#except for the final part. that i might actually do for the joke of it

[veneritia]

what if i write goncharov fic for my creative writing final huh. what then

[ellemj]

Flustered: Part 2 (FINAL)

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Two-Part Fic: SMUT

Request by @aryarcharon: enemies to lovers, fuckboy!Bucky, praise kink.

Summary: You might be able to fuck away a crush but you can't fuck away an obsession.

Warnings: profanity, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), kinda threat with a belt in the bedroom but nothing happens, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I hope this meets some expectations lmao, I get nervous when the first part of a series or two-part thing gets a lot of attention. Also to the people who have randomly tipped me, BLESS YOU 🥹🖤 I actually cry a little when I get those notifs.

Fucking someone, anyone but you, is what Bucky needs tonight. It’s what he’s needed every night since he met you honestly, but especially tonight. The dangerous game that the two of you have been playing has left Bucky with a feeling similar to that of climbing Mount Everest. The longer the climb goes on, the harder it gets for him to breathe. God, it feels like his lungs are trapped at a high altitude every minute that he’s around you at this point. So, Bucky will be skipping the monthly team game night to fuck a girl he met two days ago.

He pulls his leather jacket over his arms and shoves the key to his bike in his pocket as he gives himself one last look in the mirror. The tiniest seed of doubt presents itself in his mind as he meets his own gaze in the mirror. Fucking someone else won’t fix this. Fucking someone else might put a crush out of one’s mind…but this is more than a crush. As Bucky stands there, staring at himself, the realization comes crashing in like a damn freight train running off of its rails. This is obsession.

If Bucky’s breathing can be compared to the struggle of oxygenation at a high altitude, then your breathing can be compared to taking one’s first natural breath after a successful lung transplant. Every time you say something to get under his skin, every time you watch his smirk fall away and his chest rise and fall a little faster, you suddenly feel like you’re standing outside, taking in a breath of cool, crisp autumn air. The dirty little game between the two of you is simultaneously ruining Bucky’s life and giving you life.

________________

         “Hey, you’re staying for game night?” Sam’s voice rings out as Bucky steps into the main living area, where the entire team is gathered both on the couch and the nearby floor. The entire team except for you, he notices, as he scans the group.

         “I have somewhere to be.” Bucky answers gruffly, coming to stand next to the end of the couch where Sam sits.

         “Hot date?” Sam jokes, giving him a quick once-over. As soon as he sees the leather jacket, he knows he’s either taking the bike out to wherever he’s going, or he’s going on a mission. Sam is positive it’s the former, because if it was the latter, he’d know about it.

         “Always.” Bucky says with a smirk, shoving Sam’s shoulder. As the rest of the team begins chatting amongst themselves, Bucky catches himself looking around for you. Are you out tonight? Do you have a date? Bucky’s jaw clenches as he briefly envisions you dressing up for your trainer and sitting down to have a meal with him. You had better fucking not.

         “Heading out?” The unexpected sound of your voice breaks Bucky out of his moment of mental weakness and he turns around quickly, coming to face you. You must’ve been in your room, he thinks, since you came from the direction of the hallway. Of course his obsessive mind would assume that you went out with the piece of shit who thinks you’re as fragile as a damn butterfly. “That’s too bad, I was really looking forward to kicking your ass tonight.”

         “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Bucky says calmly, staring into your eyes as the room grows quiet.

         “But I thought—” Sam begins repeating Bucky’s earlier claim that he had somewhere to be, but he’s quickly cut off by Bucky shooting him a look that says something along the lines of say one more word and watch what happens. “Oh, right, your date is tomorrow night, not tonight.” Sam recovers with a lie. After one look at you, Bucky abandoned his plan to fuck away his feelings. You brush past him to take a seat on the floor by the coffee table, and as your arm collides with the fabric of his leather jacket, all he can think about is the image of a freight train careening off the rails and going up in a fiery blaze. Obsession. His obsession with you is going to be his undoing, he’s sure of it.

______

          The team game night was significantly more intense than normal with both you and Bucky being present. Well, it wasn’t just the fact that you were both in attendance for once. It was the fact that you were both so set on showing one another up. The entire night basically turned into a cut-throat duel, with cards and game pieces instead of knives and guns.

         You stand in the living area alone now, stacking up all of the game boxes on the coffee table as you listen to the soft sound of the kitchen faucet running. After all of your back and forth arguing and shit-giving, you and Bucky were forced to take the cleanup duty yourselves, as restitution. You thought Bucky would continue on with the act once everyone went their separate ways for bed, but you were utterly surprised when he offered to take the kitchen cleanup and leave you only to handle the games. It was as if whatever competitive, teasing switch he had that had been turned on all night was suddenly turned off once he had you alone.

         Bucky rinses off the last dish in the sink, watching intently as the suds run down his vibranium fingers and into the drain. With every dish he washed, he imagined his obsession going down the drain with the suds. It was almost therapeutic, until he sensed you stepping into the kitchen behind him. He stiffened instantly as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

         You stand still as Bucky turns off the faucet and sets the final clean dish in the drying rack. You don’t really know why you decided to approach him. You could’ve gone to bed once you finished putting the games away, but your feet carried you in the opposite direction. So, now here you are, staring at the defined muscles of his back through his taut shirt.

         “What’s up with you?” You ask quietly, leaning back against the island a couple of feet behind Bucky. You realize you’re in similar positions as the night you figured out that he has a size kink, except you’ve switched places.

         “What do you mean?” He answers your question with his own as he towels his hands dry and turns around to mirror your position. He leans back against the front of the sink as he looks you over carefully. You’re suddenly entranced by the way he meticulously dries in every little crevice of his vibranium arm, as if he’s done it thoroughly a thousand times before, as if it’s a routine. When he notices you staring at the action, that familiar smirk returns to his face. “You don’t know how to act around me when I’m not fucking around with you, do you?” He asks in a near condescending tone. You narrow your eyes as you raise them to meet his gaze. When you don’t say anything in response, Bucky continues his work with the towel, warring within himself. He knows he shouldn’t keep going like this. He should leave right now and spend the night with any other woman underneath him so he can bury whatever it is that he feels about you. But the next words leave his lips anyway. “You miss it, don’t you? You can’t stand not having my attention, even for five minutes.”

         “Bullshit. You’re too damn cocky for your own good.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t make a move to leave the kitchen, and Bucky takes note of that.

         “And you’re a tease. Which is worse?” Bucky asks. He begins carefully folding the towel, slower than you’ve ever seen him do anything. You’re mesmerized by his hands.

         “I’m not a tease.”

         “Bullshit.” Bucky calls out, setting the towel on the countertop beside him.

         “I’m not.”

         Bucky exhales slowly as he pushes away from the sink and straightens up before you. The look he gives you sends an icy shiver down your spine.

         “Good girls don’t lie.”

______

         To you, the next two minutes were a blur. The only thing that registered in your mind was a brief, fleeting thought of not giving a fuck and punching Bucky in his smug face. Your legs had the right idea when they rushed forward, carrying you straight toward him, but the rest of your body betrayed you and somehow you ended up kissing him.

         Bucky didn’t even return your kiss at first. He stood there, completely stunned, as your soft lips met his. It took two seconds before his senses were able to convince his body that this was actually happening, and then he lost every ounce of control. The days of back and forth teasing, the innuendos, the lingering glance, it all came together like a pile of firewood and combusted right there in the kitchen. Bucky’s right hand tangled in your hair like it was instinct. As his palm connected with the nape of your neck, he gave your hair a gentle tug and earned himself a sweet moan that traveled from your mouth, straight into his.

         He was fucked.

         Now, Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest as he watches you step into his dark bedroom in front of him. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears as he turns around and pushes the door shut, turning the lock into place and then taking a deep breath. Obsession. He has you in his fucking bedroom. He started out the night telling himself to go fuck another woman and now he has you right where he’s always wanted you.

         His room smells just like him. It’s dark, but not so dark that you can’t make out his neatly made bed and distinct lack of decor in the space. You’re suddenly aware of the reason why he never brings women here, always choosing to meet them elsewhere instead. The place could be mistaken for a hotel room, without a single personal memento or hint that a person actually lives here. You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you take in the new setting. When you turn around to face him, he’s leaning against the door.

         “You don’t have a single picture in here.” You point out casually, as if you didn’t just jump the man three minutes ago and then follow him to his bedroom for god knows what. Bucky keeps his eyes trained on yours.

         “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

         “Among other things, yeah.” You admit, walking backwards until you feel the edge of his mattress against the backs of your knees. You sink down onto it, maintaining eye contact through the dark space around you.

         “Other things…” Bucky mumbles. He runs a hand through his hair and for a second, he almost looks unsure of himself.

         “You were so cocky just five minutes ago.” You tsk, shaking your head. “I didn’t expect Bucky Barnes, the ultimate man-whore, to have performance issues.” Your words could’ve gone in either one of two very different directions. You could’ve hit a sensitive spot of his and turned him off, or you could’ve brought out the side of him you’ve been seeing for days.

         “You talk so fucking big for someone so fucking small.” Bucky’s demeanor shifts, and suddenly the energy in the room is as charged as it was the day you sparred with him. You’re silent as he steps away from the door and starts undoing his belt with one hand. One. Fucking. Hand.

         “Bucky—”

         “No, you sit there and look pretty, don’t say a fucking word.”

         You close your mouth instantly, partially due to the shock of his boldness but mostly because when Bucky Barnes tells you what to do, with his hand on his belt, you’ll do it. You aren’t quite sure when your body decided to switch from always wanting to do the opposite of what he said to wanting to do everything he says, but you have a feeling it happened around the time he started praising you for the tiniest things.

         “That’s right, you can’t even help yourself, can you? You listen to me because you know it’ll get you what you want.” His voice is smooth and even. Any hint of hesitation has vanished. As he pulls his belt out of the belt loops, he glances down at the strip of leather in his hands. So many things he could do with it, he thinks. He steps even closer to where you sit at the foot of the bed and you swallow hard as you look up at him. Bucky’s mind is reeling. He remembers the way you looked up at your trainer in the gym that day, the way you smiled at him. He almost laughs thinking about how jealous he was of that. And now he has you like this. Bucky drops the belt on the bed beside you and then pulls his shirt over his head in one swift movement, dropping it on the floor beside your feet. As your gaze drops to take in the sight of his toned chest, the scars along his left shoulder, his godly abs, he smiles to himself.

         You feel the last dry fabric between your legs become wet when he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts it upwards, forcing you to look up at him once more.

         “Keep behaving, and I won’t touch that.” He says evenly, cocking his head in the direction of the belt. Bucky slowly drops to his knees in front of you, placing both hands firmly on your thighs. “Act up, and you’ll have two reasons why you can’t sit down tomorrow, instead of one.”

         When he talks to you like that, things either start moving in slow motion or they start fast forwarding. You find yourself flat on your back, with your legs hooked over his shoulders so suddenly that you aren’t sure if it happened in seconds or minutes. You aren’t even sure if you said a word, though the belt still lies on the bed beside you so you must’ve kept his command and stayed quiet.

         “You have no idea…” Bucky whispers as he kisses along your inner thigh. “No idea how long I’ve wanted to be between these thighs.” His admission sends blush to your cheeks and a shudder throughout your body. He raises his head for a moment and looks into your eyes. Fuck, he needs to stop doing that. Every time he makes eye contact with you, he’s pushed closer and closer to throwing every care out the window and fucking you like a goddamn animal. He focuses on your dripping cunt instead, finally giving himself the chance to admire it. Every time he breathes you feel it. When he presses his tongue flat against your entrance and begins to drag it up toward your clit, your back arches off the bed at the sudden contact.

         “Fuck.” You exhale the word sharply, letting your eyes flutter closed and your fists grip his bedding. As soon as the word leaves your mouth, you remember what he said. Don’t say a fucking word.

         “You taste so fucking sweet.” Bucky groans, breaking away from your cunt and pressing his forehead against your thigh to ground himself. “Shit.”

         Seconds later, Bucky is working his tongue all over you, into you, like he really has waited forever for this moment. His desperation and fervency only adds to the sensations between your legs, causing a knot to twist in your lower stomach at record speed. As soft whimpers and moans slip past your lips, which you’re trying hard to keep pressed together, Bucky sucks on your clit and remembers what he told you to do.

         “Let me hear you, please.” He says just loud enough for you to hear, before diving right back in. In that moment, you can’t believe the filthy sounds that begin spewing from your mouth. Bucky eats up every single sound, every single swear, every single syllable of his name falling from your lips. His name. God, every time you moan his name, his cock twitches in his jeans and he loses another piece of his mind. When your back arches off the bed again and your thighs tighten on the sides of his head, he knows you’re right on the edge. That’s when he, without warning, flicks his tongue over your clit and slips two fingers inside of you. With a few thrusts and curls of his fingers against your walls, and his mouth’s unrelenting actions on your clit, you’re coming undone for him. “That’s it, cum for me.” He encourages you, practically finger fucking you right through your orgasm. “I knew you’d sound so fucking pretty when you cum.”

         You’re a limp, panting mess on his bed as he crawls over you, peppering your naked body with kisses all the way up.

         “Talk to me.” He coos, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as he waits for you to say something, anything.

         “That was…” You take a deep breath mid-sentence, trying to steady your voice. “You just…” You’re mentally kicking yourself for not being able to form a coherent sentence. You have no doubt that your loss of basic speech skills is only going to inflate his ego.

         “That was a fucking dream.”  He says softly, sucking on your earlobe and then moving to hover over you. He takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are blown, and you’re struggling to catch your breath. It’s adorable. “Can you move up higher in the bed or do I need to move you myself?” He asks. At first, you think he’s joking, but when you look into his eyes you see that he’s dead serious. A moment later, you’re settling in with your head on his pillow as he stands beside the bed and strips every last shred of his clothes off. Though your eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room, the shadows make it impossible to see Bucky’s fully naked form. It isn’t until he’s positioning himself back on top of you that you get the answer to the question that had been on your mind.

         “Oh my god, Bucky.” You gasp as his hard cock presses firmly against your thigh.

         “Hmm?” He knows exactly what you’re reacting to, and if you could see the smirk painted across his face right now you’d probably want to slap him.

         “It’s…you’re so big.” Your voice turns into a whisper. You’re sure you feel his cock twitch and a little bit of precum drip onto your thigh when the words leave your lips. Oh, right. Bucky’s size kink. It makes sense now. How could a guy with such a big dick not have a size kink? “It’s not going to fit.” You say assuredly.

         “Oh, it’ll fit. Remember what you said?” Bucky remembers what you said like it was five minutes ago. “I can take whatever you have to give me. You said that to me.” He reminds you.

         “I didn’t know—”

         “Oh, you knew.” He chuckles, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. He distracts you with ease, licking along your bottom lip and then letting it delve into your mouth gently, just as he grinds the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp into the kiss, which only encourages him to deepen it further. He starts rutting against you, dragging his cock back and forth between your folds with every movement of his hips. If he had it his way, he’d be fully sheathed within you right now, fucking you so hard you’d see stars.

         Bucky lets the head of his cock get closer and closer to your entrance with every rut of his hips, but he continues distracting you with his mouth. He fully intended to keep kissing you when he finally let his cock slide into you, but just as he notches inside of you and starts pushing in, he breaks the kiss.

         His lips hover within millimeters of yours as your pussy grips him and pulls him in deeper and deeper. You’re both open-mouthed, breathing into each other, looking into each other’s eyes as your bodies meld together. Obsession. It’s the only word on his mind as he watches your eyes squeeze shut while your legs spread all for him.

         He fucks you slowly at first, giving you time to adjust as he sticks to shallow thrusts. When your eyes open and you look up at him once again, he smiles down at you and picks up the pace, thrusting a little deeper as you start to focus on the feel of him. But when your name leaves his lips and you start scratching your nails down his bare back? He starts fucking you like he owns you. He fucks you as meticulously as he cleaned the crevices of his vibranium arm earlier.

         “Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” Bucky groans, pushing his face into the crook of your neck. “My cock is splitting you in half and you’re fucking taking it.” He can feel how close you are, and the absolutely cock-drunk expression on your face only confirms it. Your expression paired with the most sultry moans he’s ever heard have him following you right to the edge. “You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl, ready to cum all over my cock.”

         “Bucky, if you keep talking like that—fuck.” He only speeds up when you start talking, convinced that if you’re still talking, he’s not fucking you hard enough.

         “Shut the fuck up.” He groans, hating the way those few simple words from you nearly made him blow his load. “Shit.” Bucky hooks your legs around his waist and pulls your arms away from his back, pinning them down on the bed on either side of your head. He doesn’t have to say another word for you to know what he’s doing. He’s fucking you until you can’t do anything, until you can’t say anything, until all you can do is cum for him.

         Your orgasm is uncontrollable when it comes crashing in, making your back arch off of the bed and your bare chest press against his as you cry out his name.

         Bucky’s orgasm? Bucky’s orgasm was so much more uncontrollable that it didn’t even cross his mind to pull out and cum anywhere except inside of you. He pushed so deep inside of you when he started cumming that you swear you felt the heat of it in your stomach. Even when you were both finished, he just couldn’t stop thrusting in and out of you.

         “Good girl, such a good girl.” He kept whispering against your neck as he rutted into you, using his own cum mixed with your wetness as lube.

         As he collapses on top of you, your hands immediately move in two different directions. One begins tangling in his hair, gently massaging his scalp, while the other goes to caress his back with the softest touch. Only one word surfaces in your mind as you listen to his heavy breathing and focus on the feel of his skin against yours.

         Obsession.  

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[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #56

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 9.7k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

Your trip is slowly but surely coming to an end. 

Minus some bumps along the way, it's safe to say you had a great time either way. You and Jungkook have managed to talk like proper adults and it went well. But most importantly, you've made up. It is sad there's goodbyes soon to be said. You kind of wish you could stay here for at least another day.

But all of you have to go back to adult life. The weight is lifted off your chest, practically non-exist as you and Jungkook share a soft smile while all of you pack your things. Well – except Taehyung who's sitting on one of the portable chairs with sunglasses on, too hungover to help his best friend who's been complaining for the past ten minutes. 

"I take it you finally made up." Maya comes up to you, folding up a thin blanket when there's no one nearby. 

"We finally talked." you answer. 

She surely notices the relaxation behind your tone and features, causing her to smile knowingly instead of saying anything for a moment. 

"And? How did it go?" 

"Good. Great, actually. I explained myself well and we both had something to apologize for. It's not even about the apology. I think us talking is more important and even though I was pretty scared and unsure to just walk up to him and talk, I'm glad I got it off my chest." 

"Being honest is not always easy but I knew you guys would work it out. From what I heard, your friendship has always been strong." Maya grins. 

"How do you know that?" 

"Namjoon," she chuckles simply. "But that doesn't matter. Even I can confidently say it's true. And I haven't known you for too long and I solely know this just from seeing you and him, plus hearing you talk about him." 

You avert your gaze to the ground, your shy smile causing you to feel even more shy when you feel her eyes on you. 

"I'm jealous though. The sex after such an argument is gonna be amazing." 

And just like that, the air shifts and your gaze snaps toward blunt Maya who's already grinning, expecting your reaction of shock and disbelief. 

"Yeah, that's not happening." You cringe, muttering. 

"You don't want to? Wow, I mean—shit." Maya's the one who's shocked which has you snickering under your breath. She's unbelievable. 

"Not that I don't want to, but we've decided to take a break from... the sex part." 

"And whose stupid idea that was?" she exclaims, a laugh escaping from your lips the moment you see her face while she dramatically leaves her mouth open. 

"Mine." 

"That explains it." 

"Hey!" 

She laughs, letting you know she's only joking. 

"I thought it would be for the best. I can't really explain it. I just think it's time for a break."

You're not going to tell her he fucked you in the woods while you both were unable to communicate together and were pissed off at each other. While you don't find it uncomfortable to be talking with her about your sex life, there are some things that are better left between you and Jungkook only. It's not like you're embarrassed about it but it feels too personal and intimate to talk about it openly. In the end, just like you told Jungkook, you wanted it at that moment and you don't regret it happening. He was right when he said the sex was good. It always is. 

But anyway... you two hooking up surely changed a few things between you and him. You let lust control you and while you believe sex like this doesn't necessarily have to mean a bad thing, you wonder how else would you solve it if you weren't hooking up. 

It's all frustrating and it seems like there are a few things you can't answer because it's that confusing. And you don't understand them. 

It might sound all dramatic but it's nothing like that. It's no big deal. You'll continue your friendship the same way and the only difference will be sex. You can't think about it too much, knowing once your hormones get the best out of you, you're going to have a hard time accepting your own idea. 

"What about you guys? Are you ready to go back home?" 

Maya groans, tilting her head back as she nods. "Yeah, I could do another day here. Though we've got a wedding to plan." 

"Do you know what month it's gonna be?" 

"We don't. We're about to make some calls and meet up with a few people to see which place is closest to our terms. I'm excited, don't get me wrong, but it's so stressful to plan everything. We definitely want it to happen this year after having a conversation. But summer is pretty much all booked everywhere, unless we want some unaesthetic and cheap place." 

She sighs before smiling. 

"But it's okay. Joon is a huge help and he's very much involved. We're doing everything together." 

"That's great. Let me know if there's anything I can help with. I'm not sure how I'd be able to help, I know shit about weddings but just call me if there's anything I could do." 

Maya gives you an appreciative smile. "You're a sweetheart." 

With a smile on your face, you start folding a sleeping bag which you're sure belongs to Yoongi, who (surprisingly) is cleaning up the truck of his car so everything is neat and good to go. You're unaware of Maya's stare that's aimed behind you until she speaks up. 

"A stupid sweetheart if you decided not to fuck him." 

"What?" you mumble, following her eyes. 

There he is. 

Jungkook stops his task to grasp the hem of his shirt, bringing it up and dabbing the tiny droplets of sweat covering his forehead. That wouldn't be the issue if he didn't expose his abs to everyone's eyes – even though only you and Maya are staring – showing his bulky chest. Dryly gulping, you quickly turn around and nudge Maya to look away. 

She gives you a knowing look, offering you a friendly pat to your shoulder as you click your tongue in annoyance. 

They're just abs. Ones you've seen multiple times. You're fine. 

You're going to be fine.  

You still rush to pack your things, not even glancing in Jungkook's direction. Too scared to see him doing bare minimum and look absolutely hot while doing it. 

Everything went back to normal. Well, new normal.

Yoongi acts like he hasn't spent a whole weekend with you, still patiently waiting for his lunch every day. Even on the way back home, he barely said a word and hummed quietly to his playlist. Surprisingly, you took a decent nap, catching up the lost sleep you experienced the night before. 

After four days of constantly buying Yoongi a lunch, you regret ever inviting him more and more each day. The man demands his lunch, holding you up to your deal. Are you surprised? No. Were you hoping he would leave you alone after a few days? Yes . 

The group chat is full of memes and possibly dates to hang out again, reminding you of your supposedly summer vacation. After the camping trip, you're a little bit more wary to plan something longer and serious than just a casual hangout. It's pretty stupid. One argument shouldn't hold you back from experiencing new memories with your friends. 

You and Jungkook haven't really spoken since the camping trip. You got to say a warm goodbye and ever since then, both of you have been too busy jumping back to your lives to talk. You know you're fine though. In your friends group chat, you've replied to one another a few times – mostly reacting to the memes or just to joke around. So far, there's not much change in your relationship with Jungkook. It feels pretty same and you know it's only because you haven't had the time to hang out and be alone. Is it stupid of you to say that you're a little bit nervous when that time comes? 

However, it eventually comes just when you anticipate it and you don't avoid it. This has been your idea after all. 

You and Jungkook text back and forth, this time in a separate chat without prying eyes of Jimin and Taehyung. Jungkook's days and evenings are fully packed. There's not much time to hang out typically at your or his place – which again might be dangerous and too soon for you. You're being dramatic, that's for sure. But once he comes up with a plan, for some reason you agree even if his plan is the least common place to hang out for you and him.

Stepping inside the building, you're surprisingly met with a nice scent of freshness instead of sweat and testosterone. The gym Jungkook visits is certainly popular and modern, based on the fully packed gym and its interior that has a sweat already rolling down your back. 

“This is most certainly new.” you mutter, eyes wide staring around you as Jungkook cackles, leading you toward the front desk. 

There, of course, is a young female receptionist wearing a cropped tank top with leggings as if she's the one that's about to work out. Once again, Jungkook's often visit here shows when she easily recognizes him and both drops formality, which you don't expect.

While Jungkook goes to equip your gym access after you greet each other with the receptionist, you silently standby and listen to their conversation. You're aware of Jungkook's membership here and judging by the clear sight of the receptionist recognizing and knowing him, he doesn't have to show anything to prove his identity.

“Are you interested in getting a trainer for this session?” she asks, eyes jumping between you and Jungkook. 

“No.” You and him speak at the same time.

Nodding, she clicks off a few things on the computer before she says the price for a single access which has your eyes almost falling out their sockets. You and Jungkook both pull out your wallets. Desperately trying to beat him, you're too late as he pulls out his card sooner and pays.

“I could've paid for myself.” you point out, pursing your lips in a mere annoyance. Can't lie though. Your heart surely feels lighter knowing you haven't had to pay such a price for a full hour and half of torture.

Suddenly, Jungkook's plan doesn't seem that good at all. You would very much test your willpower back at his or your place. 

“I know you could've.” he sings out annoyingly, leaving you to roll your eyes at him as he thanks the woman, leading you away. “It was my idea, I know this gym is a bit pricey and you're not exactly the type to spend money on something like this.”

“Yah!” you nudge him, met with a toothy grin as he teasingly nudges you back. “What are you saying? Maybe I'll enjoy working out. I should work on those muscles.”

You and him share a look, grinning at each other after cracking up a few moments later, knowing very well he's right and you're full of shit. Working out is not exactly your priority. You have enough exercise when working, constantly on your feet all day. Not mentioning how much you walk and sometimes rush to get Yoongi his fucking lunch. But well, that's completely on you. It's a nice reminder to never do that again. To involve him in your stupid plans. 

While Jungkook leads you to the gym equipment (you're sure he would know his way around blindfolded), you're trying your best not to stare at all those muscular and slim people around you. Damn, you're really out of place right now. They all seem to know what they're doing. 

“You wanna lift some weights?” Jungkook asks, tossing down water bottles and two towels he grabbed from home for you and him. “Wait, you did some stretching before coming here, right?”

When he's met with silence, he looks up just to see your brow raised with a frown on your lips. He sighs, disapprovingly and not very subtly shaking his head as he mutters your name.

“I got into this bizarre outfit right after I got from work!” you exclaim, pointing at yourself. 

You tried your best, alright? A simple black leggings and an oversized shirt. It's definitely not the hottest outfit you would often see on Instagram of some fitness model, or just most women who work out and want to look nice. But who cares?

“And I don't ever stretch. Nobody's got time for that.” you mutter.

Jungkook snickers, some of his hair falling and shielding his forehead as he sits down on the bench. “You should stretch every morning, regardless if you work out or not.”

He used to stretch your muscles in other ways.

Oops –intrusive thoughts!

“Alright, alright.” You roll your eyes at him which has him laughing. 

“Okay, do some basic stretching while I do some lifting.” Already seeing your disapproving face, he continues. “Trust me, you're gonna thank me later.”

“But you said you would go easy on me!”

He did say that. In fact, he doesn't plan to destroy you on your first proper work out session. And probably the last because who knows? You're unpredictable sometimes.

But instead of calming down your nerves, he lies down but not before shooting you a smirk. “When have I ever?”

He starts lifting the heavy weight, pressing his lips tightly as he occasionally groans, some of them taking you far away from the gym. Still standing there, you dryly gulp and wonder, why the fuck you haven't invited him over instead? Suddenly, it sounds way more safer than this for numerous reasons. 

Jeon Jungkook is coming for your neck. 

All he does is the same thing he would’ve done if you weren’t here. He’s focused, checking on you to see if you’re really stretching your muscles like he has advised you from time to time. While he’s oblivious to your inner thoughts and how much you’re actually trying to ignore the way his muscles tense and flex during his workout, he makes sure to give you a stern look every time he sees you flaking. 

He would’ve been a stern trainer, that’s for sure. 

One thing about him is that he takes his job and hobbies very seriously. He doesn’t like when people fuck around — maybe that’s why he’s so opposed to take Taehyung to workout with him. You’re clear Taehyung would enjoy being here just as much as some of the female audience clearly enjoy watching Jungkook. Obviously, he would not enjoy them eyeing and salivating over him, but rather appreciate the clear attention because you know they would eye Taehyung just as much. 

But Jungkook stays focused on himself, partly focused on you while you’ve been stretching your legs for the past five minutes until Jungkook reminds you to switch and stretch other parts with breathless voice. 

Once he finishes, he sits up and takes a short break as he watches you with an amused expression, sparkles dancing in his dark brown eyes. 

“What?” you huff out. “Am I doing it wrong?” 

“No,” he laughs. “I just never thought I’d see the day of you working out.” 

Straightening up, you flip him off with a sarcastic smile which allows him to laugh even more. “Don’t sweat it. I’m not working out yet.” 

After a minute, you stop stretching feeling like you’ve done a decent job. Met with Jungkook’s gaze, you purse your lips. 

“You know… we could’ve gone to a cinema or do something instead.” 

“Complaining already?” he asks amusingly, resting his arm over his thigh as he manspreads himself. 

Are you? It definitely sounds like it and to be honest, you're not sure. You thought spending time with him just hanging out would be a great opportunity to get your friendship back to the old ways. Even though there was a thought in the back of your mind of how that was going to go when you simply imagined Jungkook's sweaty body. You've had the opportunity to see him working out at his place and even back then, you had an awful time trying not to gawk at him. 

With the never-ending thoughts, you grow more upset at yourself. Jungkook is one fine piece of man and that's definitely not how you only see him. He's much more than that. When you look at him, you see him . Not just the physically attractive side of him. Not the way those girls are still eyeing him shamelessly. 

Although, you're not complaining for a reason Jungkook might think. You're not the athletic type like him, he knows that – hell, everyone knows it around you. Or perhaps, it's the tiny bit of this reason too. This is what you wanted. 

Perhaps you made things more dramatic and serious than they have to be. Looking at Jungkook, seeing his toothy grin he sends your way while he's completely oblivious to your inner (and annoying) thoughts, some of the weight lifts off your chest. 

“Not at all.” you assure him, ignoring his knowing look but luckily, he doesn't call you out on your bluff. 

“Come on, maybe we should do some cardio now. Get you heated up a little.”

Don't worry, you already took care of it, you think as you nod with a tight smile, following him across the room. 

Jungkook sets up the treadmill for you, setting up a manageable pace for you before he joins you. 

While music hits of this year blasts through the speakers, he advises you to focus on your breathing before he informs you you're going to do a few miles. Jungkook is keeping up with you, not sticking to his usual routine and for that, you're grateful. It feels nice to do the same thing together, just being in each other's presence even though there's not much time to actually have a conversation. 

After a while, you notice the same women who were shamelessly watching Jungkook the entire time since they noticed him, join you on the treadmills. Scoffing a little under your breath, you glance at Jungkook who's too focused to even notice anything. 

As you open your mouth to comment on it in front of him, Jungkook is in his own world as he suddenly tugs his shirt over his head before he tosses it over the handrail. That's when he must sense your prominent eyes on him as he glances your way.

“Seriously?”

“It's getting hot.” he explains, shrugging as he continues totally unbothered. 

Huffing out, you tuck a strand of hair behind your hair that has managed to get out of your ponytail. “You're aware of your fanclub here, right?”

“What?” Jungkook breathes out, shooting you a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

You snicker, “There are like three women who have been eyeing you since the moment they spotted you. They even followed us here, so they could stare .” you inform him amusingly, shaking your head when you see his frowned expression. “Oh come on. Don't tell me you're not aware. It probably happens every time you come here.”

You're not dumb and neither is Jungkook. He's definitely not clueless how many female gazes he catches (sometimes even male).

“I wasn't aware of them . But yeah, it happens.” he admits almost shyly, clearing his throat.

You trace his tattooed arm with your eyes for a moment, before saying: “Has anyone hit on you while you were working out?”

“Y/N!” he exclaims, sounding almost scandalized by your blunt question. “I said focus on your breathing.”

Is Jeon Jungkook being flustered? It only spurs you on and spreads your cheeky grin even wider. “Oh, so you do get hit on.”

Jungkook huffs, “Yeah, it happens sometimes.”

Hm, sometimes. You're not sure if you believe that. 

“How fast?”

“What is this?” Jungkook laughs, “Are you interrogating me?”

“Just curious.”

You really are. You haven't experienced being at the gym with him before. It's fascinating how he behaves here. Not that he's different or something, but it is quite interesting to witness this part of his life.

He sighs when she spots your curious gaze and the cheeky grin, rolling his eyes at you before he huffs out his response. “It usually happens by now. But you're here with me, so I'm guessing that's what holds them back.”

Why is that not surprising? Instead of feeling anything negative, you find that fact amusing and it makes you chuckle. “Oh, should I leave? Give them a chance to come here?” you joke, laughing even more when you see Jungkook's glare.

“You're annoying.”

In the midst of your laughing, you notice him cracking a grin which he has tried to hide. Your body feels lighter, despite your muscles growing tired already, but the moment between you lingers. This is how it felt before. Just you and him – teasing each other. 

Turning off the treadmill sooner than you should've (after hoping you've clicked the right button), you take the small towel Jungkook has brought you and wipe your forehead. You bite back the laugh that wants to come out when you see Jungkook's suspicious stare.

“Scared I'm gonna leave?” you tease, causing him to huff out as he cuts off his run and turns off the equipment. 

“Don't you dare.” he says, wiping his own sweat as he grabs the bottle of water and takes a few gulps. 

