was safer. Because she’s great, and I liked her, and she was familiar...You know? Being with her didn't make me want. It didn't fill me up, not like you…And I needed that. I needed…” Her words hang in the air as she tries to reach for a further grasp of her feelings. 

“God, am I making any sense?” She turns back to you, eyes completely blown out now. You’ve never seen her so desperate... She doesn't wait for you to answer. “But then I realized that I wasn't being fair to myself. That I couldn't keep restraining myself. And not to say that I was unhappy with Monica. But she wasn't you. It's you that pulls it out of me. That makes me feel. That annoys me like no other yet manages to weave yourself into the innermost parts of myself.”

For a few seconds, the world stops spinning. And you're just a person, who’s staring back at another beautiful person, feeling seen for the first time ever in your life.

Because she gets it.

Because it’s exactly how you’ve felt ever since she came barging into your life.

You want to speak, but your voice is trapped at the back of your throat. 

“I don’t expect for you to respond or for anything to change. It’s probably best that things don’t for now.” Her head is shaking, eyes downcast at your entwined hands. “I just wanted to explain it to you.”

And that’s what really cuts through to you. 

Sevika isn’t the type of person to be impulsive. In fact, there’s been multiple times when her constant state of contemplation has annoyed you. So this is particularly out of character for her; to break up with Monica out of nowhere and confess said feelings. 

You want to welcome it. But she’s right. This can’t happen. Not yet.  

You’re smacked again with the reality of today, and you feel as if you’re experiencing a kind of vertigo. Sevika senses it.

Gently, she stands to her feet, careful not to rock your bed unnecessarily.

“You should rest.” 

You don’t object. Instead, you nod, wanting to do nothing more than take a nap and hopefully wake up with a lighter weight on your shoulders. Fatigue floods you without warning. 

“Okay,” You mumble, allowing your body to snuggle deeper into the blankets.

It’s only when she’s halfway through the door threshold that she pauses, peering at you over her shoulder to say, “If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room.”

The reminder brings you more comfort than you realize. Enough comfort, in fact, that you finally let yourself drift off into a peaceful slumber.

“I’m just glad you weren’t seriously hurt,” Vander mumbles. His voice is muffled as he takes a bite of his steak. He sits in the seat across from you, mouth almost fully covered by the remarkable amount of facial hair he’s managed to grow since you last saw him. But his eyes speak a thousand words. They gleam with a hint of sorrow. And for a few seconds, you watch as they glide over to Sevika, growing even more delicate before returning to you. “You're the only one who laughs at my jokes.”

You smile, swirling your spoon through the contents of food left in your bowl. 

Your left leg is draped over your right, which is something that pained you to do a few days ago. You’re glad to finally be able to sit at the dinner table. The bruises from the airbag and seat belt are slowly beginning to heal. And for the first time in three days, you aren’t confined to your bed watching old reruns of The Nanny. The moment you were able to walk across your room without wincing too badly, you asked Sevika to invite Vander and Hazel over for lunch. It would be something to look forward to, since you have yet to be cleared for your return to work. Plus, you really like them.

“Because,” Hazel interjects. “Your jokes are terrible.”

“They’re a little outdated…” He rolls his eyes. “But they-”

“People like them because they’re entirely unfunny.” She continues. “It’s like seeing an ugly sweater and thinking, God. This is so fucking ugly…I love it.”

A belly laugh leaves you. The kind that nearly has you keeling over with a gummy smile. 

In doing so, your socked foot accidentally bumps into one of Sevika’s shins. She’s sitting beside you, eating her food quietly with annoyingly perfect table manners. Her cologne wafts towards you for a split second and it’s crisp. And spicy. And enticingly bitter-sweet.

Her chain necklace clashes against the silver pendant that is also hanging from her neck. And her palm settles onto your knee; fingers spreading firmly against the material of your leggings with incredible sensitivity.

“Sorry,” You mumble. 

“You’re good.” But her hand doesn’t retract its touch. Instead, her thumb works into the side of your leg, motions circular.  You don't think you've ever been so high off of a simple touch.

Even when she pulls away, your fingers hold your spoon with a death grip and your knee tingles.

Later on, when Hazel and Vander are long gone, a sense of comfort washes over you.

Seconds before Sevika begins to wash the dishes, she brings a chair into the kitchen for you to sit in. 

“That way, you can annoy me while I clean,” She mumbles, eyes downcast towards the sink. You know that it’s just an excuse for you two to be near each other. You don’t mind.

