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sxytwker · 18 days ago

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Something Different

Summary: You come home from a lecture and now you have a bratty attitude with Luigi. At first, he doesn’t care, but when you start to sass him around, he doesn’t let that slide. So, he obviously teaches you a lesson.

Smut • MDNI

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The door slammed like it had something to prove.

Luigi Mangione didn’t flinch. He barely looked up from the laptop perched on his thick thighs, glasses slipping just a bit down his nose as he scrolled through lines of code. One push of his finger and the lenses nudged back into place. The cursor blinked.

So did he. Slowly. Calmly.

“Rough day?” he asked, voice low, stretched with boredom and maybe a little amusement. He knew that slam. That specific energy. She was in a mood.

He heard her kick off her shoes. The sigh came next — long, dramatic, and sharp enough to slice drywall.

“You don’t even wanna know,” she muttered, stomping past him in that way she did when she wanted attention without asking for it. Gold bangles clinked on her wrist as she tugged her hoodie off the back of a chair. Brown wavy hair half-fell from her clip.

He finally looked up.

“Tell me anyway,” Luigi said, cocking his head. A smirk pulled at his mouth — the one she hated. And loved. She always acted like she didn’t notice how good it looked on him.

She rolled her eyes. “Professor Menson is an actual parasite. And my lab partner—don’t get me started, Luigi, I swear—if she sighs at me one more time I will flip a fume hood onto her.”

“Mmhm,” he said, still not moving, still smug. “Sounds like you’ve had a long day being the smartest person in the room.”

She scoffed, already disappearing into the bedroom. “You say that like it’s fun.”

When she came back out, she’d changed.

Oversized hoodie. Hair down. Cotton panties — his favorites, he noticed instantly, though she pretended not to notice him noticing. She was scrolling her phone now, on the couch, legs folded under her like a bratty little queen, fake-distracted.

Luigi’s eyes flicked up again, slow and knowing.

“You done with the storm cloud act?” he asked.

She didn’t even look at him. “I’m not in the mood, Luigi.”

“You never are when you walk in the door,” he said, voice warm, smug, and just shy of cruel. He closed the laptop and set it aside. “But you forget, sweetheart—”

She finally looked up, caught in his gaze. His eyes were sharp, narrowed, cocky.

“I know how to fix that.”

She opened her mouth to sass him, but the words got stuck somewhere around the time he stood up and pulled off his hoodie in one motion — casual, confident. His white t-shirt stretched tight around biceps that practically dared her to look away. The ones she liked to pretend she didn’t fantasize about when he was typing one-handed and sipping espresso with the other.

She bit her lip. It was so fast she didn’t even notice it.

Luigi noticed. He always noticed.

“Ohhh,” he grinned, walking toward her, “now that’s the look I needed.”

She threw a pillow at him. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I don’t need to,” he said, catching the pillow mid-air. “You do it for me.”

He was in front of her now, crowding her on the couch, one knee on the cushion beside her thigh, the other foot still on the floor. She looked up, and the way his glasses had slipped again made him look even more dangerous.

She tried to sass him again — tried. “You think you’re such—”

He cut her off by dragging his fingers under her chin and tilting her face up.

“No,” he murmured. “I know I am.”

There was a shift then — subtle but unmistakable. His hand moved to her waist, fingers sliding under the hem of her hoodie, dragging along bare skin that was suddenly, shamefully warm.

“You wanna keep rolling your eyes at me, sweetheart ?” he asked. “Be careful. Might have to remind you what happens when you forget who runs this house.”

“Oh my God,” she muttered, “you are—”

“What?” he said, cocking his head, voice low and silken. “Too cocky? Or too right?”

She hated how good he smelled. How strong his grip was. How right he was.

And then he kissed her — rough, like a promise. Like a man who knew what she needed before she could say it.

And she stopped thinking altogether.

Her breath caught when he kissed her, and for a second, the attitude melted. Just long enough for her to relax against his chest, let his hand on her hip take control. She leaned into it, let him steal the sass right out of her mouth. For a second, she was quiet. Soft. Sweet.

But then he pulled back with that grin — that damn grin — and something in her snapped right back into place.

“Oh, please,” she said, eyebrows raised as she wiped her lip with the back of her hand. “You think that’s gonna fix my mood?”

Luigi’s brow arched. “Didn’t hear you complaining two seconds ago.”

She rolled her eyes so hard it was practically a full-body movement. Then she stood up — that sharp little exit she always made when she wanted to remind him she ran things. Or at least pretended to.

“I’m getting a snack,” she said, brushing past him on the way to the kitchen. “Since clearly, you’re not feeding me.”

Luigi let his head fall back with a groan. Loud. Exaggerated. He dragged a hand through his curls, muttering something in Italian as he followed her with slow, heavy steps.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said, voice rough now. Less playful.

She didn’t even look at him. Just opened the cabinet with a little shake of her hips, like she knew he was watching. She reached up, stretching — on purpose, obviously — until her hoodie lifted just enough to flash a peek of soft skin.

“God, you love pushing it, don’t you?” he said behind her.

She didn’t answer. Just kept reaching.

He was there in a second.

One hand slammed down on the counter beside her hip. The other followed, caging her in. Arms braced on either side of her. Solid. Unmovable. His chest brushed her back, and she froze for just half a second.

Then she exhaled. “What are you doing?”

“Dealing with a problem,” he said, voice low, eyes burning through the back of her neck. “The problem being your tone.”

She smirked. “You have a tone now.”

He tilted his head, jaw tight, lips parted just enough to show the edge of a snarl. “You don’t get to brat your way out of everything, you know.”

“I think I do,” she said, smile syrupy sweet. “It’s part of my charm.”

He leaned in until his nose brushed just under her ear.

“Your charm,” he said, “is getting on my nerves.”

She giggled. Actually giggled. Bold. Reckless.

Luigi exhaled like he was counting to ten. Then his hands moved — not rough, not yet, just enough to turn her by the waist so her back was against the counter now. So he could see that face. Those pretty glasses. That smug little expression she wore like armor.

And he looked down at her with that annoyed, hungry fire in his eyes.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he said, “and you’re gonna lose the ability to stand up for a while.”

Her smile faltered for half a second. But only half.

“Promises, promises,” she whispered.

Luigi’s jaw ticked.

The next move he made — that would wipe the smirk right off her face.

She stayed pinned between the counter and him, but her body language screamed defiance. Chin tilted. Arms crossed. Legs brushing his like it was an accident — it wasn’t.

Luigi’s arms were still caging her in, muscles flexed like he was holding himself back more than holding her in place. His eyes scanned her face, slow and sharp. He didn’t say anything right away — just looked.

That look.

Brows raised, tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss her or throw her over his shoulder. Probably both.

“You’re still doing this?” he asked, head tilting slightly like he was marveling at her.

She didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. Her eyes narrowed just enough. Lips twitching like she was holding back a smile. It was quiet, but the bratty attitude was all there — loud and smug in the way she held his stare without blinking.

Luigi huffed a laugh, low and frustrated, dragging a hand down his face.

“You just don’t learn, do you.”

She shrugged, biting her lip — innocent if you didn’t know better. “Maybe I like getting on your nerves.”

He laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. Then he leaned in again, real close — forehead almost touching hers, breath warm, eyes locked on her like she was a dare he couldn’t wait to take.

“Oh, you love it,” he said, voice dropping dangerously low. “You live for this. Pissing me off just enough to see what I’ll do.”

She blinked, slow and smug, eyes sparkling behind her glasses. “Maybe I’m just bored.”

Luigi’s brow shot up. Tongue in cheek again. His whole face shifted into that look — half exasperated, half impressed, completely done with her.

“You are so lucky you’re cute,” he muttered.

Then, without warning, his hand dropped to her thigh, fingers gripping with purpose, pulling her closer until their hips met. Her breath hitched just barely — but he caught it. Of course he did.

“And you’re quiet now,” he said, cocking his head. “Finally.”

She stared up at him, lips parted slightly, still not speaking. But that look in her eyes — bold, bratty, unbothered — hadn’t gone anywhere.

She was challenging him.

Luigi smirked, completely fed up and completely into it. His other hand slid to the back of her neck, thumb stroking just beneath her jaw.

“I’m gonna wipe that little look off your face,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”

She still didn’t speak.

But the corner of her mouth curled up, just a little.

Like she wanted him to try.

Luigi’s hand stayed on her neck, thumb grazing under her jaw, grip just firm enough to remind her who was bigger, stronger, in charge — when he wanted to be.

She was still giving him that look.

That smug, bratty spark in her eyes like she was daring him to do something about it. Like she’d been waiting all day just to get under his skin. And now that she had, she was enjoying it a little too much.

Luigi rolled his eyes hard, jaw clenching as he shook his head, half-laughing in disbelief.

“You’re actually insane,” he muttered. “You start with me, get all mouthy, give me attitude — just so I’ll manhandle you like this.”

She blinked slowly, still quiet, still smug. But her eyes flicked down to his biceps — one of those little flickers she thought he wouldn’t catch.

He caught it.

“Oh, you’re sick,” he said, grinning now, voice heavier. “You’re obsessed.”

He flexed his arm just slightly, still bracing it next to her head, and watched her eyes immediately snap back up. Caught. Fully.

“Mmhmm,” he smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Her breath was getting a little uneven now. The sass was still in her face — but her body was starting to give her away. Her thighs shifted slightly. Her fingers twitched at her sides like she didn’t know where to put them. She stayed bratty, but barely.

“You really think you’re hot shit, huh?” she whispered, voice thin and shaky in a way she hoped he wouldn’t notice.

He noticed. And he leaned in again, this time with his mouth right against her ear.

“I know I am,” he said. “And you act like you hate it. But here you are — backed up against a counter, breathing all heavy, wearing those little panties I like, giving me that face.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her again.

“Still giving me attitude,” he added, head tilted, “but your eyes are screaming please wreck me.”

That was the last straw for him.

One hand stayed on her neck. The other came down to grip the counter edge beside her hip as he moved in and kissed her — hard. Not soft, not sweet, just pent-up frustration and heat that had been building all evening. She gasped into it, fingers clenching into his shirt instantly, body arching forward like she’d finally snapped.

He lifted her — easily — and set her on the counter without breaking the kiss. Her legs wrapped around his waist like it was instinct.

Luigi pulled back only slightly, breathing heavy now, eyes dark and intense as he stared at her.

“Still bored?” he asked.

She couldn’t even answer.

Didn’t need to.

He smirked again, lips brushing hers.

“Didn’t think so.”

Her back hit the cabinets with a soft thud as he stepped between her thighs, the cool marble of the counter under her thighs making her gasp. But Luigi didn’t give her time to catch her breath. Not tonight.

“You’re so—fucking—annoying,” he growled, each word punctuated with a kiss that was more teeth than lips. “You push and push and push—”

Her fingers tangled in his curls, eyes wide and glassy now, lips parted like she wanted to say something snarky but couldn’t form the words.

He tilted his head, eyes wild, smirk twisted into something darker. “Nah. Don’t even start.”

His hand came up fast, fingers slipping between her lips before she had a chance to argue — two thick fingers filling her mouth, pressing her tongue down. Just like that.

She froze. Eyes wide. Then melted instantly.

“Oh my God,” he muttered, watching her lips close around them like she was made for this. “You like that?”

She blinked up at him, cheeks flushed, mouth full. She nodded — slow, deliberate, bratty even now, her tongue swirling around his fingers just to drive him crazy.

Luigi actually laughed. A low, stunned giggle, like he couldn’t believe how far gone she already was.

“That’s sick,” he whispered. “You’re disgusting.”

She moaned softly around his fingers in response, and he cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips against the counter, against her, like his body couldn’t help it.

“You get mouthy just so I’ll shut you up,” he said, eyes locked on hers, voice rough and fast now. “And you’re so good when I do. Look at you. Finally quiet.”

He pulled his fingers out of her mouth slowly, watching a thin strand of spit follow them, and wiped it off on the hem of her hoodie like he owned her.

“You’re mine when you’re like this,” he said, voice dropped down to a rasp, leaning in again, grabbing her jaw to keep her eyes on his. “No attitude. No fucking smart mouth. Just you — quiet and desperate.”

She whimpered, hips grinding against him now, completely undone, but that same spark was still in her eyes — bratty, but worshipful.

“Yeah,” Luigi muttered, grinning darkly, licking his lips. “That’s right. You love being handled.”

And he was just getting started.

Her head tipped back against the cabinets, lips swollen, breath hitching as he leaned in again — this time with both hands gripping her thighs, spreading them wider without asking, without hesitating.

Luigi was grinning now. That smug, feral kind of grin. Like he was both fed up and having the time of his life.

“You’ve been asking for this all fucking night,” he muttered, pushing her hoodie up around her waist like it was getting in the way — because it was. “And now you want to act all quiet and sweet?”

He laughed again. A sharp, low sound that vibrated right against her skin.

“Nope. Not happening.”

She tried to say something — maybe another tease, maybe just a breathy whimper — but his fingers were back in her mouth before she got the chance.

“Nah, baby. Shhh. You’ve said enough.”

She closed her lips around them like instinct, eyes fluttering, legs pulling him closer like she needed him in every possible way at once.

And Luigi was loving every second of it.