While his head is tilted back, throat bobbing at the way he gulps, you find yourself eyeing his buffed out chest. You don't expect to see Jungkook's eyes on you as soon as you look away from the amount of naked flesh, cheeks heating up immediately as his lips curl into a smirk. 

“Stop teasing me.” he simply says, moving closer as he drapes his towel over his shoulder.

“Are you sure I'm the one that's teasing?” you ask silently, eyes flickering down to his chest again as he chuckles. 

“I always tend to take off my shirt. I promise I'm not teasing.”

You believe that. Jungkook doesn't owe you an explanation and after all, you do know very well he prefers to be as naked as possible. Looking around, you spot a few guys shirtless as well and it's not that unusual to see the extra skin here.

“Perhaps you could control yourself a little, you know, around me.” you say with a cheeky tone, pointing at his body as he plays your game, humming while nodding.

And then he does something unexpected. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, feeling the softness of it as it feels like he prints his fingertip to the skin he tasted many times before. “You wanted the break, remember?”

The way he drops his tone but still keeps it light and teasing causes your heartbeat to pick up its pace. Stop, stop, stop . Hearing the warnings and red lights going on in your head, you stay rooted in your spot as Jungkook drops his hand, lips twitching. 

He's not oblivious when it comes to you though. He can tell your single body language or expression from miles away. 

“Perhaps you're the one who needs to control yourself a little.” And then he's patting your shoulder in a comforting manner. 

He walks away, laughing and fully content at your speechless appearance, ushering to continue in your routine as you mindlessly follow him. But not before sending a small glare toward Jungkook's fanclub, seeing them whispering among themselves. 

Surprisingly, things go back to normal and there's no teasing happening after that. While your heart still beats a little faster than it should've – and it's definitely not from working out and following Jungkook's instructions – the lingering tension is almost not there. Jungkook is back to being serious, showing you the right way to do things when needed and you listen obediently, doing an actual good job at it. Even if he's back in your mind during all of that, you find yourself to be distracted enough to enjoy your time here. And just you and him hanging out. 

Hour and a half passes quickly. Quicker than you previously thought it would. You get separated when it's time to take a shower and change clothes. Jungkook is finished soon, waiting for you at the reception (no surprise) as he's chatting with the receptionist again. Once he sees you done, he bids a goodbye and wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“So, what are you saying? Are you gonna be my workout partner?” he teases, the two of you walking out of the building as he leads you to his parked car. 

All you can muster to do in response is to let out an awkward chuckle. “I would rather not.”

For obvious reasons. 

Tossing the packaged food, beef burger and big fries precisely, onto the desk, you watch the bane of your existence slowly turn his chair in your direction as he makes sure you see his well amused and annoying grin. Delivering him a huge sarcastic and tight smile, you hold yourself back from wrapping your hands around his neck and choke him.

Min Yoongi has been nothing but a big menace. The worst thing is that you can't really complain because you agreed to it. 

Today, he requested to get a burger with fries for his lunch. The closest place is around twenty minutes from your workplace by a car, so you spent most of your lunchbreak getting his fucking burger, waiting for them to prepare it and then driving back. Your bank account is slowly starting to cry. Or is that you ? 

“Why thank you.” he beams sarcastically, sniffling the air around him as he leans closer to the packed meal, only spurring your annoyance for sure. 

“It's not like I had a choice.” you remind him sweetly. 

“A deal is a deal.” he sings out, the sound of you taking a deep breath causing his lips to twitch. 

You don't give him the joy of begging him, or even trying to talk him out of this. After all, he's not wrong. You like to think of it as your punishment for making a stupid decision. Overall, it wasn't that bad and for that, you're glad. Yoongi (surprisingly) got along with the guys and for what could be assumed a weak moment, he even told you he was enjoying the time there. It was certainly a weak moment on your part when you allowed yourself to cry in front of Min Yoongi. Somehow, you managed to convince him to hug you. The awkward hug makes you cringe till this day and you're sure Yoongi feels the same. However, he seemed to have his own weak moments for sure. Why else would he ever assure you that he did have a good time? Min Yoongi is not all bad, deep down you know that. 

“So how are things with your boyfriend?” He starts unpacking his meal, the scent filling the room as the office is yet to be filled with your colleagues. Most of them haven't gotten back from their lunch breaks, but that will soon change as it's supposed to end in five minutes. Unless they don't want Junho to come for their asses and spend the rest of the day listening to him complaining. 

“Good?” you ask confusingly. “Since when do you care?”

“I don't, but today has been boring as fuck.” he says simply, taking the first bite of the hamburger you paid for. You ignore the way your mouth salivates. You've managed to eat fries on your way here – something Jungkook would surely scold you for. He wouldn't approve of you eating while driving. Good thing he doesn't know. 

“I told you I'm not here for your amusement, Min.” you remind him.

“Back to last name basis? I thought we're closer than that after our weekend together.” he says loud enough for Benjamin to hear who's passing by, your cheeks flaring hot as he gives you both a weird look, luckily continuing his way toward the breakroom, you assume. 

“Our weekend? First of all, ew,” You cringe, erupting a laugh from him as his cheeks are puffed out with the hamburger. “And seriously? Do you really want rumors to start going around?”

“Nobody would believe I would go for you, relax.” he scoffs while your jaw drops to the floor. Once you collect yourself, you sit yourself on the edge of his desk.

“You did go for me once, as far as I can remember. And if I remember correctly, you did tell me my pu–”

“We don't talk about that.” he cuts you off abruptly, worth enough for you to say the words aloud when seeing his reaction as he looks flustered of you bringing it up. 

It's not like you wanted to, he didn't give you a chance.

“Me and my boyfriend are doing great though. How about you? Have you found yourself a suitable partner that is willing to keep up with your ass?” 

Yoongi chokes on his spit, trying his best for the food to stay in his mouth and that's when you know your job is done. 

“Enjoy your meal, Yoongi.” you tell him sweetly, getting off his desk and walking away with a triumphal grin. 

The rest of your day goes smoothly, even when you haven't had a proper lunch but your latest interaction with Yoongi just brightens up your whole day. The look on his face and the little frown he made sure you see just made your day. And you made sure to let him know that. Not even Benjamin giving you a weird look very subtly could make you ruin your day.

That's how you've felt until you get inside your apartment building, knowing you have to change your clothes and freshen up before the guys come here. Taehyung is still at work and you're pretty sure so is Jimin, so you have a little bit of time before their arrival. Just as you're putting your phone back inside your purse, you lift your gaze to greet the neighbor just for you to let out an audible gasp. One that gets the attention of the very last person you've expected to see. 

In full glory, your ex-boyfriend stands a few doors away as he looks up, surely hearing you before his own eyes widen and mouth opens in surprise. 

“Y/N,” he breathes out, surprised just as much as you are.

“You've got to be kidding me.” you mutter, not dropping your eyes off Haneul. 

He hasn't changed, yet he seems different than the last time you saw him. He's sober this time for sure but that's not what you meant. At the sight of him, you're reminded of the moments you've spent together. Still shocked to see him, Haneul carefully walks closer.

“I–uh, my friend moved here. I was just visiting him, I didn't know you live here, I swear.”

The little panicked tone and expression on his face makes your features soften. The last encounter you had with him wasn't a pleasant one. You've had enough reasons to stay mad at him. And maybe a tiny part of you still is because of his own mistake. You wouldn't like to go back to it though. You've talked since then and you ended that chapter in your life. But still. Seeing him in front of you, looking panicked and careful like a lost puppy makes you feel bad for some reason. 

He has gained weight. Not lots of it but he looks… bigger and buff, though his cheekbones and jaw are more prominent.  He's wearing jeans, a simple white shirt with a patterned overshirt over it. He looks… good. Even his hair is darker and longer. That's what reminds you of the last time you've seen him. 

“It's okay,” you assure him slowly, not quite sure what to say. “I'm just surprised to see you here.”

“So am I,” he says, his features turning alarmed once again as he quickly jumps to elaborate. “I mean I'm surprised to see you here too. I really didn't know you live here.”

“It's fine.” you chuckle a little. You know how weird it must be for him too. Since the last time he assured you he wasn't stalking you, and based on his body language and expression right now, you're aware that he is actually scared of you to think otherwise. 

He's nervous. You're actually surprised that you can tell even after all these months.

“I never thought I would see you again,” he says softly. “I–do you have a minute?”

Frowning automatically, you look around and shift on your spot. He is not oblivious to your evident uncertainty and perhaps discomfort, his face saddening. 

“It won't be long. I just want to tell you something. It's been haunting me ever since… ever since the last time I saw you. I understand if you don't want to but…” he trails off, scratching his temple.

Looking back and forth between your apartment's door, you hesitate for a moment. For one, you're still shocked to see him here. To see him standing just a few feet away from you, looking at you in a total hope as he pleads with his eyes. 

Do you want him inside your place? It sounds too… intimate. Your place is private. To have him there out of all people… you're not sure how to feel about it. But one thing is sure, you definitely don't want to have this conversation in the hallway where anyone could hear you. 

“Let's take it inside, this is not a proper place to have any conversation.” you decide to say, slow with your movements as you move to tap your code and open the door. 

“Are you sure? I don't wanna overstep.”

Looking across your shoulder, you find him staring into the distance to avoid looking at your code to give you some privacy. That alone makes you feel safer because you know he wouldn't hurt you. Whatever happened back at the club… it was a mess but that shouldn't define all of him.

Still, you create a distance between you and him, still making sure he sees your hardened gaze as you invite him inside. 

“We can just talk here,” he says as soon as he closes the front door. “We don't have to go further.” He proposes.

Taking off your shoes, you cross your arms over your chest before leaning against the wall. “Okay, then talk.”

For a moment, he seems to be lost at words. But once you cock your brow at him, he shakes himself out of it and fumbles over his words. You're patient though, waiting for him to say whatever he needs to.

“I don't remember much from our last… from the last time I saw you. I mean–I do remember bits of it but I was too wasted to remember or even know what I was doing. I never reached out to you, not that I didn't want to, but I thought it's better if I didn't,”

You give him a look, raising your brow again as if to tell him that he's damn right .

“Listen, I don't wanna take any more of your time or bother you. I owe you a big apology, I shouldn't have ever cornered you like that. I was drunk and out of my mind. I still wasn't over our break-up and when I saw you–I lost it, I drank too much and I had no control over myself and for that, I'm ashamed.”

Squeezing your forearms subtly, you just stare at him before you sigh. “I was drunk too. I almost let you kiss me. And I probably would've if…” Jungkook didn't get between you two. 

 Haneul knows that, nodding understandably. 

“I never had a peace of mind after that. I was dumb and irresponsible. I still wasn't over the first love as they say.”

You stand up straight, arms still crossed. “I do hope you find your happiness.”

“Can I ask you something?” He tries, waiting for your nod. Once he gets it, he takes a breath and opens his mouth again. “How did you get over it?”

“Time,” you say as he nods, knowing that must be his answer as well. “And I had my friends too.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he looks away as he nods. He knows who is included in your friend's circle and his very subtly annoyed reaction proves it. Jealousy is what got you into this mess in the first place. Who knows where you two would be if it weren't for the entire argument that took place during winter. 

“Um, well thank you for giving me a chance to apologize in person. I really needed that and I appreciate it.”

You nod. You could tell him that you hope he truly moved on. That he deserves happiness too and he shouldn't beat himself over his past mistakes too much. Or that you hope he matured into the right person because deep down, you know he's not bad. He had hurt you and you never expected it from him, but looking at you now, you've moved on faster than he has. He is still here, has waited for his moment to apologize again and you appreciate that. But to create more distance and avoid unnecessary affection, you stay quiet. Something tells you it's better this way. 

Perhaps you're being harsh. Or just reasonable and smart. 

Who knows.

He opens his door and you follow him, ready to say the final goodbye which doesn't necessarily mean you won't ever say hi again if you see each other in person. Knowing now that one of his friends lives here, there might be times when you see each other again. But there's no longer any connection there. You won't stay friends like you could've. You think it could only mess with his head.

Once you look up, you wonder why Haneul hasn't stepped out yet only to find Jungkook standing on the opposite side of the door, a prominent frown and glare framing his face.

“What the fuck.”

Getting in between them, you pull Jungkook inside as he spares you a short glance before his eyes don't leave Haneul's figure. You get Jungkook behind you and as Haneul gets the clue, he steps out of your place. 

“Thanks again.” he murmurs, trying not to glare too much at Jungkook who's still standing behind you. 

Giving Haneul one final nod and silent goodbye, you watch his figure retrieve as you let out a big sigh.

“What was he doing here?” Jungkook asks, breathlessly almost getting worked up at seeing Haneul here. 

It's not like you blame him. Haneul wasn't on his best behavior the last time he saw him. And before that too. 

“His friend moved here and we bumped into each other.”

“Great.” he states sarcastically, taking off his sneakers as he gives you a stern look which makes you innocently shrug before closing the door.

“He wanted to apologize.”

“And you let him inside your apartment? Jesus, Y/N.” He rubs his forehead, causing you to shrug.

“He was drunk at that time, Kook. He wouldn't hurt me.”

“You don't know that.”

“I do know that!” you argue, watching his brow raise as you retrieve a little, nibbling on your lip. 

Okay, maybe you don't know that. Haneul has proved himself to be… unexpected. But you don't think he would go far as to hurt you.

Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes as he leans his head back and stares at the ceiling for a second. He walks up to you, expression softening. “Y/N, baby,” He cups your cheek to make you look at him. You dryly gulp, having him this close to you after a long time. “We both know sometimes you can get upset and with a guy like him, you don't know how he's gonna react.” 

You do know what he means. Sometimes you can't control your mouth. But that's the last thing on your mind, not with him so close and calling you– “Baby,” You crack a grin. “We're on a break, remember?”

Jungkook huffs out a laugh, dropping his hands as you try to ignore the mere disappointment by that simple action. “Sorry.”

“I liked it.” you silently confess. 

He lifts up his gaze, mouth opening slightly before hard knocks behind you causes you to flinch. That breaks a moment as you see Taehyung's close up face on the display next to your door right after a ringbell can be heard, the system turning on the camera automatically. Jimin is behind him, nudging his head out of the camera. Snickering, you open the door as the lock unclicks and you're met with your friends face to face.

“What's up fuckers? What's the commotion about?” Taehyung cackles, tossing his sneakers off as Jimin sighs and shakes his head at evidently very active Taehyung. 

“Ignore him. He had a few drinks after work with his co-workers.”

“I was celebrating!”

“You celebrate a lot then.” Jimin mutters, ignoring Taehyung's glare before his sharp eyes stop on you two. 

“Commotion? What were you talking about?”

“We heard your voices when we got out of the elevator.” Taehyung answers you. 

“Were you listening behind the door, Kim Taehyung?” you exclaim, shooting him a disapproving look as he gasps and shakes his head, clearly offended by the suggestion. As if that couldn't happen when it comes to him. 

“We really weren't. We just heard voices because surprisingly, this fucker here was quiet the whole time on the elevator and even after we got out of it. We couldn't hear much. Taehyung is just as dramatic as always.”

“I was just joking, jesus. And who you're calling fucker?” 

You roll your eyes. “You just called us fuckers.” you point out, everyone going further down your apartment as you turn on the lights since you haven't had the chance to go fully inside. 

Taehyung just innocently shrugs. “But what's with the faces?”

“Y/N had her ex-boyfriend over.” Jungkook shrugs, your head snapping toward his direction as everyone in the room gasps. 

Jimin and Taehyung stare at you as if you were caught in a lie, their mouths open as their asses drop down onto your couch at the same time. The scenario is funny and you would surely laugh at them if it weren't for their disapproving and scandalized looks.

“Ex-boyfriend as the slut shaming asshole?” Taehyung asks, narrowing his eyes at you as you sigh.

“It wasn't exactly that, thanks a lot Jungkook,” you point at him, just as he shrugs in return before making himself comfortable in your chair. “His friend lives here, on the same floor I assume. We bumped into each other and he wanted to talk.”

“And you invited him here?” Jimin asks, frowning as you sigh just as Jungkook butts in.

“That's what I said!”

“I–” You stop for a second, rubbing your nose before sitting down on the arm rest, close to Taehyung. “I didn't wanna talk about it in the hallway. You guys didn't see him–” They start rolling their eyes and muttering a bunch of disapprovals before you quickly add. “He seriously just wanted to apologize for the last time. I gave him that choice and I'm unharmed. I'm okay. See?”

“You better be.” Taehyung warns. Jimin nods, agreeing. 

“You guys act like he physically harmed me. He's not that violent.” you inform them. 

As much as you appreciate their protective nature, you know Haneul is not the type to harm you physically. They all make it seem like that and you do think maybe they're a bit overprotective in this manner. 

“And I'm perfectly fine to tell him to fuck off.”

“Sometimes that's not enough. Sometimes that can cause more harm than you think.” Taehyung reminds you.

“Yeah, sorry Y/N but Tae's right.” Jimin agrees.

“You never know how any guy can react when they're mad.”

“You guys are being dramatic now.”

“Maybe, but better be safe than sorry.” Jungkook mutters. His elbow is resting against the armrest, fingers nibbling on his bottom lip as he gives you a stern look. 

“Kook's right,” Taehyung agrees. “Wait–Jungkook, you saw him? Was there a fight I missed?”

You snicker, “There was no fight, Tae because there wasn't a need for one.”

He disappointedly leans back with a pout. 

“He left peacefully. Said what he wanted to say and he's gone.”

“I hope you're not planning to see him again.” Jimin wonders, giving you a suspicious look as you stutter over your words, shocked at his suspicion while Taehyung snaps his head toward you, already ready to react.

“Why would she? God, don't be stupid to get back to him, Y/N.”

“Oh my god!” You shake your head, stopping him right away. “First of all, no one is getting back with anyone. I'm not interested in him like that, not that it's any of your business.” You tell them sternly, looking at every one of them, met with frowning Jungkook and then a second after, with the same looking Jimin and Taehyung. 

“We're just worried about you, that's all. But Jimin-ah, she has Jungkook now, right?” Taehyung teases.

“I appreciate the concern, but I'm not that dumb. And please stop bringing up me and Kook. We're not… doing that anymore.”

“What?!”

“You're not?”

Their reaction comes at the same time, bouncing against the wall of your small living room as the duo glance at Jungkook who nods in confirmation. 

You weren't exactly planning on telling them, in fact you and Jungkook never talked about telling anyone but that's simply because there was no need to. As always, that's between you and Jungkook. But now it seems like a good thing to inform them since Taehyung practically assumes you and Jungkook are hooking up. And despite his obvious shock and almost disappointment, his mouth frowns as Jimin suspiciously eyes you and Jungkook.

You don't tell them that you took a break. It's almost embarrassing to admit that you want to continue hooking up with Jungkook. Firstly, you want to focus on hanging out with him only. It seems fresh and nice, despite all the difficulties you have to go through every day.

“So you're no longer hooking up?”

“Who's dumb idea that was?” Taehyung exclaims as Jimin clicks his tongue at him.

“So you're just… friends? Everything went back to normal?” he asks, staring at you before focusing his eyes on Jungkook this time as he nods. 

“Do we have to talk about this?” Jungkook asks. “It's not like you discuss your sex life with me.”

“Well–”

“Not you, Tae.” Jungkook cuts him off, causing you to snicker. “But yes, she's telling the truth. Can we move on? I seriously don't wanna talk about my sex life.”

“The lack of right now.” Taehyung snickers, causing Jungkook to throw a pillow at him. 

Everyone knows that if Jungkook wanted to get his dick wet, he could do it anytime. The difference is that he's not that type of person and it's something he and Taehyung don't share. Minus Jimin since he's in a relationship now which still blows your mind to be honest. 

“I'm glad you guys got some sense after all.” Jimin says, leaning back as he makes himself more comfortable.

You and Jungkook share a look, your breath close to hitching once you spot those dark brown eyes from the distance, as you give Jimin a smile. One that you hope doesn't look nervous just as much as you seem.

“What about Greece?” Taehyung asks, filling up the thoughtful silence. 

Luckily, for your and Jungkook's sake, the topic of your sex-life is no longer discussed – even though you know Taehyung is itching to know more details. Each of you has their phone in their hands, searching for the right destination for your first proper friend vacation. 

There have been a few suggestions, though you have to stay realistic. And all of you got bills to pay. 

“Won't that be more expensive?” Jimin questions, not quite sold on the latest suggestion.

“Not necessarily. We can always check.” he responds, shrugging. 

“And what about Hawaii? Many Koreans visit it, it's familiar and kinda verified if that makes sense.” Jimin says.

“Hawaii sounds nice.” Jungkook hums.

“Oh–Hawaii! Let's go to Hawaii!” Taehyung says excitedly, straightening himself off the sofa as you laugh at his sudden excitement. “I saw this TikTok about Hawaii destinations. It was beautiful.”

“Are you sure it's the destination you saw in that video?” Jungkook teases, both of you cackling as Taehyung flips him off.

“Ah, my aunt went there last year. She can't stop talking about it.” Jimin ignores the three of you, sticking up to the topic while Jungkook and Taehyung stick their tongues out at each other. Kids.

“Honestly, I don't care much where we're gonna go. As long as it's a nice place.” you shrug. “Hawaii sounds nice. Let's check it more, so we can finally decide.” 

Everyone agrees with you. When the four of you start searching for more details that entail what island you would pick, accommodation, flight tickets and overall the prices. The tiredness slowly overcomes you, your friends talk too much to the point you zone out. Their voices drift off as your head falls down on Jungkook's shoulder.

You hear them teasing you for falling asleep, but it gets ignored as you simply shrug and continue in your slumber. It's until Jungkook shakes you out of your sleepiness, his soft features are blurry until you blink a few times. In the distance you can see Jimin and Taehyung cleaning after themselves, the two of them in their own conversation. He gives you a gentle smile.

“We're going to Hawaii.”

Over the course of a couple of days, everything is booked and set up. It feels nearly unreal. You've never experienced a vacation that involved a proper beach and island. It doesn't properly kick in, not even when you inform Junho about the vacation leave you want to take in mid July. Not very pleased by that, he knew you do have a right to take one, so he had to accept it. When everyone got a free pass, the group chat was filled with exciting gifs and memes. 

All that is left is to wait.

Taehyung: I fucking need this vacation y'all

Jimin: work?

He expects his job to be the cause of Taehyung's sudden message to the group chat.

Taehyung: no lol

Taehyung: just thinking about all chicks I'm gonna get 

Jimin: dude…

Taehyung: what? you used to be way more fun -_- 

Taehyung: you act like a priest now

Jimin: I don't think priest has a girlfriend 

Taehyung: doesn't it depend on religion?

Jimin: do you know anything about religion man??? 

Taehyung: than you're just stuck up man then  

Taehyung: fyi I do know a lot 

Taehyung: women love to scream for god when I 🍆🍩

“Ewww wtf” 

Jimin: we didn't need to know that

Taehyung: you guys are no fun -_- 

Kook: Just another day in this gc I see 

Taehyung: so boring  

Taehyung: where are my friends?! >.<

“They're responsible” 

Taehyung: like you're one to talk about responsibility

You gasp, snickering.

“Fuck you” 

Taehyung: come here then bby :P

Jimin sends a laughing gif, probably rolling from Taehyung's ridiculous messages. 

Jimin: we've matured Tae, time to find a girlfriend

Taehyung: I'd rather cut my dick off

“Can I do it? 🥺” 

Jungkook sends laughing emojis. 

Taehyung: I knew you were kinky little shit

“Seems like you're the kinky little shit” 

Taehyung: I never hid it ;)

“again… EW! -_-” 

Jimin: petition to cut tae's dick

“Maybe then he'll finally think with his head rather than his dick” 

Taehyung: you little bitch 

You send an emoji sending a kiss. 

Taehyung: y'all are so mean

Kook: I'm in the middle of photoshoot and I'm reading about Tae's dick

Kook: get a grip

“But I love talking about Tae's dick :(((“ 

Taehyung: YES!

Jimin: lmaooo 

Kook: seriously? -_- 

“Yes 😘” 

Taehyung: she can talk about yours if you want kook

Kook: I'm outta here 

“Taehyung -_-” 

Taehyung: just jk omg  

Jimin: let them live bro 

Taehyung: you're one to talk dude 

Jimin: fuck off

“Are the flight tickets returnable?” 

Taehyung: no you're stuck with us

Jimin: actually they are but you're going with us

Taehyung: you have no choice ;)

“I'm seriously gonna slap the shit out of you Taehyung” 

“But I can't I'm working” 

Taehyung: I can visit you ;) just try me 

Jimin: yeah don't do it girl 

“I'm seriously gonna kick your ass” 

Taehyung: I thought you wanted to slap the shit outta me :( 

“I can do both” 

Taehyung: I'm sure you can

Taehyung: Kook??

Kook: leave me alone

Taehyung: disrespectful brat

“Tell him to leave me alone too :<” 

Kook: yeah leave her alone too 

Taehyung: because what? what you're gonna do? :))

Jimin: you're never gonna let that go will you

Taehyung: nope ;) love to tease them

“Just come here, I'm gonna show you what's teasing” 

Taehyung: cumming!! 

Taehyung: oops I meant *coming :))) 

Kook: 🙄

“🤮” 

Jimin: lmaooooo they disgusted

Jimin: me too me too

Taehyung: now that my job's done, enjoy your day you fuckers 😘 

There are no messages for a while. You're guessing all of you are busy. It's the middle of the day after all. 

“Is he drunk?” 

Jimin: no… just taehyung

Somehow, that sums it all up. 

After work, you're in the middle of sorting out your laundry when you videochat with the guys. Much to your surprise, you ended up clocking off early which doesn't happen very often – if ever. Junho has seemed to be in a good mood today, which resulted in letting some of you leave early. Yoongi included who couldn't seem to be happiest as he rushed out of the door as first. 

“Where's Jimin?” Taehyung asks, holding his phone down as he unlocks the door of his apartment. The angle would not be very flattering for most people, but it's unfair it's not unflattering when it comes to him at all. 

“I think he's on a date.” Jungkook answers, one hand on a wheel as his phone is perfectly angled at him.

You laugh at Taehyung's face. “You know, you could try to go on a date too. I've got a few coworkers who would surely be interested.” you tease him, laughing even more when you see his features scowl in a mere disgust and disinterest. 

Jungkook cackles, eyes focused on the road. 

“If they're interested in having the time of their lives, my phone's on.” Taehyung jokes.

“You're so confident about that.” Jungkook laughs.

“You know Kook, you should've known that–”

“Alright, alright. Spare me the details. I'm driving.” Jungkook cuts him off quickly, making a grimace that makes you giggle. 

“Besides, I'm heading to the club tonight.”

“Alone?” you ask, brows raised in surprise. 

It's not like Taehyung is not the type to go somewhere alone, especially to a club. But it used to be something at least one of you went to do together. 

“No, I'm meeting Mark in an hour.”

“Wait–Mark as in the Mark I worked with?” you ask, closing the washing machine's door with a thud as you stare wide-eyed at the screen.

“Yeah.”

“How do you know him?” you ask, “I mean—how did this happen?”

You haven't heard of Mark for months. It's true you've seen him a few times after you quit the job there while visiting, but he hasn't been on your mind since then. It's not that weird because Taehyung knows him, you introduced them and Taehyung is very social, but you would've never guessed they actually hung out. 

“You know.. My friends started to focus on monogamy, so–”

“Shut up.” You laugh as Taehyung grins before giving you a proper explanation.

“I don't really know, I was in this other club one night and he was working there. I remember him from the time you worked together. Anyway, got drunk and we talked. We bumped into each other a few times since then and we kinda started hanging out.”

“Well, say hi to him from me.”

“Will do.” 

A message pops on the top of your screen. You read the name, seeing it's Jungkook texting you. Taehyung starts to ramble, while Jungkook waits at the red light that illuminates his face as he cocks his head toward his phone, motioning for you to text him back.

Kook: movie night tonight? have a free evening

A sudden rush of happiness evokes in your chest and you're too quick to type back.

“Yes!! Got a few movies recs we can watch” 

“What are the two of you smiling about?” Taehyung asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“Nothing, nothing.” you sing out, seeing Jungkook chuckle as he starts driving again. 

“You can join me.” Taehyung suggests.

“I don't feel like clubbing tonight.”

“Yeah, me neither. ” Jungkook hums.

“Boring, I'm telling y'all. You are getting boring as fuck.”

“We're getting older, Tae.” you laugh.

“You? You're the youngest out of all of us! ” he exclaims.

“I'm an old soul, Tae. What can I say?”

“Old soul my ass.” he grumbles.

The three of you laugh and joke around until the call ends shortly after. A few minutes later, there's a knock at your door signalizing you of someone's arrival. Opening the door with a huge grin, your features falter a little when you see him. Jeon Jungkook stands in front of your door, hair wet as he informs you of the short summer rain he caught on his way here and that you've completely missed. Tattooed hand goes into his hair, swiping them off his forehead as a few droplets drop down his thin black leather jacket.

He looks straight out of a movie. A total heartthrob. 

He arches his brow at you, chuckling. “You're gonna let me in or not?”

Fuck.

[hannieehaee]

them accidentally ditching you on your bday pt. 2 - vu

content: angsty, gender neutral, established relationship, etc.

part 1

wc: 4512

a/n: lmk if u want a pu ver pls <3 if there's part i forgot to make gender neutral pls lmk!!

masterlist

jeonghan -

jeonghan had no idea what to do. he'd never been in this position before. he prided himself in being a good friend and specially boyfriend. nothing in this world mattered to him more than his loved ones, which was why he was extremely disappointed in himself at having disregarded you and hurt your feelings in such a careless way. he knew it was your birthday, and he had wanted so badly to be with you, but he had been an idiot and let it slip his mind. there was no other way to put it. it made him sad more than anything, to know that you had spent the night worried over him only to wake up to zero communication from him, having spent a good 14 hours into your birthday without any word from him. he needed to fix this, he just didnt know how.

this was so unlike him. jeonghan had always known himself to be an attentive person. he noticed any time you changed your hair almost immediately, he'd notice new additions to your recipes, he'd take note of any time you switched things up in your apartment, he'd remember any and every important date. even now. he had remembered it, except he had skipped over it due to his idiocy, which really only made it worse.

after getting mocked by joshua for ten minutes as he racked his brain to find a solution, he decided to just improvise. he'd go to your apartment and see if you'd at least let him in to try and explain his way through an apology. he would pull all the dramatics if he had to. there was not a single care for his dignity in his mind right now. nothing would prevent him from showing you his utmost remorse.

only thirty minutes later and he was now outside your apartment window, looking up from his secluded spot inside the complex's garden. he pondered about calling you, but decided that going for a more unconventional route might do the trick a bit better. spotting some pebbles nearby, he grabbed a few, beginning to chuck them at your window. okay, kind of corny, but knowing you, he knew you'd appreciate the thought. he spent an unfortunate ten minutes throwing pebble after pebble until you finally opened your window, sticking your head out as soon as you spotted him down below.

"jeonghan. what the hell are you doing?", you seemed and sounded pissed. but, hey! that was a good sign. at least you were acknowledging his presence.

"my love!', he clutched at his heart, 'let me come see you. please. i want to apologize."

"fuck you, yoon jeonghan. why dont you go treat your hangover somewhere else?", you went to close your window, only to stop in your tracks as he yelled out again.

"wait! do you want me to beg? i will. i love you. i dont care what i have to do. i'll climb to the roof and profess my love for you for all of seoul to hear," yes, he was being overly dramatic, but he was also being genuine. if you actually wanted him to scream out to the world how much he regretted his stupidity, he would. you didnt even have to ask.

but he also knew public displays were a huge no for you, dating an idol and knowing the controversies being known as the significant other of the yoon jeonghan would bring. he was putting you in a bit of a spot. you could either let him up to apologize, or wake up to some ominous article stating yoon jeonghan of seventeen might be taken.

fortunately for him, you chose the former, which now placed him in your living room as you crossed your arms and huffed at him. okay, one step at a time. it was time to put jokes aside and get serious.

"angel ... i'm so sorry," he cooed at you, stepping forward a bit.

"jeonghan, dont talk to me like im a baby. im not in the mood."

"but you are my baby," he pouted at you, "you're my angel, my everything. i'm sorry. i didnt show you how much you mean to me last night. all i want to do is love you and take care of you. you can punish me all you want. i deserve it. but please let me sleep in your arms. im already away from you most of the time. dont deprive me one more day," and he meant all he said. you were his favorite form of comfort, and the thought of you being angry or hurt by him made him scared. he never wanted to risk you being ripped away from his arms, specially not due to his own doing.

"jeonghan ..."

"no, wait. i'm sorry. i shouldve never forgotten. i dont know how it happened. all i ever want to do every day is come back home to you, but i did the opposite on the worst day possible. i'll apologize over and over until you forgive me if that's what it takes. please just let me be with you on your birthday. i dont want you alone. i dont want you sad. i want you happy and content in my arms. please? i love you."

he mustve broken you down, as you landed in his arms immediately after he finished his speech. he couldve sworn he saw you eyes puffy and swollen before he wrapped his arms around you. his suspicion was confirmed just seconds later when he heard you sniffle against him.

"aigooo, no angel. dont cry. didnt wanna make you cry. you're making me look like such a bad guy, baby, making you cry on your birthday," he cooed at you as he held you as tight as possible.

you separated yourself from him, finally looking into his eyes while he caressed your cheeks, wiping any lone tears in them, "im so sorry, angel. forgive me? let me stay, please."

"yes, hannie. i love you."