You observe her in the peaceful hush of the evening. She has an odd habit of insisting to wash the dishes herself, even though the dishwasher works perfectly fine. You usually don’t object, since Sevika always seems to take extra joy in domestic activities. But you don’t believe that you’ve fully appreciated it until now.

She stands over the sink with the sleeves of her flannel shirt rolled up to her elbows. Her hair has gotten longer, practically touching her shoulders now, and a few wispy strands get in the way of her face. She seems entirely pure right then–forehead creasing with effort and lips pursing in concentration. There’s only the sound of the running water and your racing heart. An emotion close to something deeply reverential fills you.

You’re wrapped up in one of her spare quilts that she’s given you. It smells like her. It feels like she couldn’t be any closer to you. And you feel silly for being so moved by a simple gesture. It shouldn’t feel so intimate. It shouldn’t mean so much to you. But it does.

She glances up at you briefly, almost to check as if you’re still there. And when your eyes lock, you tighten your hold on the quilt. She’s caught you staring.

But you don’t think you have the bandwidth to be able to say anything on the matter. 

Of course, Sevika has caught you staring at her countless times before.

But for some reason, this time holds meaning. It has weight, and it feels like solid ground has been placed underneath you. The two of you idle that way for a while. Sevika ignores the running water and her soapy hands. 

You’re reminded of the moment, days prior, when she sat on your bed and confessed the unfathomable to you:

I’ve just become fuller and fuller and fuller everytime that I'm near you.

That sentence rings through your brain so hard that you feel as if your skull rattles. 

It's not until you’re sure every one of your bones will break, when she looks away. She resumes her task of dish cleaning and you hover on your stool, struggling to find something more to say. 

Mel shivers besides you, wrapping one of your spare blankets around her tightly as she exhales loudly. The two of you are now outside, right in front of the apartment.

You stand much more still, wrapped in multiple layers and a scarf, and hands warm due to the mittens that Sevika gifted you a while back.

“Is it really necessary to wait for her out here?” Mel grumbles. “I’ll turn into ice soon.”

“She’s just a few minutes away.” You crane your neck to look at her levelly. “I told you to stay inside, Mel.”

“And let you wait out here in the dark by yourself?” She frowns, shivering once more.

The leaves rustle in the howling wind, and the night sky is so black that it almost looks dark blue in the moonlight. It’s getting to the time of year where sunsets are occurring sooner. Days are shortening and the weather is incredibly cold. Usually, you find this season a bit hard to enjoy. But Sevika does a good job of keeping the fireplace lit. She has a special recipe of soup that is always ready if you want some and she keeps the storage closet stocked with clean quilts in case you get cold at night. She looks after you more than you do yourself sometimes.

You’re starting to believe that this time of year isn't so bad after all.

“Do you always wait for her out here?” Mel asks. Her voice has grown quieter; tender. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye and you find that she’s gazing at you inquisitively. There’s something about this question that makes you want to shrink a little. 

You don’t have the courage to meet her gaze full-on.

“Only if she needs help carrying things.”

“And…she doesn’t mind?”

“I think it took her by surprise at first. She would insist that I stay inside and that she doesn’t need help. But, I would feel bad and still help. I guess now,” You shrug. “It’s just become…a thing.”

You feel like you’re being interrogated.

Sure, Mel has been over since she moved out. But you guess she’s never visited long enough to really see how you and Sevika live. 

It makes you feel anxious. Is there something bizarre about your livelihood now? It’s different from the routines that you and Mel had, but it’s not bad… right? Why does she keep grinning like that?

As if on cue, the blinding bright lights of Sevika’s vehicle appears. 

“Finally.” Mel grumbles.

You bite the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smile while the black truck grows near. You squint from the headlights, which Sevika turns off almost immediately. Then you’re walking towards the driver's door.

She grins, per usual, through the tinted window. Her full lips are stretched wide tonight, showing a breathtaking smile, as she opens the door and hops down with ease.

“You’re crazy.” She mutters. But her smile remains. “You didn’t have to wait out here in the cold. You’ll get sick.”

“I’m warm.”

“You’re sniffling.” She sends you a narrow glance as she opens the back door and reaches for her work bag. 

“Where’s the food?”

“On the other side. I figured I could grab i–” She pauses as you walk around the vehicle and open the passenger door. Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets.

“You didn’t…”

“I was hoping to surprise you.” She calls. 

“You…” Coherent sentences fail to leave your lips as you reach for the oversized paper-brown bag sitting in the seat.