His free hand stayed on her waist, fingers digging in as he pulled her flush against his body — hips grinding, arms flexed, chest heaving. His glasses were fogging up from how close he was, but he didn’t care. Didn’t even blink.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, rutting against her like he couldn’t control it anymore. “So goddamn messy for me. All this mouth earlier, and now I’ve got you quiet with two fingers?”

He pulled them out again just enough to speak — her spit dripping down his knuckles, her lips chasing them like she wasn’t ready to let go.

“Say somethin’ now, sweetheart,” he whispered, breath hot against her cheek. “C’mon. Where’s that fucking attitude?”

She opened her mouth — maybe to say something bratty, maybe not — but he was already sliding them back in, slow and deep, pressing on her tongue like he was daring her to choke.

“Nope,” he said, smirking. “Too late.”

She moaned — muffled and desperate — and he felt her shudder against him.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

His hips rolled again, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second, overwhelmed by how good she felt, how perfectly her body fit around his. But then he opened them — and they were wild. Dark. Hungry.

He looked down at her like she was a goddamn meal.

And he wasn’t even close to full.

“God, you’re gonna be sore tomorrow,” he whispered, voice low and reverent, but still cocky as hell. “And you’re not even gonna complain. ‘Cause you love when I lose it on you like this.”

She whimpered, nodding with his fingers still in her mouth.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning wider. “You love being manhandled.”

He picked her up again — effortlessly — and turned, slamming her down on the kitchen table now, hair fanned out, gold jewelry glinting under the warm light.

And he stood over her, chest heaving, curls wild, that charming smile now dangerous, addictive, and fully unhinged.

“Hope you weren’t planning on walking straight tomorrow,” he said, slipping his shirt off in one motion. “Because I’m not done.”

The kitchen table creaked under her as Luigi stepped back just enough to strip, eyes locked on hers the whole time. He peeled off his shirt first — that solid chest and those arms she was embarrassingly obsessed with on full display — and then his boxers, dropping them to the floor like he was throwing down a challenge.

She lifted her head slightly, eyes widening as he came into full view. And then, even through the heavy breathing, the flushed cheeks, the sweat-slicked heat between them…

She grinned.

That same bratty smile, softer now, but still there.

“Mmm,” she hummed, lips twitching. “Mr. PhD.”

Luigi froze — then burst into a laugh, breathless and delighted, running a hand over his face.

“Oh my God,” he said, chuckling, head tilted back. “You’re insane.”

“Pretty Huge—”

“—Don’t finish it,” he warned, pointing at her as he grinned, stepping back in close.

She just smirked.

But the second he was between her thighs again, everything shifted. His hand grabbed her jaw, thumb brushing her bottom lip.

“You finally done being a brat, baby?” he asked, voice teasing, but lined with something a little more serious underneath.

She nodded slowly, pupils blown, cheeks flushed, lips still wet from his fingers.

“Good girl,” Luigi said, voice low and dangerous, and something in her snapped at those two words. Her thighs clenched instinctively around his hips.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmured, almost amused. “My good girl. Finally.”

He didn’t give her time to answer.

His hands gripped her thighs and yanked her to the edge of the table like she weighed nothing. Her gasp turned into a sharp moan as he lined himself up, leaned in, and pressed his forehead to hers, still grinning through his teeth.

“I’m still gonna be rough with you,” he whispered. “Because you earned it.”

And then he pushed in — slow but deep — and her mouth fell open in a silent gasp, eyes rolling back just a little.

Luigi groaned, head dropping to her shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growled. “Every damn time.”

She tightened around him, hands clawing at his back, that bratty fire in her eyes now flickering with something else: surrender.

And he loved it. Ate it up.

His hands wrapped under her thighs, lifting her slightly off the table, holding her there while he started to move — hips snapping forward, rhythm building fast, rough, controlled but barely.

“Still got that smart mouth?” he panted, between thrusts. “Say something else, baby. Go ahead.”

But she couldn’t.

She was already half gone.

And Luigi?

Luigi was grinning, panting, sweat running down his chest, his curls stuck to his forehead, a giggle breaking through the ragged edges of his breath every time he saw her try and fail to come up with a comeback.

He was still annoyed. Still rough. Still giving her exactly what she needed.

And he was just getting started.

The table rocked under them with each deep thrust, wood creaking, her back arching as he drove into her like he had something to prove — and maybe he did.

Maybe this was about every eye roll. Every bratty little comment. Every strut into the apartment like she didn’t need him — just to make him prove that she did.

Luigi leaned in close, forehead brushing hers, breath hot and ragged, curls damp and sticking to his temples. He was watching her now, really watching her — how her mouth hung open, lips red and swollen, eyes fluttering but never leaving his arms, his chest, the way his biceps bulged every time he adjusted his grip on her thighs.

“Now you’re lookin’ at me right,” he rasped, still grinning like the devil. “You gonna talk, baby? Or still too busy drooling?”

She whimpered, hands moving up to his shoulders, then into his hair — those curls she always claimed to hate because they made him even cockier, now tangled in her fingers like a lifeline.

“I—Lu,” she breathed, voice high and thin, breaking on the syllable. “Lu—oh my God.”

“Oh now it’s Lu?” he laughed, voice raw and breathless. “No more ‘shut up, Luigi’? No more stompin’ around like you run the place?”

She shook her head, pupils blown, lips trembling. Her fingers clutched at his hair tighter, dragging him closer like she needed him to stay in control, to keep going, to not stop.

“I’m—I’m being good,” she whined, voice soft and desperate. “I’m being good for you now.”

He groaned at that. Real and guttural.

“Oh fuck, baby. You are. Finally.”

He slammed into her harder, the sound echoing through the kitchen, and her gasp came out half a sob. Her legs shook, her back arched, but his arms held her up like it was nothing. Strong. Unshakable. Like he was built to wreck her and keep her standing all at once.

She watched them again — his arms. Those damn arms. How easily he handled her like she was made of air. How they flexed and rippled with every movement, veins popping, sweat dripping down the curve of his biceps like something carved out of marble.

She moaned, head falling back. “Luigi, your arms—”

He laughed again — sharp and cocky, dragging his teeth across her jaw.

“Yeah? You want me to flex for you while I’m ruining you?”

She nodded helplessly, lips parted, eyes glazed.

He adjusted his grip, curling his arms tighter under her thighs, bouncing her on the edge of the table with a force that made her breath catch.

“Hold on, baby,” he muttered, eyes dark and glowing now, teeth bared in a smile that was pure sin. “We’re not done. You think this is me going hard?”

She whimpered, nails scraping down his back.

“This is me warming up.”

Her body trembled under his grip, legs barely holding form as he kept her right at the edge — deep, rough thrusts rolling through her like aftershocks. Her hands clawed uselessly at his shoulders, his arms, like she didn’t know what to do with herself anymore.

Luigi was panting now, his curls sticking to his forehead, his mouth open, neck flushed, veins in his arms bulging as he held her up like it was nothing. Still cocky. Still wild-eyed. But tired now — in that satisfied way.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he breathed against her throat, voice wrecked but still smug. “You get like this every time I handle you.”

Her eyes rolled back. She wasn’t talking anymore — she couldn’t. She was too busy whimpering, panting, letting the high-pitched, breathless “Lu… Lu…” tumble out of her mouth like she didn’t even know she was saying it.

“Aw, baby,” he laughed, low and shaky. “You gone dumb for me?”

She nodded, slow and lazy, lips parted, voice barely there.

“Please… I’m—Luigi—please—”

He wrapped an arm tighter around her waist, pressed his forehead to hers.

“Almost there, baby,” he whispered, his voice all grit and heat. “Be good. Come with me. I got you.”

And then—

She broke. Legs shaking, body collapsing into his, whimpering into his mouth as her whole world short-circuited.

He followed a breath later, groaning into her shoulder, arms locking around her like a vise, hips stuttering, everything crashing down in one final wave. He held her like that, forehead on her chest, both of them gasping and shaking and so tangled together there was no space left between them.

It was quiet for a moment.

Then—

“I’m… I’m sorry, Lu,” she mumbled, barely audible.

Luigi froze.

Lifted his head.

Looked at her — really looked at her — flushed and wrecked and completely sincere, her fingers still tangled in his curls like she never wanted to let go.

And he melted.

The cocky grin faded. His eyes softened. His lips pressed into a smile that was all affection, no edge.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, brushing her hair off her sweaty forehead. “You’re okay. You’re so okay.”

He kissed her — slow this time. Sweet. A thank-you. A promise.

And then he scooped her up in his arms like she weighed nothing. She let out a soft sigh, nose tucked against his neck, her fingers still wrapped in the chain around his neck, gold catching the light as he carried her out of the kitchen and down the hall.

“To bed,” he murmured. “Then a bath. You earned it, sweetheart.”

She barely nodded.

Didn’t have to.

Luigi had her now. And she wasn’t going anywhere.

The sheets were cool against her skin, but her body still burned — from him, from how hard she’d gone, from how deeply he’d taken her apart. She was laid out across the bed, cheeks pink, chest still rising and falling with every breath. Her hoodie was half off, her legs stretched out, hair messy and perfect.

But her eyes — they were soft now. Vulnerable. No sass. No games.

Just her.

Luigi stood at the edge of the bed, watching her like she was the most breakable thing in the world. His chest still heaved, muscles twitching with leftover adrenaline, but his expression had gone full melt.

“Hi,” he said, voice hoarse but warm.

She blinked at him, slow. “Hi.”

“You alive?”

Barely, she mouthed.

He grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. “You’ll survive. Just need a reset.”

And then he scooped her up again — bridal-style — even though she was a little limp and giggling quietly in his arms.

“Lu—”

“To the spa,” he cut in, mock-formal, walking toward the bathroom. “Only the finest for my sweet girl.”

She nuzzled into his chest, hands lazily dragging across the curve of his biceps, her thumb tracing the definition like she still couldn’t believe he was real.

“You’re just showing off now,” she mumbled.

He looked down at her, smirking. “I don’t need to show off. You hype me enough for both of us.”

Once inside, he set her gently on the counter, kissed her forehead again, and turned on the bath — hot water, a bit of oil he knew she liked (something sweet and warm, like her), watching the tub fill as steam curled around them.

When it was ready, he picked her up again — gently this time — and slowly eased her into the water. She let out the softest moan, eyes fluttering shut as her body slipped beneath the surface.

“You’re not real,” she murmured.

He chuckled. “I was just thinking that about you.”

And then he climbed in behind her, pulling her into his lap, arms wrapping around her waist under the water. She leaned into him instantly, head resting on his chest, her fingers floating up to touch his hand, his jaw, his shoulder — everything.

“You’re being so sweet,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Where’s the scary man from earlier?”

He smirked. “Buried somewhere under this bath bomb.”

She giggled — then reached up and cupped his cheek, thumbing the soft stubble there before kissing it.

“You were kinda mean,” she teased.

“You were worse,” he shot back, pulling her closer.

She kissed his shoulder next, then his bicep, then the back of his hand resting on her belly. Her lips lingered there like it was sacred.

“I like when you’re mean,” she said softly.

He let out a very pleased sound at that. “I know you do.”

She curled tighter into him, turning her face into his neck. “You gonna bring back ‘Mr. PhD’ now?”

He barked a laugh, head falling back.

“God,” he groaned. “I knew that was gonna stick.”

“You love it.”

He gave her a look — the kind of half-exhausted, half-in-love look that only shows up after you’ve completely broken someone down and put them back together again.

“Yeah,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I really do.”

The water had gone warm, her skin flushed and soft as she lay against his chest, eyes half-lidded and dreamy. But eventually, the bath started to cool, and she shivered just a little, goosebumps rising on her arms.

Luigi noticed immediately.

He reached for the towel he’d left warming on the radiator — because of course he had — and pulled the drain before carefully lifting her out of the tub like she’d break if he didn’t.

She squeaked at the sudden air. “Cold!”

“I know,” he said, laughing as he wrapped her up in the fluffy towel, rubbing her arms gently, dragging her in. “Come here, I got you.”

She buried her face into his chest, fingers gripping the towel closed while his bare skin radiated heat.

He kissed her temple first. Then her cheek. Then lower — jaw, neck, collarbone — slow and sweet, with little pauses between each.

“You’re all pink,” he whispered against her skin. “Like a baby peach.”

“Lu…” she giggled, squirming slightly under the attention, still cold but distracted by the way his voice went warm and low.

“And you smell too good,” he muttered, nose dragging along her neck, arms curling tighter around her waist. “Like warm vanilla, and sugar, and my favorite fuckin’ problem.”

She laughed, and he grinned, planting one more kiss between her shoulder blades.

“Still cold?” he asked, voice more gentle now.

She nodded.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice slipping into something darker as his hands slid down her towel-wrapped back, barely brushing her bare hips beneath. “I’ll warm you up. You just gotta let me be bad for a few more minutes.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, biting her lip. “You always say that.”

“And you always giggle when I whisper filthy shit in your ear, so we’re even.”

He leaned in and did exactly that — murmured something so dirty against her ear it made her knees wobble and her cheeks flare hot again, even under the towel.

She whined softly. “Luigiiiiii.”

“Just sayin’,” he said, smug and soft and completely pleased with himself. “You bring it out of me.”