"i love you so much more," and he'd spend the rest of his life the day showing that to you.

joshua -

joshua had not been this hungover in a while. he wasnt sure how this happened. last thing he remembered was his manager rushing him into a car right after the award show, letting the group know they'd been invited to an after party, and the company had deemed it smart to be in attendance for public image purposes. all members agreed enthusiastically, excited to mingle among their peers and maybe make some new connections in the process. joshua had been the lone member to be skeptical, knowing he had promised he'd be back to the hotel at an appropriate time in order to get on the phone with you and celebrate what was remaining of your birthday with you despite the current distance between you. however, he did not want to get in the way of his members' fun, so he kept any objections to himself and joined them with matching enthusiasm.

his original plan was to roam the party for an hour or so, which wouldve allowed him to get back to call you on time, but ironically, time got away from him. the next thing he knew, he was waking up at 11am in the morning in mingyu's hotel room, head pounding and phone full of unread notifications. he wasnt sure how this happened. the last thing he remembered was being at the party, margarita in hand as he and his members drank their souls away in celebration of yet another successful award show season. it was around three margaritas in that joshua had begun to disregard his phone, and with that you as well. as soon as he saw the dejection in your messages upon waking up, he spammed you with texts and voice memos expressing his regret, but received no response from you. he had hurt you and now you were ignoring him. and with good reason.

joshua knew that there wasnt much he could do from his current location, specially while you were (justifiably) icing him out. so he committed to his next best option. he immediately booked a ticket back to korea, letting his manager know that he'd just be returning home two days in advance to the rest of the members. all they had scheduled left was an interview tomorrow, so his absence would probably not have that big of an effect. five grueling hours later and he arrived to korea, exhausted and still slightly hung over, but with a whole speech planned to beg for your forgiveness.

in the process, he had tried calling you again and again, still earning no response. this disheartened him, making him think that maybe his grand gesture would only be taken negatively. he picked up some flowers on the way, gift he had bought in japan a few days ago in hand, ready to knock on your apartment door. despite the exhaustion, he was here. a day late to celebrate your birthday, but still here nonetheless.

your face upon answering the door had been of surprise, not anger like he feared, but that only lasted for a few seconds until you started to berate him.

"joshua? what are you doing here?"

"baby, i'm so so sorry. can i come in? please?"

you moved aside without further words, gesturing for him to continue talking.

he suddenly remembered the flowers and boxed gift in hand, signaling to them before handing them to you, "oh, these are for you," he felt extremely inadequate, something that was very rare for him. he had practiced a whole speech, a whole profession of love and regret, but now his mind was blank. you just looked so. disappointed. he couldn't stand it.

'i'm sorry. i- i have no good excuse. the party got the best of me and i completely spaced out on our plans. i never meant to forget about you. please believe me.'

"joshua ... this was your idea. you had me waiting all night just to ghost me. you spent my birthday partying without even thinking of me."

he grabbed onto your hands, placing the flowers and gift on the table before doing so. he held onto you as he began to get exasperated in his speech, "there's no world in which i wasn't thinking of you. you're all thats ever on my mind. i didnt even wanna go to that stupid party, but i didnt want to inconvenience anyone. please, i- i wanted to call you. i ... yeah, i got drunk and distracted. and thats my fault. im sorry. i came back early to be with you. to make up for being a dumbass. please let me make it up to you. please? i'll serenade you like i promised. i'll get on my knees. do you want me to get on my-"

you interrupted him as he began to kneel halfway through his speech, slapping at him lightheartedly as he began to get more dramatic by the second. he knew it was hard for you to get angry at him when he started pulling all stops like he did. he came back and begged on his knees, even offered to express his love to you through song. he was making you hold in your laugh. these were all good signs, right?

"you .. you're such an idiot, hong jisoo. i hate you," but he knew you didnt mean it. he could hear and see the smile on your face, knowing he had been successful at wearing you down.

"if you ever do this again, ill date jeonghan instead."

"ouch!", he dramatically grabbed onto his chest, as if you'd just wounded his heart, causing you to laugh, "hannie? okay, can't blame you. he's pretty cute," he chuckled, "but for now ... let me spend the day with my love? hmm?", he pulled you closer, nuzzling his nose against yours as you feigned annoyance at him.

"fine," you rolled your eyes, "i'm still mad at you, though."

yeah, he had a lot of making up to do, but this was a start.

jihoon -

jihoon had not stopped beating himself up over his actions ever since you hung up the phone. he had spent the entirety of the day rethinking all his choices leading up to this. he had wanted to go running to you and apologize, but you had specifically asked him to stay away, so he wanted to respect your wishes. still, he felt like complete and utter shit at the way he disregarded you so easily. he wished he could go back in time and slap some sense into himself.

he had always been scared. scared that his job would someday get in the way of your relationship. it had been so hard for him to find someone to love; someone who loved him just as much. and the moment he found you he treasured you more than anything, but now his stupid workaholic tendencies had gotten in the way. he was terrified right now that you'd start to see the error in your choice to be with him. that you'd want to find someone who wouldnt so easily put his job over everything else.

it was now 11am of the following day, and you had not called him yet. he was beginning to get worried. were you icing him out? had he hurt you that badly? he could never blame you for feeling hurt at his neglect, but he could also not help his own feelings of dejection at you ignoring him due to your anger. alas, he still gave you all reason; this had been his own doing.

he waited a couple hours before giving up on waiting, instead choosing to confide in a few of his members to inquire as to what they'd do if they ever pulled something like this with their own significant others. after being scolded for a good few minutes due to his carelessness towards you, they told him that maybe showing up to your apartment as a demonstration of his affection to you (joined by a sincere apology, of course) would make you look his way again.

so now he was here, about to knock on your door with your favorite flowers in hand. he was terrified. the two of you had never fought. there had never been a single time in which you'd hurt each other's feelings. it had all been nothing but love and tenderness in your relationship thus far. he was your best friend, and you were his. yet he had no idea how to communicate to you how much you meant to him, and how much of a stupid mistake his slip up had been.

before he could think further, he forced himself to knock on your door, hoping you wouldnt immediately throw him out. to his surprise, you opened the door and even wordlessly gestured for him to enter. you looked ... sad. you looked the way he'd feel had you ghosted him on his own birthday. yeah, he didnt care much for his birthday, but your absence would wound him nonetheless. he imagined it felt the same for you.

"i ... i'm so sorry. i dont know what to say .. i- i fucked up. so badly. i have no idea how or why i forgot. there's nothing i can do to make up for it, but please know im so fucking sorry."

"jihoon ... how? you picked my birthday of all days to lock yourself in your studio? i've never judged your busy schedule. i understand your career. i respect it. i get that you cant help being busy. your job is too demanding of your time, but for you to ignore me when you had full control of your free time? why?", he could see how disappointed you felt at his neglect; how hurt you felt at him, not only through your words, but through your closed off body language. you were hugging yourself with your arms, not holding eye contact as you stared anywhere but into his eyes. despite your confident words, your demeanor was deflated. and it was his fault.

"it was- it was a mistake. it was all my fault. i cant argue my way around it. but i love you. i didnt .. i didnt mean to neglect you. you're all i think about. every song ive ever written, even before meeting you, was about you. you're everything. i'm just an idiot. i dont know how to do this ... ive never loved like this. i have no idea what to do when i fuck up. all i can do is promise you to be better. please give me a chance to be better. i'll be more attentive. i know i'm cold, and im not too affectionate, but i love you. i'll make it up to you. please, just dont let this be the end. i'll keep you in my studio with me whenever i lock myself away. won't ever go a day without letting you know what im doing, how im doing. please. i'll do anything to show you."

he worried his ramble mightve been too much, feeling to scared to even hold eye contact with you as he went on and on about how much he loved you. unexpectedly, upon looking up, he found your reddened eyes, with a stuffy nose to match. fuck. had he hurt your feelings again?

"jihoon ... i- i love you. i'm sorry. i cant believe you could ever think i wanted this to be the end. i was hurt and mad- i am hurt, but i love you," you sniffled your way through your short speech, but jihoon heard it perfectly fine. these were the words he prayed to hear from you all of last night as he stayed up thinking about you.

"fuck. thank god," he couldnt help himself in hugging you, holding you tightly against his arms, and sighing in relief at your reciprocation, "i love you. i'll take the week off. let me take you away and show you how much you mean to me. please? will you come with me?"

"yes, jihoon. i love you."

"i love you. you have no idea."

seokmin -

seokmin felt extremely scared. you weren't answering any of his calls. he knew you were physically okay, but he also knew your feelings were hurt, and you were probably extremely angry at him. you had all reason to be angry at him. he ditched you and kept you in the dark all day. on your birthday! seokmin had never been in a situation like this before. he had always prided himself in being the best boyfriend that one could ever be, even sometimes introducing himself as your boyfriend instead of with his own name. except today he had disappointed both you and himself beyond belief.

he knew you'd asked him to stay away for the night, and he'd usually respect your one and every wish, but today he needed to go against the current and go and beg for your forgiveness.

in very non-seokmin fashion, he exited the event just as quickly as he'd arrived, not even caring to say goodbye to his friends. you were his number one priority, after all. specially today of all days. he had his driver stop by a flower shop on the way, hoping the innocent gesture would maybe have you show some mercy on his stupidity.

he showed up to your apartment immediately after, having mentally prepared a whole speech for you on the way there. he was going to tell you how much he loved you, and how this was just a completely stupid slip of his mind, that this would never happen again, but all these thoughts left his mind as soon as you opened the door, eyes swollen and glossy. every rational thought went out the window upon spotting your saddened state causing seokmin's eyes to match your own as he felt himself begin to tear up. he couldnt help himself in immediately embracing you in a tight hug, thanking god when he felt you hold him back.

you two sniffled against each other for a bit, neither of you full on crying, but still being overly emotional at the situation. seokmin mumbled endless apologies against your hair, running his hands up and down your back as if to soothe you. he was over the moon to hear an 'i love you' from you in the middle of your sorrowful mumbles against his chest, doubling the sentiment as he cried to you how much he loved you and how badly he regretted letting you slip his mind for even a second. when he pulled back, he expressed the same sentiment all over again.

"my baby ... i love you so much. please let me make it up to you. i- i brought you flowers!", he finally recalled the flowers he had dropped as soon as you closed the door behind him ten minutes ago, "i know it doesnt make up for anything, but please let it be a start. i'll do anything you want. just want you to never cry over me like this again, baby. i love you too much to make you cry," he wiped at your tears as he said this, caressing your cheeks while he looked at you with pure adoration in his eyes.

"minnie," you pouted at him, "stay the night? please? want you at least for the bit that's left of today."

"today? oh, baby. i'm giving you my whole week. told you i was gonna make it up to you. i'll do everything you want, my love. now let me take you to bed, yeah? wanna hold my beautiful angel to sleep."

he slept soundly that night, knowing you had somehow forgiven him and even given him the privilege to hold you in his sleep, also knowing he'd do anything and everything necessary to make up for his stupid mistake.

seungkwan -

he had put literally everyone else above you. on your birthday. there was truly no other way to spin it. he had never felt more guilt in his life, and it was all completely on him. having even thought of going out with his friends on your birthday shouldve given him the first red flag in his stupid plan. why didnt he just bring you along? god, he was such an idiot. and then allowing mingyu and dongmin to entice him into a two hour long live broadcast just to secure some fanservice was just the nail in the coffin.

he knew he hurt you badly. he had promised you he'd be there, but had just left you in the dark all day. he couldnt blame you for not wanting to see him today, but now he was stuck tossing and turning in his bed as he itched to hold you in his arms. he had called the company immediately after your call, letting them know he'd be skipping the usual dance practice and recordings in favor of being with you, which is what he should've done all day today.

it wasnt long until he grew too restless to simply stay in bed while he knew you were probably in a similar position, except most likely sad and angry. he couldnt help himself when he decided to head to you, feeling bad at calling up his driver at such late hours of the night. the journey to your apartment was a short one, which left him with little time to think over what he'd say to you in order to convey his regret. he didnt care much for what he said, he just wanted to alleviate your hurt somehow.

just as he expected, you were awake, now standing in front of him as you opened the door to your apartment. your eyes were puffy, a huge indicator that you'd been crying. your eyes also wouldnt meet his, with your eyebrows lowered in clear sadness. seeing you and knowing your current state was his fault felt like a kick in the gut. he had never made you cry before, so he was extremely disappointed in himself. worst of all, seeing you cry made him start to tear up a bit himself.

"baby ..."

"what do you want, kwan? i thought you were busy all day," your words carried venom behind them, but your delivery was still of someone who had been hurt.

"no, baby. you know that's not true. i'm never too busy for you. i'm so sorry. i was such an idiot. there arent enough apologies i could give you. i- i never meant to hurt your feelings."

"you still did."

"i ... i know. i'm sorry. i love you. the last thing i ever want is for you to be hurt by me. i never shouldve gone out with my friends to begin with. you're too understanding of my busy schedule, and i dont deserve it. i shouldve made time all day for you today."

"was ... was it that important? being gone today specifically?", you seemed insecure in your question, which only made seungkwan's heart soar at making you feel insecure around him in any way.

"no! no, of course not. i wasnt thinking. i shouldve told them id go with them next time, or taken you with me! i was so stupid, i'm sorry. you're my priority. i need you to know that."

"it's- it's fine, kwannie. i understand. you dont see your friends that often, you-"

"no! stop. dont try to rationalize it. i made a mistake. you dont have to cover for me. i hurt you and i made you feel unimportant when you're the most important person to me. im so sorry. please never doubt that. i get you all to myself so little, and staying away from you was such a stupid mistake."

more tears had started flowing down your cheeks the further the conversation went on. he wasnt sure if it was because you were touched by his words, or because he was failing at making you feel better. as he neared you enough to wipe your tears with his thumbs, he hoped it was the former.

"baby .. don't cry over me. please. i'm just an idiot. you should never cry over me. i only ever want you to feel good things when thinking of me. i- im so sorry."

"kwannie ... i love you. i understand. i know you dont want me to understand, but i do. you have to make your choices when you're as busy as you are, and .. even though it did make me feel unimportant, i get it."

"it'll never happen again. i'll- i'll keep you by my side day and night. let me- please let me keep you to myself tomorrow. just wanna be with you. please?"

for the first time in the night, he saw you shoot him a small smile, uttering the words he wanted to hear most, "yes, kwannie. will you .. will you stay? please"

"you don't even have to ask."

a/n: thank u to everyone who enjoyed this lil series aaaa i hope it was realistic enough T-T sorry if the reconciliation seemed rushed, i just didnt want any of them to end up with an angsty ending hehe also sorry for seokmin's being shorter than anyone's i just cannot imagine that man ever hurting anyone's feelings.

[hyypnotix-writes]

Part 3

~ howdy! it's here ..I don't fully know how I feel about it, I might keep editing it at another point, but I've taken the piss with keeping you waiting for so long, I just want you to have something ~

~ it's long - I thought the other two were bad enough but this is longer than both of them combined. it's 26k words so I'm very sorry, and I do understand if that's too much for any of you ~

~ I don't know how to break it up to make it easier, or more fun, for you to read. I hope it doesn't put all of you off, but unless you're an incredibly quick reader ..you will probably have to read this one when you genuinely have nothing else to do ~

~ I'm not sure how well this chapter will go down, this could well be the end of our little journey together ~

~ I've had a lot of fun writing for all of you if it is, despite me stressing myself out with it! you've all been very kind and lovely, and however you've enjoyed any part of my writing, I've really appreciated every interaction ~

~ whether you liked, reblogged, or sent me a little message - every single one of you has made me smile, so I really hope this doesn't disappoint any of you too much! ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

Part 1 Part 2

________________

Rain is absolutely not what you signed up for when you agreed to come to Barcelona with your sister. Travelling all the way to sunny Spain, and bringing the bloody British weather with you as you go? What a horrible little joke.  

You’re not going to be the sun-kissed envy of your friends if it stays like this, you’ll be going back to London even paler than you were when you left it.  

The rainfall dribbles down the outside of the window, opposite where you rest your forehead, and a mournful sigh escapes your lips as you look out at the abysmal sight of the city streets down below. You draw a smiley face with your finger, where your breath fogged up the glass, and you try to mirror the expression on your own face as you extract yourself from the pane and flop back down onto the bed with a very dramatic groan.  

It’s already been one of the longest mornings of your life, and it’s only just turned 10:00.  

Sleep eluded you once again last night. Every hour, on the hour, you watched the clock tick over. Seconds suspending themselves in the air, minutes moving like molasses, as you counted infinite sheep in your head. Time flies when you’re having fun, as they say, but boy does it drag its heels when you’re praying for it to soar.  

Despite your fun little belief that you might’ve finally been sleeping soundly last night, it didn’t actually come to fruition. It turns out that it’s quite difficult for someone to fall asleep after finding out that the woman they’re falling for has secretly been a famous sporting icon the whole time that they’ve known her. Who’d have thought? 

It’s still a little hard for you to wrap your head around. The fact that she’s a bit famous, and her celebrity status stems from football of all things. Even with detective skills as exceptional as yours, that possibility never crossed your mind.  

Exhaustion is starting to plague your body after so many restless nights, and the antisocial behaviour you’re demonstrating because of it, isn’t largely appreciated by your sister. Abandoning Em to go and have breakfast on your own, before she had chance to wake up and join you, wasn’t a deliberate act of cruelty from you, you genuinely thought you were doing her a favour by letting her have a lie in.  

You are on holiday together, though, so she didn’t fully enjoy waking up alone in your shared hotel room. She made that much abundantly clear to you, with the countless strongly worded text messages that you received as you awkwardly traipsed back upstairs to apologise to her.  

A silent and forceful barging into your shoulder was all that greeted you, as you returned to the room and she made her exit from it.  

It’s unfortunate. She’s in a pissy mood, the weather’s in a pissy state, and you have to go to a pissing football match later on this evening. What a cruel world it is that you’re living in.  

It’s very unnatural that your one saving grace of the day is the pissing football match that you have to attend. That being one of the highlights of your holiday, really won’t make much sense at all to any of your friends when you tell them about it.  

You stare longingly at your phone for a while, tapping your fingers over your torso as you wait for Em’s return from breakfast. You let out a soft sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling, before gently closing your eyes, in the futile hopes of having a quick nap. The darkness behind your eyelids allows your mind to wander all too freely. Which it very quickly does, to more thoughts of Alexia. The same way that it has done, since the very first moment that she so casually waltzed into your life.  

This morning, however, it’s not thoughts of confusion, that cloud your brain. Sexuality concerns and hopeless pining are far from the forefront of your mind. It’s excitement that envelops you, anticipation. The fact that you’ve found your impossible-to-find woman, and that she’s no longer impossible for you to find at all. She may very well be one of the easiest people to locate, in all of Barcelona, as it happens. Knowing that you get to see her, at least one more time again this evening, even if it’s only from a distance, is a promise that has an involuntary smile tugging at the corners of your lips, and your heart doing cartwheels inside of your chest.  

There’s the distinct feeling of potential that hangs in the air for tonight. You can’t pretend that you’re not feeling hopeful about seeing her a little bit more up-close-and-personal than just from your seat in the stands. You’d quite like to be able to congratulate her, if the scoreline goes in her favour.  

You pull the neck of Alexia’s sweatshirt up over your face, in an attempt to fully bring the possibilities to life in the playground of your imagination, and you let out another sigh as you rest your hand over your stomach.  

It really doesn’t smell enough like her anymore, but it still your favourite item of clothing, as it is still very much hers. It’s the most effective key for unlocking your memories with her, and you breathe it in deeply, as you let your thoughts of her consume you.  

You really are feeling desperately needy, you’ve already been in this position once this morning.  

It’s not a hunger that’s ever infiltrated your body and mind quite so fervidly. You’re not a particularly clingy person, you’re not usually so obsessive, or lustful. You’re certainly hot-blooded, and you know how to enjoy yourself, but there’s never normally this type of craving in you for another person.  

Having your mind be so fanatical about someone else really isn’t something that’s ever overcome you quite so powerfully. It’s a rare sort of desire in you, that only she’s been able to spark, and it’s proving very difficult to satiate it.  

Your hand wanders slightly, as she takes over your head, the tips of your fingers trailing the waistband of your shorts, before the excessively loud opening and closing of the hotel room door, abruptly halts you from getting too invested in your fantasies.  

You turn your attention to your sister, removing your fingers with an unfortunate twang, as the elastic hits back down your skin, and you slowly free your face as she obliviously trudges across the room.  

You offer up an apologetic smile for abandoning her earlier, as she places her coffee on the table, and, with a piece of toast dangling from her mouth, she smiles back at you, the power of a full stomach seemingly diluting her previous feelings of anger.  

Her smile quickly contorts into a mischievous little grin, and there’s a glint in her eye, as she pounces on the bed.  

“Are you good?” You chuckle, as she rummages next to you, but she doesn’t gift you with any verbal reply. It’s your phone that she’s interested in, you realise, and you hold out your hand, for her to return it to you. “Behave.” You warn her, but she only giggles at the unlocked screen and shakes her head at you.  

“Do you have a new girl crush?” She mocks, goading you as she waves the device in front of your face. “Big into Alexia Putellas, are we?” 

“I was just ..familiarising myself.” You tell her, shuffling yourself a little, as a soft pink hue rushes to your cheeks.  

“Is that what you’re calling it?” She scoffs. “You know, I also tend to search for someone’s back tattoos when I’m trying to memorise their face!” 

“I was— I ..can I have my phone back, please?” You sigh, giving up on any attempt at trying to defend yourself.  

You don’t need to defend yourself to her. You like Alexia’s tattoos, and simply wanting to see them again, is merely an appreciation of art. That’s entirely innocent enough. It wasn’t a perverse search; it didn’t come from a sinful place.  

The fact that it immediately triggered flashbacks to you tracing over all of them with your lips, really wasn’t exactly your fault. It was unintentional, an almost reflex response from you.  

Letting yourself get mildly carried away with remembering how Alexia had kissed along your own body and how her lips had this wonderfully curious tendency of just always roaming down. The little knot that tied itself in your stomach, and your breath hitching as you relived the eye contact that she made with you before she had your back arching under her.  

That’s all a little less innocent, maybe, but it still wasn’t deliberate. It couldn’t be helped; it was just an automatic reimagining of events.  

You’re allowed to do that, they’re your memories. It’s entirely permissible for you to take a little journey through them every once in a while. It’s been over a month for you, and you have some overdue frustrations. That’s not a crime, you’re not a pervy creep.  

“You have a real thing for Spanish women at the minute, huh?” Em recognises, pulling you from your dirty thoughts again as she drops your phone down onto your stomach and takes another bite of her breakfast.  

“Mhmm. I quite like her tattoos.” You tell her casually, and she smiles back at you with a raised eyebrow.  

“Whenever you’re ready for me to do your next one, let me know!” 

“Mm.” You mumble, as you feel the ink on your rib cage begin to sear under her stare.  

You really do like tattoos, but there’s a reason that you only have the one on you. Your distinct lack of body art probably doesn’t seem like the greatest advertisement for your sister’s abilities, but it’s your own indecisiveness, and aversion to needles, that’s stopped you from getting too many, not her deficiency of talent. Maybe you’re a little bit squeamish, but it really did hurt.  

“You’re a big baby.” She laughs at you as you rub at the side of your body, trying to relieve the faint burning of your skin, and she claps the remnants of toast crumbs from her hands onto the floor, as she lays next to you. “What do you fancy doing today?” She asks you. “I’m sorry about the shit weather, that’s kinda fucked with your tanning plans.” 

“It’s not really your fault, but I was going to ask for your help, actually. If you’re feeling a little guilty?” 

“Oh?” She turns her head, furrowing her brow at you, her interest piqued, and you let out a sigh as you swallow your pride.  

“I was hoping, maybe you’d help me learn some football things.” 

“Football things?” She scoffs, but you don’t let her mockery deter you, as you nod at her decidedly.  

“Mhmm.” 

The back of Em’s hand very quickly finds itself pressed against your forehead with a quiet little smack, and you scrunch up your face in confusion as she frowns down at you.  

“What on earth are you doing?” 

“Are you feeling okay?” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, yes!” You sigh, pushing her arm away from you to stop her from checking your temperature. “I’d just like to know some things. Stop me from going into the match so blind.” 

She narrows her eyes, considering you for a moment. “What do you want to know?” She asks, and you wince at the freedom she’s granted you.  

“Just like ..players’ names, probably? I think that’d be helpful. Maybe some basic rules.” You shrug.  

She continues frowning at you, and you buckle a little under the intensity of her stare.  

“What?” 

“You’ve never cared before..” she reminds you, the suspicion in her eyes only increasing, as you release a small huff through your nose.  

“That’s not really true..” You try to start arguing, but it’s a completely pointless activity, you’re both far too aware that you’re completely lying.

Football has existed for your entire life, and you’ve been interested in it, a grand total, of zero times, before now. You find out that it’s Alexia’s favourite thing to do, and you suddenly want to know everything you can about it. It's entirely tragic of you, and it's too convoluted of a confession to share with your sister right now. She was useless enough when you admitted to a single kiss with another woman, trying to explain all of this mayhem would absolutely break her little brain.

“I’ve definitely cheered with you a couple of times!” You offer and she shakes her head, laughing loudly at you.  

“No no no!” She states. “Quietly saying ‘woo team’ when I tell you someone’s scored, is not cheering with me! I told you Rachel Daly scored once, and you still threw your fist in the air!” 

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“She plays for Aston Villa!” She points out, smacking your shoulder, and you let out another tiny huff. “I could tell you that Emma Hayes had scored, and you wouldn’t question it.” 

“Why would that be weird, is she the goalkeeper?” 

“For fuck’s sake!” She sighs, scraping her hands down over her face. “She’s the manager.” 

Yikes. You really are an idiot.   

“Well.. okay..” you wince, “and that’s why I need your help.”  

“Why does it matter?” She asks. “This’ll be the only match you ever watch.” 

“Maybe, but I quite like the woman who gave me that shirt.” You admit, gazing over at it as you play with the hem of the sweatshirt you’re wearing. “I don’t want to let her down by knowing nothing.” 

“Will she be there today?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Em contemplates for a moment, and you know that look in her eyes, she’s about to cave in. You sit up on the bed, readying yourself to deliver the final blow to her composure.  

“Please?” You say, pouting with a perfectly rehearsed, quivering bottom lip. 

“Nooo! Not the puppy dog eyes.” She groans, averting her gaze from you to try and stay strong. You don’t back down, and she lets out a pathetic cry of defeat when she catches your expression again.  

“There’s not much else for us to do until this rain stops.” You point out innocently.  

“That’s not true! There’s that aquarium you wanted to go to?” 

It’s a valid point from her, but rather incredibly, it’s no longer as appealing an option to you. You want to embrace football today. It’s important to Alexia, and she’s becoming important to you. As such, football ..is also important ..to ..well, no. Let’s not push it. She isn’t your girlfriend; you don’t need to be football’s number one fan just yet. Football will be tolerated by you, until further notice.  

You plead to your sister again, adding a small sniffle after your words for extra impact, and her resolve is positively crumbling in front of you.  

“You’re really serious, you want to learn about football?” 

“Mhmm!” You grin, excitedly crossing your legs, to fully show that you mean business. “Please!” 

“Fine.” She chuckles, rolling her eyes at your childish little excitement.  

“Thank you!” You grab her head to place a kiss to the top of it, and she quickly pushes you off of her. “I’d just like to know enough, though.” You clarify, before she starts getting too carried away with her lesson planning. “Just enough to stop me from looking like a fool.” 

“Well, steady on.” She snorts, with a roll of her eyes as she reaches for her sketch pad from the nightstand. “We’ve only got a day!” 

There’s a lot of information for you to learn it turns out, and you really hope Alexia’s worth all of this relentless studying you’ve subjected yourself to.  

It isn’t just her teammates that you end up memorising. Em also makes sure to teach you some footballing fundamentals, what ‘being offside’ really means, how the Champions League works, and she takes a great twisted pleasure in letting you know that tonight’s game of all games, could go to extra time and penalties, if no side is able to score more sodding goals than the other.  

You’re definitely being tested. 90 minutes is all that you signed up for when you agreed to watch the football, not a possible 120 with the looming threat of a penalty shootout attached to it. It’s entirely far too much. Why the hell is this Alexia’s favourite thing to do? Why are you still so into her? This is unbearable.  

It proves a little hard for you to keep concentrating on all of the facts that your sister keeps throwing at you, but she very quickly realises, that letting you watch some of Alexia’s highlights at irregular intervals, keeps you from getting too bored with everything else.

  

It quite amusing to you, to see Alexia wearing the captain’s armband, if you can believe. This nightclub nuisance, taking on a leadership role? That doesn’t seem right at all.  

Club captain, best on the team, best in the world? Turns out, it’s you that has the impeccable taste in women.  

She’s very sexy in her little football kit and watching her kick a ball around is surprisingly entertaining. She’s also very good, even you can see that, and the fact that she’ll occasionally lift her shirt when she’s a little frustrated with herself? Well, replaying that in slow motion is entirely fine and acceptable.  

There’s no real heterosexual explanation for your enjoyment of it, but you can pretend it’s merely an appreciation of fitness for you to keep pausing all of the videos and zooming in on her body.  

It’s not something that you ask to learn about, but Em can’t help mentioning all of Alexia’s achievements to you. It’s very fun to find out about everything, and there’s a genuine sense of pride in you for all of her plentiful accolades.  

It does feel a little misplaced, perhaps. You probably still don’t know her well enough to be just as proud of her as you are, you’ve certainly not known her long enough to be quite so pleased for her.  

It’s also slightly daunting, maybe, realising how decorated she is. Finding out about her FIFA’s best awards, the World Cup, her consecutive Ballon d’Ors.  

This is a very highly celebrated woman that you’ve been mingling with.   

She’s widely regarded as the greatest women’s player, of all time. It’s not just your sister that’s been saying it, Alexia’s been awarded for it, on the television, in front of the whole world. There’s a mural of her in Barcelona, a viewpoint that’s been named after her, and it turns out, that there’s a fairly huge amount of people that really enjoy calling her La bloody Reina. She’s revered by these people, almost worshipped.  

You’re not letting it get to you too much. Yes, she’s widely adored, she’s won pretty much every single award it’s possible for her to achieve, and she’s only just turned 30. She’s famous and well-loved and you’re just a little nobody from London, but you’re not letting that get to you too much.   

That probably wouldn’t be very wise. That would bring questions into your head, and make you start doubting yourself. That’s not a fun thing for you to do. Why would you do that?   

Don’t do that, you’ll start spiralling. It doesn’t take much to get you overthinking. You spent the past month questioning your sexuality because of one single night with another woman. Don’t let yourself worry about it, that won’t end very well for you. Don’t let her success in her career start clouding who she is to you. She’s still just the confusing lime woman, at the end of the day.   

Don’t start thinking of her as Barcelona’s sweetheart, Alexia Putellas. That’s putting her on a pedestal that you’ll never be able to reach her on up there. That’s very careless of you, to leave her up there on it without you sitting next to her, don’t do that. She’s just a woman. A very beautiful and successful woman. That’s fine, there’s lots of them about. Calm down.  

The rain finally relents a few hours before the big match, and while it doesn’t really grant you a huge amount of time to do anything too adventurous, it is a relief to realise that you won’t be getting completely drenched as you watch Alexia play.  

Em makes a rather hasty escape to the beach, as soon as the sun makes its long-awaited appearance. She hasn’t enjoyed your little study session quite as much as you have. You really just can’t win with this woman. She’s grumpy when you hate football, she’s grumpy when you’re a fan of it. She really just loves being grumpy with everything.  

Your constant refusal to be taught anything about the Chelsea players probably didn’t help you to keep her happy, though. Your insistence that Barcelona is the far superior team, didn’t go down very well with her either. Your new ‘girl crush’ on Alexia Putellas was something she began to find really irritating. You were almost actively trying to wind her up, actually. Maybe you did deserve her abandonment, looking back. You were lucky the rain kept her about for as long as it did.  

She didn’t ask if you wanted to join her at the beach, but you’d have decided to stay where you are anyway. Making sure you really have learnt enough for tonight, is your number one priority at the moment. Quizzing yourself and rewatching a few more compilation videos, is far more important to you than the city around you. The tan you actually came out to Spain for really is taking a hit today, but you can enjoy Barcelona a bit more tomorrow.  

You’re having a small dilemma in the hotel bathroom, as you’re getting yourself ready for the game. It’s an escalating concern for you, and one that your sister is growing increasingly frustrated with you for. You’re going to be late to the match if you don’t start getting a move on.       

Em barges into the bathroom, startling you as you study yourself in the mirror, and you narrow your eyes at her reflection as she stands in the doorway, staring at you.      

“What’s taking you so long?” She asks, with a very clear tone of exasperation.       

“I’m debating.” You tell her thoughtfully, ignoring her choice of intonation completely, by offering her an innocent little smile, as she lets out a very long and loud groan behind you.       

“Of course, you are.” She mutters, and she leans against the doorframe, preparing herself for you to begin your impending little spiel.       

“Right. So, I want to have the whole shirt on display.” You begin, gesturing down the front of your body and tapping your fingers to the lettering across your back.  

“Of course, you do.”      

“Right. So, I’m thinking, hair up,” you explain, demonstrating your vision as you carefully scrape your hair up into a ponytail, before narrowing your eyes at your sister again, to see if she can also see the problem with your plan, “buuut..”     

“Is that a love bite?!” She exclaims, rushing towards you and tugging at your shirt collar to examine the light bruising on your neck.       

“Ex-actly!” You sigh in defeat, letting your hair cascade back down as you grab your makeup bag again, to have another go at concealing the little gift that Alexia left on you yesterday. “I knew I hadn’t done a good enough job with it.”      

“How did you get a love bite?!” She asks, still clearly shocked by your rather tame, levels of promiscuity, as she pushes you away from her in disgust.   

“The usual way.”       

“A man sucked on your neck?”      

“Is that how you usually get your love bites?”       

She pulls an immature face at you and flips you off in the mirror. “I’m 24!” She says, indignant. “I haven’t had a love bite in years!”      

“Well, that’s very sad and tragic of you.” You tell her with a sympathetic pout. “I can only apologise that you’re so prudish and boring, I hope you’re able to recover from that soon!”      