It’s from one of your favorite restaurants, a small shop that usually is open seasonally. You were waiting for it to re-open this year, and have been counting down the days to drive down and place your favorite order. It’s something that you’ve mentioned to Sevika only a few times, but you never thought she would be able to remember it. And with everything that has happened lately, you certainly hadn’t thought that she would go out of her way to find the place. 

The truck is too large for you to be able to see her face. So you grab the food and close the door, walking around the front of the truck to see her and Mel talking to each other quietly.

“You didn’t have to get this.” You say, hugging the food to your chest. It’s warm.

Mel whispers something to Sevika as the latter turns back to you. She looks cozy at that moment. Her trench coat is black and she’s wearing a creme beanie, which appears to be keeping her ears warm. You watch as she pushes her tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of her nose and purses her lips. 

Her lips.

They look moisturized. There’s a slight gleam to them, a telltale sign that she’s applied more lip balm, and they seem puffier than normal. As if she’s been chewing on them...

She surveys you from head to toe, zeroing in on the mittens that you’re wearing before she hums underneath her breath. 

“I wanted to.” She replies.

Your chest constricts. Your eyelids flutter and a sigh escapes.

Mel clears her throat. “Can you two pause the flirting so we go inside? I’m freezing my ass off!"

She doesn’t wait for a response.

Instead, she snickers at the way your eyes widen before running past you and towards the apartment. 

You're bundled up wordlessly on the couch, cookies in hand as you watch Sevika bolt into the living room with a spatula.

Hazel cheers from the recliner, and Vander sits only a few feet away from you. He also stands to his feet, face reddening as his hands clench into fists. All three pairs of eyes are glued to the television screen, and your ears ring once more as your friends let out rounds of applause. 

“They're trying for another one?” Sevika asks, voice full of mirth. 

Vander doesn't break his gaze away from the screen when he answers, “They have enough time to do it. I wouldn't be surprised!”

It's another football Sunday.

You don't follow sports closely so you can't exactly say that you understand the intricacies of what they're talking about. But you can guess that their team is winning by the ridiculous grin on Sevika’s face. She’s supposed to be making lunch, but she keeps returning from the kitchen to get an update on the score. You think it's a funny sight to see, considering the fact that there's a television in the kitchen where she can watch the game. But it’s probably more enjoyable to be viewing it with everyone else.

“Who’s the goalie again?” You ask, hoping to get a reaction out of Sevika. She doesn't particularly enjoy when you fuck up the football terminology. The first few times it was accidental. Now you just do it because you know it'll get a rise out of her.

“Sweetheart…” She doesn't look at you, turning on her heels to walk back to the kitchen. Despite the pet name, you see the slight shake of her head, and there's also a buried layer of tightness in her voice.

It takes all of your strength to refrain from laughing. “It's only a question!”

“Do you not remember my answer from the last dozen times you’ve asked this?” Her voice reverberates off the kitchen walls and travels to where you are in the living room. Before you can reply, Hazel and Vander jump out of their seat again, this time screeching unbearably loud.

“That was a fucking foul!” Hazel’s eyes are deadly as they glare at the screen. Vander's jaw begins to grind.

You hear the sound of footsteps before Sevika appears again, this time with frazzled eyes and a towel draped over her shoulder. 

“What happened?”

You swing your leg at the very last minute, muscles tensing as your eyes widen towards the spill before you. “Shit!”

Then you’re laughing at yourself, nearly causing another spill from your piping hot mug of tea. 

“Oh god.” Mel grumbles but you can hear a smile in her tone. “What have you done now?”

Another giggle leaves you. “I can’t walk without spilling apparently.”

Within seconds, Mel is already wiping the tile floor with a clean towel. 

“Have I told you how much I love you?” You profess, making your way towards her sitting room. You’re visiting the house that she and Alicia have just recently purchased. It’s a bit ostentatious for your liking. But it’s everything that Mel deserves. A part of you even believes that she’ll forever deserve so much more–an entire kingdom of her own if she truly desires.

“Of course!” She croons. “Every time I help you with your messes.”

“....I wouldn’t say every time.”

Her hand slides to your lower back, guiding you towards the nearest piece of furniture. Even though the accident was a a few weeks ago, she still treats you as if you’re susceptible to breaking at any moment. It’s been a little suffocating. But you’re still grateful for her nonetheless. 