When they made it back to the bedroom, she peeled off the towel and changed slowly — still flushed, still warm from his voice in her head. She stepped into a pair of soft cotton panties, the same kind he always loved, and then pulled on one of his hoodies — oversized, dark, and full of his scent.

She tugged the sleeves over her hands and climbed into bed.

Luigi stood by the dresser, watching her, arms crossed, head tilted.

“You look real cozy,” he said, voice low and fond.

“I am,” she said, sinking into the pillows, hair messy, gold jewelry still glinting against her skin.

“Can I join you?”

“You’re required to.”

He laughed softly, and climbed in next to her, pulling her close, arms wrapping tight around her waist again.

She kissed his jaw once. Twice. Then again, just below his ear.

“You’re so warm,” she whispered.

“And you’re so dangerous,” he said back, brushing her hair behind her ear. “In panties and my hoodie? That’s a threat.”

She giggled into his neck.

“You’re still gonna try to sleep after that?” he teased.

“Mmhm,” she said sweetly.

“Liar.”

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂ ⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂ ⠂⠁ ⠂

I really rally hate this fic for some reason, but it’s fine. I have some other ideas for fics, but I’ve also had like an empty mind about ideas. So please please please flood my inbox with suggestions and ideas 💗

#luigi mangione #free luigi #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione fic #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione smut

197 notes · View notes

rieamena · 5 months ago

Text

two plus two equals six

nerd!takuma ino & popular-ish!fem!reader

contains... both of you being absolute losers and incredibly embarrassing. that's about it.

word count: 9.4k (its been a while since i've written something this long...)

riea's comments: it's been a terrible couple of days but this idea really stayed in my head and i really had to act on it. idk if its one of my best works but i still like it! i will prove my spot as the mayor of takuma city!!!

technically, you weren't supposed to bother him. something about threatening a restraining order but a threat is really just empty words, amiright?

"hey…," you called out towards the man just two feet in front of you, as a result of you sneakily sliding into the seat across from him at the cafe table he sat at. your lips hung on that final syllable, really stretching out that "eyyy". "you're in my gen chem right?" the harmonic clink of your bangles rang through the space you occupied as you focused on making your voice sound as sweet and sultry as possible

the man in question, y'know, the ones your friends call p.f.b.b.. the p.f.b.b. thing was all credits to you of course. every time you talked about that day's writing or chemistry lecture, he was always mentioned as just that: pretty face black beanie, even though "pretty face black beanie" never looked your way once. it was several continuous moments of pure delusion, your pure delusion

p.f.b.b. glanced up at you and gave a small head nod before turning back to his laptop. it had a clear case with a bunch of stickers from bands you didn't recognize amongst other things you assumed he liked. "of course you are! the chemistry between us is just so genuine maybe its cause you're such a gentleman!"

a giggle escaped you as you continued talking. "see what i did there? the gen from genuine and the gen from gentleman both correspond to the gen from gen chem. which i know means general by the way, i'm not—"

"are you okay?"

p.f.b.b.'s eyes were now trained on your form, looking with an expression you couldn't discern as anything but pure concern. but of course, for you, that meant something completely different. under his gaze, you felt your cheeks heat up and you began to fidget. "p.f.b.b., stop looking at me like that! you're making me shy…"

it was silent for a few seconds before he spoke. "why do you keep calling me that?"

"i'm sorry?" you tilted your head a bit

"this is maybe the third or fourth time you've called me p.f.b.b.," he takes a sip from his coffee cup before continuing to type away on his laptop

i've spoken to you before??? is what you thought

and its also what you said.

"well yes," he started, gaze never leaving the blue light of his device, "like that time i answered professor's question and you said 'wow p.f.b.b. you're so smart!'. or that other time when i picked up your pencil case for you as i was leaving the lecture hall. or when—"

"okay i get it! i seriously don't remember that happening at all though… maybe i should start taking memory pills…" you muttered

"i know you're popular and stuff but we're in university now. the bullying thing is outdated and super uncool."

you had to take a couple of moments to fully grasp what he was saying. he thought you were bullying him. he thought you were a bully. and worst of all, he thought you were uncool. your body shivered at that thought and a pit formed in your stomach

"wait—!" you exclaimed, even though he wasn't going anywhere, "first off, i'm not bullying you! the p.f.b.b. thing is an inside joke—"

"am i in on the joke?"

you froze in place. he got you there. "well no—"

"exactly. move to the second thing please." he bluntly stated as he took another swig of coffee

"okay um, i'm not uncool! i'm actually really cool. and i wouldn't consider myself to be popular either!" you scrambled to find your words and for each syllable that you said, you felt that pit in your stomach growing bigger

"everyone in the school knows you. you're popular." he said as he reached into his messenger bag, pulling out glasses and putting them on

you usually would be entranced, but you had way bigger fish to fry. "i—i can't be popular! what if someone asks me for the best date spots, or amazing places to eat, or secret secluded areas for a bit of privacy!? i'm not from here! i wouldn't know! and—and then i'll look like a failure! i'll look like a loser! p.f.b.b. i can't!—wait."

it was only when you stopped talking that he looked up from his laptop, "what…?"

you'd never noticed it before but his voice was really nice, almost to the point where even you would shut up just to hear him talk about any topic that came to his mind

"are you from here?"

"uh, yeah? i was born and raised in this area. why?" p.f.b.b raised his eyebrow at your sudden question to which you sighed in response. "oh nothing…," you cupped your hands on your jaw and looked out a nearby window. "i just wish a local, y'know, someone who's lived here all their life and was born and raised here, knows all the ins and outs of the city…, yeah just wish someone like that would show me around. i'm still new here…"

"well, i hope you find that person."

your eyes snapped open to see him all packed up, headphones on, and that suspiciously never-ending coffee cup in hand. "bye for now."

sitting in shock was all you could do. and sit you did. a calm five or so minutes had passed before you noticed something shiny in your peripheral. a card, but not just any card, a pokémon card, but not just any pokémon card, an ultra rare pokémon card at the back of a phone, but not just any phone, p.f.b.b.'s phone

you struck gold. pretty face black beanie will certainly be looking for this soon enough, and then you'll be there to swoop in and save the day. and it'll go something like this…

"ugh, where is that thing!" p.f.b.b. mutters frustratingly

"what thing?" you say sweetly, batting your eyelashes

"my phone. i must've misplaced it."

"oh perhaps…" you walk over to where he's standing, his phone in hand, "is this your phone?" you look up at him cutely

"yes! this is my phone! you found it! how can i ever repay you?"

"oh… you don't have to. i was just looking out for you…"

"i know! let's get married!"

"well if you insist…"

"of course! i love you!"

cue flowers and glitter and sparkles

you giggled from how creative and vivid the scene was but unfortunately that sound broke you from your delusion and brought you right back to the real world

"i have p.f.b.b.'s phone." you said flatly, opening the door to your shared apartment. shouts of "what?!" and "huh??!" filled the space as you set down your things and laid on the couch. your best friends quickly flooded the living room, throwing questions at you

"ladies, ladies, please. one at a time."

nobara hit your thigh, "stop acting so high and mighty! how did you get his phone?"

mimiko massaged the area as she listened to you, "so long story short, we were talking at a cafe and then he left but forgot his phone so i just picked it up!"

"so… you stole his phone." nanako stated

"no. he left it and i picked it up."

"wait— don't you know his schedule?" nobara mentioned, resting her head on the plush couch, "shouldn't you have been able to give it back to him?"

"well no… i'm not a stalker! i just have general knowledge of when and where his classes will be during the week."

"so why didn't you give it back to him, instead of stealing it?" mimiko teased, now kneading at your calves

"not you too, mimi!" you whined, "like i said, i didn't steal his phone! he left it on the cafe table and i picked it up!"

their voices mixed together to try and get the same two words through that thick skull of yours

"that's theft!"

the arguing of you and your roommates concerning your concerning ethics filled your ears, preventing you from hearing anything else. especially that banging on the front door

nanako shushed you all, bringing her voice to a barely audible whisper, "do you guys… hear that?"

thump. thump. thump.

"its probably one of your packages," nobara mentioned, earning an enlightened nod, "you seriously have a shopping addiction."

the shopaholic stood up and walked over to the door, still whispering, "you're one to talk!" you, nobara, and mimiko watched on as nanako's hand slipped over the door handle and turned it open. you swore that the door wasn't even open for a full five seconds before it was slammed shut. "it's a man."

the four of you exchanged confused looks. "yeah… maybe it's the delivery man…? check for a package," you said reassuringly. the door opens and it closes. nanako's voice right after. "no package."

"well… uh… what does he look like? maybe he's returning something one of us misplaced?" mimiko stammered, feeling the tension in the air rise at the unexpected stranger. the door opens again and it closes again. "brown hair. brown eyes. he's kinda emo looking…"

"spencer's emo or hot topic emo?"

"spencer's."

"wait!" you realized, practically falling over yourself as you ran to the door and pulled it open, "its–!"

"uh, hi..." you said, voice suddenly small compared to your usual playful demeanor. he was standing right outside your apartment door, looking more tired than annoyed, though the crease in his brow said he was definitely annoyed

"hey," he replied, with little emotion. his eyes briefly flicked to your roommates huddled behind you, who had all gone suspiciously silent. "you have my phone."

you unfortunately understood his intentions of finding where you live. it wasn't to ask you on a date, or to take you up on that offer you made earlier, it was to get his phone. you could've lied and said you didn't have it but…

"i do!" you held it up triumphantly like some kind of trophy, though the look on his face immediately made you regret it. "...but i swear, i wasn't trying to steal it or anything!"

his eyebrow raised slightly, and for a second, you thought he might actually laugh. instead, he sighed and reached out his hand. "can i have it back?"

"of course," you said quickly, but just as you extended it toward him, you froze. "wait! how do i know this is really your phone?"

"i'm sorry?" he blinked, looking somewhere between incredulous and exhausted. "you know it's my phone. you picked it up."

"yeah, but..." you stepped back slightly, holding it just out of reach. "what if it's not your phone, and you're just some random guy who also happens to wear a black beanie and drink coffee in moody cafes?"

your roommates groaned audibly from behind you, and you heard nobara mutter something like she's impossible under her breath

p.f.b.b., stared at you for a long moment before pinching the bridge of his nose. "okay. fine." he held out his hand again, palm up. "ask me something only i'd know if it's my phone."

you paused, scrambling for a question. "uh... what's on the back of your phone case?"

"a meowscarada pokémon card. holo, rare," he said without missing a beat. "which you clearly already saw, since you're holding it."

damn. he had you there.

"okay, okay," you relented, placing the phone in his outstretched hand. "i believe you. say no more."

he chuckled softly—barely audible, but enough to make your heart do a little somersault. "thanks. i appreciate you picking it up. i was worried i'd have to replace the card."

before you could stop yourself, you blurted, "you must really like pokémon, huh?"

"it's nostalgic," he admitted, remembering his childhood. "my brother and i used to play together when we were kids."

your lips curved into a grin. "that's cute. guess you're not as emo as you look."

his head tilted slightly at that, but you caught the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. "guess not. anyway..." he glanced past you at your still-curious roommates. "thanks again. i should go."

"wait!" you called after him as he started to turn. he stopped, looking at you expectantly. "how do you know where i live? do you live around here or something?"

"i… uh… live just over there," his thumb pointed behind him and you followed that direction to…

the unit right across from yours.

703.

"what?!" you gasped, "how come you never said anything? plus, i never see you in the mornings? how is this possible?!"

"one, we don't know each other well enough yet to know where the other lives," p.f.b.b. scrolled through his missed messages while he continued, "and two, i make sure to leave early and come back late every day just so i can avoid you."

grumbling, you wanted to slam the door in his face again but remembered that you had to choose peace. "that's great! i hope you're happy!" aaaand you slammed the door anyway

yet. we don't know each other well enough yet.

"oh p.f.b.b~!" nanako swooned

"oh [name]~!" nobara giggled

"insert kissing sounds and the actors are running their hands over the other's body."

"stop that!!"

music was blasting and your spirits were up. you were practically skipping to your next class. that was… until you caught sight of a familiar head of blonde behind the granite fountain

"uncle ken!" you called out, rounding the fountain's corner

"hello, [name]. what brings you here?" the well-composed man paused his previous conversation, giving his research assistant a silent apology while he focused on you

you nodded to p.f.b.b. before answering kento, "nothing much! just walking to my next class,"

"uncle…?" p.f.b.b questioned under his breath

unfortunately for him, his mentor picked up on it. "my apologies, i should introduce you two," kento turned towards the other man who seemed to regret his decision of speaking his thoughts, "ino, this is [name]. her parents and i are close so, naturally, she calls me her uncle. and—"

kento spun back to you, using his hand to motion towards "ino". you noticed a bracelet adorning his right hand. kento doesn't like wearing anything that's not a watch and it looks handmade and those colors… yellow, blue, black and brown??? how odd… "[name], this is takuma ino. he's been my research assistant for two years."

it was kind of weird to realize that p.f.b.b.'s name wasn't… well— p.f.b.b. like, he has a whole name: takuma ino. it hung on your lips and your tongue savored the taste. "hi," you spoke, giving ino a small wave. "hey," he responded, parroting your motions

"was that what you were working on at the cafe yesterday? some data stuff?"