“You’re in a very annoying mood.” She recognises with a sigh, frowning at your reflection as you carry on with your camouflage attempt. “We’ve only been here a day! I thought I was supposed to be the slutty sibling!”      

“You are the slutty sibling.” You remind her with a chuckle. “You were in a relationship just last week, and I’ve already had to make breakfast for three different girls since you broke up!”      

She smiles at you, very proudly, because she’s very very gross, and has absolutely no shame in it.       

“It’s no wonder you looked so happy last night, then.” She says, carefully inspecting your neck for you. “That’s covered it, you’re fine.”      

“Mm. Thank you very kindly!” You tell her, giving her a great big kiss on the cheek for her assistance, that she very quickly rubs back off again.       

“Be less annoying!” She begs.       

“I will not be making any promises!” You warn her, smiling widely as you tie your hair up and give yourself another once over. “How are we looking?” You ask, giving her a quick twirl.       

“Traitorous.” She grumbles.  

“Perfect!” You squeal, excitedly grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the hotel room with you.  

Your enthusiasm doesn’t die out at all, as you clamber into the taxi with your sister, and, as luck would have it, your driver is an even bigger culer than you are. You’re able to have a pretty in-depth conversation with him, what with all of the new knowledge that you’ve so recently acquired, and Em’s just ecstatic for the pair of you.

It isn’t a long drive from the hotel to the stadium, but you do clearly make quite the impression on the driver, as you end up having to reject, with as much politeness as possible, his invitation of a date for after the game.  

You’re really hoping to have other plans tonight, with some much-preferred female company.      

“He’s not ugly.” Em informs you quietly as you get out of the car, and she certainly isn’t wrong.  

‘Not ugly’ is just about as big a compliment as Em will ever give, regarding a man. So, you can rest assured that he is actually a very good-looking gentleman.  She narrows her eyes at you suspiciously as you close the door to the vehicle, and you furrow your brow back at her.  

“What?”     

“You can agree to go out with him tonight, you don’t need to look after me.”      

You shake your head at her, with a mild grimace, muttering out an ‘mm’, as your only offering of an explanation for your lack of interest in him. “No doubt you’ll be going home with someone else after the match?” You check, trying to switch the focus back to her.  

“Naturally.” She winks. “It’s been an unsuccessful holiday otherwise!”     

There's still an unfortunate level of determination in your sister to get you a date for tonight, and you have to really insist, that you simply don’t want the driver’s number. She eventually reluctantly agrees to let him take off, giving him an apologetic nod as he rolls up the window, and you give her an uncomfortable smile as she turns her attention back to you.  

“I really think you should be getting back on the horse.” She encourages, still eyeing you with suspicion as you start the short walk to the stadium. “You can’t waste your life pining after Jamie forever.”      

“I’m really not doing that.” You tell her with a sigh. “I just didn’t want to go out on a date with him.”      

“Do you already have plans with hickey-man?” She giggles.  

“Please don’t call them that,” you chuckle, “and no ..not technically.”      

“But that’s who you’re hoping to find again?”      

“Mhmm.” You mumble, trying to stifle the smile that’s pulling at your lips.  

“Is he nice?”      

“Mhmm.”      

“Is he attractive?”      

“Mhmm.”      

“Do you like him?” She asks, wiggling her eyebrows at you.      

“..Mhmm.” You reply again, and your slightly nervous smile fully takes over your face.  

“Oh ..you really like him. After just one love bite?” She questions, narrowing her eyes at you again. “You don’t usually fall so quickly.” She tells you, and you can only shrug at the suggestive tone to her voice.      

“I don’t really know what you want me to say to that?”      

“I just ..want you to be careful.” She explains. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”      

“You were just trying to bag me a date with him?”      

“Yeah, but as a one-night thing.” She clarifies. “Falling in love with a random Spanish man isn’t the best way of getting over your ex.”      

“I’m not in love with them, and I’m not ..really still trying to get over Jamie.”      

“Hm. Good. He was a prat.” She reminds you with a rather disgusted looking frown at the memory of him.    

“Thanks, Em.”   

“Ugly cheating bast—”     

“Okay, Em. Enough.”     

“But he was an ugly cheating bas—“ 

“Enough!” 

“Sorry. He was a horrible dickhead, though.” 

“I know.” You sigh. “I get it, thanks.” 

“He still gets to you?” She realises, noticing that your hands have balled themselves into tight fists, and your stomach turns slightly as you shrug your shoulders at her.  

“A little.” You admit, as a less exciting reimagining of events begins to torment your brain. “I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, only to find out he’d been sleeping around for two years.” 

“Two years?” She asks, eyes going wide, and you kick yourself for saying too much.  

“I thought I already told you that.” 

“No ..you told me he’d been with a few women. Two fucking years?” 

“Please don’t do the maths, you’ll hate him even more.” 

You attempt to walk away, already having had enough of the conversation, but you don’t get very far.  

“You are joking.” She says, grabbing your arm to stop your escape attempt. “He cheated on you, because Mum died?”      

“Not because Mum died, you idiot. Even he wouldn’t be that foul.”     

“But it’s linked?”     

“Enough, please.”   

“No. What the fuck, Y/N?”      

“That’s enough, okay. I just want to enjoy the match. We can talk about it later.”     

“We can talk about it now! I have the tickets,” she reminds you, with a very clear anger brewing in her, “you’re not getting in there without me! Why the fuck would he cheat on you aft—”     

“Because I didn’t really fancy having sex with him straight after.” You interrupt, in a hushed tone, trying to stop her from causing a scene. “I didn’t fancy having it for a while, he clearly had ..needs.”     

“Don’t justify it.”    

“I’m not ..but ..I understand why he did it. I practically pushed him into the arms of other women.”     

“That’s disgusting, Y/N. You can’t really be blaming yourself for it?”     

“Well ..I don’t know..” You mumble.   

“He cheated on you for two years, because you didn’t want to sleep with him for a bit, and you think that’s okay?”  

“That’s not what I said. I just ..get it.”   

You turn away from her again, to carry on with the walk and she hurries after to you to keep in step, not really content in letting this godforsaken conversation die out just yet.  

“That’s really the excuse he used?” She asks.   

“That’s why it started, apparently. There was obviously ..something else, for him to want to carry on doing it.” You admit, fidgeting with your fingers uncomfortably as you start thinking. “Maybe I was ..missing something that he liked or ..not doing something he wanted me to. I—” you let out a sigh, shaking your head, “..it really doesn’t matter, okay? Please, that’s enough. I honestly haven’t been thinking about him, I don’t want to start again now.”     

“I’m sorry.” She tells you, with a clear look of remorse, and you give her a light nod with a tight-lipped smile in an attempt to ease her guilt.  

You carry on your walk for only a few paces before realising Em is no longer travelling with you, and you turn back to find her staring at her feet. “What are you doing?” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your fingers and thumb.  

She taps her toes to the ground a few times, before lifting her head and approaching you with a real sense of purpose. “Here,” she says, handing you a small piece of paper, “in case you can’t find hickey-man.” She tells you, and you do let yourself chuckle a little at Alexia’s unfortunate new nickname as you unfurl the note.     

“You got his number for me? I really don’t need this.” You sigh. You hold the paper out to return to her, but she pushes it back to you.   

“I think you do.” She tells you earnestly. “I don’t think it’s good for you to keep getting hung up on people. First Italian-man, now hickey-man. You were even working yourself up about one kiss with that Spanish woman.” She rolls her eyes at you, before giving you a sincere look of concern. “I know you fall hard, but you don’t usually fall fast. It's weird, and it’s not like you.” She explains, placing her hands on your arms, trying to get you to listen to her better. “I think you should have a proper meaningless night with someone.” She suggests with a shrug “He’s not ugly, and you’re not interested. That’s perfect one-night stand material! You're welcome!”     

“Fine ..thanks.” You mutter, giving her a little nod in defeat as you stare at the number in your hand.  

A meaningless night with a stranger really isn’t what you’re after, but you’re not about to fight her on it now. It’s not an ideal conversation to have just had, really. Your sister isn’t exactly calculated enough to have done it deliberately, she’s not trying to upset you because your footballing-happiness was winding her up too much.  

It’s frustrating from her, but she’s genuinely concerned about you, and maybe she has a reason to be. Maybe you have been ignoring some things about yourself, refusing to confront a few little issues that are bubbling under the surface.  

The ending of your relationship isn’t super ancient history, and you were with him for an unfortunately excessive amount of time. Meaningless hookups were exactly what you were preparing yourself for before Alexia ended up being your first one and ruining the rest of your plans.  

You do know that you’re not letting yourself get hung up over three separate people, though. Italian-man, hickey-man and Spanish-woman are all one person, and letting yourself get so hung up on Alexia as quickly as you are, is fine. Probably. That’s not really a cause for concern.  

Right? 

Of course, you’ve still spent less than 24 hours with her, there’s probably still lots of things you don’t know about each other. You have shared some pretty intimate details about yourselves together already, though, and she doesn’t feel like a rebound, as such. That would be grotesquely underselling the connection between you both.  

She is a woman, which is still new to you, and you really don’t usually fall so quickly for people. It took that bellend over six months to finally wear you down for a date. All Alexia needed to do was hold out a lime for you, to get herself wedged inside of your head.  

Don’t let yourself think about it too hard, you’ll do yourself a mischief. You’re just here to watch some football. You’re here to watch the girl you like, play a bit of football.  

Let’s not overthink, it isn’t good for you. It will only lead to questions and concerns, and that’s not what you need right now. Let’s have fun! 

The atmosphere around the stadium is quite the riot, and it’s very effective in distracting you. There’s flares being let off, the sound of trumpets and drums, there’s colourful smoke everywhere, the most enormous flags you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s like a little carnival, and it’s invigorating, letting yourself get swept up in the excitement of it all.  

You receive a tremendous amount of friendly looks, solely because of the badge over your heart and the name proudly on display on your back and noticing that your sister isn’t shown the same courtesy for wearing her Chelsea shirt, really only adds to your enjoyment of the occasion.  

Em drags you through the large flock of fans, trying to make sure that you don’t get separated from each other on your way into the stadium, and you keep offering up apologies on her behalf, as she carelessly mows people down for you. She is quite the woman on a mission.   

You opt to keep your head down, a little embarrassed by your sister’s rudeness, but even as you make an effort to avoid making eye contact with all of the disgruntled supporters that she keeps barging through, there is one thing that you do struggle to avoid seeing, with some of the Barcelona fans.    

An overwhelmingly impressive amount of them, also have ‘ALEXIA’ on their shirts.    

This doesn’t come as a complete shock to you. She is the best player on the team, after all. There is something about seeing her name plastered over quite so many strangers’ backs, however, that has sent your heart racing.    

This turnout of people is undoubtedly nothing compared to the millions of followers that you found out she has on Instagram yesterday, but it’s a very different feeling, seeing her fame condensed into a little figure on social media, than it is, to actually seeing so many of them in person. It’s much harder for you to ignore the countless amount of admirers that she has, when you keep physically bumping into all of them.   

“Are you good?” Em asks, as you find yourself frozen in the crowd, staring at the back of another person’s shirt.   

“Hm? Yeah, sorry.” You mutter, giving your head a shake, before letting yourself get dragged along again. “She’s very ..popular.”    

“Putellas?” She checks, and you can only nod back at her, still a little dumbfounded by it all. “Well, yeah. Obviously!” She snickers. “Come on!”   

Maybe it’s pride that you’re feeling. Knowing you’ve been spending a bit of time with someone so well-liked. That’s very nice for you, that’s entirely enjoyable and fun. It doesn’t need to be anything other than that. What good would that do for you?  

Perhaps there's a slight nervous tension in your stomach, at seeing her name absolutely everywhere. That’s probably understandable and fine. You knew she was famous, but that’s still a little confounding to actually play witness to. No one’s going to hold that against you, it’s okay to be a little overwhelmed by it all.   

It’s a new reality for you. It makes sense that that would be accompanied with a new feeling too. Anxiety isn’t something that’s really presented itself to you when thinking of Alexia before now. Of course it isn't, why would it have been?   

Picturing little scenarios with her in your mind was fun, it was silly. It didn’t really mean anything when you were never going to find her again. You didn’t need to go putting doubts about yourself in imaginary-Alexia’s head, that wouldn’t keep things very fun and silly at all.   

There are a few doubts about yourself in your own head now, perhaps. Seeing as you have found her again, you’re falling for her, and she’s clearly not the little nobody that you thought you’d entangled yourself with, but that’s probably fine. It’ll be a temporary thing. Let’s not worry about it right this second. Let’s just enjoy the game instead!  

It really isn’t wise for you to start stewing on things. You really will start spiralling.   

How could you not?   

If you start letting yourself think too hard about all the things that you were lacking, and what you simply couldn’t offer to keep a pathetic pig of a man satisfied, and you really start allowing yourself to question why you weren’t good enough for him, that isn’t going to put you in a very good mindset when seeing all these fans that Alexia has.   

Her supporters aren’t limited to just little kids or grown men. There’s a lot of women here, also sporting her name. It isn’t necessarily the case that all of these women are gay, that’s not really how watching women’s football works. She can have straight women being her fans too.   

Some of them are probably gay, though, aren’t they? Lots of the ones that are gay, with her name on them, might have a little crush on her. It’s very likely that absolutely none of them will have had to do research all day to make sure that they knew what was going on this evening. All of them will have already known everything. They’ll be genuinely into football, genuine fans of Alexia.   

Gorgeous, confidently gay, and really into football. Those are the women that surround you right now. That’s fine. What’s wrong with that?  

Why are you letting yourself worry? Why are you letting them get to you? Because they make more sense for her? Because they’re better for her? Because you’re not a fan of football?   

Alexia already knows that, she didn’t walk out on you because of it. 

She did giggle a few times at your idiocy, though, didn’t she? So, she probably did think you were a little foolish. She would presumably think it was a bit lame of you, to have spent quite so much time studying for a football match. Who else has ever had to do that? You really probably are the only one. That is a bit embarrassing. Quite pathetic of you.   

Damn.   

What a loser, you are.   

Shit.   

Maybe you should let it get to you. Maybe you’ve let yourself get carried away. Maybe you’re having a psychotic break. You’re letting yourself fall for a woman. A Spanish woman. A famous Spanish woman. A famous Spanish woman who plays football professionally, for crying out loud! Look at all of these beautiful lesbian fans that she has here. What the hell do you think you’re playing at?   

You? A little nobody from London, who couldn’t even keep an ugly bastard of a man happy? If you weren’t even able to manage to do that, how could you possibly hope to be good enough, for two-time Ballon d’Or recipient, current Champions League and World Cup winner, Barcelona’s sweetheart, Alexia Putellas?   

That doesn’t seem very likely at all, does it? You being the soulmate of this ethereal goddess of a woman? Behave yourself. You really are delusional.   

Maybe that’s why she wanted you here, to laugh at you. Point and laugh at you with all of her football friends.   

Just go home now. Pretend that you’re ill. You do look a little ill. You’ve let yourself spiral, haven’t you? I did warn you about doing that. Now look at the state of you. This is very tragic.  

 

“Mate, what are you doing?” Em asks, as you once again find yourself paralysed, staring at yet another stranger’s shirt.    

“I just ..I don’t feel well.” You mumble.    

“Noo. Please don’t do that!” She begs, all too aware of what your next statement is going to be. “We’re here now!” She reminds you, bouncing on her toes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought up that wanker, but please, we can still enjoy this together. You’ve been so excited about it all day.” She gives you a very sad pout, lightly pulling on your arm, trying to encourage you to keep following her.   

You really have been excited all day. It would be a shame to let your intrusive thoughts ruin it for you. You don’t want to let that bastard keep dictating all of the fun you’re allowed to have. You’re just here to enjoy some football.  

Woo!  

“Sorry. I just—” You pause, giving your head another shake as you try to catch your breath. “She’s just ..very popular.” You reiterate, gesturing to the stranger’s back with your thumb.   

“Did you think you’d be the only one here wearing her name?” She snorts. “I told you the woman who gave it to you was basic.”  

Your mind is still racing a little as you follow your sister out towards the stands. The atmosphere is even more intense inside of the stadium, and you try to let yourself embrace it all again, but it is mildly dizzying this time around.  

Em has nabbed you some pretty decent seats to be fair to her, though. One thing about your sister, she is absolutely going to treat herself and overspend on her interests without a care in the world. It’s something you often advise against her doing, it's not the wisest thing for her to do with her money. You couldn’t really be more grateful for it right now, though, when you’re practically sitting front row.  

Both teams are still out warming up, and you let your eyes roam the Barcelona side for a moment. You finally notice Alexia amongst all of the chaos, and you immediately stop noticing anything else. Your mind goes completely blank, just at the mere sight of her.  

She really does calm you right down, truly nothing else matters when she’s around you. That’s really very lovely. It’s a good thing you don’t live in two separate countries from each other. Imagine the way your mind would implode if you couldn’t just look at her all the time to stop your mental deterioration.. 

You watch Alexia, as she completes her runs, does some drills, begins to stretch. It’s like she’s the only one out there on the field, working in slow motion, putting on a show, just for you. There’s absolutely no reason for it to be as sexy as it is, she’s literally just warming up, but you find yourself, jaw clenched, as you observe her movements.   

She pauses for a drink break, and you remain mesmerised as she squeezes a jet of water into her mouth and pours a little extra over her face. You bite down on your bottom lip as you follow the beads of liquid rolling down her neck, slowly travelling under her shirt, and your breath hitches, as you allow yourself to remember exactly what it is that she’s concealing under her shirt. You can picture that body perfectly; you’ve thought of little else aside from it for over a month.  

She’s all hot, and sweaty, and— please! Pull yourself together! You’re in public, and you’re practically drooling. Do you remember when you were straight? Straight straight straight. Try channeling a bit more of that, perhaps. You’ll be an absolute puddle right there in your seat, otherwise.  

“There’s your one.” Your sister reminds you, making you jump as she nudges you and gestures down across to the pitch, once again pulling you away from your redacted thoughts.   

“Oh yeah! Thanks.” You tell her, feigning surprise, as you hide the small smile on your face, and swallow down on your arousal. You subtly wipe at the corners of your mouth with the back of your finger, just in case a bit of drool really had started falling, and you nod to your sister in acknowledgment. “She really is quite ..pretty.” You say pointedly, paying close attention to your sister’s thoughts and feelings on the matter.   

It probably wouldn’t be ideal if your sister showed an interest. She has a rather troubling talent with the ladies, and you’re not too sure you’d rate your chances going up against her, where another woman’s concerned.  

It really isn’t something you’ve ever had to think about before. There was never any chance of you two being into the same person until Alexia flicked a switch inside of your head. It was only a joke when she mentioned it in the café, but you can’t pretend it hasn’t niggled in the back of your mind a little.  

If you do end up introducing them, and they really hit it off? They almost certainly have more in common than you and Alexia do. They could talk for days about football together; they both have multiple tattoos where you only have a single measly little thing on your ribs. They’re both definitely gay, which is far more than you can say about yourself.  

That’s three strikes right there, isn’t it? That’s not very good.  

That’s all you get.  

You’re already out of the race.  

You’ll introduce them, they’ll fall in love, get married, have kids, and you’re left pining after your sister’s wife for the rest of eternity. Even the sweet release of death wouldn’t save you from a heartache that powerful. That’s an eternal pain. It’s permanent, infinite. A truly deathless agony that’ll haunt you till the very end of time itself.  

Good grief! 

What’s going on with you? You’re being very dramatic and sad suddenly. This really isn’t like you. You’ve only met this woman twice. Snap out of it! 

“Sure, I guess.” Em shrugs, not at all taken in by Alexia’s beauty. She really does have very questionable taste in women. You really should have known that already, that isn’t new information to you. You desperately need to calm down, you’re getting yourself into a really bad place.  

“Which one’s that?” She asks you, testing your knowledge as she points to another player on the field.   

“Ona Batlle.” You tell her confidently, shaking your worries from your head as you try to focus on what really matters right now. “Defender. Used to play for United.”  

“Very good,” she commends, genuinely quite impressed with the results of your last-minute cramming, “and that?”  

“María León. Mapi. Also, a defender. Didn’t go to the World Cup.”  

“Mhmm! And that?”  

“Not a bloody clue!”  

“For fuck’s sake.” She grumbles.   

“What? She’s one of yours,” you point out, grinning, “I don’t give a shit about the Chelsea players!”  

“You really are a twat.” She tells you, smacking your shoulder, before she crosses her arms and leans back into her seat. “Do you remember how the game works?” She asks you, rather condescendingly. “Do you need me to go through it all again for you?”  

“No, thank you.” You reassure her, innocently. “I think I’ve got it all memorised ..it’s just the best of three sets in the women’s game, right?”  

“Twat.” Em calls you again, and you chuckle to yourself, relaxing back down into your own seat, entirely satisfied with just how incredibly easy she is to wind up.  

You return your attention back to Alexia’s warmup routine, making sure to not keep letting your mind run wild with more dirty thoughts. It has been over a month for you, but even your sister’s showing a bit more decorum with her ogling of Sam Kerr. You really can control yourself better than this, you are not an animal.  

Alexia pauses her drills to have another sexy little drink, and you notice her surveying the crowd as she downs her water. She does a very careful examination of the away section, and she stops to stare, as soon as she finds you.  

You’re once again the only two people in the whole vicinity, as her eyes meet yours, and a bashful smile takes over her face.  

Whatever concerns you might be battling with, you can definitely be certain, that this woman wants you here today, and she isn’t at all discreet about how happy she is to see that you’ve come, and that you’re wearing her shirt.  

She mouths a little ‘hi’ to you, and it’s impossible for you not to smile at her, when your heart’s jumping up inside of your chest. You mouth back a ‘hi’ followed by a ‘wow’, with a slight wince, as you dramatically flit your eyes around your surroundings, and she bites at her lip, with a clear sense of awkwardness.  

‘I’m sorry.’ She tells you silently, but you shake your head at her with a furrowed brow.  

‘Don’t be daft, good luck!’ you offer with a smile, and a subtle thumbs up. You tap proudly at the badge on your chest, and Alexia’s smile only grows as she watches you.  

She responds with a nod, a ‘gracias’ and her own thumbs up, which clearly wasn’t as subtle as yours, as it didn’t go unnoticed by your sister.  

“Was that directed at you?” She asks, squinting at Alexia as she moves with the other players down towards the tunnel.   

“Hm? Looked like that, didn’t it?” 

“That’s quite cool.” She acknowledges. “She’ll probably think you got lost on the way in, sitting here with us. You don’t exactly blend in!”  

“No, that’s true.” You chuckle, tapping your hands down the red stripes on your torso. “Maybe she just felt bad for me, stuck here with you losers.”  

“Mm.” She grumbles, pulling a face at you. “That’s Sam Kerr!” She informs you excitedly, quickly moving on from your interaction, and focusing back on who she deems to be, the more important star of this evening’s show.   

“I know who Sam Kerr is,” you sigh, “I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen her poster on your wall.”  

“Mmmmmm.” She hums, gazing very dreamily at the striker as she makes her own way off of the pitch.   

“Oh, please.” You start, rolling your eyes at the state that she’s getting herself into. “Have some self-control, Em, we’re in public!”  

You really are a shameless little hypocrite.

  

Goosebumps spread all over your skin as the teams return to the pitch, and the Champions League anthem rings out around the stadium. You can feel the excitement really getting to you, as the hairs on your arms stand up on end.  

It’s very overwhelming. You couldn’t have cared less about this match yesterday morning, and now it’s the most important thing in the world to you.  

All for a girl, what has gotten into you?  

The game is highly contested right from the first whistle. With the first leg ending in a 0-0 draw, neither team is able to rely on aggregate to get themselves through, and you can feel the pressure that the players are under.  

Both sides are naturally desperate to win, though expectation is slightly higher for Barcelona, seeing as they won the whole thing last season.   

There’s a very mild sense of nervousness in you about the result. You’re not really sure how you’d go about consoling someone after a huge sporting defeat. You’ve never been very good at comforting Em when a football score has left her upset, and it’s probably far worse when you’re actually on the team that’s lost, and not just watching it through the television.  

You know exactly how Alexia would be able to cheer you up, and you’d be more than willing to try the same technique with her. She might not be as horned up as you clearly are, though. You may very well need to start drafting a proper commiserative speech for her, if the game does start running away from them. Sexual favours may simply not be enough.  

You do take some comfort in the fact that Barcelona haven’t lost to Chelsea before, and while you appreciate that nothing’s guaranteed in sports, Alexia’s very good, and you know for a fact that the rest of her teammates really aren’t too shabby either. There’s a reason that they’ve won this whole thing twice, and you’re letting the knowledge of that keep you from getting too worked up about it.  

Alexia’s the best in the world, and no best in the world is losing to bloody Chelsea, not today.  

Alexia’s incredible for you to watch when she plays, even when she only has possession for a second. She’s just a wizard on the ball, the way she reads the game so easily, how she seems to predict everyone’s movements. She’s always in control, unwaveringly calm, deliberate in her choices.  

She almost dances with the ball, and it’s impossible to deny how unbelievably gifted she is, as she weaves around her opponents. She has a very distinctive flair, for making it all look so effortless. It’s just incredibly sexy of her, and you find yourself wiping at the corners of your mouth again as you watch on, just in case.   

It’s not a skill that you’ve ever really appreciated in a person before. You’ve had boyfriends that played football in school, you watched your sister plenty of times when she was little, but you never really focused on them while they were actually playing.  

You’d cheer at the right moments, making the correct noises when you needed to, just following the rest of the crowd’s lead, mainly. You found it all a bit boring, really, it didn’t mean anything to you.   

Now, Alexia’s only casually passing the ball between herself and a few of her teammates, and you’re absolutely entranced by her, you couldn’t think of anything else you’d rather be watching. There’s a glow to her as she plays. She’s enthralling, captivating. You might be her number one fan.  

The match aside from Alexia’s performance, is far more tense than you’d care to admit. Both teams have plenty of attempts on goal, neither of them score. Every missed shot from Barcelona has you cursing under your breath, and every near goal from Chelsea has you covering your eyes like a child. It’s a little unbearable, you absolutely love it. It’s what sport’s all about.   

It’s a very unexpected reaction from you. The way your heart’s started palpitating, the slight tightness in your shoulders whenever a Chelsea player’s on the ball, the elation shooting through you every time Barcelona regains possession. It’s the skin around the nail of your thumb that suffers the most under your passion, as you nibble at it relentlessly, watching everything unfold with a high degree of intensity.   

You keep knocking your sister every time Alexia gets close to scoring, gripping at Em’s sleeve and tugging at her in anticipation. It’s hard to tell if it’s an excitable twitch, or if it’s stress-tapping of your foot, but every nerve in your body is on fire as you watch Alexia in her element. Em still can’t really understand your newly established avidity for the game, but she continually embraces it all with a light chuckle as she keeps telling you to “please, calm down.”   

The whistle blows for halftime and it’s still level at 0-0. You can barely contain yourself, letting out a huge breath that you weren’t fully aware you’d been holding in.   

“I can’t survive another half like that!” You warn Em, bashing your head against her shoulder. “I need a goal. Just one goal!” Your legs are bobbing up and down, as the adrenaline in you tries to find a way of escaping your body, and she rests her hand over them to calm you down.  

“Do you need a wee?” She asks, a little concerned at the mess you’re turning into, and you shake your head with a laugh.   

“No, I’m good, thanks! I just ..really want them to win.”  

“You’re really into it, aren’t you?” She chuckles.  

“Mhmm. Thank you for bringing me here.”  

“You’re welcome! I’m glad you decided to stay.” She tells you, with a proud smile on her face at finally winning you over on her favourite interest. “It’s a shame you’re rooting for the dark side, though. It’s weird that this is the team that speaks to you.”  

“Mm. I’m sorry about that.” You offer half-heartedly, pulling at the badge on your shirt to give it a kiss.  

“You’re such a traitor,” she tells you with a flick to your forehead, “Dad will be disgusted when I tell him.” 

 

The second half starts, and it’s much the same as the first. There’s more near misses, a few choice attempts on goal, and the game starts getting far sloppier as both sides get more desperate to score. There are some pretty ugly fouls, resulting in a few yellow cards being issued to both teams, and you’re suddenly far less concerned with winning, and far more worried about Alexia just making it out in one piece.  

“It’s quite brutal!” You point out to your sister, flinching as another Chelsea player goes tumbling to the ground.  

“Mm. You think she’d be more careful.” She tells you. She taps at the number on your shirt, and it sends an instant chill racing up the back of your neck.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question, biting down hard on your thumb as you await her response.  

“She tore her ACL a couple years back, took her out of the Euros. She hardly played at all last season.” 

“Tore her ACL?” You ask, exhaling slowly as you make the connection in your head. “Would that be her knee?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Shit.” Drops out of your mouth, as you bite your thumb a little too deeply, and you try to shake the stinging from your hand.  

It makes sense, that Em would choose to withhold this little titbit of information from you, you really are quite squeamish. If you’d known this game could turn into such a bloodbath, you’d have probably elected to stay home. 

Alexia had played it coy, when you traced your fingers over her scars that night. She wasn’t exactly uncomfortable with you asking her about them, but it still wasn’t something she was going to get into with you. You weren’t going to force the issue too hard, you’re not an idiot, but it had certainly piqued your interest. She really wasn’t forthcoming with any information about herself, and it quickly became apparent how talented she was at deflecting from your queries.  

It stopped being at the forefront of your mind completely, when she was otherwise so distracting with it. Her scars didn’t inhibit her at all when she was pressing her knee against you. It felt good, she seemed fine, who were you to question? 

“Should she be playing at all?” You ask flicking your thumb against your finger to try and weaken the pain shooting through it.  

“Sure! Lots of them do, you just think it’d freak ‘em out a bit more.” She tells you. “It’s amazing she still throws herself into it as much as she does, really.” 

“You don’t become the best by tapping out.” You recognise, and she excitedly nods her head at you.  

“No, exactly! Sometimes it happens again, though. Can be the exact same rupture, different tear, same leg. A few players have it happen to their other leg..” Em continues to give you a very unhelpful rundown of just how common this career-jeopardising injury seems to be, and an uncomfortable lump forms in your throat as she goes a little too deep into all of the details with it. “Are you okay?” She asks, cutting herself off at your obvious discomfort at her lecture, and she gently taps at your shoulder. “You’ve gone quite pale.” 

“I don’t like seeing people get hurt, you know that.” 

“She’ll be alright.” She reassures you, gesturing to the Chelsea player as she pulls herself back to her feet. “It’s just when a player gets stretchered off, really. That’s when you properly worry about them.” 

You suddenly find yourself, very stressed. 

It immediately feels like Alexia, in particular, has a target on her back as the game continues. Every time she gets on the ball, a Chelsea player comes flying in, rather aggressively, trying to win it back off of her. It’s a very violent onslaught, and it’s not one that you’re keen on watching.   

She spends most of the second half having to drag herself back to her feet, and you no longer feel like you can just blame it on the slightly wet grass, when there’s a menacing little Chelsea player hovering ominously over her every time she goes down to the ground.  

The game is still level as the clock starts running down the final few minutes, but any sense of relief that this torture is almost over, is immediately extinguished, as you remember that this specific game would have to go to extra time, and then penalties, if no one’s able to break the deadlock.   

Penalty shootouts, on their own, are usually just about the only thing you can tolerate in football, when you’re a neutral with zero stakes. It sounds like a nightmare now, however. Especially as it means you’d have to endure 30 extra minutes of the Chelsea players’ assault on Alexia.   

You really can’t take it. Your heart’s started thumping. You have a headache forming. Your fingers have turned to ice.  

You’re out of your seat as Alexia makes a beeline for the goal in the 87th minute. It’s an incredible scoring opportunity, she can’t miss.   

A Chelsea defender appears to the side of her, as if from nowhere as Alexia lines up her shot, and she’s brutally slid into, just outside of the area.   

You can hear the collision as it happens, it almost reverberates throughout the whole stadium. Life in the arena comes to a complete standstill, as everyone just watches it all unfold.   

Alexia goes down, and the world stops spinning, your heart stops beating, and time stands still.   

She stays down, and your body goes rigid, your blood runs cold, and you want to be sick.  

Get up. Please get up.  

Your sister grips on to your arm trying to comfort you, trying to tell you that it probably isn’t as bad as it looked, but your eyes don’t move from where Alexia lies on the floor, clutching her knee.   

Medics are rushed onto the pitch with a stretcher in hand, and you remain frozen in place.   

Please get up. Just get up.  

The defender is back on her feet only a minute after the tackle, and she’s shown a yellow card for her foul. You want to throttle the referee right there and then.  

“It should be a straight fucking red!” You shout, as you grip your hands together on the top of your head, trying to distract yourself from the burning in your eyes, and the new quiet ringing that’s started in your ears.   

You receive a couple of snide looks from the supporters surrounding you for your little outburst, and you can hear a few less-than-friendly words being bellowed out at you, but frankly, you don’t give a fuck.  

Just get up. Get up and walk off if you have to. Just get. up.  

You want to jump over the seats. Push every annoying, arsehole supporter in a Chelsea shirt right out of your way and invade the pitch to be with her. Your body’s screaming out at you to do something, anything, and you can’t. You’re useless to her.   

Just get up.  

Alexia looks to be in agony on the ground. A few of the Barcelona players are swarming the referee for her blatant incompetence. Even the other Chelsea players are a little amazed that they’ve gotten away with it, without going a player down.   

It was a dirty foul. Out of character, according to your sister. You don’t care. It could’ve been a complete accident by her, and you’re not fussed. It was reckless, it was filthy, and she should be off that goddamn pitch with some level of suspension at least.  

Get up. Please.  