“Is that a new sweater?” She asks while you sit down. Your gaze falls to the crew neck that you’re wearing, a strong whiff of cologne filling your nostrils. 

“Oh. No.” You tug at the collar. “It's Sev’s.”

Silence looms in the air as you anxiously wait for her response. This is a new development. It's not often that you're walking around with Sevika's articles of clothing. 

But Mel’s response never comes. When you peer at her, she regards you with gentle eyes and lips that slowly curve. She says nothing more on the subject.

Instead, she hands you the bowl of fresh soup she’s just made. “It's hot. Be careful.”

Of course you don't listen and burn your tongue upon the first sip.

And, as always, Mel scolds you.

And then she helps you.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t stressed out.

Between handling the car repairs from the accident and updating the insurance claim, as well as the weird energy now circling you and Sevika—everything just seems to be a little too much right now.

The first mishap is when Sevika comes home from work to find you with both of your arms hanging in the air, and wax strips attached to your armpits. You usually like to pick up hobbies when you’re stressed out and you’ve always wanted to try waxing. But you hadn’t thoroughly watched the youtube video. So what was originally supposed to be an exciting new activity, quickly became anything but that. 

You had been pacing the living room, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to work up the courage to pull off the strip. That’s when Sevika unlocks the front door and walks through the threshold, bundled up in layers of clothing as a draft from the chilly evening is brought in with her. 

You halt your steps, eyes widening and nose still running.

She blinks back at you, just as bewildered, with lips forming into an 'O' and eyes trailing up and down your physique. “Is everything okay?”

That’s what causes the dam to break; your vision blurs and your chest rises with panic. Then you're crying, “I can’t rip it off!” Your arms raise again, flailing in the air ridiculously as you bring your armpits to the center of her attention.

Her eyebrows lift as realization dawns on her. “Oh,” Is that amusement? Slowly, her lips stretch into a small grin and her eyes begin to sparkle in a way that you usually adore. But not now. Not during an emergency! “Oh, sweetheart.” Her lips press against each other, a poor attempt to hide her mirth, as she kicks the door shut and locks it. Then she’s walking towards you, “Surely, it’s not that bad.”

“It’s awful!” Your eyes start to well again as you gesture towards your pits. 

She concedes, gazing at you with an annoying amount of warmth. “Okay, it’s awful.”

You can tell that she’s agreeing with you just to provide comfort. And you hate that it almost works. 

“I’ve waited too long, Sev. My skin will rip off!” 

She laughs.

Laughs!

You cry harder.

“You’re really,” She inhales deeply, trying to calm her chuckles. “...Quite the thespian.”

“Sevika!”

“Okay, okay. Here,” One of her hands press into the small of your back and guides you towards the nearby couch. “I’ll help. Just breathe.”

Your stress manifests itself in other ways, like when you start bringing home files from your job and reviewing them at night. It’s what you do to keep yourself busy—to keep yourself from hanging around Sevika like a lost puppy every night.

You can tell that she notices it. She stops by your room every once and a while to check on you, and when your replies are uncharacteristically short, she hovers. 

She doesn’t truly address it until the fifth night rolls around and you’re holed up in your room again, sitting on your bed with small mountains of paperwork around you. As always, she knocks on the door, you tell her to come in, and she pads into the room with a cup of tea and a snack for you.

When you peer up at her, you notice that she’s wearing one of those cotton t-shirts that always look heavenly on her. Sweatpants hang loosely from her hips, dipping just enough to where you catch a glimpse of her happy trail. And her v-lines are so deep that they’re practically etched into stone. You blink through clouds of brain fog, trying to will yourself to continue breathing. But it’s hard. 

“You should take a break,” She mumbles.

Pulling your eyes away from her, you move your paperwork aside, stretching out the sore muscles in your legs. “I’m not, like,” You blink once more. She smells so good. “Overwhelmed or anything.”

Carefully, she places the mug on your nightstand. You watch as her eyes remain downcast. Her hair is freshly washed, slightly damped and tucked behind her ears. The ends are a bit split now, resting ever-so-slightly against the tops of her broad shoulders.

“Here,” She holds out the small ceramic plate towards you. It has a couple of toasted butter croissants. One of your favorites. 

Nimbly, you take the plate. Without thinking, you pull your legs to your chest, “You can sit,” And your eyes travel to the spot in your bed where your feet once were. She appraises you for a few seconds, a habit of hers that you’ve grown accustomed to. However, at this moment, it’s difficult to not feel affected by it. It’s difficult to ignore the way that it makes you yearn for so many things. 