"uh…, yeah. yeah i was."

kento silently watched this happen and even he was uncomfortable. there was a slight tension in the air. it was missable but apparent enough if you looked for it. he cleared his throat softly, bringing your attention back to him. "how are your parents?" he asked.

"they're good," you replied, smiling, though your voice carried a slight hesitation. "they always ask about you, by the way. mom wanted me to tell you that you're still her favorite."

kento allowed a rare chuckle, shaking his head. "i'm flattered, but i imagine that makes your dad roll his eyes."

"it does." you laughed

"speaking of family," you continued, "my brother is getting discharged from the military soon! and we're planning to have a little get together or something. nothing too crazy, but it'll be our first one together since he left and i know how much he loves you so…" your voice trailed off, hoping that the silence was strong enough to carry your unspoken words

"i understand. of course i'll be there."

kento smiled when he saw you beaming, on the verge of jumping up and down from happiness, and from the corner of your eye, you swear that you saw the corner of a lip curl up from that "ino"

"great—oh shoot—!" you checked the time on your phone and realized that… if you didn't go now, you'd be late. and that professor does not play. you showed up three minutes late to one of his lectures and he basically publicly humiliated you. "i gotta go but text mom and dad about it, okay uncle? bye now! bye ino!"

as you speed walked away, you felt ino's eyes lingering on you. a soft chuckle escaped your lips. takuma ino—you liked the way it sounded

the campus library was unusually quiet for a wednesday night, the usual hum of late-night chatter replaced by the occasional sound of a book being flipped or the muffled footsteps of a librarian making their rounds. you had no plans to be productive tonight; in fact, you'd come here specifically to procrastinate. or, more accurately, to bother someone

your target was easy to spot, tucked away in the far corner of the library like a hermit hiding from civilization. p.f.b.b was hunched over his notebook, one earbud in, one out, the faint sound of rock music drifting in the air around him

you made a beeline for him, sliding into the seat across the table before he could even process what was happening. "fancy seeing you here," you whispered conspiratorially, even though this was his obvious habitat

he didn't even look up, just sighed. "you're aware this is a library, right?"

"and you're aware you're in my study spot, right?" you countered, setting your bag down with an exaggerated thud

finally, his eyes flicked up to meet yours, unimpressed as always. "you… study?" before you could fight back, he continued, "anyways… pretty sure i've been coming here since the semester started, so if anything, this is my study spot."

"well that's too bad for you because i've been coming here since the first day i set foot on this campus," you shot back with a grin, leaning forward on your elbows. "but i'm willing to negotiate. how about we share?"

p.f.b.b. stared at you before shaking his head and returning to his notes. "as long as you don't talk too much."

"me? never."

silence settled between you for a few moments, a fragile truce held together by his focus and your determination not to annoy him too much. but that didn't stop you from sneaking glances at his notes

"why are you studying organic chem?" you asked after a while, squinting at the complicated diagrams on his page. "i thought we were suffering through general chem together."

"because i'm actually trying to graduate," he replied flatly

"well, me too," you said with a dramatic sigh, leaning back in your chair

he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, finally setting his pen down. "if you're not here to study, what are you here for?"

you grinned, pulling a pack of gummy bears out of your bag and sliding them across the table toward him. "to make sure you don't pass out from starvation, obviously."

he looked at the gummy bears, then at you, his expression unreadable. after a beat, he shook his head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "you're weird, you know that?"

"compliments will get you everywhere," you said, plucking a gummy bear from the pack and popping it into your mouth

for the rest of the night, you sat across from him, not saying much but somehow managing to get under his skin with every little comment or movement. oddly enough, seeing him work made you itch to do some studying of your own. and when he finally packed up to leave, muttering something about having an early class, he didn't tell you to leave him alone or call you annoying

instead, he paused just before he walked away, turning back to you with a bemused look

"thanks for the gummy bears."

"anytime— wait! aren't we going the same way…? wait for me!" you scrambled to pack up your pencils and books, stuffing them in your bag, not realizing that p.f.b.b—i mean— ino, was kinda, sorta, maybe, if you had asked him he'd say "no", but from what i saw, he was… waiting for you…

"then move faster, idiot."

you walked through the halls, passing numerous rooms, a small skip in your step. your body froze as you recalled a certain room's number, kento's research lab. walking back to where it was and peeping through the windowed door, you saw that it was… organized chaos. papers and binders were stacked, whiteboards covered in dense equations, and the faint scent of coffee could be smelled from outside the door. looking closer, you could see someone hunched over a desk, scribbling something on a notepad. ino.

you twisted the handle of the door, opening it with a push, "tough work?"

ino looked up from his desk, blinking at you in mild surprise. his hair was slightly disheveled and rid of that beanie, and there was a smudge of something that looked suspiciously like marker on his cheek

"i'm fine," he said, though the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. "really. i've got it handled."

you raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. "you're drowning in… whatever this is. don't worry about it, i'll just provide extra assistance."

he groaned, leaning back in his chair. "seriously, you don't have to. it's not a lot of work."

the phrase held so much irony considering there were sheets upon sheets of paper, and towers of that. you guessed he realized his small lie once he glanced around the room

ino sighed but didn't argue further, instead gesturing to the mountain of work in front of him. "fine. if you're so eager to help, you can start with that pile over there."

you pulled up a chair beside him, scanning the papers and the spreadsheet open on his laptop. "okay, let's see what we're working with."

as you both settled into the task, the room grew quieter, save for the sound of typing or the rustle of papers

"you're surprisingly good at this," ino said after a while, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye

"surprisingly?"

he winced. "i didn't mean it like that. just… i didn't expect you to pick it up so quickly."

"thanks for the backhanded compliment," you said dryly, but there was a hint of a smile on your lips

he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "sorry. i meant it as a real compliment. you're making this way easier."

"you're welcome," you said, turning back to the spreadsheet. "but seriously, how have you two been doing this without losing your minds?"

"coffee," he said immediately

you snorted. "yeah, i can tell. your bloodstream is probably ninety percent caffeine at this point."

he smirked, but the teasing in his expression softened into something more genuine. "it's been… a lot. nanami keeps me grounded, though. he's really good at this kind of thing."

"yeah, he is," you said, pausing for a moment before adding, "but so are you."

ino blinked, caught off guard. "me?"

"yes, you," you said, glancing at him. "you're smart, ino. you don't give yourself enough credit."

he looked at you for a moment, his usual demeanor towards you faltering. "thanks," he said softly

the moment lingered longer than either of you expected, the air between you feeling just a bit heavier

the hours passed in a steady rhythm of work and banter sprinkled in, and by the time the sun began to set, the two of you had cleared more than half of the tasks kento had left behind

"see?" you said as you leaned back in your chair. "teamwork makes the dream work."

ino laughed, shaking his head. "alright, fine. you win. maybe having you here wasn't the worst thing."

"don't get too used to it," you teased, grabbing your bag. "next time, i might just let you suffer alone."

he playfully shot you a look while stretching in his chair, "hey, how about i show you around."

"what? are—are you joking?"

he got up and packed his bag with never before seen speed, "yeah. i am."

"you—!"

"follow me."

ino led the way out of the building, his energy contagious despite the long day you both had. the evening air was cool and refreshing, the city humming quietly as the golden glow of the setting sun bathed everything in a warm light

"i know this great spot," he said with a grin as he walked slightly ahead, hands casually stuffed in his jacket pockets. "you've been here for a while, but have you actually seen the good stuff?"

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "define 'good stuff.'"

he smirked over his shoulder. "you'll see."

as you followed ino down the bustling streets, the city seemed to transform as it got darker. neon lights flickered to life, illuminating the shop windows and casting colorful reflections on the wet pavement from an earlier drizzle. the aroma of street food mingled with the faint scent of rain, creating a vivid tapestry of sights and smells

"so," you began, dodging a biker weaving through the crowd, "what's the first stop on this magical mystery tour of yours? please tell me it's food. i'm starving."

ino grinned, gesturing dramatically toward a food cart that had a line of eager customers. "you, my friend, are about to experience the best takoyaki this city has to offer."

"oh, come on," you teased, falling in step beside him. "isn't that what everyone says about their favorite food cart?"

"don't disrespect taro-san like that," ino shot back, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. "this man has been perfecting his craft since before i could hold chopsticks."

moments later, you stood together, balancing plates of piping hot takoyaki drizzled with sauce and topped with dancing bonito flakes. ino took a bite, his expression almost reverent. "see? what did i tell you? food of the gods."

you took a bite, and your eyes widened. the crisp shell gave way with a soft crunch, revealing the molten, creamy filling inside. it was so warm it nearly melted on your tongue, a perfect blend of savory depth and a subtle sweetness that made your mouth water instantly. the octopus at the center was tender, just the right amount of chewy, and so fresh it almost seemed to bring a whisper of the ocean with it. the sauce on top was like a burst of fireworks—sweet and tangy, with a smoky undertone that paired flawlessly with the creamy mayo drizzled alongside it

you had to pause for a second after swallowing, just to appreciate it. the warmth lingered in your mouth, and you already knew one bite wouldn't be enough. within seconds the entire thing was gone, but you couldn't give ino the satisfaction of being right

"it was alright i guess." you shrugged, "i suppose you're not as full of it as i thought."

"right…," ino said with a suspicious grin, nudging you lightly with his elbow. "stick with me and i'll make you a connoisseur."

he didn't waste any time bringing you to the next point of interest, grabbing your hand with his and dragging you to a small, secluded alley lined with string lights and small artisan shops. it was beautiful, to say the least

"it's… quieter here."

"yeah," ino agreed, his voice softer now. "this is one of my favorite spots. it's like the city pauses for a second."

you glanced at him, noticing the way his eyes softened as he looked around. "you come here often?"

"used to, back when i needed to think. or when i was avoiding studying," he admitted with a sheepish grin

"you? avoid studying? how unlikely…" you sneakily caught a glance at your still interlocked hands, noticing a small, oddly colored, handmade bracelet around ino's wrist. but it seems you were staring at it for far too long

"oh! sorry!" he stuttered, pulling his hand from yours, and bringing it to his chest. you immediately felt the slight chill of the night but still flashed a bittersweet smile that conveyed something of a don't worry about it. out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the shops practically twinkling. getting a closer look, your wallet itched once you saw the array of jewelry and hair accessories. it was sorted by color and then by type, gold earrings on the far left and silver necklaces on the far right. but you were inexplicably drawn to one item: a hair clip with four small, white seashells on it

"that one?"

ino's voice next to you made you jump slightly. giving him a small hit on his shoulder, you followed his finger to the item you were just admiring. "yeah, that one. it's really pretty, isn't it?" ino hummed in response, surprised to see you turn away from it and walk down the alley instead

"but…, maybe i'll get it another time."

after a minute or so of window shopping the rest of the stores, ino caught up to you. "next up is the park. you can't say you've really seen the city until you've walked through it at night."

once you got closer, ino pointed at the beautifully lit area in the distance. lanterns illuminated the paths, and the sound of a bubbling fountain echoed softly. children chased each other, their laughter carrying through the crisp air, while couples strolled hand in hand. ino brought you to a bench overlooking a pond, the moonlight reflecting off its surface like a scene from a painting

"alright, i'll give it to you," you said, leaning back and stretching, stomach craving that takoyaki from earlier. "you weren't kidding. this is incredible."

"see?" ino said with a smirk, leaning back beside you. "i'm full of surprises. and speaking of that… here." ino reached into his left pocket, pulling a small item out, and pushing it into your hands

staring down at it, you realized it was the seashell hair pin you were eyeing from earlier. overrun with happiness, you flung your arms around ino, showering him in thank you's. pulling away and on the edge of bouncing in your seat, you slipped it into your hair, looking at ino for validation

"how does it look?"

oh. oh.

she's… beautiful. though, i've always known that…

thanking the cashier and gathering your bags, you made a beeline for the exit. you see, you were trying to make it home as quickly as possible because it was friday and you and your roommates always watched a specific show on friday nights. you guys ordered in and it was just amazing, until nanako said that she was craving your cooking, everyone agreed, and then you somehow lost the four way rock, paper, scissors on who goes to the store to get the ingredients. so here you were, standing under the awning of the nearby grocery store, bags in hand, watching the wall of rain as it drenched the street. the rain that wasn't in the forecast and the kind of downpour that left everyone scrambling for cover

great. just great.

your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you pulled it out to see a text from kento

kento: the rain was unexpected. are you alright?

you sighed and quickly typed back

you: yeah, just stuck waiting for it to stop. don't worry, i'll figure it out

after a couple minutes of you standing and contemplating your next move, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and the passenger window rolled down, revealing p.f.b.b.'s grin that even though you've seen about three times, you'd never get used to

"need a ride?" he called out, leaning casually over the center console

you blinked at him, caught off guard. "what are you doing here?"

"i was with nanami when he mentioned you," he said, shrugging. "said you were stranded. figured i'd play the hero."

you tried to cross your arms but the weight of the bags were kind of weighing them down, "play the hero driving kento's car? do you even have your license?"