Em tries to pull you back into your seat and you still don’t budge. You stand where you are, watching the small crowd on the pitch, as it slowly blocks Alexia from your view. You bite at the skin on your thumb, willing yourself to stay calm, willing Alexia to just get the fuck up.   

It feels like a lifetime waiting for things to happen, for any sign of development from the scene on the ground. You ultimately collapse back down into your chair, trying to catch your breath, trying to stop the world from swirling around you, trying to stop your brain from assuming the worst. You close your eyes, holding your face in your hands, blocking it all out.  

Get. Up.   

This isn’t really what you signed up for, is it? You wanted to watch the girl you like, play a little game of football. Possibly celebrate her winning, with some adult-fun-time. Not find out that she’s fairly recently had such a serious injury, and then watch her go crashing down to the ground, holding that specific body part. You can’t do anything about it. You can’t help. You’re stuck in place, watching it all happen right in front of you.  

This is torture. Maybe this is why you never let yourself get into football. Who is this fun for exactly? What’s the point in it all?  

What an unbelievably useless waste of your time. You were already in a bad enough place before the game kicked off and distracted you from it. Now it’s made it worse. This is terrible. You really should have just stayed home. Imagine coming all the way out to Spain and making yourself bloody ill with it. Jesus Christ.  

Please. Get up.  

After what feels like hours, the medics do start slowly dissipating and there’s a cautious ripple of applause around the stadium, because Alexia has gotten up, but not of her own accord. She’s being flanked by Mapi and Asisat, and she looks very unstable.  

They carefully remove themselves from under her arms, and she’s not very well balanced at all. She’s reluctant to put too much weight on her leg, she’s limping, and she’s still gripping onto Mapi for dear life, but she's not being stretchered off. She’s up, and you can breathe again.   

You watch on as she tests her strength, steadily gaining confidence that her knee isn’t going to give way beneath her, and she puts her hand up to Jonatan to indicate that she will not be getting subbed off. She gives her body a shake, looks over in your direction, and she nods to herself with a reinvigorated sense of determination.   

You don’t know if you’re completely turned on by her bold display of bravery, or if you want to give her a slap for being quite so carelessly audacious. She doesn’t need to play the hero; you’d rather she just sat it out.  

“What is she doing?” You mutter under your breath, shaking your head as Alexia waits to be let back into the game.  

“You don’t become the best by tapping out!” Em reminds you, with a smile, patting your shoulder reassuringly. Her entire demeanour is in stark contrast to the one that you’re currently displaying, and as comforting as she’s trying to be by rubbing at your arm, it isn’t very effective. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. “You look really unwell.”  

“Mhmm.” Is all you’re able to mumble out, as your eyes lock onto Alexia on the sidelines.  

The free kick awarded for the foul is saved, and Alexia’s back on the pitch for the corner. You want to stop her. You want to swear at her. You can’t handle it. You need a drink.   

You grab at the neckline of your shirt and pull it up over the bottom half of your face. You’re very very stressed. Even the familiar smell of her on your top isn’t doing much to comfort you. She’s an idiot. She’s so unbelievably stupid. What the fuck?  

You watch the corner kick, as the ball goes sailing over the heads of everyone, before it connects with Alexia’s forehead and skims past the tips of the keeper’s fingers.   

The stadium erupts around you, and you’re back up off of your seat, letting out your own roar in celebration. Your eyes are absolutely stinging with tears, as you hold your forehead against your hands, and there’s more than a few snide looks at you from the supporters you’re buried in, given your lack of propriety about the situation.  

You’re getting called every colourful derogatory term under the sun for your rather ungodly little cheer, and still, you couldn’t care less. You let out a few huge breaths, trying to steady yourself, and despite her team now trailing in the final minutes, Em wraps her arms around you, giving you a shake, as she tries to get you to properly enjoy the moment.  

Alexia points up to the sky in celebration, and you can hear her name being gradually chanted around the stands. It catches in your ear, echoing in a crescendoing drone. It’s deafening, unrelenting, and you try to shake it back out of your head before it really starts getting too much for you.  

You know that there’s going to be a fair few minutes of added time with how many fouls the second half has had and given how long Alexia was just down for especially, but you can see how the life’s just been completely zapped from the Chelsea side. They’re not equalising today; the game is done.   

The whistle blows for full time at 1-0 and you finally slump back down into your seat. The stadium is going absolutely wild around you, and you just close your eyes to it, waiting for it all to die down.  

You can hear your sister trying to pull you out of your head, but you press your palms against your eyelids, trying to block everything out. Your body’s racking itself. There’s a sharp shortness to your breath, an uneven rapidity to your heartbeat. Your head’s burning up, and your eyes are stinging.  

You’re not really cut out for this, are you? It’s all gotten a bit much. You really are spiralling, look at the state of you. All this, because of one unfortunate, mistimed tackle? Because there’s a few extra people here that know Alexia’s name?   

Barcelona just won, Alexia just scored the winning goal, and you’re collapsing in on yourself. 

What would you have been like if they had just lost? If Alexia had been genuinely hurt? Not much good, clearly. Not very helpful.  

Alexia deserves someone better. Someone who doesn’t go into a panic in the stands whenever she hits the deck. Someone who isn’t unnerved by her celebrity status. Maybe someone, who isn’t questioning her identity, at the ripe old age, of 26.  

She deserves someone, who very much, isn’t you. 

It takes a few minutes for you to come back around, pulling yourself from your oppressive thoughts, and you can see colourful stars in your eyes as you finally relieve the pressure you were forcing against them. Em offers you some water, and you down it while she stares at you, her brow wrinkled with worry.   

“Are you okay?”  

“Mhmm. I’m fine, sorry.”  

“You won!” She points out, with a cautious optimism, smiling at you as she chuckles softly. “You’re supposed to be celebrating, not ..whatever the hell this is.”  

“I’m really sorry, I just ..I don’t like people getting hurt.”  

“You wouldn’t have had to go to a hospital with her, it’s alright.”  

“Mm.”  

She gives you a hug, which lasts a suspiciously long time for her, and you can feel her jaw moving against your shoulder as she lifts her head slightly.  

“Are you okay?” You ask, frowning as you push her away from you.   

“Mhmm.” She mumbles, not moving her eyes away from whatever it is that she’s seen behind you. “Are you definitely fine?” She checks again, with a mild desperation to her voice.  

“..Yes?” You reassure her, turning around in your seat to try and follow her gaze.  

“I’ll see you in the morning, then!” She tells you hastily, and she nudges your arm, before tossing your sweatshirt from her bag at you, and straightening herself up.  

“Wait, what?” You question, rather baffled by her quick switch in focus. “Where are you going tonight?”  

Em just directs your vision up a few rows of seats, to a red-headed woman who has very clearly taken her fancy. They’ve been making googly-eyes at each other all match apparently. Since you wound your sister up earlier, with your unwavering new support for the enemy, and Chelsea have just crashed out of the Champions League again, she’s going home with her tonight, to drown her sorrows.   

She really does have an incredible success rate with the ladies, at least you won’t have to make breakfast for this one in the morning.  

 

“You’re off, just like that?” You ask.   

“We can hang out again tomorrow?”  

“Aw, I appreciate that, Em. Thanks!” 

She chuckles at you, bouncing on her toes. “Ring taxi-man.” She advises you with a wink. “Or try to find your mysterious hickey-man, again! You deserve to have fun tonight. Celebrate the win properly! Get yourself another love bite!”  

“Mm.” You mutter, and she crouches down in front of you again.  

“Are you sure you’re okay?” She asks. “I can stay with you, if you want?”  

“Hm? No, don’t be daft. It’s fine, really.  Thanks. Go, have fun.”  

She doesn’t hang around long enough for you to change your mind. She gives you a far quicker hug than the previous one, patting you on the head, before running off and introducing herself to her new friend at the steps. They both cast you a quick wave, which you return a little awkwardly, before they walk up towards the exit. Just as easy as that.  

“Be safe!” You call out to them behind you, as you turn your attention back to the celebrations on the pitch.  

It takes a long while for the atmosphere in the stadium to really start fizzling out, and there’s still a distinct little hum of excitement that rattles through it, as the crowd dwindles, and the players continue making their way around the grounds.   

Alexia grins up at you as she passes by your section, and you can only manage to give her a weak smile in return as you pat your leg at her with a questioning look. She smacks her knee a couple of times, smiling with a dramatic roll of her eyes, and she gives you a thumbs up to signal to you that she really is okay. She isn’t limping anymore as she heads over towards the fans, so you could almost pretend it hadn’t happened at all, if it hadn’t been quite so mentally draining.   

A fair amount of supporters still line the barriers, holding out shirts and signs, and just about anything else that they can get a player’s autograph scrawled onto. Most of them are shouting for Alexia’s attention, and her popularity and fame is still quite an overwhelming thing for you to take in.  

She doesn’t miss any of them, they all get their moment with her. She makes sure everyone gets seen too, everything gets signed. She doesn’t rush a single encounter, and you don’t miss the way people’s faces keep lighting up whenever she approaches them.  

It’s very hard not to keep falling for her, watching her interact with people, the way that she is with them. She’s just good. She’s good at what she does, she's good with her fans, she’s a good person.   

You’re biting at your thumb again.  

The knuckles on your other hand, turning white, with the vice-like grip that you have on her sweatshirt. Your legs are bobbing, and you can feel your fingers freezing up. There’s a lot of combatting emotions fighting for dominance in your head, and you’re very unsure of yourself.  

The Chelsea fans were in far less of a partying mood, clearly, as you find yourself the only one left in the away section. You watch Alexia converse with the ever-diminishing crowd for a moment longer, before deciding, maybe it’s time for you to go, too.  

This isn’t your world; you don’t belong in it. It’s been a fun time with her, and there’s definitely a something between you, that’s been nice to explore, but there’s clearly been some sort of mistake. A divine, serendipitous little mix-up. She can’t be the one for you, as you’re really not the right one for her. It’s okay for this to be it, it’s okay for you to go.  

You walk down to the barrier and carefully rest her sweatshirt over it. You can’t really also leave her football shirt behind with it, but she’s probably not desperate for that back. She’ll have loads of them lying about, there’s probably another one waiting in her training bag, ready for her to give to someone else.  

You pat at the sweatshirt a few times, debating with yourself, and you look back up across the pitch to where Alexia is still signing shirts. She almost certainly does deserve someone better than you but abandoning her is still quite a harsh thing for you to do, she definitely deserves better than that.  

You can’t just leave her and not give her a reason for it, that’s very cruel. She was excited to see you, she’ll be upset if you walk out on her.  

You crash your head down onto the sweatshirt trying to decide your next move, letting out a quiet groan as you draw a blank. She’s still preoccupied with her fans when you raise your head again, and you start pacing the length of the railing tapping the tips of your fingers together.  

You look back down at the sweatshirt, across to Alexia, and up to the exit. Down at the sweatshirt, across to Alexia, and up to the exit.  

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit.  

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit. 

Sweatshirt, Alexia, exit. Exit. Exit.  

You find yourself stuck on the steps, only a second later, facing away from the pitch, without her sweatshirt in your hands. You’re really not sure what your plan is. 

You do still have that number in your pocket, you could always give him a call, he really was very good-looking, exactly your usual type. Tall, dark, handsome. Friendly. Very friendly. It’s classic to you, it’s easy. Maybe your sister’s right. You need to have a meaningless night with some random company that you just don’t give a shit about.   

You really just don’t want to go out with him, though. There’s a woman on the other side of the pitch that your heart’s still lunging out in the direction of, who still puts butterflies in your stomach every time she so much as looks at you.  

You don’t want to leave. You like this woman too much. There’s something real between you. Something strong.  

Maybe it’s too strong.  

It’s impossibly strong.  

It’s a delusional level of strong.  

You’re almost at the final step before the exit, when you hear a little whistle from behind you and it stops you in your tracks. Maybe it was that little bungee cord between you both, that alerted her to your leaving.  

It sends another chill coursing up the back of your neck, and there’s an instant blurring to your vision, as your eyes start welling up. 

“Y/N?” She calls up to you, with a small strain to her voice, and you flinch, your gaze dropping to the floor. Your jaw clenches, and you freeze in place, closing your eyes, in the hopes of just disappearing from right there in front of her.  

You can still go, just keep walking. It would still be very hard for her to find you. She doesn’t have your surname, or your address, she doesn’t know your phone number. 

You can get a clean break.  

Leave it as a solo night of fun. The meaningless distraction from him, that it was always supposed to have been. Stop letting yourself fall for her. Stop letting yourself care and worry, about a woman that you barely know. Go home. Behave. Find yourself a man and get on with your regular life.  

There’s another cautious whistle as you debate with yourself, and your heart aches, hearing it echo around you. You shift your body weight, awkwardly, from your toes to your heels, and back again, a fair few times. You drum your fingers against your thighs, over your stomach, and you look up at the sky, searching for an answer.  

You need someone to give you a push, give you a sign that you’re not making another mistake. You want your sister to come back and slap some sense into you. You want your mother to tell you what to do, she always did have the right answers.  

You gently tap your fingers to your face, trying to pull yourself back into your body, as you study the stars above you.  

There seems to be a definite twinkle to one of them, and you really don’t care if you’re just seeing things. You’re looking for an excuse, any excuse, and a slight flicker in the sky, is exactly what you needed. 

You straighten yourself up, before letting out a long breath with a small nod. You bounce on your toes, and you give your eyes a quick rub, before you ever so slowly, turn yourself back around.   

You might still be an idiot. A whole damn blasted fool.  

But she’s impossible for you to walk away from. That’s just not how it’s going to work with her. She already means too much, you’re already in too deep. She’s set up shop inside of your head, she’s already living inside of your heart. You couldn’t walk away from her, even if you wanted to. 

She has your heart skipping beats, whenever she says your name. She has the rest of existence fading into nothingness around you, when all she’s done is take your hand in hers. She sends goosebumps down your neck when she whispers to you, has you rolling your eyes with a chuckle, when she’s being a playful windup. Your mind starts spinning when she kisses you, and you feel safe when you’re resting in her arms.  

You had one of the best afternoons of your life yesterday, doing nothing, but spend a bit more time with her. Learning about her, laughing with her, kissing her. She’s put a burning inside of you, and a smile on your face. You spent the whole of last night, wide awake, because you couldn’t wait to see her again. She told you that she couldn’t wait to see you, either.  

This isn’t a solo night of fun, it’s not a meaningless distraction. It never really has been with her. It might very well be your person, that’s waiting for you down there, and you’d only stand to lose everything, if you walk away from her now.  

You draw in a breath and look down to the sidelines of the pitch. It’s the greatest women’s footballer in the world, that’s leaning up against the stands for you, and she’s hoping, that you’re not about to leave her, not without at least saying goodbye to her first.    

She looks very small when you see her. All the grandeur, and spectacle that shrouded her during the game, has been completely wiped once again. She’s just Alexia, Ale, A. She’s just a woman that you met in a nightclub, just a girl that you’ve been getting to know.  

There’s a very obvious sense of worry in her, it’s not a look that often spreads across her face. She shuffles herself, tapping her hands gently on the sweatshirt over the barrier as she tilts her head down towards the ground, and you steadily make your way back down the steps towards her.  

“Felicitats.” You offer weakly, and she smiles softly up at you.  

“Gràcies.”  

“Is your knee okay?” 

“Yes.”   

“Are you sure?”  

“Yes. I promise.”   

“It wasn’t a very friendly challenge.” You tell her, frowning at the tunnel that the Chelsea player made her escape from you down. “You gave me a fright, when you didn’t bounce straight back up. Are you definitely okay?”  

“Yes, I’m fine!” She insists. “Look!” She tells you, patting her knee a few more times, and kicking her leg out to show you that it hasn’t fallen off. You can’t not smile back at her when she’s being so very cute, even if she is incredibly stupid. “I promise you, it’s fine.” She repeats, and you just have to believe her.  

“You didn’t fancy telling me your big secret, yourself?” You call out, as you continue making your way towards the pitch, glancing around the stadium, before sliding your hands into your back pockets.   

“It didn’t feel ..that important,” is the excuse she gives to you, as she picks at the fabric in her hands, “the night that we first met.”  

“And yesterday?” You push, crinkling your brow up slightly. “Still not that important?”  

Her gaze drops to the ground as you wait on the bottom step, and you nibble at the inside of your mouth. “Are you angry with me?” She asks nervously, quietly tapping her hands with a bit more agitation, and not yet meeting your eyes.  

There’s a painful twinge in your heart as you watch her unfamiliar mannerisms, you much prefer when she’s being insufferably cocky and annoying. It’s far less painful, a lot more fun.  

You let out a breath, before closing the rest of the distance between you both, and you gently rest your hands on top of hers, to stop her little nervous drum solo. She still doesn’t lift her head to face you, and you take in a shaky breath, readying yourself.  

“Do I seem angry?” You ask her quietly, trying to encourage her to look at you, as you delicately draw shapes on the backs of her hands, to distract you both a little from the obvious tension.  

You don’t miss the goosebumps that quickly form up Alexia’s arms as you do, and there’s a feeling that jolts inside of you, knowing that you both have the exact same effect on each other, even with the most casual of touches.  

She lifts her eyes to study your face, and she shakes her head, as you smile softy back at her.  

“Well, there you go then!” You tell her with a light chuckle, placing a kiss to her forehead before resting yourself against the railing between you both, and she lets out a wobbly breath. “Of course I’m not angry with you ..I did feel a bit stupid last night, that I really didn’t know.” You explain. “..I feel a bit intimidated, now that I do.”  

“I’m still just me.” She reminds you quickly, and you can see the shimmer in her eyes, as she tries to keep herself from cracking.   

You can’t help narrowing your eyes at her little claim as she collapses her head down into you, nestling it in the crook of your neck. “They call you the bloody queen, Alexia.” You remind her, and she shakes her head against you.  

“I hate that title.” She confesses. “I promise you, I’m still just me.” 

 

It’s hard to deny her that. When all of the noise has died out, and it’s only the two of you left. She is just her, she’s just another woman. A woman who is very clearly worrying about you and your reaction to her career. She knows that she stands to lose you because of it, and it’s very obvious, as her tears pool on your skin, that that isn’t something she wants to happen.   

Despite it still being ridiculously early days between you both, this connection that you feel so strongly, may very well be reciprocated by her, and it would be a shame, for a bit of football, to stand in the way of it.  

It’s terrifying, knowing that she can get hurt. Realising that everything she’s worked so hard her whole life for, rests on a knife’s edge, every time she steps foot onto the pitch. It isn’t easy, being made aware of how common of an injury it is, and how there’s no way of protecting her from it.   

If she’s going to get injured again, that’s just a harsh reality of football, and that’s a very difficult pill for you to swallow. It’s not a risk that you can stop her from taking, either. This is her dream, and you’d just have to support her through it. The good, and the bad.  

It’s also a little disconcerting, knowing how adored she is. The fact that she’s quite a bit famous, especially in this city, if nothing else. As much as you don’t want to let it seep into your mind, and affect your thoughts about Alexia too deeply, it’s impossible for it not to have altered things for you slightly.  

You’re only human, and you weren’t really fully prepped, on what her celebrity actually entailed. She was just another regular person to you yesterday, but in reality, she is clearly very far from that, and it’s a little unfair that she wasn’t the one to break the news to you. To give you some sort of heads up, before throwing you in at the deep end today.  

But ..you really were having fun, before it all went south. You were excited, you were proud, you were enjoying a football match. She does things to you. She brings out a side of yourself that you’ve never explored before, a side that’s laid dormant, for your entire life. She’s incredible, in ways that largely transcend her achievements on the pitch.   

Alexia’s never made you doubt yourself. She’s never given you any reason to question her interest in you, that’s one thing that she’s never been secretive about.  

She doesn’t know what you do for a living, but she probably correctly assumes that you’re not famous, and that hasn’t put her off at all. She doesn’t think she’s too good for you, she hasn’t treated you like you’re beneath her.  

Her fame doesn’t follow her everywhere, you were able to be completely oblivious to it, before your sister told you about it. It’s not debilitating, it doesn’t stop you from having moments together. It’s something you might have to get used to. Find a way of understanding it, learn how to cope with it. Especially on match days, when you really can’t ignore the actual magnitude of it. That wouldn’t be impossible for you to do.

  

There’s a connection between you both, it doesn’t matter how celebrated she is. You haven’t just shared a few careless kisses; it wasn’t just one night of meaningless sex. There’s something real between you both, and it already existed before you knew who she was. This madness that surrounds her, was always the reality; you were just unaware of it.  

There was a spark, regardless. You’d have the same connection with her if she was filling shelves in a supermarket, why should this be any different?  

She wasn’t put off by your lack of interest in football. She really wanted you here today. She gave you her shirt to wear. She told you she hoped you’d enjoy the game. There were tens of thousands of people in attendance this evening, and she searched for you, specifically.   

She deliberately put you in a contrasting shirt, so that she’d easily be able to find you, so that she’d definitely know that you came, and that you were here, watching her. That’s all she wanted. She just wanted you to see her play, and for you to have fun while doing it. She wanted you here, cheering her on. The best player in the world, and she's been choosing you. A little nobody from London.  

You’re allowed to be excited about that. You’re allowed to stop questioning her and second-guessing yourself. You don’t need to pay attention to the noise around you, the excited obsession with her from strangers, those distracting little seeds of doubt that he’s put into your head about yourself.  

There’s just her. There’s just Alexia, and she wanted you here.  

“Well ..just you,” you start softly, placing a kiss to the side of her head, “is a bloody lot more impressive than most people ..you were incredible out there.” You whisper shakily, and you can feel as she smiles against you, burying her head further into your neck.  

“You enjoyed it?” She breathes, and you can see a small bit of the weight that she’s bearing, lifting from her shoulders.   

“Until that moment. Yeah, I really did!” You tell her, smiling in mild disbelief at yourself. “I was worried, that I might have to pretend for you, but I just ..really loved watching you play, seeing you score!”  

“Were you quietly cheering?” She asks, pulling herself back from you, to excitedly take you in.   

“There was nothing quiet about it!” You admit with a grin, as you wipe away the streaks of tears on Alexia’s cheeks with the backs of your fingers. “You scored the winner!”  

The biggest smile spreads over her face at your bold act of tiny rebellion, and she pinches at the fabric of your shirt, gliding her fingers down the front of it, as she gives it a quick examination. “You were lucky they didn’t throw tomatoes at you, then!” 

“Mhmm! I did get a few words thrown at me, mind! There’s some horrible people about.” You tell her, as she continues holding onto your shirt. Her eyes meet yours and it’s a pair of nervous smiles that you exchange with each other. “I know it won’t mean much, coming from me. I’ve not watched a lot of football, and I know you have some pretty big awards for it, but ..you’re really bloody good! I’m so proud of you.”  

“It means everything.” She tells you ardently, pulling you into her over the railing. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it!”  

You let yourself get lost in her embrace for a moment, while she clings to the back of your shirt, and you can hear as her breath hitches when you place a quick kiss to her neck.  

“I really didn’t enjoy watching you get taken down, mind.” You reiterate, quietly.   

“No? I didn’t love that either, really.” She admits, chuckling to herself.  

“But you’re definitely okay?” You check again, pulling away from her to look properly at her leg.   

“Yes. I promise you. It’s fine, I’m fine. It just happens sometimes.” She shrugs.  

“Please don’t tell me that!” You beg, quickly shaking your head at her. “You can’t be putting me through that every match!”  

“Mm? You’ll be watching more games?” She asks, with that famous little smirk coming back into view as you nod your head at her.   

“I mean, it’s a bitch of a commute to do this weekly, but I’ll definitely be watching you on the telly, when I can’t make it.”  

“Wow.” She says, linking her arms together behind your neck. “You really did enjoy it.”  

“I know ..you’ve broken me!” You chuckle, as she rests her forehead to yours, and her lips are once again, the only thing you can focus on. You watch as she wets them in front of you, and it almost feels like she’s taunting you a little bit. “Are we allowed to kiss here?” You ask, trying to disguise your desperation, as you pull yourself away to scan the stadium.  

There’s only a few random stragglers making their exits up the steps, and none of them seem to be paying any attention to the pair of you at all. So, it might not be beyond the realms of possibility.  

Alexia takes your face in her hands and tilts your head. “Yes.” She tells you, simply, and she pulls you into her, capturing your lips with hers. She doesn’t do her own check of your surroundings at all; she really isn’t too fussed if anyone’s watching you both this time.  

It’s quite the romantic place to have a kiss, honestly. A huge colosseum, that’s almost entirely empty, a blanket of stars in the sky up above you. It’s not a kiss with any caution. It’s not hasty or secretive. It’s familiar, safe, and it’s able to finally be unreserved.   

It’s a kiss that the pair of you have been craving. One that doesn’t taste of tequila, that doesn’t have to be hidden from view, and one that doesn’t have the looming dread of immediate departure attached to it. It’s a slow deep kiss, that feels like home, and you’re quite content to drown yourself in it.  

“Where’s Em?” Alexia asks, and she really has ruined the moment.   

She seems unaware, as her lips are still moving against yours, but you freeze, breaking the kiss at her twisted choice of topic.  

“Woww?” You drag out, pulling back from her with a frown. “Mentioning my sister is a real mood-killer I do hope you realise!”  

“I’m sorry!” She giggles, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth.   

“You’re supposed to have come over here for me, not her!”  

“I did come over for you!” She tells you, rolling her eyes at your dramatics. “I just meant ..you’re here on your own.”  

“Mm. She left me.”  

“Why?”  

“She met a girl, while we were watching you play,” you explain, “they’ve gone back to hers already.”  

“Oh?” She questions, her eyes sparkling as she arches an eyebrow at you. “To play cards?”  

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I think so.”  

She links her arms back over your shoulders, leaning in very close. “So ..you’re without company tonight?” She checks, her lips ghosting yours, and your heart starts racing again at the suggestive tone to her voice.   

“Mhmm. That’s quite sad, isn’t it? When I’m on holiday?”  

“That’s very sad.” She agrees, tracing your jawline with her index finger.  

It’s hard not to have a physical reaction to the way that she’s always touching you, and you swallow down as she angles your face to draw her mouth even closer to you, your breath catching in your throat as her lips brush against yours.  

“Are you short on company tonight?” You whisper, rather shakily.  

“Mhmm.”  

“Oof. That might be even sadder.” You point out, and she nods in agreement with a small pout, before finally succumbing to another long kiss.  

You breakaway, entirely short on breath, and she smiles as the obvious effect she’s just had on you as you try to come to your senses. “Do you ..not want to celebrate with your teammates?”  

“Not really.” She tells you, her pupils dilating as her eyes roam over your body.  

“Would you ..maybe, want to do something with me, then?” 

“Are you asking me on a date?” She asks, her cocky little smile curving her lips, and you chuckle despite yourself.   

“I really think I might be. You admit. “I don’t know what you’ve done to me!” You tell her, shaking your head with a smile. “I’d never looked at another woman before, never cared about a football result. Never asked someone out on a date.”  

“Mm? And now look at you.” She says, cradling your face as she searches your eyes. “Does it scare you?” She asks, stroking her thumb over your cheek, and you pause for a beat in consideration.  

“A little,” you confess, “but never when I’m with you.”  

Your candour earns you another kiss. Whether she’s fully aware of the power her lips have on calming your nerves, or she just fancied kissing you, you don’t really know, and you don’t really care. You welcome it the same way you’ve welcomed every other kiss from her, and the same way you’ll continue to welcome any future kisses from her, should you be so lucky.  

“Were you going to leave me?” Alexia asks after a moment, tapping at the sweatshirt again with a horrible look of uncertainty in her eyes.  

“I really don’t know.” You tell her honestly, and worry creases her brow, as you let out a breath. “I don’t think I’d have got very far,” you admit, “but it’s just ..been a lot to take in.”  

There’s a familiar look of understanding from her. It’s the exact same look she had given you when you’d stayed still in the hotel elevator, as she had made her exit. It’s a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, that barely curves her lips. It’s a look of acceptance, resignation, and it’s a heartbreaking sight to see.   

“I don’t want to leave you.” You clarify. “I don’t really know ..what this is, between us, but I know how I feel about you, and I don’t want to run from it. I just know ..that you can probably do better.”  

You bop your own hand gently on the barrier in a fist, and she narrows her eyes at you. “What do you mean by that?” She asks, and you nibble at the inside of your mouth.   

“I freaked out ..when you went down. It got to me outside, seeing your name everywhere. I couldn’t ..really tell you what my sexuality is, at this point.” You take a breath, still knocking your fist awkwardly on the railing. “There’ll be so many other women, more sure of themselves, more ..prepared, and ready to embrace everything.” You explain, closing your eyes to stop them from stinging. “They won’t need to study your team before you play, they won’t go into a panic every time another player gets a little too close to you. They’ll be just as desperate to be with you, and they’ll be bett—”  

You’re cut off from your little ramble, with what you’re assuming was a kiss.  

Your eyes are closed, and it was unbelievably quick. You’d be forgiven for thinking you’d imagined it completely; it was really quite so fleeting. If the fireworks that Alexia’s set off on your lips weren’t quite so familiar to you, you might have thought it was a bee that had stung you. She’s really gone and left you all lightheaded with little more than a peck.  

“You kissed me!” You tell her breathlessly, as though she wasn’t the one to do it to you.  

“Mhmm. Imagine that.” She says, as she lets her eyes roam over your face with a small smile. “You studied the team?”  

“I know, I’m sorry.” You cringe. “I just didn’t want to not know who you played with. I mean, I didn’t even know who you were yesterday, what chance would I have had with any—”  

She kisses you again, the exact same way, leaving you with the exact same reaction.  

“You kissed me!” You repeat, and she chuckles at you, nodding her head.  

“Mhmm. You’re on vacation,” she reminds you, “and you spent the day studying my team?”  

“Mm.”  

“And you worried about me getting hurt?” 

“Mm.” 

“And you’re so desperately into me, that I’ve got you questioning your sexuality?” She winks.  

“I mean..” you chuckle softly, rolling your eyes, “..maybe.” 

“And you really think, that any of that ..would make me like you less?” She asks, narrowing her eyes with that familiar smirk.  

“Well ..sort of.” You admit. “I mean ..the studying. Most people wouldn’t need to do that.”  

“You didn’t need to do that.” She points out.  

“Mm ..no, I really think I did.” You chuckle. “I didn’t know anything about football this morning, you can ask Em.” 

“You don’t care about football.” She reminds you. 

“Maybe not ..but I care a little bit about you. I just knew it was important to you, I didn’t want to be completely clueless about it.” 

Alexia shakes her head at you lightly, before kissing you again. It’s not so quick this time, so you don’t need to be as embarrassed about her still leaving you lightheaded and short on breath.  

“You kissed me!” You repeat, a childish grin taking over your face, and she rests her forehead to your shoulder, chuckling at your excited little reaction. “So, you do still like me the same?” You double-check and she lifts her gaze to meet your eyes.  

She cradles your head in her hand, shaking her own lightly back at you as she rubs her thumb over your cheek. “I think I might like you even more.” She tells you. “I wasn’t really sure that would be possible after yesterday.”  

“Really?” 

“Mhmm.”  

“Well ..what else are you into? I can study anything.”  

She giggles at your eagerness before kissing you again. “I’m very into you.” She says, and your eyes light up in front of her.  

“That’s so unbelievably lucky, I know almost everything about her already!”  

“Yeah? Then maybe we’re perfect for each other.” She tells you, with a distinct conviction in her voice that sends that special little thrill running right through your body as she pulls you in for another kiss. 

 

“So ..is that a ‘yes’?” You ask. “To maybe going on a date with me? It’s a bit late now, I know, but we still have tomorrow.” You suggest, beginning to stumble over your words. “I know it’s probably not the smoothest way you’ve ever been asked out. I’m new to this. I’m not very good, but I’ll work on it. I’ll get better.” 

“I think you’re already better than you think you are.” She tells you softly, resting her forehead to yours. “I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

“Even though my head’s a mess and I’m still figuring things out?” 

“Mhmm.” She giggles, gently rolling her bottom lip under her teeth. “I’ll help you figure things out. We’ll work it all out together.” She offers.  

“That could be a lot of work.” 

“I know, and I really think you might be worth it.” She tells you, giving you another gentle kiss. “I’m sorry all of this got to you. I should have told you about it yesterday, but ..I didn’t want to scare you off.” She explains. “I know it can be a lot, I don’t love every part of it..” 

“It’s okay, I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for it, really. I knew you’d have a lot of fans ..it was just seeing them all. Like this ..Alexia army.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“Please don’t be. You have nothing to apologise for.” You reassure her. “Not unless all those other buggers also got their shirts from you?” 

“No,” she chuckles, running her fingers up the front of the fabric on your body, “you’re the only one.” 

“I should probably feel quite special, then.” You wink. “People would kill to be wearing this.” 

“Mhmm. You are special.” She tells you, her fingers trailing the neckline of your shirt. She pulls you back into her, her lips feathering yours. “You’re in my top three for a reason.” 

The barrier’s proving to be a little bit of a pest to the pair of you, what with it being such a hindrance to all of your kissing. After receiving confirmation from Alexia, that no one would attack you for joining her on the grass, you throw her sweatshirt on over your head, and quickly negotiate the railing to be with her. 

It might be your favourite place to be, just melting into her arms as she holds you against her. Even though she’s still a little bit gross from running around for so long, you wouldn’t really swap it for anything.  

Your eyes flick around the stadium as you look over her shoulder. There’s a faded majesty to the arena when it’s empty like this. You’re the only ones still out here and the beauty of the place isn’t lost on you, as you get to share it with Alexia. It feels more special without thousands of other strangers crammed in here with you, it’s like a secret discovery you’ve both stumbled upon. A vast abandoned colosseum, existing just for you two.  

“Does it not freak you out, playing in a place like this?” You ask her. 

“Not really.” She tells you, rather casually, joining you in staring up at the stands.  