When she sits down, you notice that it’s much closer than you anticipated.

Then she mutters, “Are you avoiding me?” 

So much for beating around the bush.

Something about the way she cuts straight to the point–the way that her gaze has yet to leave you–makes your gut twist. You take this moment as an opportunity to shove a piece of croissant into your mouth. 

“Because if you are–” Her right palm presses into the duvet. It’s only inches away from your foot. “If it’s about what I told you last month, then we can just act like that never happened.” 

You swallow your mouthful of food, wincing slightly because you failed to chew it completely before doing so. When you glance back up at Sevika, you marvel at the swirl of her irises. She considers you seriously with bated breath. 

Then, that’s when you feel it; the sense of complete satisfaction. 

Because of her.

A part of you feels silly because how on earth could you run from this? And why would you ever want to avoid this? Avoid her?

There’s an element of stress that you’ve been feeling because this is all new. And it’s scary, and single handedly the reason why she broke up with Monica. But it’s also real and rare and, because of that, something that should absolutely be cherished. Not thrown away.

I’ve just become fuller and fuller and fuller everytime that I'm near you.

Over the course of this past month, those words have repeated so much in your mind that they’re practically tattooed onto your hippocampus. It’s all you’ve been able to think about, even during the shifts at your job. Even during the calls with your insurance company and the repair shop.

Sevika’s voice always manages to sit at the forefront.

The bed squeaks as she leans more weight onto her left hand, an action that allows her to shift closer to you. You rest your plate beside you on a pillow, croissants and hunger now discarded.

“We don’t have to forget it.” You find yourself saying. You think of the countless mornings that she makes you breakfast, and the times that she sits with you in the living room despite her lack of interest in the television programs you pick. You think of the evenings that you stand outside the apartment, waiting for her to arrive home from the store; how she always bears the heaviest grocery loads in spite of your objections. 

Shaking your head, you correct yourself. “I don’t want to forget it.”

Your mind travels to all the other moments that you’ve shared with Sevika. The notes that she leaves on the refrigerator, encouraging you to have a good day. And the spare blankets that she always washes for you; in case you become cold during the night.

Then there's the fact that she doesn’t become angry at your music playing in the late hours of the day. And her unwavering forgiveness after everything that happened with Monica; after all the times you’ve tested her patience.

“It’s just that this is so new,” You gesture to the small space between you and her. “And I don’t want to mess it up. And on top of that, I’m trying to navigate everything with the car wreck. It’s just... It’s hard.” Your breathing becomes uneven when you exhale. 

“I can help.” She shifts closer. The tips of her fingers nearly brush against your socked foot. 

“I can’t ask that of you. It’s my mess.”

“It can be my mess too.” Smiling, she dips her head to level her gaze. Her breath wafts towards you and it smells of peppermint. “I don’t mind.”

“But–”

“It’s not a problem at all for me. Nothing about you is.”

She doesn’t quite touch you, but you don’t know if what she’s doing is much different. With her sitting so close…you’re not sure if it truly matters. You can still feel the heat of her skin radiating off of her, as well as the warmth of her piercing stare. She watches you with eyes that could work out every kink in your body upon a single glance.

“You’re already giving me rides to and from work,” You begin. This is your last try—your final effort to keep her at arms length. “It’s too kind of you, Sev.”

Sevika’s always been the polite one out of you two—that’s not a secret. And it’s even been joked about a few times by Mel. 

“Why don’t you want me to be here for you?” Her head tilts as she asks this.

You blink, almost perplexed, “Well there has to be an expiration date at some point, right?”

Her response is slow. “...I’m not following.”

“For you to always be so acquiescent,” You rub your palms against the top of your thighs. “Even when I have nothing to give you in return. It doesn't make sense. There has to be a point where you won't feel so obliged anymore. An expiration date—” Your rambling halts when her hand wraps around your ankle. Gently, she presses her thumb against the base of your shin, then she works into your skin. A delicate massage. 

Slowly, she tugs. You allow your leg to be pulled towards her. Pretty soon, your other leg follows and she readjusts herself, so that the back of your thighs are almost resting on her lap. She's close. Really close.

Even though your heart is racing, out of mere instinct your hands stretch towards her.

“An expiration date will happen at some point and you won't want this. You won't want…me. And that's okay. Really. It’s—”

“Not possible.” When she smiles, you fall apart. It's the worst kind of heartbreak; the kind that’s painstakingly beautiful.