"hey—," he explained, raising his voice just a bit, "it may be nanami's car but he said i could take it! and yes, i do have my license!"

you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips. "alright, fine. but what about these?" you gestured to your grocery bags

"pop the trunk," he said, pressing a button on the dash. the trunk lid opened smoothly. "problem solved."

with a sigh, you stepped into the rain long enough to stow your bags before climbing into the passenger seat, shaking droplets off your jacket as you settled in. the interior was warm, the faint scent of leather and air freshener filling the space

"comfy?" he teased as you buckled up

"more than i'd be waiting in that rain," you shot back

he laughed, the sound light and easy, as he pulled back onto the road. the rain drummed steadily against the car, but inside, it was quiet, almost peaceful

"alright, then…, let's go home."

home, huh?

the blue light of your laptop pierced your eyes as you typed the final words of your assignment, and submitted it, chemistry work abandoned at the edge of your desk. as you were looking at it ashamedly, a ping came through your phone

xxx-xxx-xxxx: have you done the writing assignment yet?

you: wrong number

xxx-xxx-xxxx: no. it's p.f.b.b.

you: oh! how did you get my number?

p.f.b.b.: don't worry about that. did you do the assignment?

you: yeah i just finished. why?

p.f.b.b.: can you come over? i need some help with it. in exchange, i'll help you with your chem work that i know you didn't start

you: well since you're offering…

"do you still even like him?" nobara questioned, "before you'd be jumping up for joy."

"yeah, i do," you put your laptop and chemistry work and textbook in your tote, grabbing some snacks from the pantry too, "i'm just not as upfront about it anymore. maybe it's cause we're friends now, but i don't know!"

you slung your tote bag over your shoulder, opening the door to your apartment and saying a quick "i'll be back" to your girls. walking just across the hall and knocking on his door, you barely had time to exhale before it swung open to reveal ino in a hoodie and sweats, his hair slightly tousled like he'd just slipped off that beanie

"right on time," he said with a grin, stepping aside to let you in

"you texted me like two minutes ago—"

"make yourself at home," he interrupted, already moving to clear space for you

his apartment mirrored yours in layout but had its own chaotic charm—textbooks and notes spread across the coffee table, an empty coffee mug sitting precariously on the edge

you dropped your bag and slid onto the couch, pulling out your laptop. "let's see what you've got so far."

ino groaned, flopping down beside you with an exaggerated sigh. "barely anything. writing isn't my thing."

you rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. "that's what i'm here for."

the second session, where you both stumbled through the assignment, bickering over comma placement and syntax while munching on the snacks you brought. you teased him for his messy handwriting, and he fired back with jokes about your overuse of sticky notes

the fourth session, where ino finally made good on his promise to help you with chemistry. he sat cross-legged on the floor, explaining concepts in a way that actually made sense while you leaned over his shoulder to read his notes

the sixth session, where the stress of exams had both of you yawning into your notebooks. he brewed coffee—terrible coffee—but the gesture made you smile. you fell asleep on his couch that night, waking up to a blanket draped over you

or that one time he showed up at your door, unannounced, holding a coffee cup in one hand and a thick textbook in the other for an "emergency study session,"

today was no different. you walked over to ino's apartment that he graciously started leaving unlocked around this time—just for you. walking in and greeting him briefly, you sat on his couch, your knees brushing against his as you both hovered over the same textbook as you reviewed chemical equations. the proximity made it hard to focus; you were acutely aware of the way his shoulder brushed yours every time he shifted, and you wondered if he was too

"see?" you said, pointing to a diagram. "like what does that even mean? what does this show me?"

"okay so, this shows esterification. ethanoic acid and ethanol produces ethyl ethanoate and water in the presence of an acid catalyst like sulfuric acid. the reaction begins with the acid protonation of the carbonyl oxygen of the carboxylic acid, making the carbon more electrophilic." he replied, the words falling off his tongue with ease

you glanced up at him, finding his eyes already on you. though the usual playful spark was there, his words went in one ear and out the other, and you felt embarrassed that you didn't understand a word except acid, produces, reaction, and catalyst

neither of you spoke for a long moment. the tension was palpable, the world outside his apartment fading away until it was just the two of you in this bubble of uncertainty and longing

"ino, repeat that for—" you started, but your words were cut off as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so tentative it felt like a question

your breath caught, your mind racing even as your heart leapt. what is happening right now? it was almost an immediate reaction that you kissed him back, the touch lingering just long enough to send your thoughts spiraling before you pulled away

"i—" he started, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. "i didn't mean to—"

you shook your head, rising from the couch as you scrambled to gather your things. "i should go."

"wait," he said, standing as if to follow, but you held up a hand to stop him

"i'll… see you later," you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you slipped out the door

the walk across the hall to your apartment felt endless, your heart pounding in your chest. once inside, you leaned against the door, your fingers brushing your lips as you replayed the moment over and over

what the fuck?

the party was in full swing, a cheerful celebration of your brother's long-awaited return. laughter and chatter filled the room, plates of food were passed around, and glasses clinked in endless toasts. you were busy setting a tray of drinks on the counter when you spotted takuma ino standing near the door, looking a little out of place but still managing to charm a small group of your family members and friends with his easygoing smile

your steps faltered, your chest tightening. he hadn't mentioned he'd be here. not that you blamed him—why would he? last night's kiss wasn't a topic either of you seemed ready to breach today. but still, the sight of him caught you completely off guard

turning on your heel, you found kento by the kitchen, nursing a glass of wine. marching up to him, you jabbed a finger in his direction

"why is he here?" you hissed, keeping your voice low

kento raised an eyebrow at you, calm as ever. "he's here because i invited him. your brother wanted to know more about my project. what better way to tell him about it than to bring my research assistant? why?"

you rubbed your temple, biting back a groan. "look, i'm not saying that he can't be here, but… you could've given me a heads-up."

kento's gaze turned suspicious, and his lips twitched into a slight frown. "why would you need a heads-up? haven't i introduced you two?"

you felt heat rising to your cheeks, the embarrassment seeping into your voice as you fumbled for an explanation. "well, yeah, formally, but he and i—we—we're—he and i—NO!"

kento stared at you, unblinking, while you buried your face in your hands, muttering curses under your breath. his frown deepened, and you could practically feel his uncle intuition kicking in

"wait," he said slowly, his tone sharpening. "what do you mean, 'he and i'?"

"nothing!" you snapped, dropping your hands, "i meant nothing. just—just forget i said anything."

kento's expression didn't waver. he studied you for a moment longer before sighing and shaking his head. "whatever you're freaking out about will pass. ino's a good guy."

"yeah, i know," you muttered under your breath, glancing back toward ino, who was now engaged in a conversation with your brother. his laugh echoed across the room, and you couldn't help the flutter of nervous energy it sent through you

as the party continued in full swing, you moved around the room, trying to keep busy—refilling snacks, grabbing empty plates, and avoiding ino's gaze whenever your paths seemed to almost cross

you weren't sure how long you could keep this up. every time his laughter reached your ears or you caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, your heart seemed to skip a beat. the kiss from last night lingered in the back of your mind, a constant, unspoken weight

you had just finished setting down a fresh tray of drinks when you heard a voice behind you

"hey."

you froze, recognizing it immediately. slowly turning around, you found ino standing there, his hands holding a can of soda; they were shaking. his usual smile was softer now, almost nervous

"can we talk?" he asked, his voice low enough that no one else could hear over the party noise

your heart sank and leaped at the same time, "uh, sure. now?"

he nodded. "yeah. just for a minute. outside?"

you hesitated, glancing around the room. kento was chatting with your brother near the couch, and the rest of the guests were engrossed in their own conversations. no one would miss you for a few minutes

"okay," you said finally, your voice quieter than you intended

ino led the way to the front door, holding it open for you before stepping out into the cool night air. the silence stretched as you stood there, arms crossed against the slight chill. ino rubbed the back of his neck, clearly searching for the right words

"so," he started, his tone careful, "i uh… figured it was probably a bad idea to bring this up inside. with, you know, everyone around."

you nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. "probably."

he let out a small breath, finally meeting your eyes. "about last night…"

your stomach flipped. of course, he'd bring it up. you'd been bracing for this moment all day, but now that it was here, you didn't know what to say

"look," he continued, "i don't want to make things weird between us. especially not with nanami, or your family, or—"

"it's not weird," you interrupted, surprising even yourself. "at least, it doesn't have to be."

his brows lifted slightly, a flicker of hope in his expression. "really? because i was worried i'd screwed things up."

"you didn't," you said quickly. "it's just… unexpected."

ino nodded, stepping closer. his voice softened, almost hesitant. "i don't regret it, you know. the kiss. but if you're not okay with it, i'll back off. no questions asked."

the sincerity in his tone made your chest ache. you looked up at him, taking in the way his usually confident demeanor seemed so tentative now

"i didn't say i wasn't okay with it," you murmured, barely louder than a whisper. "believe it or not, but i've been flirting with you for a while now."

ino blinked at you, his brows knitting together in confusion. "wait… what?"

you tilted your head, giving him a look that said seriously? "flirting, ino. you know, dropping hints, teasing, trying to get you to notice me?"

he stared at you, his lips parting slightly as if the realization was slowly dawning on him. "you're kidding."

you let out a soft laugh, part amused and part exasperated. "no, i'm not kidding. you're telling me you didn't pick up on any of it? not even when i started making excuses to see you more?"

ino's hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that familiar sheepish way. "i thought you were just being nice! like, nanami-level nice."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "nanami-level nice? ino, i bought you coffee with your weirdly specific order three times in one week. kento would never do that."

he opened his mouth, then closed it, a look of genuine shock crossing his face. "wait… that was flirting?"

"yes," you said with a small laugh. "and the time i told you your new haircut made you look good? or when i made sure there was always a snack for you at kento's? flirting, ino."

ino's jaw dropped slightly, his hands falling to his sides as he processed your words. "oh, my god. i'm the dumbest guy alive."

"well… maybe," you said, trying not to laugh at his adorably stunned expression

"i am," he insisted, his voice rising slightly in disbelief. "you've been into me this whole time, and i've been walking around like an idiot, completely missing it."

you couldn't help but laugh now, the sound easing the tension between you. "well, now you know."

he took off his beanie and ran a hand through his hair, still looking flustered but with a hint of something softer in his eyes. "yeah. now i know."

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet night stretching around you. then, almost shyly, ino glanced at you again. "so… does this mean i can kiss you again? like, now that i'm finally catching up and all."

you smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. "i think that depends. are you going to keep being oblivious, or are you going to start paying attention?"

he grinned, his usual confidence flickering back. "oh, i'm paying attention now. promise."

before you could respond, he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours as his gaze met yours. slowly, he leaned in, his lips expecting to meet yours in a kiss that was as sweet as it was certain, but… instead they met your pointer finger

"do you hear that? i think someones calling for me." you walked back into the house, leaving ino to wallow in his self-inflicted embarrassment for a while

the convenience store's fluorescent lights buzzed softly above the aisles, casting a harsh glow on shelves stocked with instant noodles, snacks, and cheap energy drinks. you and ino—or, as he let you call him in private, takuma—had wandered in after a long evening of hanging out at his apartment, the kind of night where laughter and teasing filled the silence

takuma leaned against the refrigerator door, his black beanie pushed back enough to reveal a few strands of his messy hair. he squinted at the drink selection like it held the answers to life's greatest mysteries

"you've been staring at that for a full minute," you teased, sliding up beside him. "it's not that deep. just grab the green tea like you always do."

he smirked without looking at you. "and miss out on your expert critique of my choices? never."

you reached past him to grab a bottle of sparkling water, your shoulder brushing his arm. it wasn't much, just a small touch, but it was enough to make the air between you shift. for a second, it felt like the buzzing of the fluorescent lights got louder, the hum filling the space where words should be

he cleared his throat, stepping back just slightly. "you always drink that fizzy stuff. isn't it just soda pretending to be fancy?"

"it's called having taste," you corrected, placing it in your basket

"right. taste," he said, rolling his eyes but smiling anyway

as the two of you wandered through the aisles, the quiet of the late hour settled over you, broken only by the occasional sound of a cashier scanning items. you found yourself in front of the snack section, takuma trailing behind you with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets

"you want anything?" you asked, holding up a bag of chips

"nah, i'm good," he said, but his eyes lingered on the pack of pocky in your hand

you smirked, tossing it into your basket. "liar. i'll grab it for you. consider it a thank you for giving back that hoodie you stole last week."

"i didn't steal it," he argued, though his tone was more defensive than adamant

"oh, so it just walked out of my closet on its own? how did you even get in?"

he scratched the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "mimiko let me in… and… it's comfortable."

you grinned, but decided to let it go. instead, you nudged him lightly with your elbow as you headed toward the counter. "next time, just ask. i might even let you keep it."

he followed you in silence, but when you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, you caught the faintest hint of pink on his ears

after paying for your haul, you stepped outside into the crisp night air. the streets were quiet, the kind of stillness that felt rare in the city. takuma walked beside you, the pocky in his hand already opened

"you're eating that now?" you asked, digging through the bag for that sparkling water of yours

"why not?" he said around the stick in his mouth, offering you the box

you took one, the chocolate coating melting slightly against your lips. for a moment, the two of you just walked in comfortable silence, the tension from earlier still lingering but softer now, like a thread pulling you closer without snapping

"thanks," he said suddenly, his voice quiet

"for what?" you asked, glancing at him

he shrugged, not meeting your eyes. "i don't know."