“There’s so many eyes watching you.” 

“Mm. You sort of just block it all out.” She says. “You can hear everything, all the chanting and singing, but you don’t really pay too much attention to it. Not until you score, and then again at the end of the game. It isn’t really scary at that point, though. Then it’s just thousands of other people celebrating with you.” 

“You’re quite amazing,” you realise, gently nudging into her, “I think I’d shit myself.” 

She giggles at your blunt confession, intertwining her hand with yours. “I’d probably freak out if I did that in front of everyone.” She admits, kissing your fingers. “That’d be quite hard to live down.” 

“Do you not get nervous at all?” 

“No.” She tells you, simply. “I’ve worked hard for this. I trust myself; I trust the team. Us playing in stadiums like this, in front of crowds like that, it’s what we deserve. It’s what we’ve been doing it all for.” She drops her head momentarily, taking in a breath. “I wasn’t too sure I’d get the chance to play again at all, after..” she gestures loosely down to her leg and stands a little taller as her grip on your hand tightens, “I don’t take it for granted, that I’m able to be here. It’s where I’ve always wanted to be. I’m not going to waste time being scared of it.” 

There’s a different air of confidence to her on the pitch as you watch her. It’s not the same playful cockiness that she so often uses with you. It’s not arrogance, she isn’t being smug. She’s just proud of herself, the journey that she’s been on. She’s proud of where she is, she’s proud of her teammates and she really has every bloody right to be.  

“Are you okay?” She asks, her brow crinkling lightly as she looks to you. “You’re staring.” 

“Sorry. You’re just ..very beautiful.” You shrug, and you can see a small flush of colour settle over her cheeks as she smiles before quickly averting her eyes.  

“You haven’t told me what it is that you do for a living.” She reminds you, shirking the focus away from her as she walks backwards a little ahead of you, pulling you along with her. “We had an agreement.” She reminds you.  

“I think it’s far less exciting than your big reveal.” You warn her. “I’m just in finance ..banking.”  

You offer it with a tone of apology to your voice, which she certainly picks up on as she smiles at you and takes your other hand in hers. “That’s very impressive.” She assures you and a blush spreads across your own cheeks as she interlaces her fingers with yours. “You’re quite clever?”  

“I’m not too bad with numbers.” You chuckle.  

“Do you enjoy it?” She asks, and you nod your head.  

“That must seem ridiculous to you.” 

“Not at all. Are you good at it?” 

“Oof ..I’m not awful.” You smile. “I’ve actually been named ‘Employee of the Year’ on more than two separate occasions.” 

“Have you really?” She giggles.  

“Mhmm. That’s the same as those balloon awards of yours, right?” 

“Mhmm. Yes. Yeah ..I think that’s the exact same thing.” 

She really must like you if she’s willing to lie like that. There is slight tone of sarcasm to her voice, and rightly so. Your sister’s explained to you what a Ballon d’Or is, and Alexia being presented with it, for two years on the trot, is no mean feat. She’s been recognised for being the undisputed best at her profession, globally. You’ve received ‘Employee of the Year’ bonuses because your boss is a filthy pervert with a crush on you. These are not the same things at all.  

It’s very sweet of her to downplay her achievements for you and there’s something about her lack of arrogance with her career that’s very intriguing. She almost minimises her own importance, ignores the significance, and the impact that she’s had on the sport. It’s really just a regular job to her. She’s ‘just’ a footballer.  

She takes genuine pride in it, but she’s not gloating at all, she’s not bragging. Without her fans around her, you really wouldn’t know how big of a sensation she actually is. The fame and accolades really aren’t what she’s done any of this for. She just loves playing the game.  

“You’re staring again.” She points out, kissing your forehead.  

“You’re ..still very beautiful.” You tell her, offering up another shrug in lieu of any better explanation for your continual admiration of her.  

She places a kiss to the back of your hand, and her eyes twinkle over it as she meets your gaze. “We should get out of here.” She tells you. “I need to have a shower, but then we can go.” 

“Do you want me to wait here?” You offer, and she frowns at you in confusion. “So that you don’t have to introduce me to anyone.” You explain, and she giggles, shaking her head.  

“A few of them would probably recognise you.” She says, and a hot flush of embarrassment spreads right through your body.   

“Shit! For being drunk and angry?” 

“Mhmm! And straight.” She reminds you with a wink. “I think they quite like you, don’t worry. Mapi’s definitely a fan already.” 

A small groan falls from your mouth as you remember your rather unfortunate behaviour from that night, and it’s hard not cringe at yourself. It’s amazing you made such a good impression on Alexia, all things considered, but it’s a bit embarrassing to realise there was more than one world-class footballer watching your drunken antics.  

“I’ll have to stay out here.” You grimace. “That’s horrific!” 

“They’re probably already gone!” She giggles. “We’ve been out here for a while.” She places another kiss to your forehead, before walking backwards towards the tunnel holding her hand out for you to join her. “Are you coming?” 

You nod your head at her but make no real effort to move from where you are. “I never thanked you.” You call out to her, and she stills herself, tilting her head.  

“For what?” She chuckles, narrowing her eyes.  

“For saving me that night. From that old man ..I really don’t know where I’d be now if you hadn’t.” 

A grin splits her face, and she doesn’t miss a beat. “Therapy, probably!” She says, and her laugh echoes in the air around you.  

You quickly pull her sweatshirt back up to hide your face under it, shaking your head in shame, because she’s almost certainly right. It would have taken you a very long time to recover from waking up next to him the following morning. You definitely wouldn’t have been going for seconds, thirds and fourths with him all night. He’d have had a heart attack trying to compete with Alexia’s stamina.  

“He was so gross.” She reminds you, pulling the sweatshirt down as she returns to you. “You were very drunk.” 

She pushes the loose hairs back from over your face, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips as she cups your face.  

“I don’t remember you helping me with that.” You point out. “I had more drinks with you than anyone else.” 

“Mm ..I quite liked being inappropriate with you. You were very daring,” she recollects, kissing you again, with her cocky little smile, “you’d already licked most of me before we even left the club!” 

“You started it!” You remind her, and she giggles in front of you.  

“Well, if that was a competition we were having, I think you certainly won!” She admits. “I’m sure abuelo would have enjoyed drinking with you just as much.” 

“Oof. Please don’t.” You mutter, suppressing a gag. “I think I’d have slapped him if he’d tried licking me.” 

Alexia laughs again, lifting your hand to her lips, to place a kiss to the back of it, and she winks at you, before she licks all down it with her tongue.   

“You’re such a child!” You giggle, wiping your hand against your shirt, and she winks at you again. “You could’ve been here with that girl from the toilets.” You point out. “At least she was very pretty.” 

“I know.” She sighs wistfully. “It’s a shame someone stole me from her.” 

“Mmm ..okay.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.  

She shakes her head with a small smirk, taking your hand and pulling you into her before wrapping her arms around your waist. “I’m glad I’m here with you.” She tells you, lightly bumping her nose to yours. “Bit scary of you, though. Following me all the way out here!” 

“I didn’t follow you!” You tell her, removing yourself from her hold. “I barely even remembered you existed before you draped your arm over me in that café.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” She scoffs. “You even followed us into that toilet.” 

“No, I didn’t!” You chuckle, crossing your arms in front of you as you smile up at her. “You followed me, though. Couldn’t keep you away!” 

“Mm ..maybe I really should’ve stayed with her instead.” 

“Okaay, that’s enough of that. She’s gone now, you missed your chance with her!" 

“Are you still jealous?” She winks, running her hands down your sides before slinking them back around your waist.  

“I wasn’t jealous. She was just ..all over you. In the toilet, of all places! It was very gross of you both, very unsanitary.” 

“Is that why you wanted to interrupt us?” She smirks, tilting her head very close to yours. “Bumped into me to stop me from catching germs? You’re very cute.” 

“That was an accident.” 

“You’re a terrible liar!” She laughs.  

“You were winding me up! Kissing someone else, what were you playing at?” 

“You went to go kiss men!” She points out.  

“I didn’t kiss any of them, though.” 

“It’s not my fault you were unsuccessful!” 

“I wasn’t unsuccessful!” You giggle, pushing her away from you. “I didn’t want to kiss any of them. I had one person on my mind that night, and I was actually very successful in getting her to kiss me ..eventually.” 

“I was on your mind?” She asks, bouncing her eyebrows as she rests her hands on your hips.  

“You’re so annoying, always so cocky.” You roll your eyes, linking your hands behind her neck before pulling her down to kiss you. “Yes. You were on my mind.” You admit, collapsing your head to her chest. “You’re always on my mind. You’re like a bloody broken record in here.” 

She kisses the top of your head, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. “You’re always on my mind too.” She whispers. “I don’t think I’ve really stopped thinking about you at all since I first saw you in that club.” 

“When you shoved that bloody lime in my face?” You mumble against her.  

“I didn’t shove a lime in your face!” She laughs. “I held it for you, I was being helpful.” 

“Mm ..well, then I owe you two lots of thanks.” You realise, lifting your head to meet her eyes. “One for your ..handy little lime assistance, and one for saving me from that ancient creeper. I am genuinely grateful for the second one.” 

“You don’t need to thank me for either of them.” She tells you. “I was being selfish really.” 

It’s difficult to know just how much time you both managed to kill outside, but the dressing room’s completely empty by the time you two make your way through to it. You sit, patting your hands against your thighs, as Alexia goes for her shower, and you try to keep yourself entertained without her.  

There’s a lot of things for you to look at in the room, lots to take in. There’s a history to the stadium, which should be interesting to have a backstage pass to. It’s a privilege, being in here. Legends have roamed these halls, sporting greats from decades past. It’s very exciting for you to be granted access to it, and yet, none of it’s at all fascinating to you when you know there’s a wet, naked lady in the other room.  

You continue drumming out your frustrations as you try to stop yourself from thinking of Alexia in the shower.  

All on her own. In the shower.   

Alone.  

Showering.  

You really just can’t help yourself.  

She doesn’t take too long to return to you and a loud gasp falls from your lips when she re-emerges.  

“¿Qué?” She winks, and the blush doesn’t even have the courtesy of creeping up on you, you’re just immediately bright red.  

“You’re naked.” You inform her, very quietly, in case she hadn’t already realised. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Wow..” You breathe, gritting your teeth as you try to remain calm.

“Oh? That’s so funny. I seem to remember that being the exact same reaction to the one you had last time!” 

“Heh heh heh!” You draw out slowly, rolling your eyes at her unremitting need to be cocky.  

She leans against the wall in front of you, and it really isn’t very easy to maintain eye contact with her when her body’s on full display in front of you. It doesn’t feel like she’s particularly bothered about your wandering eyes, which is really rather lucky, because you’re not exactly doing it with any level of subtlety.  

This isn’t really helping in keeping all of the dirty thoughts that you’ve been having about her at bay. You’re also going to split your lip open if you keep biting down on it as hard as you are. 

She moves towards you steadily, and your heart starts beating in double time. “You’re staring.” She tells you, yet again, and you nod at her very astute observation skills.  

“You ..are ridiculously beautiful.” You point out, struggling to keep your composure as she steps within reaching distance. “You’re also very dry.” You realise with a frown, trapping your hands under your legs. “You’re supposed to be having a shower so that we can get the hell out of here!” 

“Mm.” She hums, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting your head up to face her. “I was wondering if you might want to keep me company?” She says, and you have to gasp again at her very friendly little suggestion.  

“In the shower with you? While you’re naked?” You grin, and she chuckles, nodding her head.  

“Mhmm. I was hoping you might want to get naked too.” 

“Oof. What an incredibly tempting offer.” You admit, bobbing your legs as you wet your lips. “I just need a few minutes to really think about it.” 

“Mm?” She shakes her head and folds her arms. “You have two seconds before I’m revoking.” 

“Two seconds? Do you see what I mean about you being cocky and annoying? You think I fancy you that badly? That I’m that desperate and needy that I’ll just cave as soon as you—” 

“Uno.” 

“I’m in!” You exclaim, jumping to your feet with embarrassing haste. “I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in I’m in!” You continue mumbling against her lips to make sure that she doesn’t start her unnecessary counting again.  

You make very light work of pulling both layers off over your head in one swift motion, and Alexia looks rather impressed with your efficiency as she drags her thumb down the middle of your torso. She bites her lip with her eyebrow arching slightly, as she takes you in, and you do feel a little bit proud of yourself.  

“I’ve been going to the gym a lot.” You tell her, tensing slightly to show off your progress.  

“I can tell.” She says, running her thumb back up your stomach.  

“Really?” You grin, trying to ignore the goosebumps that have spread over your skin from her touch. “I slept with this girl whose body made me drool.” You admit, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Felt like I was letting the side down a bit, so.” 

“I think you’re beautiful naked.” She tells you, and your heart skips a beat as her eyes darken over you.  

“That’s very crazy! That’s the same thing that she kept saying!” 

“Mm?” She loops a finger through your belt buckle, drawing you in closer to her.  

“It does turn out that she’s a professional athlete, though. So, I might have to just settle for being second best.” 

She chuckles at you, shaking her head. “All this ..is for her benefit?” She asks, leaning into you.  

“Mm. Well ..I wasn’t really sure I’d ever find her again,” you admit, letting out a very cautious exhale, “..but no one else has seen me..”

 

It’s a pointed confession from you, carrying a lot of added weight to it. Neither of you owe each other any loyalty from that night and you’d have no real right to be hurt, if she has explored other options. It’s not a test from you, you know it wouldn’t really change things, you did give it a try yourself, to be with someone else.  

It didn’t feel right to you, when it wasn’t with her, you could barely even flirt with another person, but you can’t really have any negative reaction, if Alexia hasn’t had that same struggle. There’s a morbid curiosity in you, perhaps, given the direction your previous relationship went in, and you can only hope, that she will treat your heart more gently than he did.  

She doesn’t know, that you were cheated on, she wouldn’t know, what her own admission would mean to you. You’re offering yourself up unprotected, to a woman who isn’t aware of the bomb she could be setting off inside your chest. It’s a silent plea from you, that this really has been as all-consuming to her, as it has been to you, and it’s very a big ask of someone, who you’ve only met thrice.  

Her eyes pierce through to your soul, as she studies you, and it’s excruciating, waiting for her to give you something. There’s a clear caution in her, of what she’s about to tell you, and you’re not certain if it’s guilt, or sympathy, or something else entirely.  

“Really?” She asks, and her voice is hoarse, as her eyes narrow at you. You can’t trust yourself with words right now, so you only offer her a silent nod, and there’s a glimmer in her eyes at your promise. She’s tentative, and nervous, and the mystery that once shielded her eyes when you first looked into them, is slowly dissolving in front of you. It isn’t guilt or sympathy that she’s feeling, she’s scared of letting you in.  

It’s not unreasonable for her to have her own concerns, regarding you. You were incredibly pig-headed, about being straight, the night that you first met. You told her your relationship had ended only recently, and then you jumped straight into bed with her.  

She can be certain that you’re attracted to her, you haven’t hidden that very well, but she has no real reason to assume that she isn’t a rebound, or a little sexuality test for you. You’re not the only one putting yourself in a vulnerable position here, she also stands to get hurt from this.  

There’s the slightest hint of a smile on her face, as she accepts that you’re telling her the truth. The subtle confession, that the girl who was so relentlessly hunting for some random male company the night that Alexia first met her, hasn’t been on that same hunt since, clearly means as much to her, as a similar confession would mean to you.  

“I haven’t been with anyone else either.” She tells you, and it breathes life back into your lungs.  

You catch her entirely off guard as you press your lips against hers, but she’s very quick to catch up with you. There’s a distinct desperation in the kiss this time, a fervent hunger. An intense desire to make known how much she means to you, to show her that the small question mark that you have over your sexuality, doesn’t extend to any questions about her. You’re in no doubt of your feelings, you’re very certain of what you want.  

Actions speak louder than words, clearly, and you’re definitely not leaving anything up to speculation. The passion in you continues to build and it’s Alexia who’s left breathless, when you finally pull away. You’ve rendered her speechless, and she blinks hard a few times as she lifts her fingers to her lips, before collecting herself again.  

You’re sporting her smirk as she looks back at you, and she rolls her eyes with a shy smile. “Are you getting naked, or what?” She asks impatiently, and a laugh rings out from inside of you.  

“Oof. I love when you’re romantic with me, baby.” 

This might actually be your favourite place to be. Not the random shower stalls, they’re not particularly important to the rush that’s shooting through you. It’s entirely down to the wet and naked company that you have in here.  

Reacquainting yourself with the curves and the ridges of her body, having her pressed up against you as her hands explore yours. It’s exciting just being back with her, your body’s on fire under her touch, your soul’s been reawakened, and none of the scenarios you kept playing through in your head, could ever really compare to having the real thing in front of you again.  

“Is your leg still sore?” You ask, placing kisses along Alexia’s jawline as she leans her back against the tiles.  

“I’ve already told you, that it’s fi—“ 

“Because I was thinking,” you interrupt, cutting her off with a kiss to her lips, “we should probably take some precautions.” You suggest, and her eyes narrow as she smiles slyly at you. “We wouldn’t want to aggravate it..” 

“Mm.” She nods, trapping her tongue between her teeth. “Are you offering to get down on your knees for me?” She asks you knowingly, tangling her fingers in your hair.  

“Mhmm ..for the good of the team.” You offer, feigning herosim as you kiss along her chest. “For football.” 

“Mm ..well, I did score the winning goal.” She reminds you.  

“Well, exactly, and that deserves to be celebrated.” 

She chuckles, as she pulls you back into her by your neck, catching you a little off guard as her tongue re-enters your mouth. “I really have missed you.” She murmurs against your lips.  

“Mm but like ..as a person,” you check, pulling back slightly, “not just my bloody tongue?” You pout softly up at her as she giggles with a nod. “Because I’m quite nice company for you to have around ..I’m very cute and funny.” 

“You’re adorable and hilarious.” She agrees, running a finger up the middle of your torso. It sends goosebumps all along your body again, which she’s acutely aware of as that smirk is very much back on her face.  

“But in like a sexy way.” You tell her, trying to ignore the heat she’s sent through you, and she continues to nod her head as she bites her lip. “Like a ..'I should take that girl home with me and do dirty things to her' kind of way."

“Is that what you’d like me to do to you?” She asks, with her eyebrow arching.  

“After our shower ..yes please.” 

“Okay.” She promises, tangling her fingers even further as she kisses you. “Then drop to your knees.” She instructs you, and much like a loyal little soldier, you’re very quick to do as you’re told.  

She’s never really been quite so assertive with you, and a mild moan escapes you from it, as you traverse down her body, leaving a trail of kisses as you make your descent. She tightens her grip on you as she tilts your head to look back up at her, sending a dull pleasure running through you, before she guides you to the place where she’s wanting you most.  

It ends up being one of the longest showers of your life, and you’re lucky to be leaving the stadium together before you both get locked inside of it.  

Discussion turns to sleeping arrangements as you walk the length of the parking lot. Neither of you have any intentions of going home without the other, despite the lateness of the hour, and it feels like there’s an obvious choice for where you’ll end up staying. The hotel isn’t the best place for you tonight. The receptionist would undoubtedly recognise the company you’re keeping, and despite Em being out for the night, she isn’t exactly known for hanging around with her lady-friends the morning after.  

You don’t really want to have to kick Alexia out super early, and Em catching the pair of you tangled up in bed together when she gets back, also doesn’t sound ideal.  

“Are you scared of dogs?” Alexia asks as she opens her car door for you.  

“No..” 

“Then we’ll go back to mine.” 

“You told me Nala was a Pomeranian?” 

“She is.” 

“Well ..then even if I was scared of dogs, I probably wouldn’t be afraid of her.” You giggle, placing a kiss to her temple before getting into your seat.  

“I was just checking.” She tells you as she joins you in the car.  

“Is she unfriendly?” 

“No, she is a very good judge of character, though.” She warns, with a smile that’s mildly disconcerting.  

“Oh ..so it’s a red flag if she takes a disliking to me?” 

“Mhmm. I’d have to kick you out!” 

It doesn’t feel like a fully-fledged threat from her, but there is a tone to her voice, that tells you she’s not completely joking either.

She starts up her car and rests her hand on your leg as she sets off from the stadium. Her fingers trace circles on the inside of your thigh and you have to link her hand with yours as she starts trailing up, to stop her from doing too much when the goosebumps quickly form along your skin. 

“I’m sorry,” she offers, “you don’t like it?” 

“I might like it a bit too much.” You chuckle, placing a kiss to the back of her hand, before placing it back in your lap.  

It’s hard to stop your eyes from drooping a little in the car, you really are very exhausted. You rest your head against your seatbelt and dig the nails of your free hand into your leg to try and stop you from falling asleep. You have limited time with Alexia as it is, and you don’t want to miss out on any precious minutes.  

There’s something unfortunately hypnotic about the glow from the streetlamps above you, though, which isn’t super helpful with your plight. The light pulses through the windows as Alexia drives, and you give your head a shake when you find your eyelids getting too heavy.  

“Are you okay?” She asks, a little alarmed at your sudden spasm.  

“Mhmm.” You mumble, stifling a yawn. “I really need you to keep talking to me, please. I don’t want to fall asleep.” 

“What do you want to talk about?” 

“Anything.” 

She stares out at the road in front of her, losing herself in thought for a moment. She raises your hand to her lips to place a lingering kiss to your fingers, and she bops her other hand on the steering wheel.  

“I asked after your initial.” She tells you whimsically, and your face scrunches, not at all following what she means.  

It was a very weird thing for her to say to you, it’s not entirely down to your sleepiness that you didn’t understand.  

“Sorry?” You ask, and her grip on your hand tightens. 

“I was back in London last week ..I went back to that club.” She reveals, and your heart misses a beat as she speaks. “I was hoping, maybe you’d be in there again ..looking for a man.” She rolls her eyes and drums her fingers over the wheel. “I was worried ..that you might have already found one, when you weren’t there.” You place another kiss to the back of her hand, and her fingers twitch as they link through yours. “I think we made a big impression on that bartender.” She giggles.   

“Bless him. We really did put on quite the show.” 

“Mhmm! He was there again, when I went. I asked him about you, and he said he definitely remembered us, but he told me he really had no idea who you were.” A sigh escapes her lips, and she taps at the steering wheel again. “I couldn’t stay in there for very long.” She admits. “It gave me a headache. It was bad enough being in the same hotel. I did have a roommate this time, so ..we really did end up playing cards together, but ..I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Knowing you had to be near, but I’d never be able to find you.” 

“I could’ve gone to that game.” You tell her thoughtfully. You stroke your thumb along the side of her index finger and clench your jaw. “Em invited me, and I told her to bore off.” You explain. “If I’d have had any idea ..I’d have been front row for you. I hate that we missed out on time together.” 

“We’re together now.” She points out quickly.  

“Only until tomorrow night ..then we’re right back where we started.” 

“Not really.” She assures you, giving your hand a squeeze. “We know who we are now. We know where we are, we’ll swap numbers.” 

“And we’ll what, make a proper go of it? With all of these miles between us?” 

Her jaw tightens slightly as she continues staring out in front of her. “If you also want to.” She says softly.  

“I’ve never really loved the idea of doing long-distance.” 

“You don’t think it works?” She asks you, and her voice cracks slightly.  

“I know that it can. It’s just ..not ideal.” You sigh.  

“You’d miss me too much?” She smirks, and you shake your head with a small smile.  

“Maybe.” You admit. “Why’d you have to be bloody Spanish?” 

“You’d prefer me to come from London?” 

“Yes! I mean ..you wouldn’t sound as lovely, but at least you’d be local.” You point out. “It’d be far easier.” 

“Mm.” She mumbles. “Well ..you could have been from Barcelona, that would’ve been helpful.” She pulls the car up outside of her home, and you stare out at it through the window. “Come on.” She tells you, patting your thigh as she opens her door. “We won’t have to worry about any of this if Nala doesn’t like you!” 

Alexia greets you at your side of the car and takes your hand as she leads you to the door. “¡Buena suerte!” She whispers, and you’re not 100% sure what it means, as she gives you a very dramatic look of dread before she pushes through the entrance. 

It feels like she’s really trying to worry you, but it would be very harsh to send you back to your hotel with your tail between your legs because her dog’s barked at a stranger. You’re not exactly Dr Dolittle but are you a fan of animals, and you’d be quite upset yourself if Nala didn’t take a liking to you.  

You’re attacked, as soon as you step through the door. It’s not an uncontrolled ravaging that you receive, Nala certainly isn’t rabid. It’s a very excitable licking that you’re greeted with, it would seem that dogs really are like their owners. It really isn’t the big and scary personality test that Alexia likes to pretend it is at all, but she might have already known it wasn’t going to be a dealbreaker when she pushed you into the house with this vicious scary animal before her.  

“Well, shit.” She sighs, looking down at you as you play with her dog on the floor, and the rare expletive from her mouth rings very cutely in your ears.  

“What?” You giggle, craning your neck to meet her gaze.  

“Now we might have to worry about it.” 

You lift Nala into your arms and rise to your feet. A toothy smile spreads across your face as you move towards Alexia, and there’s a lot of affection for you being carried in her eyes.  

“She quite likes me.” You point out, and Alexia nods her head, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. “And she doesn’t even know what I’m saying to her.” You place a kiss to the top of Nala’s head. “You might have to teach me some Spanish ..so we can have a proper conversation.” You tell her, bobbing Nala in your arms as you bury your face in her fur. “It’d make my trips out here a bit easier too.” 

Alexia’s eyes widen slightly at your casual words of intent, and she beams at you as you give her dog another kiss. “You do want to give us a go?” She asks.  

“Mhmm. I think I’d be crazy not to.” 

“It could be a lot of work.” She tells you, and you nod, smiling up her. 

“I know ..and I really think you might be worth it.” 

A full smile takes over her face as she quickly takes Nala from your arms and places her back down on the floor, before giving you a quick kiss. She pulls you through with her to let Nala do her business outside, and something shiny on the wall draws your eye. 

“These are all your trophies?”  

“..Some of them.” 

“Blimey!” You chuckle, as you move closer to them all. You keep a small distance, crossing your arms to make sure you don’t accidentally knock anything, and you study one, in particular, that’s caught your attention. “You made my sister cry, when you got this one.” You tell her, pointing to her World Cup medal. “I thought something terrible had happened when she rang me.” 

“I’ll have to apologise to her," she winks, “when we meet.” 

“Mm. You’ll have to apologise for today’s match, too.” You point out with a grin. “You’ve ruined her life a few times, I think.” 

Nala makes her way back inside, brushing against your legs as she scurries off to who knows where, and a finger tapping at your shoulder, distracts you from your perusal of Alexia’s trophy cabinet. She smiles as you turn to face her, and she runs her finger down your nose before giving you a quick kiss. 

“Oh my god!” Escapes your lips in a breathy giggle as Alexia lifts you into her arms and you wrap your legs around her waist. “Hi.” 

“Hi!”  

It’s a passionate kiss that she gives you, and any sense of tiredness that was taking over your body a few minutes ago, is very quickly forgotten as you lose yourself in her.

“I can walk.” You remind her, as she carries you towards her bedroom. 

“I don’t care.” 

You’re almost winded when your back hits the mattress, as she flings you onto it, a little carelessly. You’d probably be more stroppy about it, if she didn’t pull her shirt off before joining you on the bed. She didn’t bother putting a bra on after your shower and you’re very easily distracted.  

It is her actual eyes you find yourself fascinated by this time, though. They really are very beautiful, and there’s far less mystery lingering in them now. It’s tenderness you see in them as she looks over you, silent intimacy, devotion, and the idea of eyes being the window to the soul has never seemed more true to you.  

There’s an honesty in her eyes that far exceeds any words she could ever say to you, but you’re fairly sure you know what she’s thinking. You’re almost certain, in fact, and you feel compelled to confess something to her yourself. 

“You. are. staring. again.” She tells you, punctuating each word with an increasingly deeper kiss.  

“Mhmm.” You concede, and your hands rest on her hips as she smiles down at you. You swallow down carefully as your eyes meet hers, and your heart skips a few more beats. “I really think ..that I might be falling for you.” You profess, and her pupils dilate as she smiles down at you. “Is that ridiculous? To fall for someone so quickly?” 

“I don’t think so.” She says, her brow furrowing slightly. “Sometimes you just know.” 

“Would it be okay ..if I did start falling?” 

“Mhmm.” She runs her finger under your chin, rubbing her thumb over your bottom lip, before leaning herself down over you. “I’m falling for you, too.” She tells you, before pulling you into her by your neck.  

It’s different, from the sex you’ve had with other people before, being with Alexia. It never seems to be quick, and it doesn’t feel one-sided. You’re not left wanting after it, it isn’t unfulfilling. There's a continual desperate desire in you, to have her be with you, and to make sure that she’s also feeling good. It’s not a chore, and it isn’t something that she’s demanding from you.  

There’s passion between you, affection, and it’s an equal offering from you both. It’s exciting, it’s fun, and it puts all your past experiences to shame. There’s an innocence in your enjoyment of each other, it really isn’t just a physical act between the two of you. It’s a bearing of your soul to each other, every time, and it’s no wonder at all, that you’re falling as quickly as you are. 

There’s far more confidence in you now. You’re not having to follow Alexia’s lead quite so much. You know her body, what she likes you doing to it, and you savour every second of having her back under you. Every whimper and moan that you’re able to coax from her, how she feels around you, the taste of her on your tongue. Having her able to cry out your actual name this evening, has also set your soul on fire. Hearing it echo around in the showers, having her moan it like a quiet secret into your ear, as she grips at the sheets beneath her. 

Alexia does have you entirely at her mercy when she chooses to take back control, and whether she really did appreciate you being so selfless by caring about her injury in the shower, or the fact that Nala took to you quite so quickly, you can’t be certain, but you’ve definitely done something to have her wanting to treat you extra nicely, before you remind her that she doesn’t need to be quite so gentle with you.  

This isn’t your first time; you’re very much wanting her to have her wicked way with you. 

It satisfies the burning inside of you, completely, satiating your hunger, and happily leaving you a little worn out after everything. She’s in a similar state of exhaustion, panting when she collapses back down onto you. So, you can probably give yourself a little pat on the back for your own efforts with her.  

“Are you okay?” She checks with you, as you try to steady your breathing. She places a kiss to your neck in such a way, that you know she’s leaving another mark that you’ll need to cover up, and you run your fingers down her sides.   

“Mhmm ..I think you’ve wiped me out.” You admit, lazily kissing along her shoulder.   

“I think you’ve done the same!” She tells you, chuckling, as she rubs her thumb over your neck, admiring the new bruise that she’s decorated you with.  

She watches over you for a moment, and you raise your fingers to your face.  

“Do I have something on me?” 

“No..” 

“Well ..now you’re staring.” 

“Mhmm.”  

“Are you okay?” 

“Do you want children?” She asks you, rather abruptly, and you have to chuckle at the timing of her question.  

“What?” 

“Children.” She repeats.  

“..I don’t know what the Spanish education system has taught you, Ale ..but what we just did to each other ..isn’t resulting in any babies.” 

“Idiota,” she chuckles, “but do you want them?” 

“I don’t want you to go out stealing any.” 

“Y/N!” She giggles, holding herself up over you. “I’m being serious.” 

She shakes her head at you, and you grin up at her. “I think I do, yeah. Eventually, with the right person.” 

A faint smile spreads over her face and she leans down for a kiss.  

“Do you?” You question, and she nods her head, before kissing you again.  

“Two.” She tells you. “One of each. A girl first.” 

“I’ve always thought I’d have a girl first.” You admit. “Though ..I figured I’d just have two girls ..a little boy would be cute.” 

“Mhmm!” She hums against you, linking her hands with yours as she pushes herself back up.  

“That's a very intense question,” you point out, “before we’ve even been on our first date. I should be running for the hills.” 

“Do you want to?” 

“No,” you admit, “but you’ve got me picturing a family with you, and we’ve only hung out three times!” 

“Is that what we’re doing?” She questions with a smile. “We’re hanging out?” 

“What would you call it?” You ask her, and her eyes glitter above you.  

“I don’t know,” she says, “but I don’t hang out with anyone else like this.” 

“That’s a relief!” You chuckle, and she bites her lip as she shakes her head again.

“I think I want to be doing more than just hanging out with you.” She tells you, and a small smirk pulls at your lips.  

“Well ..if our date goes well tomorrow, and we keep agreeing to meet up and go out with each other. Then ..we’d probably be dating.” 

“Would that scare you, dating a woman?” 

“Not when the woman’s you. I don’t think I’d ever shut up bragging about it.” 

“That’s a lot of pressure on you, then.” She points out with a smile. “To make sure our first date goes well.” 

“I know, and I don’t know Barcelona very well.” You remind her. “I wouldn’t know where I can take you, where you won’t get papped.” 

She nods in understanding and leans down for a kiss. “Then, will you go on a date with me?” She asks, with a very knowing smile. “I can arrange our Barcelona dates, if you sort the ones in London.” 

She holds out her pinky in front of you, for you to solidify your promise with her, and you place a kiss to your linked fingers, before losing yourself in her eyes again. “Deal.” You tell her softly, and a thrill flows right through your body as she collapses back down onto you.  

It stirs in your head, as you realise that this is what it should actually feel like to be with someone. An excitement inside of you when you know you’re about to see them. A constant wish to be near to them, a genuine enjoyment of their company. A want to share your life with them, to talk about a future together without a sense of fear, or dread about it.  

It’s what you could have gone on to miss out on, for your whole life, without her.  

There’s a comfort in you, when you’re with her, a lazy pleasure in having her body resting on top of yours. The way her fingers trace over your every curve, how her lips light tiny fires on your skin. Each caressing touch from her is one that you crave. Every kiss, the way she laughs. Her relentless teasing, her continual cockiness.  