One of her hands continue to drape over your thighs, holding you in her lap as if you’re something to revere. Her other hand settles on top of your restless fingers, which happen to be kneading the hem of her shirt. She halts your fidgeting with a small squeeze.  

“That’s not possible,” She echoes, this time a little quieter. 

Her pupils are dilated with a fixed gaze, zeroing in on your nose. Then your lips. Oh.

As time passes, you try to swallow but you can't. 

Out of complete desire, you reach up and allow your fingertips to brush against the warmth of her skin. She watches you cautiously, almost alarmed, because you’ve never done anything like this before. Your knuckles graze alongside the sharpness of her cheekbones. With bated breath, she waits. Waits and waits and waits while you feel every inch of her skin.

It's unknown territory that you've stepped into. Yet it feels entirely natural all the same.

Your lips part when she leans in, and another cloud of her scent wafts around you. It soothes you and that fullness inside of you peaks to the highest of heights. It bursts, creating an impactful explosion—so much so that you can no longer hold yourself back. 

You swallow, finally, and lean forward too. It feels like too much time has passed when you close the distance. Her breathing stutters, eyes remaining on your lips before they flutter shut within the millisecond that she meets you.

Then, all at once, you feel your skin buzz. You hear the soaring of your heart when it shoots high up into the sky. You taste the sweetness of her lips and the warmth of her breath. It's good. Too good. 

When she moans, the sound vibrates into you. It zooms past the thudding of your heart, through the walls of your veins and soles of your feet. Your body reacts and you angle closer to her immediately. 

She pulls you into her lap with ease. Because that's how it always is with Sevika: easy. Kissing her is innate and you start to question how you’ve denied yourself such a privilege all this time. 

Sevika with her soft skin and shining grey eyes and warm smiles. This is her in front of you, kissing you back and accepting all that you're giving her without question. Without hesitation. 

This is real.

You press into her again as your arms lock around her shoulders. Another moan leaves her.

This is definitely real.

It's not until your pulling away for air when you allow your eyes to open.

The room is practically spinning. Oh god.

She nips at your neck while her hands find solace underneath your shirt. Her palms are flat against your lower back and fingers spread. And when something soft escapes your throat, her lips curve into a smile. She helps you sink lower into her lap—you're practically humping her now—with a grip that is both heady and encouraging.

“You can have me,” She says, her breath hot against your skin. 

You blink slowly, scrambling to keep up with the sound of her voice. 

You're slow to reply, so she pulls you two apart, just so that she can look directly at you. Her forefinger brushes against the tip of your chin, eyes locking with yours, and expression full of intent.

“Anything you want,” She mutters. It's hard to not become distracted by her lips; they're puffier than usual from the kissing. “Just say the words and I’ll give it to you.”

You're not sure why it happens at this exact moment, but your muscles lock up. Your vision starts to blur as you peer at her with swimming orbs, hands gripping her shoulders shakily.

Shit. You're definitely in too deep now...

"That's dangerous.”

She watches you for a few moments longer. Then, “How so?”

“Because I’ll want all of you.” A tear trickles down your cheek. Your cards are now laid out on the table. 

“Then have all of me.” 

Your hand curls around the back of her neck when she kisses your cheek—right where your tear is. 

“Just take it. All of it,” She whispers. Another kiss, this time it lingers longer. “I'm yours to have anyways.”

That breaks you. Truly breaks you. 

It’s hard to wrap your brain around how serious she is. But you start to believe her when her fingers push into you for the first time, eliciting a whimper from your lips. And as her fingers reach deeper and deeper, she swallows every sound you make with visceral pleasure. It satisfies her beyond anything famothable, to work into you and watch you unfold before her. Knowing that such a thing pleases her is what drives you mad.

It’s what has you crying please, please, please when she thrusts into you, watching you thank whatever God can hear you.  

Then she begins to tell you that you can let go, and that you’re doing so good. 

Because, you're really fucking special, and she wants you to know that. To feel that. 

Because she needs you to know that. She needs this and she needs you. She will never stop needing you.

Because, God, you're so fucking perfect. 

And when you’re cresting with tears rolling down your cheeks, blubbering about her having your heart and that she’s it for you—because you're certain there’ll never be anyone else—

She’s nodding, starry eyed and wanting, whispering, IknowIknowIknow as each thrust is fucked into you with delicious fervor.

Because, you're it for her too.

And she doesn't mind helping you realize that. Even if you demand that she drills it into you for the rest of the night.