"he knew. he definitely knew," you insisted, gesturing wildly as you paced the living room

mimiko tilted her head thoughtfully. "but if he knew, why wouldn't he just say something?"

nanako smirked. "maybe he's waiting for you to say something first. or maybe he's just an idiot who can't read the room."

nobara clicked her tongue. "i mean, the guy's not exactly subtle. pretending he needs help with writing assignments? clearing his schedule to go grocery shopping with you so that you never have to carry the bags in by yourself? and don't even get me started on how he looks at you when you're not paying attention."

you threw up your hands, exasperated. "what am i supposed to do, just march up to him and demand he explain himself?"

"yes," they chorused

"ugh!" you groaned, grabbing your bag and stomping toward your room. "i don't wanna do this anymore!"

their laughter followed you down the hall, but your irritation evaporated the moment you stepped inside. on your desk, there was a letter

your name was scrawled across the front in unmistakable handwriting. your breath caught as you picked it up, hands trembling slightly as you unfolded the paper. the words inside were written with care, each line pulling at your heart:

to you, the one who's always on my mind,

i've started and restarted this letter more times than i can count, and even now, i'm not sure if i've found the right words. how do you tell someone that they've completely changed the way you see the world? that their laugh is the best sound you've ever heard, or that their smile makes even the worst days feel a little brighter?

i've never been good at this—putting my feelings into words—but for you, i'll try. because you deserve to know how incredible you are, even if i can't say it as smoothly as i'd like.

you have this way of making everything feel easier, lighter, just by being yourself. and it's not just the big things, like how you help me with work or how you always know exactly what to say when i'm frustrated. it's the little things too. like how you hum under your breath when you're focused, how you tilt your head when you're confused, how you always manage to start an argument over the stupidest of topics, how you light up when you talk about something you love. it's those little things that make me fall harder for you every day.

i don't know when it started—maybe it was the late nights we spent working together, or maybe it was how you didn't let me quit when things felt impossible. but now i don't think i want to stop. you make me want to be better, just so i can be someone worthy of being by your side. and maybe i'm not saying this the right way, but i hope you understand what i mean.

i don't know what you'll do with this letter, and maybe i'm an idiot for writing it (and asking mimiko to put it on your desk for me), but if nothing else, i just needed you to know.

yours (if you want me to be),

p.f.b.b.

your chest tightened, emotions flooding through you as you reread the letter. before you could realize it, you were across the hall, in front of takuma's door

you knocked on it and pushed it open without waiting for a response. "takuma—"

he was standing in the kitchen, and your eyes immediately caught the bouquet of your favorite flowers on the counter. the vibrant blooms were arranged with care, their familiar scent wafting through the room

takuma turned, his face a mix of surprise and panic. "oh. uh… hey."

"you're unbelievable," you said, holding up the letter, trying to fight back your smile

his ears turned red as he scratched the back of his neck. "so, you found that."

"takuma, what is this?" you gestured to the flowers and the letter, your voice a mix of exasperation and something softer

he hesitated, looking uncharacteristically shy. "i… i wanted to tell you how i feel, but every time i try, i just… i mess it up. so, i thought maybe this would be easier."

you stared at him, your heart pounding. "and the flowers?"

"i thought they'd make you smile," he said simply, stepping closer. "do they?"

you felt your lips twitch despite yourself. "they do."

his shoulders relaxed slightly, but the tension between you only seemed to grow. his voice dropped, softer now. "i meant every word in that letter. i did."

your breath hitched, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, "why didn't you tell me sooner? i've been…" you trailed off, shaking your head

"been what?" he pressed, his eyes searching yours.

"waiting," you admitted. "i've been waiting for you to say something since the party. anything."

takuma stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours. "i'm saying it now," he murmured. "i care about you. a lot. more than i probably should. and if i'm being honest, you terrify me a little because of how much i feel when i'm around you."

your heart twisted at his words, and before your mind could find a reason to say no, you leaned up, capturing his lips in a kiss. it was hesitant at first, soft and searching, but when his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, the world seemed to melt away

when you pulled back, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting against yours

"i think we should date," he said, a small smile playing on his lips

you laughed softly, your nerves giving way to warmth. "i think we should too."

his grin widened, but before the moment could get too serious, he quipped, "does this mean i get to steal your clothes now?"

you smacked his arm playfully. "i'm pretty sure it's supposed to be the other way around."

"hey…, what does p.f.b.b. stand for?"

"mmm," you hummed, looking at your… boyfriend. "don't worry about it."

jjk taglist

@blendingcaramal @gzchaos @theamazingrain @woah-girlz @voloslobotomyservice

@kyozvy @obessionofagrl @bubybubsters @sugurusbaobei @raindropsonrwses

@c-moon20-12 @saltynanobeanie @theamazingrain @synthiiiiis @ghostlyluminarycloud

@poopyyy @supernatrualqueen @bxrbie-jadeee @laitifly @babysoo-meu

@cheesecake95 @strawberry-cherrypie @makeshiftproject @magiamad0ka @ncitygreen

@mayyhaps @oniondrip @cloudy-yyy @definitely-not-leena @kidd3ath

@atigerandabear @russianremy @ohnoitsamistakee18 @ivy-vivii @ourfinalisation

@1ndee @yourhornysister @ancientimes @cupcaketeddybehr @tomikixd

@e-dollly @ozdramaqueen @nymphsdomain @beeksyurr @colorcode

@baekhyunsbestie @vorfreudevortex @leuriss @xaithings @corvid007

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femmefatalevibe · 2 years ago

Text

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look

Table of Contents:

Treat your skin like royalty

Take ample care of your natural hair

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape

Choose your accessories wisely

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple

Regarding your signature scent(s)

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously

Treat your skin like royalty:

Use high-quality skincare twice a day

Wear sunscreen every day

Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what

Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin

Change your pillowcases weekly

Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water

Prioritize sleep

Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks

Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed

Take ample care of your natural hair:

Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up

Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month

Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair

Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair

Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower

Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry

Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do

Use non-elastic or silk hair ties

Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)

Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:

Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)

Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences

Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits

Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)

Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day

Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack

Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions

Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants

When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit

If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look

Choose your accessories wisely:

Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with

Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette

Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette

For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:

Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer

Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone

Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)

Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush

Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids

Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:

Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails

Opt for a square or almond nail shape

Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art

Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily

Regarding your signature scent(s):

Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash

Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones

Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion

Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)

Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:

Floss every day (after each meal if possible)

Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day

Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover

Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF

Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms

Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)

Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub

Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower

Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)

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friend-shaped-but · 6 months ago

Text

Marathi Rukmini Jewellery Breakdown

Ok so I found this art of Krishna and Rukmini by Himanshu Bankar where rukmini is shown in marathi traditional attire and it made me SO SO HAPPY to see that because she's rarely depicted like that! And thenI saw it being shared on tumblr by a lot of ppl who didn't know that whatever clothes/jewellery rukmini is wearing is traditional marathi bridal attire.

So I thought I'd do a deep dive into this painting and talk about her clothes, hair, and jewellery! This is a long post, imma put everything under the cut! Tagging @cyndaquillt because you asking me about marathi miku made me learn a lot more about marathi jewellery, @sharngapani for showing me this image in the first place, and @chahaa-piun-ja for cheering me on!

Hair:

Her bun is a hairstyle called "Khopa" (खोपा) and the gold pin in her hair is called a Juda(जुडा). These can either be gold pins or have strings of pearls attached to them and I'm thinking that the latter is what she is wearing. Then the maang tika is pretty standard across cultures. The golden band between the maang tika and the juda is called a Bijwara(बिजवरा) and it's not used much in the modern day so I did have to do a bit of research to find out what it was.

Images, from left to right: Khopa, juda, and a minimalist maang tika/bindi.

Face

On her forehead, and hanging on either side of her face are Mundavalya(मुंडावळ्या), a forehead ornament worn by Maharashtrian brides & grooms. It is made from pearl & has two pearls strings which stand for the togetherness of bride & groom. Chandrakor is actually my ABSOLUTE fave part about maharashtrian culture it's the crescent moon on her forehead. Then on her nose is a pearl Nath(नथ). She's also wearing Kanpatti(कानपट्टी) aka ear strips on her ears and they're attached to her normal earrings. Fun fact btw the kanpatti in her ears looks a lot like the one my mom has.

Images from left to right: mundavalya+chandrakor, nath, kanpatti(without earrings)

Neck:

Generally what I've seen people wear at their fanciest is three-four necklaces, one right at the throat, one slightly lower, and a couple hanging almost down to mid-chest or upper stomach. Rukmini in that drawing is following that pattern. The choker-style necklace she's wearing in the picture isn't super clear but I think it's a thushi(ठुशी). It is a choker necklace crafted out of gold beads in varying sizes and is adjustable thanks to a soft thread that can be adjusted according to the wearer’s convenience. The next one seems to be a plain golden chain but the fact that she's wearing a mangalsutra at the time Krishna is taking her away is icing on top!

Thushi, mangalsutra and mohanmal in the picture below!

Arms:

There is a shela around her shoulders. These are generally made of silk and worn by brides.

Rukmini is wearing a vaki(वाकी) or bajuband(बाजूबंद).

Maharashtrian women generally wear green glass bangles(I've heard north indians wear red ones someone pls confirm this), and for weddings and festivities they're layered with gold bangles. Today, for everday wear, some people wear only one golden bangle on each arm(like my mom) or they might wear glass bangles(my grandma does this), and only do the gold-glass layering during special occassions.

The names of these bangles differ according to the way they're made and where they're placed on the layering. The thickest gold bangles nearest to the hand are called Tode(तोडे) and they're pair of heavy gold bangles that feature intricate designs that go all around the bangle. Since they keep the layering in place, they're generally smaller than the actual wrist and include a screw and hinge to fasten them. The gold bangles in the middle and back are called Patlya(पाटल्या), are a type of traditional gold bangles and are often decorated with intricate designs on the outside.

She also has a kamarbandh on her waist but ig that's also pretty standard so I didn't include separate pictures

#mahabharata #krishna #rukmini #krishnablr #lakshmi narayan #lakshmi #narayan #hindublr

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sare11aa11eras · 11 months ago

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Daenerys Missandei Irri and Jhiqui!

[Image Description: A full-length drawing of four people, Daenerys Targaryen, Missandei of Naath, and Dany’s two Dothraki handmaidens, Irri and Jhiqui. They are standing progressively farther back from the viewer. Daenerys stands in profile, walking forward, talking to someone. Missandei and Jhiqui have their bodies facing the viewer, Irri is angled slightly to the right side of the drawing. Missandei, Irri, and Jhiqui look at Daenerys. They are standing on a red carpet against a blank background.

Daenerys wears a purple tokar with a gold fringe. She wears her dragon crown, a gold bangle, rings of various materials, a gold vambrace with purple stones, gold earrings with purple stones, and an elaborate necklace with purple stones. From the necklace and the crown dangle long strings of red and black beads. She wears an anklet and leather sandals. A few golden bells can be seen in her hair.

Missandei wears a knee-length light orchid-color dress. It hangs loosely around her. Her dress is trimmed at the hem with purple and blue beads of different lengths. She wears sandals similar to Dany’s. She wears a large V-shaped piece of jewelry similar to a collar around her neck and over her collarbones. It is gold, mostly decorated with purple stones, and a blue butterfly design. Missandei wears earrings with blue butterflies and purple, pink, and yellow stones. She wears a bracelet of alternating pink and yellow stones. Her hair is in braids to pull it away from her face, but is otherwise in an Afro-type style. She holds a tablet and writing utensil in front of her chest. She has an interested expression as she looks up from her writing towards Dany.

Irri wears Dothraki clothes. She wears long trousers, which are blue fabric with a fringed panel of leather along the inside of her leg and groin. She wears leather boots with green, white, and purple painted swirls on them. She wears a dark leather belt around her middle and a belt of gold discs over it. The central gold disc has a green stone. More blue fabric wraps around her chest, either pleated or wrappings. Over this is a painted vest, primarily decorated with blue, green, and white. On her upper arm is an armband with an illustration of a horse galloping in grass. She has leather wrappings on her wrist and opposite upper arm. She wears one visible ring. She wears a leather necklace with a triangular gold pendant and gold triangular earrings. Her hair is in at least three braids, tied off with gold beads. She has bangs. She wears a woven headband of green and blue, with jade stones. Her face is neutral.

Jhiqui also wears Dothraki clothes, although hers do not look practical for riding. Her clothes are primarily fabric of a deep raspberry color. Along the outer side of her trousers is a stripe of leather, fringed at the end, painted with pink and pale purple flowers. On her chest she wears a beaded brooch shaped like a flower, with pink petals and a green “stem”. She wears slippers, in the same material as the rest of her outfit, with a decoration of pink flowers on yellow around the heel. Her vest is laced closed over a green and gold under layer. Her vest is trimmed at the hem with gold discs. Around her middle is a dark leather belt, with a thin belt of gold discs over it. She wears a leather necklace similar to Irri’s, with a circular gold pendant with a garnet stone. Her earrings match this pendant. She wears two rings. Her arm band is gold and garnet. Her hair is worn similarly to Irri’s. She has a bracelet with chips of green jade set in silver on a leather cuff. She has a nose piercing with a gold chain that leads to her earring. She appears to be wearing rouge. She looks mildly interested in whatever is happening. End ID./]

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #my art #asoiaf fashion hour #dothraki fashion #dany’s crown #daenerys targaryen #missandei #irri #jhiqui #dothraki #okay tokar design partially inspired by artistellen’s assyrian mermaid design #irri’s outfit is also inspired by someone else hang on.#okay it’s greywoe ghostlyturncloaks and ilrex. usual suspects!!#missandei’s is partially based on a shebsart art I think #okay that’s p much everything #trying out id in caption since I saw smthg abt those being more reliable than alt descriptions??? lmk what ppl think!#I hope this conveys to everyone that Jhiqui IS WEARING DOTHRAKI FASHIONS. she’s just doing fancy princess city style dothraki fashion.#vs irri’s more horse girl style.#this is NOT a guide for agot irri or jhiqui!!!#adwd #okay does anyone remember if slavers bay uses clay tablets papyrus parchment or paper bc I did not. help.#@ grrm YOU COULD AT *LEAST* COLOR CODE THEM. ITS NOT HARD.