It’s all something you want no other person to be lucky enough to experience the way that you’ve been able to. It’s all what combines together to make up Alexia. You want her, completely. Body and soul.

And it hits you, like a hammer to the chest. 

You’re already in love with this woman.  

“Are you okay?” She asks. “Your heart’s beating very quickly.” 

“Mhmm ..I’m fine.” 

She props herself up on her elbows over you and tilts her head with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m a terrible liar?” You realise, and she softly nods her head. 

“You can talk to me.”  

“I know, I just ..I’m just going to miss you, after tomorrow.” 

“We can’t do that to ourselves.” She tells you quickly. “We still have the whole day to spend together.” 

“I know, I just—” 

She mutes you with a kiss and shakes her head. “No.” She says. “We’re not doing that. We can worry about it later. I’m taking you out tomorrow. You can’t go into our first date feeling miserable, the rest of our dates rest on the success of this one. You go into this date worrying about saying goodbye, we’ll never have any other da—” 

You cut her off this time.

It seemed like she was really about to start spiralling almost as pathetically as you have been doing all day. What a pair of losers you are together. Maybe you are perfect for each other. 

“Okay.” You tell her, nodding as you wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. “Okay, I’m sorry.” 

“We have one more day together,” she whispers, “we’re not wasting it being sad.” 

It’s an unfortunate curiosity, that sleep has been so hard for you to come by when you’ve been so desperate for it, and now, it’s threatening to steal you away when you fancy nothing more than staying awake forever. You don’t want to go to sleep, but a yawn that you’re not quite quick enough to stifle, lets Alexia know that you’re struggling a little to stay up with her.  

“Shit.” You mutter, throwing your arm over your face. “You caught that didn’t you?” 

“Mhmm. You can go to sleep.” She assures you, but you shake your head with a petulant pout.  

“I’m not tired.” You tell her, and she giggles, placing a kiss to your forehead before rolling off the side of you.  

“You really are a terrible liar.” She says, opening her arms to welcome you into her, and you don’t waste much time nestling yourself in her embrace.  

“I don’t want to sleep.” You admit to her chest, and she runs her fingers through your hair. “Not while I’m with you.” 

“I’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

“You’d better be.” You tell her. 

She throws her leg over your hip, drawing you in even closer to her, and you run your fingers up her thigh. 

“Are you quite comfy?”

“Mhmm! I’m not having you roll away from me again in the morning.” 

“I really wouldn’t want to.” You murmur, placing a kiss to her chest, as you snuggle closer against her.  

“Well, now you can’t!” She tells you. “I have very strong legs.” 

“I know, you do.” You chuckle sleepily. “I’ve had them clamped around my head a few times.” 

Another small yawn escapes you as you close your eyes, finally accepting defeat, and you place another lazy kiss to her chest as you begin drifting off.  

“Te quiero, Y/N.” Alexia whispers. “Dulces sueños.” 

“You sound really very lovely ..and I’m really bloody sorry ..but I don’t know what you’re saying to me.” You remind her, and you can feel her nodding her head gently. 

“Sweet dreams.” She translates, tightening her arms around you, as you struggle to stifle yet another little yawn.  

“Sweet dreams, Ale.” You manage to mumble in reply, before sleep fully consumes you, and you’re finally able to rest.

[empresskylo]

I’m begging for you to write about virgin!Ghost and virgin!reader,lots of love 🩷x

virgin!simon 'ghost' riley x virgin!afab!reader

a/n: this truly spoke to me, so thank you for this. i wanted to write a pathetic, nervous ghost, but decided to write him how i actually think he'd act if he was a virgin.

warnings: mentions of SA (reference to ghost's past as mentioned in his comics where he is SA'd); smut

cod masterlist

Who would ever think Simon Riley was a virgin?! 

I mean look at the man!! Rough and assertive. A lieutenant who everyone is afraid of. Easily in his mid-to-late thirties. Crude with his jokes. A damn war criminal. Why would anyone in their right mind assume he was a virgin? 

Except that wasn’t the whole picture. Simon stood witness to how his dad treated women when he was younger. Saw the way he mistreated sex workers. And Simon didn’t want to become like his father, so he ended up distancing himself from girls his age, afraid it might be in his genetics to be shitty. And he watched his “friend” almost assault a woman once—Simon was disturbed, desperate to not emulate that. And not to mention he was big and scary, he was worried he’d frighten women, so he just avoided them for the most part. And when he was sexually assaulted, he thought maybe sex just wasn’t for him. 

And now he was older. Too old to be a virgin, he thought. He wasn’t a self-conscious man, but he didn’t want to disappoint anyone in bed either, so the more he put it off, the more he didn’t want to do it all together. He also found it hard to form relationships in his line of work, and he refused to pay for sex. 

So, by his mid-thirties, he was still a virgin.

Then he met you and it felt so easy being with you. He felt himself wanting to grind against you the first time you kissed—that's when he realized how depraved he had been for so long, he didn’t realize how much he was truly missing.

And one night, after you and him had been a thing for a little while, you finally got the nerves to kiss him and straddle his lap. His hands naturally found your waist and he ran them up and down your sides, gently squeezing your flesh above your clothes. 

Then you pulled back, looking down a bit shyly. 

“What’s a’matta?” he asked you, his hands still firmly gripped on your hips.

“I, uhm,” you stuttered. “I’ve never done this before.” There, you finally said it. You were so worried Simon would become awkward when you told him, what if he didn’t want to be with someone so inexperienced? And you didn’t know if he was going to be uncomfortable with the idea of being your first time—that maybe he didn’t want that responsibility.

His hand slid up and nudged your chin to look at him. Simon was already planning to go as far as you’d let him, and he had decided he wasn’t going to tell you he had never done this before. If you said he was bad in bed, he’d apologize and lie, saying it had just been a long time since he’d been laid. But then you admitted you were in the same boat as him (aside from the fact that you were much younger than him.)

“Me neither,” he admitted.

Your eyes met his and you cracked the smallest of grins. “Don’t make fun of me!” 

He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “M’not.”

You blinked at him. “R-Really?”

He chuckled. “Never really had the opportunity, I’suppose.” That was the short version.

“Oh.”

You squirmed on top of him and he groaned. “That, uhm. Makes me a little less embarrassed.” Your eyes averted his.

Before you could ramble more about it, Simon jerked your head down to kiss him. “Happy to help.”

You smiled against his lips and Simon gripped your hips tightly in his hands, pulling you down against him. You would have thought he’d be a little more reserved, awkward even, having never had done this before. But Simon Riley was a confident man. He was self-assured. Bold. Fearless. And he wasn’t going to let his lack of experience hinder the potential between the two of you.

You gasped, feeling how hard he was in his pants as he yanked you against him. He hummed against your lips, the softness of them making him imagine what they might feel like wrapped around his cock. 

When you whimpered in the back of your throat, Simon was quick to twist you around and lay you flat on your back on the couch. He bullied himself between your legs and refused to let you catch your breath before his lips were back on yours. 

“Please,” he begged pathetically, pawing at the hem of your shirt. 

You gave him room and he stripped you quickly, clearly enthusiastic about having you naked beneath him. You clawed at his shirt and he was more than happy to oblige, tearing it over his chest and unbuckling his pants. 

Your knees had come together as you watched him strip and he smirked. His hands slid along your calf before pulling your legs apart and weaseling his way back to where he was. He kissed you again, both of you anticipating what was to come, but nervous at the same time. 

You bucked your hips up as his hands traced your bare side. He broke the kiss. “Want me t’touch you, love?”

You nodded your head, your face warming. His hand snaked its way between your bodies, tracing the apex of your thighs and rubbing against you. “L-Lower,” you gasped. His fingers shifted and you couldn’t constrain the moan. 

“There?” He asked you, tilting his head as he admired your wanton expression. 

Your breathing hitched when his fingers found your entrance. “Jus’ tell me if you want me t’stop,” he whispered against your lips. 

When you said nothing in response, he pushed one finger inside you. You squeezed around him tightly, your body trying to push him back out. You arched your back off the couch as he shoved his finger all the way inside of you. He began to pump his fingers, you were already soaking for him.

He watched you intently, the obscene noises from his fingers shifting inside you making him harder than he thought possible. It was also making him blush and causing his heart to race. His fingers might have trembled slightly if they weren’t buried inside you, busy at work. Your eyes locked with his, your brows furrowing, feeling him slide another finger in along the first. He was a bit clumsy as he worked you, but it felt good just the same.

“My god,” you gasped. 

Simon groaned when you clenched tightly around his two fingers, imagining how that would feel around his cock instead. 

“Sound so pretty,” he cooed.

Your arms grasped at his biceps, your hips rising to meet each pump of his fingers. “Want you inside me,” you whimpered.

Simon clicked his tongue. “Already inside you, love,” he teased, curing his fingers upwards as if to say, see.

You pouted, your body jolting with electricity from the deep baritone of his voice. His fingers stretched you out plenty, you weren’t sure how he was supposed to fit inside you… but you wanted to find out. You wanted to feel the pressure of his throbbing cock. You wanted to watch him grunt and groan with pleasure above you. You almost wished he would come prematurely, too drunk from fucking you to keep himself together. You were the first person he was going to fuck and a strange swell of satisfaction filled your already racing chest.

“Si-Simon,” you whined.

He smirked before slipping his fingers out of you. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he sucked the wetness from his fingers, his eyes darkening and never breaking contact from yours.

“Want me t’fuck you, sweet girl?” he asked, gripping his cock in his fist and giving it a few pumps.

You watched and swallowed before letting out a pathetic, “Yes.”

He fell back on top of you, his hands on either side of your head, his knees bent on the couch as he settled himself between you. You shifted your hips to give him a better angle as he lined himself up with you. You both watched as he moved himself between your bodies. “Tell me if I’m hurtin’ ya.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Simon was pushing the head of his cock inside of you. He was a bit rough when he entered you—a bit jittery and weak with anticipation—though he tried desperately not to be. You squeezed your eyes shut, your nails digging into his biceps. Simon groaned, edging himself in a little at a time. “You okay, baby?” He asked you.

Your eyes fluttered open and you gave a hesitant nod. “Yes. Keep going.”

His thumb stroked your cheek then brushed over your bottom lip. Your fingers slid up his back, dancing over the corded muscle and scars under your fingertips. Simon edged himself in, then out, and repeated that until he could finally seat himself fully inside you. Your thighs clamped around his waist, wanting to stop the intrusion on instinct. 

“M’ all in,” he told you, his breath airy like he had just run a mile.

“Oh, thank god,” you said exasperated.

Simon chuckled, the deepness of his voice vibrating through his chest and across yours. 

“Can I move?” He asked you.

You swallowed, the stinging between your thighs subduing. You nodded. Simon leaned down to kiss you, his dog tag dragging across your chest, the cool metal warming. Your lips parted, his own moving against yours. Simon devoured the gasp you slid into the kiss when he pulled out halfway. He pushed himself back in and you groaned, a small whimper forming in the back of your throat. He grabbed your thigh, hiking it up slightly so he could get a better angle. 

He continued to thrust inside you, only pulling out halfway each time, before struggling to push himself back in. He kept at a slightly awkward rhythm, grunts slipping past his lips and ghosting across yours. His head slid into the crook of your neck, your nails digging into his back, but Simon could barely feel that. All he was focusing on was how heavenly you found surrounding him. 

“Shit,” he moaned, surprised at how fast he was approaching the end. Simon knew that plenty of men struggled to get off the first time from sheer nerves. Others lasted barely any time at all. But he also knew women seemed to struggle the first time, not even expecting to orgasm until much later down the line. 

Simon wasn’t going to let that happen. He slowed his pace, only doing small little thrusts, his hips rolling against yours, pushing you back into the mattress. His hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit, and rubbing circles. You arched your hips up to get him to touch you at a better spot and you mewled. 

“Close?” he beckoned. 

Surprisingly, you were. You hadn’t thought you’d actually get this close to orgasming your first time. You thought you’d be a ball of self-conscious nerves. But with Simon, you felt comfortable. Relaxed. Excited. Beautiful. And the way his fingers were putting pressure between your legs was making you see stars.

He continued his small pumps, wanting to focus on you more than himself, but he couldn’t help but growl in the back of his throat, your warmth tightening around him. 

His movements grew more rapid and you cried out his name. He cursed, feeling you spasm around him as he led you into your climax, his final ruts sending you over the edge. You finally clenched down so hard, Simon had to pull out, rubbing himself against your clit and coming onto your stomach. 

He groaned, “Fuckin’ hell.”

You were panting, your chest rising and falling in rapid beats. It took you both a moment to collect yourselves. He stared down between your bodies, taking in the sight. Now that you weren’t in the heat of the moment, you suddenly felt self-conscious, all too aware of the way your entire body was laid bare to him. 

Your hand shifted to cover your chest and he clicked his tongue. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, love.”

Your chest swooned from his admiration. He quickly leaned over to grab his t-shirt to clean you off. You felt your face warm before he scooped you up into his arms, ready to carry you to the bathroom. 

“Good?” He asked.

A simple question. But one he needed to hear the answer to.

“Perfect.”

Simon grinned, trying to suppress his teeth from showing, but he couldn’t help it. He tucked you closer into his chest as he marched you both to the bathroom. 

[cowboybarzy]

enemies to lovers with mat with D 13 and D 22. media girl x star player where mat loves to get under her skin because he’s dumb and can’t admit he likes her. she breaks up with her horrible bf and one night when she is out with the team something changes

thank you so much for the request!! this turned out very smutty but also a long part of plot so I hope you like it <3

13. “Let me help you forget that jerk.” & 22. “Do you feel what you’re doing to me.”

word count: 6.5k

warnings: drinking, jerk ex boyfriend, SMUT (18+)

"Oh, hey guys." The elevator door opened and a bunch of laughing hockey players stumbled out.

"Hey, (y/n)! Not going back to your room are you?" Oliver broke from the conversation to greet you.

"Yeah, actually. Kinda tired," you replied, hoping the stained tears you'd just dried in the bathroom weren't that obvious.

"Oh, come on. The night is young. Come out with us." He pointed to the guys behind him, including Mat, who looked at you with an expression you couldn't make out.

"Had a bad night so far, I think I just want to stay in," you said, shaking your head and forcing a smile.

"Well, what a better way to end it with a drink?," Matt Martin chimed in, his charming smile almost convincing you.

"I think she doesn't want to come. So let her be," the other Mat said, not even looking at you, and turned away from you and started shooing the guys in the direction of the exit. The guys let it go and with a wave they started following Mat.

As you watched them walk away, the tone in which Mat had said it sunk in and the sadness you had just felt turned into anger. Looking back on the relationship you had with Mat over the past few months, you could tell you really didn't have any. You were friendly with all of the other guys, coming to work was always a blast and with being around the team so often you had developed many inside jokes and gotten to know most of the very well. Except Mat. You could tell he had a problem with you but you didn't know why when everyone else was so nice to you. When you walked into a room and Mat was joking around and acting goofy, this side of him immediately stopped when he saw you. He was always acting quiet and when it came time for you to film content with him, he was acting like his normal self when the camera was on, but the second it was off and it was just the two of you, he was back to quiet and mumbled backhanded comments.

"You know what," you snapped out of your thoughts. "I think this night does call for a few drinks."

Wally turned around with a victory shout and threw his arm around you when you caught up with them.

***

"Alright, now tell me why you're downing these shots like you want to black out." Wally's face was already a bit blurry when you moved your head too quickly, but you finally forgot your boyfriend. Sorry. Ex-boyfriend.

That's right. After three years, you finally saw through all of the red flags and gaslighting and had enough of his bullshit. Or maybe it was the fact that you caught him cheating that made you realize all of these things.

"Oh, no, no, no. I am not drunk enough to spill my secrets to you." Wally acted all offended and again tried to the information out of you and finally flagged down the waitress to get you more shots. She delivered quickly, placing four more shots in front of you.

The first went down easy, so the second should go down just as smoothly. But you never got to that. "I think you've had enough to drink," Mat's voice carried over all of the noise from the bar. Your head snapped in his direction and you saw him staring at you intensely.

"He speaks." You lifted the little glass in the air. "And who are you to tell me I've had enough to drink?"

"You couldn't even get that question out without slurring, so maybe that." His stare somehow got more intense the longer you stared back. It might have something to with the fact that you crept the shot glass closer and closer to your lips.

"You don't like me. And I don't listen to guys who don't like me." You closed your eyes and took the shot. "Anymore."

"And there it is. Boyfriend?" Wally got your attention again and slightly pushed him.

"I don't wanna talk about him." You pouted and while Wally grinned victoriously, the other guys went back to their own conversation. A few moments passed, where you started to fast track through your memories of your relationship. The good and bad ones, but the bad ones stood out. "Why are all guys such idiots?"

All six of the guys turned their head, looking at you with a playful smile. "Yep, I am suddenly extremely aware that I am sitting at a table with just guys. Excuse me."

You stumbled through the bar to the bathroom, your head was spinning like crazy, not just because of the alcohol but also because despite how your ex-boyfriend mistreated you these past few years, it was still a loss you felt deeply. He was an ass, but you loved him and that didn't just go away in a night. You had no idea how long you stood in the bathroom, trying not to fall over but also gossiping with a few girls that found you in the bathroom with whom you had now become friends with.

A loud knock and call of your name disrupted the rather nasty conversation about your ex-boyfriend. You slowly opened the door to reveal Mat standing there with a glass of water. "You ok?"

"Why do you care, Mathew?!"

"Oh my god, are you the cheating boyfriend? She told us how cruel you are so get the hell out of here! You don't deserve her!," the blonde girl, whose name you'd unfortunately already forgotten and who was one of the sweet girls listening to your little rant, pushed herself through the door and in between the two of you.

"What?," Mat said perplexed looking at you for help.

"No, that's just Mat. What do you want?"

"You've been in here for a while. Thought you might need some water."

"No, thanks." You turned away, walking deeper into the bathroom to sit on the little couch. Your head started spinning again. Why was he being nice to you?

"Here." When you looked up, the girls were gone and only Mat stood in the bathroom handing over that glass of water that looked absolutely delicious. You crossed your arms, pouting, to which he rolled his eyes and placed the glass on the counter. "He cheated? Don't tell me you're still with him?"

"No! I might have stayed with him longer than I should have, but I do have some self respect. And, again, why do you care?"

"Jesus Christ, (y/n), why the hell do you think I don't care?," he shouted at you to which you let out a loud chuckle.

"Are you kidding? You hate me. Fine. I don't care." You did. "But don't come in here pretending to care and make a fool out of me."

"What are you talking about?" You scoffed, jumping to your feet, the alcohol giving you the courage.

"What am I talking about? Are you kidding? You never talk to me. You never even look at me. You stop joking around when I'm in the same room. You're visibly in pain when I have to take some pictures and videos of you. I don't know what I ever do to you, but whatever. I don't care anymore. Clearly it's your problem."

He sighed, then took a deep breath. Still never looking directly at you. "See, you're not even looking at me now! So get out. Have a laugh about my little break down in here but leave me alone!"

"I don't hate you," he simply said, making you even more angry. He was so insufferable. Always brooding, giving you dirty looks and now he says he doesn't hate you? That's exactly what you told him, listing every time he made you feel small and unliked by him.

"From day one! I walked in, thinking this was going to be the best job ever and yes it is! But the one guy I actually wanted to like me turned out the best the biggest asshole. But that's not what everyone else says about you, so why are you so mean to me? You're not like this with the rest of the social team, so it must be me! What did I do to you? Why is it just me?," you continued to now yell at him. But he stayed silent. He was on edge though, itching to tell you but fighting to hold back whatever he wanted to say. "You know what? I have had too much to drink to have this conversation right now."

"No you didn't," he replied, pressing his lips together.

"What? Were you not there starring daggers into me while I took like six shots with Wally?"

"I had the bartender switch to water. Half the time you were drinking water. Not counting your Long Island iced tea, you maybe two shots." Hm. Maybe that's why you didn't feel as drunk as you normally would be after that many shots. Your surprised faced actually made him chuckle for a split second. "Yeah. Wally didn't notice either. On that, why the fuck were you taking shots with Wally?"

"Because he offered. And he likes me. And I like him." He looked like you just stabbed a knife in his heart. "Why? You jealous?"

He didn't answer and your heart skipped a beat.

"Why'd you do it?," you asked quietly, concerning the fact that he had made the bartender switch to water.

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Maybe if you would answer one once in a while I would have so many! So why did you do it? Why are you jealous?" Silence. Again. And you started to get annoyed again. "God, Mathew would you just answer the damn question! You are such a difficult person. Why did you-"

"Because I like you!," he yelled back, shutting you up.

"W-what?," you asked, very confused. "That doesn't even make sense."

"I know." At least he admitted it. His face grew soft and he closed his eyes for a second. "Let's go, I'll walk you back to the hotel."

"No! I'm not going anywhere with you," you protested, crossing your arms again. He rolled his eyes.

"Come on."

"No. Not before you explain to me why the hell you would say you like me when these past few months clearly state otherwise."

"I-." But he wasn't able to say more than that.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Disappoint you brushed past him heading for the door, but before you could make it, his hand grabbed you by the arm, spinning you to face him. His large hands grabbed you by the sides of your face and pulled you into him until your lips met.

The act caught you off guard so it took a couple of seconds to react, but when you did you practically melted in his touch. All the pain you had felt from your breakup suddenly vanished and only warm fuzzy feelings remained. His lips were so soft and warm, you wanted to explore them further. He must have felt the same way as he began to open his mouth with a sigh. His tongue brushed over your lips and elicited a small whimpering from you in response. You quickly became addicted to his touch and lifted your own hands to feel him.

"Holy shit." You both ripped apart turning to the familiar voice. The bathroom door was open and in the frame stood Ryan who was desperately trying not to laugh. "Sorry." But just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared again.

Stunned at what just happened, not only the kiss but also that you'd been caught, you stood in that bathroom silently. Your brain went 100 mph, but to your surprise after the eventful day you had, the only thing in your mind was that kiss.

Mat broke the silence first. "Will you let me walk you back now?"

You only managed to nod and let Mat guide you out of that bathroom. He went to go talk to the guys quickly, letting them know that you'd be leaving. You were too embarrassed to face the other, knowing that Ryan probably told them what he saw, so you awkwardly stood by the exit until Mat came back to quickly escort you outside.

"Your purse."

"Oh." You accepted it, hanging it over your shoulder. You didn't even realize you forgot it. "Thank you."

The short walk back to the hotel was silent, even the elevator ride up to your floor and up until you reached your room. "Thanks for walking me back. Good night."

You started closing the door, but Mat interrupted. "I don't hate you."

"Okay."

He chuckled. "That's it? No millions of questions?"

"You're confusing me. And I'm tired. It's late? I don't even-"

"It's 11:30," he answered your thought looking at his watch.

"Oh. What? That's it?"

He chuckled again. "Yeah you were drinking at lightning speed."

"Well, I was trying to forget a certain someone."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry that he cheated on you. You don't deserve that."

You tried to smile as a thank you, but it turned out very sad. Mat's hand reached out to brush some hair out of your face and your heart clenched at that gesture. "Did it work?"

"What?"

"Forgetting him?"

"The alcohol? No." It was definitely not the alcohol that helped you forget him, but the person standing in front of you. You thought he understood what he meant when his hand came up again to brush that same strand of hair out of your face again, but lingered slowly creeping back to the same place it was nested when you kissed at the bar.

"Want some help?" He suddenly stood very close to you. In the last few minutes he had entered your room enough to push you in and have the door close behind the two of you. And you hadn't even realized. You only had eyes for him. Or his eyes, which sparkled a desire full green. The tension that had been building ever since your fight at the bar almost became unbearable, which is probably what gave him the confidence to ask the question and for you to reply as you did. "Will you let me help you forget that jerk?"

You took the last step needed to stand flush against him and within a second your lips were on his. This kiss may have started out as passionately as the one at the bar but it quickly grew into something hotter.

Mat pushed you further into the room until you stumbled into the dresser onto which he lifted you with ease. You legs wrapped around his hips tightly so he had no room to escape, not that he had any plans to do so as his tongue licked into your mouth. You couldn't hold back a moan as Mat devoured your mouth like he couldn't get enough of you, your fingers digging into his soft brown hair.

You kissed for endless minutes, but when Mat eventually pulled away, your chest heaved, lungs pulling in much-needed oxygen. He breathed harshly, his mouth not retreating too far so you could feel him breathing against your lips. He nibbled on your lower lip, the feel of his teeth sinking into your swollen flesh making you moan softly. "Such pretty sounds," he mumbled in between teasing bites. "All for me?"

"Mhm," you whimpered, nudging your lips closer to his, desperate for his touch. He chuckled, but couldn't help but kiss you back, him too needy to feel this passion again.

More kisses, moans, and whimpers passed until you slowly inched your hips to the edge of the dresser until you finally met his. A deep groan rumbled through Mat's body upon contact and with his big hands he placed on your ass he pulled you even closer, rubbing his growing bulge against your quickly heating center. The layer of both of your jeans got in the way of the best possible friction and both of you realized that the clothes issue needed to be solved as fast as possible.

His mouth broke from yours to explore your jawline and neck. Just as your hands moved from his hair to open up his jeans, one of his hands moved to pull you v-neck down one shoulder, exposing more skin. Small moans climbed up your throat as his tongue started nibbling and licking your skin. "Mat," his name was barely a whisper, but he heard it and picked up on the plea to speed things up. He stepped away just enough so you could comfortably take off your sweater and bra in which time he pulled his pants down.

You didn't have a lot of time to react to the sight of his erect cock straining his underwear that already looked too tight from his thick thighs before Mat stepped back into you capturing your lips for another intoxicating kiss. You arched your back when his grabby hands got ahold of your breast, massaging it and rubbing your nipple between his fingers.

"Do you feel what you're doing to me? How could you ever think I hated you?," he asked out of breath as he continued to rub his hard cock over your center.

"Well, there is the time you-"

"Let's not get into this now, eh?" You laughed, but agreed since what he was doing to you felt way too good to stop. "But let's get you out of the pants and onto this extremely comfortable bed."

With that, he lifted you in the air walking you over to the bed and throwing you onto the mattress. Before dropping to his knees with a mischievous grin, he tore his sweater off then got to work on tearing your jeans off as well.

"God, I have been waiting to get my hands on you since the moment you first looked at me," he groaned as if he couldn't believe this moment was real.

"Then why-"

"Shush, I wasn't being mean to you," he interrupted.

"I was going to say, then why are you talking so long to take me?" The right corner of his lips curled up and his eyes darkened before finally also taking your panties off and grabbing you by your ass pulling you to the edge of the bed.

"Oh, honey, you're so wet" Mat rumbled, his fingers exploring your drenched folds, spreading you open for him while you trembled. "And who are you dripping for?"

"You." The word only a whisper.

"No one else on your mind?"

"No," you moaned bucking your hips into his touch. "Just you."

"That's right." He finally circled your clit, dragging a strangled moan from your mouth, before spanking the little bundle of nerves, making you jerk and cry out. "So sensitive and responsive," he murmured. "I've dreamed about your pussy—and it's even better than I imagined," he confessed distractedly before ducking down, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking until you were squirming beneath him so badly, he had to pin you down to the bed.

Pleasure washed through you in waves so overwhelming, your hands grabbed Mat's soft hair to keep yourself steady. Your whole body quaked, your hips bucking up against his face while he sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue teasing the tip of it until you felt like you were going to shatter apart. But he wouldn't let you come so fast and continued teasing you. Mat licked at your pussy, his tongue digging into the depths of your hole as far as he could go, before using the tip of his tongue to tease your clit.

"Oh, god! Mathew," you moans grew louder at the sounds of him eating you out, something you ex never liked to do (not that you were thinking about him at all), and the thoughts of how hopefully he'd be fucking you numb in just a few minutes. If he was that good at foreplay, how good was he at the actual fucking part?

Just when you thought he couldn't get any better, he ripped his head out of your grasp and lightly slapped your clit, making you cry out. "So sweet," he mumbled, admiring your pussy again after having a taste. His fingers explored the sensitive tissue again before sinking one and then another finger into you. You moaned and squirmed, grabbing the sheets for some support.

"That's it. I can feel you squeezing me, you're close, eh?" You could only hum in response, still squirming beneath his touch. "Then come for me, honey."

Mat's fingers worked in and out of your hole slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls like he was reveling in how tight you were. His tongue brushed against your clit, making you moan and whine, the pleasure he offered so exquisite, you felt certain you were going to come soon. When his fingers pressed against that spot inside you, you abruptly screamed as you finally came. Your hands clutched the sheets then captured his hair again as you bucked your hips up violently against his face, his mouth never relenting even as your entire world shattered around you. His kept fucking you with his fingers, his mouth sucking on your puffy clit as pleasure coursed through you in wave after overwhelming wave. Your legs shook on either side of his head, the rest of your body trembling while Mat worked you through your orgasm.

Then, when the pleasure began to subside, Mat didn't relent. His fingers were still plunging in and out of your pussy while he licked furiously at your sensitive clit. You squirmed, whining at the overstimulation, but he only raised his head for a moment to stare up your body at you.

"One more," he rasped, pressing a kiss to your clit. "Gimme another one, honey," he said, greedy hunger in his voice. Then he spoke no more because his mouth was busy eating you out like a starved man. When he added a third finger to your cunt, fucking you harder with his fingers curled inside you, pressing against that spot, you felt the tension coiling inside you again. Mat was relentless, his tongue lashing against your clit, and it wasn't long before you came again.

If you'd thought your body had trembled and shook through your first release, it was nothing compared to the quaking shudders of your second orgasm. You screamed your throat raw at the overwhelming pleasure consuming your body and mind, and all you could do was hold onto his head and ride it out with him.

When you finally started to come down, you saw him licking your arousal from his fingers, his green eyes heated when he caught you staring at him. He smirked at your slumped, limp body and began to rise. He climbed on top of the mattress, pulling up with him, so your entire body now lay next to him.

"Gimme a minute," you huffed, still catching your breath, to which he chuckled.

"Take your time." With one hand under his head, he grinned at the ceiling. What he was saying earlier was the truth. He did like you and cared for you. He pinned for you and lusted after you. He just couldn't express that in the workplace and that somehow turned into passive aggressiveness. But he would apologize for that later. For now, he was just happy that after months of fantasizing you were actually lying in bed next to him.

"Thank you," you finally said waving your hand around. "For that."

Another laugh, one that made your heart skip a beat, left his mouth. "You sound like it was your first time being eaten out. And you're welcome."

When you didn't answer, only cringed, he sat himself up on his elbow looking down at you. You were strangely comfortable with being naked around him. With past boyfriends or hookups, you always quickly found something to cover up with. "How long were you with this jerk?"

"A few years."

"And he never once went down on you?" His perplexed face suddenly made you feel ashamed. Not about yourself but that you kept up with your ex for so long.

"Not never. He just didn't like doing it. And I haven't enjoyed it with others either so it wasn't a big deal," you admitted, though after what you just went through, you might have some reevaluating to do.

"Jesus Christ, (y/n)! You wasted your time with him. He should have been at your feet, worshipping you, thanking whatever god he believes in that you even looked at him let alone touch him. You especially deserve so much better." Your heart clenched and that fuzzy warm feeling in your belly returned. Since you had no idea how to respond, you kissed him. First softly, almost hesitant, but that feeling only grew stronger and within a few minutes you had pushed him back into the mattress and climbed on top of him.

You moaned into Mat's mouth, kissing him harder, your drenched center settling over the bulge in his pants. Your breath hitched in your throat and Mat took the opportunity to nip at your lower lip, making you moan again before you began rocking against his hardness. Renewed arousal flooded through your body, your skin heating while you kissed him until it became too much and you had to wrench your lips away from the handsome hockey player so you could gasp for air.

"Mathew," you cried softly, his name falling from your mouth in a whispered plea while your hips kept grinding down on his cock. He felt so big and thick beneath you and you didn't know what you wanted more, to keep grinding down against him or feel him fill you up.

Mat pressed his smile against your jaw, teasing your skin with kisses and little nips of his teeth, making you gasp and moan and clench down around nothing while you worked your pussy against his bulge.

"My mouth not enough for you, honey?" he rumbled teasingly in your ear, his hands sliding down your sides. He grabbed your ass with his big hands, kneading your soft flesh while helping you rock against him, dragging more moans from you. "Do you need my cock?"

"Yes, yes, please," you begged in a whining voice. Your pulse was thrumming beneath your skin and throbbing in your clit. Your hands pressed into the mattress next to his head and you used your grip as leverage to grind down harder on his bulge, pressing your clit against the fabric of his boxers until you were a whimpering mess. "Need it, please!"

"What do you need?," he whispered roughly.

"Your cock."

"Say my name. Who's making you feel like this?" His voice was rough in your ear sending more shivers down your body and directly to your clit.

"Mathew. You, Mat. Please, I need you."

His hands on your ass moved quickly to lift you to your knees just high enough so he could wiggle out of his underwear.

"Condom?," you whispered quickly before anything further progressed. His head dropped back in agony before he cursed. "Fuck."

Your head dropped to his chest, spinning as you considered the sides of the argument. "Sorry, I didn't actually plan on anything happening anytime soon."

"It's okay," you whispered, then kissed your way up his neck to his lips. "It's ok, we don't need one. I'm clean and on the pill."

"Me too. You sure?," he asked breathlessly in between more intoxicating kisses. "We don't need to do anything tonight."

"No, please, Mathew," you begged, lowering your hips onto his cock, sliding up and down his length. "I need you, please."

"Fuck! I would never say no to you, honey." Mat's gaze darkened before your eyes, a sound rumbling deep in his chest almost like a possessive growl. Then he was diving forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss while his hands went back to your ass. He used his arm around your back to lower you down until the tip of his cock brushed against your dripping folds. "I'm gonna fuck your sweet pussy bare," he promised, bullying your clit with his tip until you were moaning and squirming on top of him. "I'm gonna fill you up with my come until it's dripping down your thighs."