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winchestermysterymachine · 2 months ago

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dean winchester ; manic monday

Monday Morning, 8:30 AM

The sun shines into the dusty motel room. Dean's asleep, Sam's asleep, I can't sleep. Today feels super refreshing. It's early spring in Miami, Florida. It's all beaches, tan's and bikini's over here. Lousy bars and trashy songs, dancing on counters and bad beer. My skin is sticky from the beach from yesterday. Lying by the ocean beaches wasn't something we normally did. Sometimes we'd pull over by a lake and crack open the ice chest full of the good beers, but this weekend was different. Everything was peaceful for once, so we were on a bit of a vacation.

Every girl is Sam's type. I spot her out at the bar, I become her friend. I talk about my boyfriend, and make Sam seem like an absolute angel. She comes over, they hit it off, and Dean and I find ourselves alone in the motel room for the night. That's the routine for the past two days. Until last night. Our most recent pick up ended up having a boyfriend, and likes getting into fights with guys to 'defend his girls honor'. Of course Dean wasn't gonna let that slide and had to jump in. So now both boys are exhausted, bruised all over, and mad at me for picking the wrong chick and ruining their night. I was half tempted to just buy another room for myself, but I hadn't felt tired at all. I just sat on the couch and watched crappy TV show reruns until I passed out on the couch. Of course if Dean found out I slept on the couch he'd be pissed off again.

I get changed into a bikini, throwing Dean's flannel and a pair of shorts over it. I leave the top half of the buttons undone, my gold necklace glinting across my skin. Dean bought it for me from one of the vendor's in a downtown area. It's super pretty, and simple, and it hasn't rusted or turned my skin green or blue, so it's just about perfect.

I step out of the bathroom, seeing Sam sitting up in bed, stretching and yawning, and then running his hands through his hair. "Morning Sammy." I said cheerfully, keeping my voice down to not wake up Dean. "I'll start on coffee." I walked to the kitchenette, putting the pieces together for motel coffee. "You want to make a run for breakfast?" Sam asked, standing up and I nodded. "Yeah, gotta hurry though. If Dean wakes up and we're both gone he's gonna get mad at me again." I sighed and rolled my eyes. It's not strange for Dean to get mad at me, mostly it's pointless misunderstandings or I didn't listen to his requests on a hunt, but he's been weird since last night.

It might not even be the fight though, it might be that I mentioned our four year anniversary is coming up and I wanted to do something special. I've never been in a relationship this long before, I've never even dated someone I could see a future with. But Dean's always hellbent on keeping everyone away. Not me though, I snuck in somehow and I'm not about to be kicked out.

Dean grunts from the bed, rolling over and letting out a deep groan. "You really didn't think you were getting away that easily?" his morning voice is so deep and sleepy, and his eyes haven't even opened yet. Sam and I share a small smile and he nods, letting me know he's got the coffee covered. I creep over, crawling onto the mattress. Dean's arms wrap around me like a Venus flytrap, holding me tight. I press a few gentle kisses to his cheeks and forehead. "You're bruised all over." I whispered against his skin and he sighs. "I know that."

"We gotta get you some ice then." I suggested. "It's not that bad. You should see the other guy." I chuckled and relaxed on his body, seeking refuge in his shoulder. "I did see the other guy, I had the give the police statement." Dean laughs and presses kisses to my shoulder. "You showered without me?" he asked quietly and I giggled. "Sorry."

A few hours later, after an argument about an ice pack, and lunch at a random restaurant, we're on our way to the beach again. The two boys sit in chairs while I lounge on a pretty stripe patterned towel. Dean's old flannel and my shorts were discarded on a pile beside me while I lie in the setting sun. The sounds of teenagers and young adults fill the beach. Ocean waves smash against the sea shore, the scent of ocean water wafting through the air. This is true peace.

The boys had been a few feet behind me, I didn't want to hear them talk about whatever beach babes they laid their delicate green eyes on. I had my speaker set up beside my head, softly playing some music, a beer tucked deep in the sand. My eyes are closed, thick framed sunglasses covering my eyes. I could fall asleep here.

A shadow envelops my body, and I half expected it to be Sam or Dean begging to go back to the motel, or maybe prank my and splash water on me. "What?" I whined, opening my eyes. Instead of Sam or Dean, it's a random guy I've never seen before. I swallowed, sitting up, and I slipped my sunglasses off. He's cute and all, but he's no Dean.

He's shirtless, black swim shorts on. Floppy blond hair that's wet, dripping in water. "I saw you from over there and I thought you were to pretty to be alone." I don't even get the chance to respond when Dean stomps over, knocking into the guy, who falls to the ground. I gasp and stand up, pressing against Dean's chest to get him to back off. "I could've handled it." I grumbled but Dean's eye's narrow down at me. His arms cross over his chest, daring me to go against him again. "Don't act all tough Dean." I scoffed and turned around, helping the guy stand up. "I'm so sorry about him, he doesn't like strangers." I pull the guy up who offers a sheepish smile. He nervously stares between Dean and I. "If I knew you were a taken lady, I wouldn't have bothered but I saw you, and I wanted to introduce myself." he holds his hands up in defense. He had a country accent, and definitely wasn't from around here. "Go find someone else to introduce yourself too."

"Don't mind him, he's just mad someone else was giving me attention." I too crossed my arms over my chest. The guys looks back and forth between Dean and I. "You've got a might fine lookin' lady, lyin' on the beach on her own." the guy shakes his head, like me being alone was the worst thing imaginable. "If you was my lady, you'd never be alone." Dean lunges at the guy but I step between them making Dean shake his head. The other guy scampers away. "Pack your fuckin' shit, we're leaving." Dean snapped, glaring after the guy who ran back to his buddies. "I'm not leaving." I plop down on my towel, relaxing on it once again. "Yes you fuckin' are, get your ass up." I ignore him, opening one of the books I borrowed from the library, something Sam and I took an interest in and were sharing back and forth during our vacation. "Y/n, I'm not fucking playing with you. Get up." Dean growled lowly. I groaned and rolled my eyes, standing up I pack my thing's into my shoulder bag and shove Dean out of the way, walking up the sand back toward the hotel.

How dare he? He hardly ever compliments me anymore. It's like he doesn't even love me. And last night he yells at me cause I brought Sam the wrong chick? It's not my fault Sam can't find his own bitches. And then he only comes to my rescue when someone's hitting on me? He didn't want to tan with me, he didn't want to play in the water with me, he didn't even want to talk to me.

Sometimes I don't even get why we're together. I love him so dearly, but when I'm with Dean everyday we have to fight to live. Apocalypses, Demons, Angels, we've lived through it all and somehow I'm not sure if our four year anniversary is possible anymore. I just feel like we're not compatible anymore. I'm getting old and at some point I won't be able to live on the road anymore, in crappy hotel rooms. Before I know it, Dean and I will be together for sixy years and we'll both have skipped over everything normal couples do. We wouldn't get married legally, he can't anyway because he's supposed to be dead, and he's a convicted felon. We can't have kids cause their lives will be in danger. He doesn't like cats or dogs in baby, which excludes every other pet too. We can't even own a home together cause all he does is worry about our safety. It's so exhausting. I haven't even mentioned how little food we eat, how little sleep we get, how little money we have.

Thing's like vacations and breaks are always cut short cause those boys don't know how to just stop. I'd never change them, I love them for who they are. Their need to protect, their loyalty, it's all so admirable and so necessary in a world like this, but if one of them don't come home one day I think I'll lose my shit. Every time one dies, watching the other go through that pain multiple times, trying to get them back. It's like a horror movie with too many sequels. It gets old.

I notice that the boys hadn't followed me back, and the sun was setting soon. I was pretty sure they'd walk to a bar or something, and I wasn't in the mood to be nice to Dean. I needed some time to think and relax. I packed up some of my thing's into a bag, and headed over to the main office where I requested a one night stay in my own room. I also requested that if an older, kinda scary looking man with a tall, broad puppy comes in, pretend not to know who, or where I am. Of course I slipped the woman behind the counter a fifty for all her hard work, and then set off to find my own room.

Room 207 was on the second floor and had a beautiful view of the ocean from the window. It was exactly what I needed. I changed out of my bikini and headed straight to the shower.

Dean Winchester

"She's so annoying sometimes." I kick the sand as she walks away. Her hips swaying, in a way I can only tell is pure attitude. Sam lounges on his chair, legs crossed at the ankles. A pair of sunglasses rest against his face, sipping a beer. "She's not annoying, you love her." Sam replies all lovey-dovey and it makes me want to hurl. "Don't say shit like that." I scoffed, sitting on the chair again. I wasn't gonna follow her, she wants to walk away like a brat then let her. "What were you planning for your four year anniversary?" Sam asked curiously. I rolled my eyes and cracked open another beer. "Wasn't planning shit."

"Why? This is like the longest relationship you've had." Sam reminded. I cannot believe we've been together for four years. It wasn't supposed to be that way. About six years ago, Y/n's whole family was killed, leaving their only daughter alive. Which she was meant to be used in a ritualistic sacrifice by a witch trying to contact an old deity. After we killed the witch, Y/n begged to stick with us for a while. Learn about hunting and then split apart after a few weeks. Leave her in a new state, in a new town, and forget everything that happened to her. But I couldn't leave her at that bus stop a year after we saved her. She became an important part of my day, always checking up on each other. She was vital in research too. She had a great memory, great listener, quick decision making skills. She was loyal to Sam and I, and often went out of her way to keep us safe, doing shit I don't want her to.

She had some anger issues, she liked to push my buttons all the time. Storming away in the middle of a fight knowing I'll run after her to talk it out. Cutting me off to talk over me, stealing my beers right out of my hand. Spraying her vanilla and coconut perfume in the Impala even when I didn't want her to. It messes with the cars natural musk. When she steals my flannels and turns my music off.

But then there were the times when she was incredibly sexy too. Dancing in bars with rock and country songs in the background. Her tight jeans. That belt she loves to wear so much. The denim vest she wears, and only that. It cups her tits perfectly. When she smiles after I make a stupid joke. When she ties her hair up into a bun. When she argues back at me, it's both sexy and frustrating. She definitely knows how to put a man back in his place.

And the soft parts of her. When she'd hold me and run her fingers through my hair. When we cooked and probably burned random foods in the kitchens of motels. Watching old western movies together while eating pizza. Snacking on cereal at 3 AM while Sam sleeps. Going on drives in the country. Her white cowboy boots sticking out of the open windows. Her voice shouting out the words to our favorite songs, annoying the shit out of Sam just because it's funny. God I love her to death, but damn does she piss me off. "You need to go apologize."

"Apologize?" I scoffed, sipping my beer slowly. "I'm not apologizing for shit. I'll let her cool off and then we talk like civilized humans." Sam shakes his head, staring out at the ocean. "You're gonna lose her man." Sam shrugs but I wasn't listening anymore.

Within the hour, Sam and I packed up our stuff, carrying it all back to the motel. I guess Sam's not wrong. I need to make it up to her. Four years means a lot to someone like me. I've been alive ever since we started dating, I've been alive for four consecutive years. I calculate our hunts more, I steer clear of danger just cause I don't want her to be alone in this world. I had many dreams picturing her life with Sam after I've died, and I can't take the look on her face every time he tells her I've died. I told Sam after that first nightmare that if something does ever happen to me, I want them to take care of each other. "Baby, we're home!" I called jokingly, hoping to catch her lounging on the bed, or painting her toes on the couch. Maybe reading a book with coffee at the table. Or in the shower scrubbing away the sand from the beach.

Instead, I find most of her shit gone.

I run out to the front desk without another thought. She fucking left after one little argument? I know yesterday was kinda fucked up, but today, really? "Where is she?" I ask the woman at the front desk, ripping the door open. The woman behind the counter sinks to her chair and shrugs. "I'm sorry sir, I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"My girlfriend. You know who she is, I know you do!" the woman's eyes widen. "Look sir, I'm sorry. But you're going to need to calm down or else I'll have to call the police. I'm not allowed to give out residents locations."

Sam inserts himself between us, glaring at me and then offering the woman a kind smile. "I'm sorry about my idiot brother. His girlfriends gone missing and we're just wondering if you've seen her, talked to her." the woman nods. "I can't give you her stay. She paid with cash anyway, so she's technically not in our system." I lunge forward, leaning over the counter. "You will tell me where my girlfriend is or I'll knock on every door until I find her!"

"Dean!" Sam shouts, pulling me off. The woman dusts off her clothing and fixes her hair. "If I get a complaint called up, I'll have to call the police and kick you two out. But honestly, I'd leave her alone. She was pretty specific with what she wanted to happen." the woman offered a small reassuring smile. "She only booked one night, so whatever you did, I assume she just needed a few hours to herself. Her check out is 10 AM tomorrow if you want to catch her here."

"Thank you, will do!" Sam calls, pulling me out of the main office and back to our room. "See man! See what happens when you push your girlfriend away, she runs!" Sam shouts in a whisper as we walk back to the room. I pull open our motel door and head straight for the bedroom. Scratch loving her, she's fucking annoying. What is she a child? Running off like this? Doesn't she realize how dangerous it is for me to not know where she is? She's too delicate to be in this world alone. Her ass better stay in that motel room or I'll lose my fucking shit.

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part 2 coming asap! this was only going to be one part, but i'm already at almost 3k words and there's a whole lot more that needs to be said & a lesson or 2 to be learned! Also most of the sundays you see I probably meant Monday but oh well we can’t win them all

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ebonystarfall · 9 months ago

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Nezha x Female!Reader who’s also a deity associated with music and flowers (specifically irises)?

Could be a rivalry turned to good friends to lovers

Or acquaintances to lovers?

Pick a Flower~!

Nezha x Flower Deity!Reader (fem version)

Created by: Starbeam (Owner 1)

Type of content: Headcanons

Pov: Second

Word count: 433 (approximately)

TW: erm not beta read at all...boob mention btw but it's not sexual

A/N: Gonna do the male version sometime, or just make the g/n one a little later. It's only going to be a few tweaks here to there, nothing too wild and different. Maybe I won't, idk, I feel exhausted haha. And the two are acquaintances

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED

Right, so from the start he's known about you. Of course, Nezha knows about most, if not all of the deities within the Celestial Realm, and you were no exception. To be honest, the two of you only have some interactions, just a simple 'hello' and 'how's your duties coming along?' you know, just simple talk.

Now, don't assume he doesn't like you, he actually thinks you're pretty interesting. While he protects that map to the Samadhi Fire, you play your music and melodies. Sometimes during his off-days (which are HORRIBLY) rare, he likes to sit down in the gardens you've made and listen to one of your performances.

Eventually the two of you get attached to each other and become the topic of some gossip with the other deities and officials...not like you guys care much. Blah, blah, blah, you two confess your feelings, everyone's happy, ect.

Now time for the actual headcanons!

He's very gentle with you, oftentimes giving you massages like the charming little Lotus Prince he is, especially since your fingers become sore after practicing with your instruments a little too much...

Of course he adores your playing! Why wouldn't he? It's common knowledge that you're a master at music, and he's a gentleman at heart. Like- did you really think that Nezha wouldn't be concerned whenever you talk about how your fingers hurt from playing? He's pretty damn observant when he wants to be, that's a guarantee.

High chance he went to your place after he got beat up by Wukong, complained about the guy when he was getting patched up. His ass is NOT going to simply...head immediately over to where that damned primate was. (he would've done it if he wasn't bruised as hell)

Sometimes he gives you gifts, especially on days that seem important to you (do deities remember their birthdays??), like one time he gave you a golden bangle with lotus and iris carving into it. He loves it when you wear them and you cannot change my mind-

He can get sleep-deprived a lot, and when he's really tired he likes to rest his head on your boobs. Calls them 'pillows fit for a god'...he also likes to rest his head on your lap, absolutely loves it when you comb through his hair, high chance he'll be out like a light.

Sometimes you ask (force) him to come down to the mortal realm with you for fun. You guys went to a museum once and Nezha got a bit sour after noticing one of the statues got his nose wrong or something lmao-

#lmk x reader #writers on tumblr #lego monkie kid #lego monkiekid x reader #lmk nezha #nezha x reader #nezha x y/n

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methylholic · 11 days ago

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CHAPTER 4 | FIXATION | BRIAN MOSER

Description: Debra’s grinning... It's abnormal. When she invites you to meet her mysterious new boyfriend, Rudy, you expect awkward drinks and small talk. What you don’t expect is how drawn you are to him. Rudy’s charming, attentive… disarmingly perfect. But perfection always has a price. And when he lets a single word slip—angel—you start to wonder who exactly it was meant for. Word Count: 1.7k

༺♱༻

The precinct has been busy all morning—phones buzzing, papers shuffling, cops grumbling. Apparently, they’ve caught the Ice Truck Killer, but none of that registers. Not when Debra is smiling. Not the polite kind either. The real kind. The kind that’s wide and bright and genuinely reached her eyes.

Something’s up.

She practically bumps into me as she turns the corner outside the locker room, hair bouncing, and giddy with excitement.

“Hey,” she says. I know this voice; it’s her asking-me-to-do-something-I-don’t-want-to voice. “What are you doing tonight?”

I blink. “Why?”

She grins wider. “Okay, better one—how do you feel about playing the bestie role for real today?”

I raise a brow. “Sounds like a trap. Wait, are we not already best friends?”

“It’s not, and no, give it another two weeks.” Then suddenly she leans in like she’s avoiding anyone hearing us talk. “I’ve been seeing someone. Not seeing, seeing. But like... seeing. You know?”

I nod slowly, lips twitching. “Since when?”

“A couple weeks. But I didn’t wanna jinx it.” She bobs on her heels. “But now I’m ready. And I need you to meet him. First.”

I stop. “Not Dexter?”

Her face falters just for a second, then is quickly overshadowed by excitement. “Dexter’s busy with… whatever weird shit he does in that blood lab. And anyway, you’re more normal than he is. Mostly. Plus, I need an honest opinion, someone who won’t lie for my sake.”

Something in her voice doesn’t sit right. It’s casual—but laced with something.

Nervousness.

I pretend not to notice.

“What’s his name?”

“Rudy.”

“Rudy…. okay. “Fine,” I say. “But you owe me food and drinks afterward.”

She claps her hands together, triumphant. “Done. You’re gonna love him. He’s sweet. Charming. Super smart. Dexter’ll probably hate him.” She laughs, and I nod along. “I’ll send you the address after work.” Then she gets up and nearly skips over to her work desk.

I subconsciously smile for her, then turn my attention back to the files I came to collect. I slightly turn my eyes up to peer through the door ahead of me; it’s slightly ajar, and I faintly make out the shape of someone inside. It’s Dexter’s lab area. He’s hunched over his computer, typing whos and whats. I look at him a little longer than I should, and the next thing I know, he makes direct eye contact with me and quickly averts his eyes. “I’m not gonna bite Dex. You can’t avoid every form of contact, you know.” I stride over to his door.

“Says who?” He says to me, fake smiling.

“Says me,” I pick up one of the blood vials on his desk, observing it. “Your sister is having me meet her boyfriend… seems like something she’d ask you to do.” Dex doesn’t look up at me, though; instead, he reaches for the vial from what he assumes is my hand and grabs my wrist instead. Not rough but not gentle either. He looks up and looks a little lost in thought when I offer the vial back to him. I take that as my cue to leave the room.

A short while later, I’m pulling up outside of the restaurant Deb gave me the address to. I’m wearing one of the outfits she gave me—a deep brown halter dress that clings to my waist and flares at the bottom. It’s soft, vintage, probably something she bought on impulse and never wore. A pearl-beaded necklace with a silver heart sits heavy at my chest, and a stack of gold bangles—thick, mismatched, loud—clinks against my wrist every time I move.

My purse is black leather; it’s a bit chunky, but it balances the rest of the look. My shoes are denim heels, probably from some expensive brand, but I wouldn’t know the difference. They’ve got little silver hearts hanging from them too. Even if I’m not confident in how I look, at least it looks like I am. I brush my bangs out of my face when I walk up to the door, and I see her laughing at a small raised table. Dark brown hair pulled back, hands gesturing wildly as she talks to a man whose back is turned.

I’m mentally rehearsing my smile and tone before I even get through the door and reach the table. Deb spots me, and her face practically beams. She beckons me over frantically, and the man she’s talking to turns his head over his shoulder. Something in my body feels odd. I try and push it down when I’m at the table, but it grows wilder by the second. “Y/N, this is my boyfriend, Rudy.”

He stands as I approach, polite, a little bashful even. Handsome in that crisp, unfussy way—dark shirt, clean jawline, eyes that crinkle when he smiles, and dark eyes.

“Rudy Cooper, or Captain Hook,” he says, offering his hand. His grip is warm, not too firm; in fact, it’s perfect against mine, like he’s felt them before. “Deb’s told me all about you. Honestly, I was getting a little jealous.”

I laugh. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

“Definitely flattered.” His voice is smooth but dripping in charisma. Something about him is deeply present. “You’re more… flamboyant than she described.” He says, eyes wavering over my outfit.

He says it lightly, without hesitation. I glance at Deb, who rolls her eyes and takes a long sip from her drink. “Yeah, well, it’s all thanks to her. Slowly bringing me out of my inner shell and whatnot.” I say, easing into the seat across from them.

We talk, the three of us, making small talk and conversation about food, Miami, and work. He’s talkative but not too much; his words come out exactly how he thinks them. Controlled, trained. It’s annoying, maybe not to Deb, but to me. She starts telling a story of how they got together, and he leans toward her, lips brushing against her ear fondly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says, loud enough for me to hear.

“You just noticed?” She says flirtatiously, there's a sarcastic undertone to it, but it doesn’t get past them making love eyes at each other. This third-wheeling shit sucks. I see why Dex said no.

“I guess I just have a thing for angel faces.” I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard him. He says it clearly; his tone never changes. It’s not as if it’s strange to say, Debra is beautiful and has soft features. He says it easily, like he’s said it a thousand times. But it’s off for me. He asks me a question about my work, but I don’t hear him.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom for a second.” I excuse myself from the table and begin to pace to the restrooms. I faintly hear Deb’s voice and then the sound of heels following behind me. Once inside the bathroom, I put my purse on the sink, and Deb quietly pushes the door closed, standing next to me.

“Are you okay? What was going on back there?” She says, placing a hand on my back.

“Nothing, everything is fine. I’m just a little shaken up from things at work, you know. Blood gets to a girl sometimes.” I joke, but she isn’t laughing.

“Is that all?” Her eyes search mine.

“Yes, Deb, I’m cool.” I hug her, not because I need it, but maybe that's the type of reassurance women give each other. Debra pulls away and smiles at me, then she walks out of the bathroom. I look in the mirror, my lips stained black and red from liner and lipstick, mascara and eyeliner sleek, untouched. I never see myself like this.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence. I should be enjoying myself since I hardly ever go out. I brush off the Angel comment and take a few deep breaths before resetting my composure and walking out the door.

I reach the table, and Debra isn’t there, just Rudy. “Where'd Deb go?” I ask as I sit in the seat.

“She just stepped out for a smoke,” Rudy says, gesturing lazily with his glass. He’s relaxed in his seat now, one arm draped over the back of Debra’s chair. “Said she’d be right back.”

I nod, sliding back into my seat. My fingers toy with the condensation on my water glass, but I keep my eyes on him. He looks… at ease. He appears to be too relaxed. Still, I tell myself to let it go. Don’t overthink. Don’t ruin this for her.

“She’s crazy about you, you know,” I say, voice light but testing.

Rudy smiles, not bashfully this time; instead, there's something more knowing. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s mutual.” The table goes quiet for a moment. I glance out the window, then back to him; he’s not looking at me but instead at his surroundings. I take the time to look at him. His features are sculpted in a model-type way. His shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbows, exposing his forearms; they’re strong but not bulky, like he could easily lift something heavy if he wasn’t trying to be subtle about his strength. His hands are clean and deliberate. He catches me staring, smirks, and then, as Debra walks in and he looks toward the door, the tendons flex just enough to draw my attention.

He leans back slightly in his chair, and the stretch of his shirt across his chest makes me choke on the margarita I’m sipping. I clear my throat and try to play it off, but my thighs shift subtly under the table involuntarily. I scold myself internally, but it’s too late. I’m already curious. Not just about who he is, but what he feels like.

Debra leans into Rudy, whispering something that makes him laugh. I watch the way his hand drapes over her knee, as if it were just routine for them at this point in their relationship.

I should be happy for her.

By the time we part ways outside, she’s ecstatic and flashes a smile at me, and for a moment, I feel like the worst person in the world for letting her. Rudy is every bit the gentleman Deb promised he’d be, and I’m… conflicted. Caught between my friendship with Deb and the walking danger she brought to dinner. Not to mention how he’d made me feel. The night air presses in around me as I walk back to my car, heels clicking against the pavement, the buzz of streetlights overhead. It should’ve been a lovely evening.

All that’s in the back of my head is that stupid fucking word.

And how, for a split second, it felt like it wasn’t meant for Debra.

It was meant for me.

༺♱༻

✦ ⛧ Masterlist ⛧ ✦

#dexter #brian moser #brian moser x female reader #brian moser x reader #brian moser x you #dexter morgan #brian moser brainrot #fanfic #guys please read this its gonna be epic #writing #FIXATION

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gavisuntiedboot · 1 year ago

Text

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

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