Words escaped you, so you nodded your head, which felt light and fuzzy with how aroused you were. Your hands braced on Mat's shoulders and you stared deep into his eyes as he guided you to start sinking down on his cock. You gasped when you felt the head of his cock press inside your tight hole. You moaned when he was buried all the way inside of you, loving the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, stretching out your little pussy. It was nearly overwhelming, just how much you had to stretch to accommodate him, but you enjoyed it too much to stop or protest. "So big," was all you could mumble, your lashes fluttering as you tried to keep holding his gaze through the feeling of his hardness stretching your inner walls.

Mat rumbled a pleased sound in his chest. "Ya like it, honey?" he asked, his lips curling in a devilish smirk that made you want to kiss his mouth hard. "Like feeling my big, fat cock splitting open your tight cunt?"

"Oh god, oh god," you mumbled, moaning while you slid down more of his length before lifting up and pressing down even further. "Feels so good—s'good, Mat," you muttered, still holding his gaze even as your eyes threatened to close from the overwhelming pleasure.

The moment felt too intimate to cut off the connection of your held gaze, so you stared into Mat's eyes as you worked yourself up and down his shaft, taking him impossibly deeper.

"F-fuck, oh fuck," Mat groaned, finally breaking eye contact to bury his face against your chest, like he was overwhelmed by the feeling of being buried inside you. His breath was hot against your breasts as he sucked in deep gulps of air, breathing in your scent while his hands gripped your hips so hard, you thought he might leave fingertip-shaped bruises on your hips—not that you minded. You shivered and clenched around his stiff cock, which only made him grunt in pleasure. "Feel so fucking good, honey," he rumbled, his voice muffled where it was pressed to your sternum. "So warm and tight and fucking perfect around my cock."

"Mhmm," you murmured, rocking your hips in small movements, feeling his cock drag against your sensitive inner walls. You were pressed so close together, you felt a shudder pass through Mat's body and continue through yours. It wasn't long before you were both writhing together, reveling in the feel of each other. "Feel so full—so full of your big cock, Mat," you said in a breathy whisper. You raked your nails through his hair, as he held you to your chest as your hips moved against his tiny thrusts.

"That's right, full of me," he mumbled possessively, nipping at your neck, moving back down to your breasts. He kissed your soft mounds while you rocked on top of him, his hands bringing you down harder and harder on his cock. Steve sucked on your nipple, lapping at the tight peak before giving the same attention to the other. "You feel better than I ever dreamed, honey," he rasped, looking up and catching your eye, depthless emotion filling his green eyes.

Shy heat filled your face and you smiled, warm pleasure curling through your limbs and pulsing insistently between your thighs. Your inner walls clenched down around Mat's cock, like your body was possessive of the feeling of him inside you and never wanted to let him go.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your ear, pressing small wet kissed along your jaw. "Sorry I've been a bit of a jerk."

"So you admit it?" Your response sped up his thrusts to which you let out a surprised squeak which turned into a string of moans.

"Why don't you accept my apology for now and let me fuck you mindless like you deserve and we can talk about the rest later." His voice turned rough and possessive again, one you already loved as you pussy clamped down on his cock, so you nodded.

In a quick maneuver, Mat had turned the two of you around, lifting one of your legs. "Good girl."

He didn't give you a chance to react before he mercilessly started pounding into your sweet flesh. It was better than you ever could've imagined, the feeling of his hot, hard cock sinking into your tight cunt. His hips were smacking your thighs, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust as he fucked you. You reveled in the feel of him, your arms and legs wrapped around him and dragging him deeper into the cradle of your body.

Mat's face hovered above you and you could see the way it was contorted with pleasure. The way he was fucking you—so possessively, you knew he was serious when he'd told you he had liked you all along. "Fuck," he choked out the whispered curse, pressing his forehead to yours. "Your pussy feels so fucking good gripping my cock."

You tilted your head up for a kiss, pressing your lips to his as you pulled him closer with your legs, rocking up against him. "More, please—need you, need more," you begged against his mouth, your breaths mingling until you didn't know where you ended and he began.

Giving you what you asked for, Mat pulled his hips back, dragging his cock along every sensitive inch of your cunt, before slamming back inside. His breathing was harsh in your ear as he let out stuttering moans, almost drowning out the sounds of his hips smacking against yours, his balls hitting your ass. "So good, so good, honey, so fucking good," he chanted against your check, his breath hot on your face.

Your face pressed into his neck, lips sucking on his skin until you knew you were going to leave marks, too far gone to care as your tongue darted out to taste him and soothe him. Your legs locked around his waist, your feet hooking behind his thighs so you could draw him deeper until he was fully seated in your cunt and he couldn't pull out more than an inch.

"Oh god, that's it. I'm so close," you mumbled as his thrust slowed but doubled in strength. Words escaped you, your lips forgetting how to do anything but kiss and moan and whimper and whine for Mat. Your head felt hazy, however not from the alcohol from earlier, but on Mat's cock and the dirty words pouring from his mouth.

"Yes, need you to come for me, honey. Need to feel you come on my cock," he muttered, picking up the pace of his slow grinding until he was rutting into you as much as your legs would let him. "Fuck, I can't stop, baby, 'm gonna come." He grunted and groaned, the sounds of his pleasure and his words filling the truck cab. "Come on my cock, baby," Mat rasped as he pounded his cock deep in your hole, grinding his pubic bone against your clit with every thrust, sending you careening toward the edge.

The desperation in Mat's voice and the way his cock pummeled a spot deep in your pussy that had your back arching into him, grinding your clit on him, pushed you over the edge. Your nails dug into his back, desperate to be anchored to him as it felt like you were free-falling through pleasure. Pressing your face into his neck, you muffled a scream, sobbing your release as your cunt rhythmically clamped down hard on his cock.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, that's it baby, that's a good girl," Mat praised, rutting into you harder, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own.

His fingers dug into your soft flesh so hard you were sure he'd leave bruises and that thought only sent more warmth curling through you, joining the aftershocks of your orgasm. "Please," you begged, your mouth finally remembering how to form words. "Come in me," you whined, squirming beneath him.

"Fuck—yes," he grunted, thrusting hard and pinning you down onto the mattress with his hips. "Take it, honey, take my come," he bit out through gritted teeth as you felt him start to come deep in your pussy. You moaned when you felt his cock twitch inside you, his come filling your warm hole. He panted, as he thrust a few more times, shallowly, until he was spent. Mat collapsed on top of you while you reveled in the feel of his come coating inside you. "So good for me, baby," he praised, turning his head enough to kiss your cheek.

Your arms and legs felt heavy and loose as your full body relaxed, drifting in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm, feeling sated and happy. Running your fingers through Mat's hair, you hummed in happiness. Unable to stop yourself, you planted little kisses on his neck. He made a contented sound in his chest in response, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand.

He still stayed buried deep inside you, brushing his lips over your face, your neck and collarbones. You enjoyed it, almost more than what you just did, breathing him in, staying in your fantasy just a little bit longer.

You suddenly snapped back to reality, realizing that while he had just been very sweat and caring, he did behave like a jerk these last few months. You pushed him off of you, pretending you didn't feel the extreme emptiness when his cock slipped out of you. "Get off me."

Mat laughed, sitting up on his elbows as he watched you scramble to find a shirt to cover up with. "Oh, come on, honey. Can't we enjoy this moment?"

"One phenomenal orgasm does just erase these last few months and prove that you actually never hated me," you explained in a snippy tone, blushing when you realized you admitted how good he'd made you feel.

"I'm pretty sure I made you come three times." You rolled your eyes, throwing his sweater at him before finally reaching your sweater and pulling it over your head. "Should I prove it to you again?"

Let's just say that that night and many other nights he continued to prove to you over and over again that he did in fact like you. Maybe even more than like.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR EIGHTEEN

in which eddie shows you deftones, texts are missed and calls are answered, and lines are crossed once more for good measure.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, light dry humping?, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 4k+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

18:00 ─────────────ㅇ── 24:00

Steve-O: rise and shine, campers! time to get back at it with these wellness checks. gonna need some proof you two are still alive.

HOUR EIGHTEEN - 9:00 AM 

Eddie’s eyes narrow in concentration at your phone as his thumbs fly across the screen, navigating the Spotify app with ease to find the Deftones song he specifically wants. He doesn’t do as you had and go to their artist page – he searches with purpose, in no mood to scroll through albums to find the song he’s looking for. 

“I still don’t understand how you can type so fast,” you mumble, watching with fascination that you try to tamper down with faux boredom, “Even I can’t type that fast, and I own the damn thing.” 

He doesn’t even glance up as he scrolls along the screen, finding the song and clicking on it, “I’m just good with my fingers.” 

There it goes. The air from your lungs, once again vacating the premises as he freezes beside you. 

It isn’t fair. An internal whine that nearly works itself up your throat and out your mouth, making you want to stomp your feet like a child. You hadn’t even recovered from the casual drop of baby yet. And now he’s going to just say that? 

“Oh, God, I-” he’s looking up finally, eyes wide and stuttering with embarrassment, “Fuck, I swear to God, I did not mean that as an innuendo.” 

You open your mouth. You close it. You repeat the process. You’re fucking speechless and it’s a little bit embarrassing. 

“I’m serious!” he persists when you don’t reply, and only stare at him in continued shock, “Seriously! I- Fuck, I was referring to with my job. At the autoshop. I’m- Fuck,” he cuts his explanation off, dragging a hand over his face and falling back into the couch, “Kill me. Kill me now, please – and be sure to make it quick and painless, pretty please.” 

You finally laugh. It’s a bit choked, a bit strangled, but it instantly has Eddie lowering his hand. 

“I think if we were going to kill each other, Munson, it would have happened hours ago,” you try to tease him, but something about the sentiment comes out far softer than you intended. Like it’s not a joke. Like, in your own odd way, you’re trying to whisper a truth to him – everything has changed for me now. 

“Probably,” he sighs, relaxing a bit and leaning back beside you as he looks to the phone once more and clicks on a song, “Proba-fucking-ly.” 

For the first two songs, there is a distance to be kept between the two of you. You peek at the screen and catch the titles – Cherry Waves and Sextape – and make a mental categorization of which one you enjoy more. You nearly audibly snort at Sextape, but manage to keep your immature humor to yourself. You prefer Cherry Waves, anyways. 

  The songs that follow become a bit of a blur. Because for the first two, the distance existed. You can focus on the guitar and the vocals and the bass drum and everything except the man sitting beside you. But then song three comes on. 

Fucking song three. You don’t catch the name, but it might be your favorite yet. Or you might be biased. 

Because it’s during this third song that something changes. Eddie is no longer content in just leaning back beside you, in letting you consume the new music in a sort of solitude that was impressive to achieve when not actually alone. You first notice his restlessness in the bounce of his knee, shaking beside yours as he finally puts the phone down on the coffee table rather than balanced on his thigh. You don’t comment on it, you let it slide. You faux indifference. But then, the flexing of his hand starts.

It’s odd. Sure, plenty of people mess with their hands in relation to nerves, but you’ve never seen it happen like that before. The slow stretch of him pushing his fingers to their limits before retracting them, bending his knuckles as he tucks the tips in. The veins along the top of his hand popping exceptionally. 

“I’m just good with my fingers.”

I fucking bet he is. 

You curse yourself for the warmth that burns in the pit of your stomach. Focus. You should be focusing on the music, on taking in what he’s sharing with you. 

Not on his hands. Specifically his fingers, and how good they’d feel-

Fucking stop it. Cut it out. No. 

It takes an ungodly amount of willpower for you to look away, but you manage it. Unfortunately, what you don’t manage to do is ignore the bouncing of his leg. You don’t manage to extinguish that burning that he’s begun in you — a fire started from his kindle. 

Impulsive. Impulsive, and a little stupid, and endlessly daring. That’s what it is when you finally reach out a hand to land on his knee midsong. 

The shaking immediately ceases, and you take over the soothing motions as you let your thumb initially rub in arcs against the side of his thigh. With each strum of the guitar that rings out, you let your thumb complete its semicircle motion. With each pounding of drums, you give a gentle squeeze. He doesn’t say a word about it, and neither do you. Especially when he drops his hand over yours, wiggling his fingers between yours with the failure of a casual grace. You try not to smile as you flip your hand and let him properly intertwine them.

Flexing, but this time, it’s to squeeze your palm to his. You still think about those goddamn fingers.

“So, what do you think so far?” Eddie asks after he clears his throat.

“They’re good,” you nod, finding yourself shuffling subconsciously closer to him now that he’s gripping onto your hand, “Really good.” 

“I’m just good with my fingers.”

You know that he’s more than just good. Just like Deftones, you’d dare say he’s really good. 

The song switches, and both of you have scooted close enough to one another that your thighs press together. Shoulder to shoulder, sharing enough space to feel his breath on the side of your bare neck. 

His grip on your hand tightens.

You want the opposite. You suddenly want his hand to detach from yours and to find home on your cheeks, hands on either side of your face before he’s pulling you into him, throwing caution and formality to the wind. You two have already crossed that line; why was it so hard to take that leap once more? 

The song is still playing. You don’t recognize the tinny guitars that are on the loop of repeating the same notes, an echo effect of sorts layered over them. 

It’s just the guitar. And suddenly, the rasps of Eddie’s breaths are something your acutely aware of. Like he’s closer, like he’s letting his head tilt even closer to you. You feel that heat transferring between your biceps that are smashed together, not even thin layers of t-shirt or the sleeve of the crew neck able to stop it. 

It all happens suddenly.

The guitar pauses and Eddie’s hand loosens in yours. Your heart races, and you realize you’re preparing yourself for what he’s doing before he’s even sprung into action. 

Kiss me, the sigh you let out whispers.

It’s answered by the song, and by Eddie. A combination of the two that you can’t differentiate. 

The silence in the song is cut off by whimpers. One from the lead singer on the track, one from Eddie. Both breathy, both shakey, both whispering of the loss of control.

“Fuck it.”

Two words. He says those two words again as his warning before he lets go of your hand and is reaching up, shifting your two bodies impossibly quick as his hands do exactly as you had craved. One on each cheek, and then he does it.

He kisses you.

It is neither kind nor gentle, despite the allusion that it might have been from the way he cradles your cheeks. The callouses on his fingers scrape your cheeks, you can feel every crack in his bottom lip as it slots between your own. It’s easy and quick work, the way your mouths can mold together so effortlessly. Tongues that were once so sharp as they’d spit venomous words at once another now meet and pass over teeth, blurring the lines of where you end and he begins — of where hatred ended and this began. 

Whatever it is, whatever it will be for these last few hours, whatever it will be once the clock runs out, you’re grateful. You, your vinery, your civility — they all scream their prayers of thanks as his hands drop from your cheeks and find your hips. You don’t even process that he’s tugging you onto his lap or that you’re letting him until it’s happened. Your thighs bracket his own hips, and he gives you no time before he’s pressing your full weight into him, hands clawing at you, desperate to keep you close. 

You can’t even hear the song anymore over the roar of your own heart.

“Baby,” he murmurs against your mouth, and you realize now what the price is. 

The price is your sanity. The price is a loss of control, and letting him consume you whole. A small price in the grand scheme of it all.

“I-“ you start a sentence that you have no idea of what the ending would be, but he interrupts with his mouth. The teeth your tongue had once met bite down on your lip and you swear you taste blood, swear you see crimson as he sighs out again into your open mouth. 

His hands guide your hips against his. A steady rhythm, and with only a few passes, you can feel him harden against you. Your pace picks up of your own doing, the friction of your panties and his pajama pants nudging your clit and leaving you breathless. 

What the fuck are we doing?

You should stop it. You should mind the delicate balance you two have been trying to achieve since you first crossed this line. 

You only push down harder on him, only bite down on his lip as he had yours. This time, blood might have honestly been drawn — the hiss that escapes him says it all. 

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he chastises you between kisses, “You want to know what was fucking wrong earlier? You. You are driving me insane, you are driving me straight into the fucking grave.” 

Oh.

Oh.

The way he had leapt up. His nervous energy. The way he had put as much space between the two of you as possible.

“I affect you that much?”

It is not a confident question — you completely pull away from him, leaning back as you breathe it out, hands finding home on his shoulders as you survey him.

He’s being honest. 

His pupils are wide but those brown, doe eyes have softened as they meet your gaze. His chest is heaving, his lips are already bruising pink as they fall apart so casually. 

He’s being honest. 

You affect him, you’re doing this to him — he’s caught up in flames, no sign of salt water in sight. 

“You always do,” he says, “Always have. Probably always will.” 

Your grip on his shoulders tighten. 

I could never hate you. 

How blind you had been. How absolutely, blissfully unaware you had been functioning all these months. 

A hand trails from its grip on his shoulders, fingers slipping over his bare collar bone, “What do you mea-“ 

You don’t get to finish the question or dig any deeper into the revelation. The music both of you had long since abandoned has been replaced by the ringing of your phone.

Eddie’s eyes immediately pinch shut, face twisting with irritation. You can’t tell if he’s more annoyed at the interruption due to whatever breakthrough you two were on the precipice of, or because he’s still painfully hard beneath you. But he quickly wraps one arm around your waist, tugging your torso flush to his as he leans forward quickly and reaches out to grab your phone. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” he huffs once his eyes are open again and he’s looking at your phone screen.

Your face has been pressed into the crook of his neck due to the current position and way he’s tightly holding you to him. You have no clue who it is, but you have five decent guesses to throw out. 

He answers for you. Sharply and bitterly, he snaps out a, “What do you want, Harrington?” 

Steve. One of the five guesses. Go figure.

“Yes, we’re fucking alive,” Eddie holds no patience for your friend, all the softness he’d held for you gone save for the stroke of his thumb against the bare small of your back, “We were-“ 

A pause. You wonder for a second if he is going to admit it. If right here, right now, he would confess to your friends what has happened. How he could never hate you, how you drive him insane, how by nothing changing that everything has changed.

“Sleeping.” 

An answer to your question. You hate your disappointment, and bite it down with vengeance. 

You can faintly hear Steve’s voice over the phone, not quite as trilling or pitched as Nancy’s or Robin’s. Eddie’s annoyance still rolls off of him in waves, and you imagine that you’d catch him rolling his eyes along with his little huffs of air if you were to finally lift your head from his neck. But you’re selfish, and his arm is still around you waist as it presses you tight to his chest, so you indulge yourself. You dig your nose deeper against the junction of his neck, you take in his lingering cologne and let the stray curls tickle your cheeks. 

You should have known he wouldn’t admit it.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie grumbles into the phone, barely getting out the repetitive word before his breath hitches as you pucker your lips against the skin you’ve been burrowing into. It’s only a chaste kiss, but it has its desired effect, “Okay, Harrington. We’ll send a fucking photo. You done?”

Then it hits you. A fun game, a distraction from your disappoint and a way to crawl under his skin all in one. You fight hard not to let a smile spread at the risk of him feeling it against his neck as you take a deep breath in through your nose, noticing the way his shoulder nearly reflexively lifts slightly as if it tickles, because you’re puckering your lips again.

The second chaste kiss is testing the waters. He doesn’t react. And so you go forth with your plan, mouth falling open, teeth grazing his jugular.

He reacts microscopically. His chest halts movement.

It’s not enough for you.

So you suck. Hard. Puckered lips and a vendetta to prove, you let your teeth bite at the skin that sucks into your mouth. 

That does the trick.

“O-Okay!” he yelps out in surprise, his hand bruising as he grips you harder. He tries to pull his neck back from you, but his hand only presses you down onto his lap and you feel his dick twitch beneath his thin pants, “Christ, Harrington. We fucking get it. We’ll send a photo. And we won’t sleep another wink, so bite me,“ he pants out as you move to the spot beneath his ear, finding where his jaw connects to his throat, repeating the process and doing exactly as he had told Steve. His hips buck up into you, “Okay, I’m hanging up now, Harrington. Bye.” 

You’re grinning wildly against his ear as he tosses your phone carelessly somewhere on the couch — or maybe the floor, you couldn’t tell at this point — before he’s flipping you down onto your back on the couch and hovering over you.

Your head falls back instinctually, leaving your neck open for him to begin an assault of kisses.

“Are-“ A kiss. “You-“ A bite. “Fucking-“ A soothing lathe of tongue over the bite. “Kidding-“ A harsh suck. “Me.”

You writhe beneath him, but he’s pressing his entire weight down onto you, hips slotted between yours and one hand  pinning both your wrists to the cushion above as the other stays glued to your waist. 

“Did you think that was funny?” he breathes out against you, letting the tip of his nose barely graze over the base of your throat, “Doing that shit while I was trying to talk Harrington down from that damn ledge?” 

“Why was he on the ledge to begin with?” you breathily question, trying to move your hands from his grasp, the urge to run your fingers through his curls growing. He only tightens his hold.

“Apparently,” he pauses and presses a quick kiss at the edge of the sweatshirt collar, looking up at you through his bangs and lashes, “He had texted, and we didn’t respond. Photos are back in demand.” 

“We’re quite the commodity,” you try to joke, avoiding his gaze. Trying to avoid the softness buried deep inside there, all soft and melted in shades of brown, “We should start charging them.” 

“We are charging them, technically,” he snorts, finally letting go of your wrists and leveling his face above yours.

Right. You keep forgetting the promise of a cash prize if you make it out of this alive. 

Alive, not unscathed. 

You’re already picturing that cash as blood money, some pathetic trophy that won’t even begin to cover the irreversible scars that will be left behind. All the hurt, all the fights, all the realizations — no amount of promised money can erase them.

You start to consider what could erase them, but you stop yourself when you realize that that admittance is too heavy. 

He’s here. The weight of him is pressing into you, the smell of him is encasing you, and the stare of his big brown eyes is locking you in. You have him. For a few more hours, you have him.

The wounds can wait. The time to heal and scar over will come later.

“I guess they are, huh?” you laugh when you realize you’ve gone too long without replying. 

The stare turns curious. Still melted chocolate, still deathly soft for you, but curious all the same. “Yeah. Yeah, they are.” 

You’re about to retreat into your own head and consider what he might do with his share of the cash, but that voice in your mind whispers once more.

He’s here. You have him. Just ask him.

“What are you doing with your money?” you blurt out. 

He chuckles and shakes his head, curls falling over his shoulders and creating a curtain as he continues to balance his weight on his forearms settled on each side of your head, still hovering over you.

You should probably comment on that. Make a snide remark about it. Shove him off.

You don’t.

“Is that really want you’d like to talk about right now?” 

Right, the weight of his hips as he rolls them gently into you reminds you of what the two of you had been doing before the phone call. The boundaries you’d hopped right over, all the lines you two had been in the process of crossing.

The affect you have on him.

Your stomach twists and suddenly your legs fall open wider to welcome him in, only to wrap them up around his waist. He lets you, lets you pull him right in until your chests are flush to each other. The only thing separating your skin from his is this damn sweatshirt. 

“I… Maybe,” you force out just before his lips capture yours. It’s not as urgent as when he’d pulled you in for a kiss to Deftones, but it’s still enough to shatter every bone in your body before melding them all back together into something new, something different.

Something changed. 

Eddie smiles, and it’s almost shyly. “Maybe?”

You hum, but it’s cut off, caught in your throat with another roll of Eddie’s hips. 

“Okay. Let’s talk about it then, sweetheart.” 

Another roll of his hips, and you lift your own to meet the thrust this time, trying to catch him against you in a way for reprieve. You can feel the wet patch gathering on your panties, your thighs clenching onto his hips harder. 

“What ever shall I do with my money?” he pretends to ponder, eyes shooting up to look away from you in faux contemplation. 

As he does it, one of his hands wander over your sternum, dancing above the fabric of the borrowed clothes. 

“Maybe I’ll buy a new bike,” he muses, the hand wandering lower, tracing a steady line down your abdomen, “Maybe I’ll get myself a new guitar.” 

His hand has reached the hem of the sweatshirt, slips beneath it and plays with the edge of your panties. 

Your mouth will be your damnation as you snipe back, “Or maybe you can buy yourself a whole collection of playboys, filled with plenty of models who definitely don’t look like someone you claim to hate.” 

His hand retracts immediately, and you can’t help but begin to giggle.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you start to gasp out when he lifts away from you, reaching out to grab onto him. 

He’s fast, but your hands are quicker. You wrap them around the back of his neck and tug him into you, only for him to continue to lift himself up and bring you with him as well this time. 

You resemble a koala, and can only imagine what the scene looks like to an outsider. 

“Eddie!” you practically squeal, and can feel the vibrations of his own laughter as he sits up on his knees, you still clinging to him.

His arms wrap around you and you lean back, catching that mischievous glint in his eyes. It breaks through the softness, burns brightly in your chest as your laughter fades into soft breaths that hit his freckled cheeks.

You stare at each other for a moment, a tangle of limbs and unspoken words. His earlier admission isn’t forgotten, the lines crossed all painted in red now.

He’s here. You have him, for now. 

You can only imagine the claw marks you will be leaving behind when the clock strikes twenty four hours, and you’re forced to leave him and this behind. 

“You, sweetheart,” he finally breaks the silence with gentle smirk, “are a certified boner killer.” 

You don’t miss a beat, reaching down between you two, hand cupping his still prominent erection, “You sure about that?” 

He only groans in response, and in your following cackles, your hold on him slips. 

He could have let you fall back roughly on the couch, especially given his distraction with fighting his ever growing smirk. He could have let you smack your head back on the cushion and let you deal with the dull ache that would have followed. He could have, he could have, he could have.

He doesn’t. 

He guides you back with his arms still tight around you. Makes sure that you land softly against the worn plush. Takes his time removing his grip on you before he’s standing up from the couch.

You lay back, so sincerely content as you let out a final breath of a laugh and watch him shake his head in amusement as he turns to leave. 

“Where are you going?” if it weren’t for the residual giddiness of the moment, you’d have been embarrassed by the clinginess that had threaded its way into your tone.

“The bathroom,” he answers without hesitation, back facing you as he starts down the short hall.

You call after him, “Okay. Don’t take too long this time!” 

Even as his laughter echoes faintly, you know you still have him. For now.

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[undiscovered-horizon]

Who am I to complain? - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[emotional and verbal abuse, unhealthy parent-child relationships]

SUMMARY: When your parents come to visit, Nikolai finally understands why you've never been keen to talk about them. Being the King and your husband, he isn't afraid to defy them.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 4.5k

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

"Have you listened to anything I've just said?"

Nikolai shakes you awake from being lost in thought. You look away from the insanely interesting skirting board you had been staring at for the past ten minutes. He’s watching you with raised eyebrows, awaiting an answer.

"I…” you hang your voice. At first, you wanted to just apologize and ask him to repeat himself but then a sense of dread sprouts in your abdomen - one you can’t quite put a finger on but it takes over your entire mind. “I'm sorry, Kolya. Please, don’t be mad at me, I’m sorry,” you plead, gradually speaking faster.

“I’m not angry,” he states firmly. “But I am growing concerned for you, love. What’s going on?”

“I just keep thinking about my parents' visit,” you confess while rubbing your forehead. “Ever since the letter arrived, I can hardly think about anything else."

"Yes, I've noticed you have been a bit absent for the past few days. I assumed you were going to talk to me when you're ready. Are you?"

"They're not bad people," you begin in a strange tone that makes Nikolai doubt your words right away, "and they've only done their best to give me a good life. Despite that, they have a tendency to bring out the parts of me I've grown to dislike." 

“Isn’t that what every family does?” he jokes in hopes of easing your visible discomfort. But his good humour is gone the moment you look away with a sombre expression stuck to your features.

Nikolai always considered himself exceptional at self-control but something about your sadness makes him gradually abandon reason. As you forlornly stare into the darkness of your shared bedroom, he’s ready to stick feathers to his clothes and pretend to be a peacock just to make you laugh.

“Love,” he calls out softly. His hand rests between your shoulder blades. “You’re the queen. If you want, we can call their visit off right away.”

“That would be a little rude, no?” you ask in a meek voice.

“It’s a lot more crude to make you cry.”

“I will be alright, really,” you reassure him. That miserable look on your face is slowly creeping away. “It’s just three days. Maybe they’ve changed or they’re a lot better than I remember. I’ll be okay.”

Nikolai is unsure whether you’re trying to convince yourself or him but he doesn’t push. Despite not believing your clumsy words of reassurance, he trusts you - he’ll step in only when things really get out of hand.

Nervousness and excitement often feel the same and one might even fool themselves into believing that the mortifying tension in their muscles is actually an impatient thrill. Today, however, you don’t even try playing a little trick on yourself. The more you think about your feelings, the more you’re convinced that it’s not even nervousness but fear. Still, you don’t quite understand why exactly your parents’ visit elicits such awful emotions from you.

The door to the throne room opens and a man in a white and gold livery steps inside. He quickly walks halfway to the dais with the throne. 

The servant bows as deep as he can and clears his throat before loudly announcing: “Presenting her most royal Highness’s, the Queen’s, mother and father.”

Only then do your parents emerge from the hall, walking hesitantly through the spacious throne room. Two guards are following them and your father spares them a confused glance every few steps. But the armed men only usher him to keep walking and not turn his back to the king until allowed to do so.

Feeling fear exploding in your chest, you grip Nikolai’s shoulder even tighter. Sitting on the throne, he has to look up to meet your eyes.

“Calm down, it’s going to be alright,” he says quietly. A reassuring smile curves his lips. “You said it yourself.”

As though he is a Heartrender himself, his words make you relax. You take a deep breath and let go of his shoulder. At that moment, Nikolai stands up to greet your parents as their son-in-law first and only then the king of Ravka.

Right then, your mother quickly runs up the few steps leading to the dais. Her face is red and a deep crease now separates her eyebrows.

“I have to wait to be announced to see my own daughter?” She’s barely containing her outrage. “Nonsense!”

“I’m royalty now, mother,” you explain calmly. Your voice almost doesn’t shake.

“And I’m still your mother, the one that gave birth to you. Do I not get any benefits from that?”

Maybe some people don’t actually change.

“I’m afraid you don’t.”

“Is this gold?!” your father exclaims in shock as his hand reaches for your heavy necklace. “So because of you most of Ravka is starving?”

Too occupied with the jewellery, your parents don’t notice the palace guards stepping forward to arrest them for such an accusation aimed at the queen. Nikolai spares them a meaningful look, waving them off. In his heart, he agrees with them.

“Actually, this is a gift from a businessman in Kerch,” you say quietly. Suddenly, you remember why you’ve never visited them since your wedding.

“Still, don’t you think this is a little distasteful?”

Your mother places her hand on your father’s shoulder. “She’s always been vain, darling,” she reminds him.

You’re not a queen anymore - at least you don’t feel like it. All of the gold, silk and jewels are gone and you’re back to being a scared, little girl with hay stuck in her hair. Tears sting your eyes.

Whatever you do is wrong. All of your efforts are underwhelming. Maybe they’d be happier if you weren’t there.

"You're crying?” your father asks with a hint of disgust in his voice. “Oh, don't be so sensitive, you know we’re only joking!” He’s still holding your necklace in his fingers, admiring the glistening crystals. Standing so close to you, he lowers his voice significantly to appear inconspicuous but Nikolai manages to pick up his calloused words. “Pull yourself together, this is embarrassing.”

As she usually does, your mother brings the attention back to herself. “She can be a bit much at times, so I hope you’re a patient one!”

The guards exchange questioning looks, silently asking one another if they should intervene this time. Most of the time they follow Tolya and Tamar’s steps but they’re left to their own devices on this day as Nikolai ordered the twins to take a day off. Perhaps it’s for the best - they’d surely escalate this already uncomfortable situation but it’s only because they care.

“I’d say it’s quite the opposite,” Nikolai answers, unaffected. Despite his speaking to your mother, he’s looking into your eyes. “I can never get enough of her.”

“For most of her life, I thought she’d never get married!” your mother continues. She’s gripping your arm with much more strength than her appearance suggests. “Men don’t like them independent, stubborn and opinionated.”

Nikolai’s polite smile doesn’t falter. “Three qualities of an excellent Queen.”

Your mother laughs obnoxiously. “Just wait a few years, dear.” She pats his shoulder. The guards look between themselves again. “You’ll be quick to send her off just like we were!”

Both of your parents laugh wholeheartedly while you and Nikolai exchange knowing looks. Now he understands why you have been so uneasy lately. This is going to be the longest three days of his life.

The perplexity continues as your mother suddenly places her hands around your waist, examining your torso in great detail. A sour expression forms on her face.

“Oh, honey, you’ve let yourself go,” she says in a worried tone. Her eyes trail the curve of your physique up until she looks at your face. With a serious glint in her eye, she advises you under her breath: “You can’t get fat and slobby if you want to keep the king.” 

The man who announced your parents appears again but this time he walks all the way to the stairs leading up to the throne, although doesn’t dare climb them. His facial expression borders on emotionless and serious as though he’s more of a marble statue rather than a servant.

“Your most royal Highness.” The man bows deeply. “The room is prepared.”

“Excellent.” Nikolai uses the opportunity to cut the awkward conversation short in a diplomatic way. “Escort our guests to their chamber.” 

“Right away, мой царь.”

When the butler disappears around the corner with your parents apprehensively following him, Nikolai looks at you with a grim expression. 

“Are they usually like this?” he asks, disapproval hiding between his words.

“They’re worse at home,” you answer with a shrug. A lot of terrible feelings and thoughts you were convinced you had left behind are coming back and you’re unsure how to handle that.

“You’ve put up with this kind of disrespect for your whole life?”

“It’s not disrespect, just…” you hang your voice looking for the right expression, “tough love. They don’t mean any harm.”

“Don’t mean any harm?” he repeats in disbelief. “They’ve been here for fifteen minutes and they are yet to say something nice to you. Neither of them even asked whether you’re doing alright.”

A short, troubled sigh leaves your lips. Your fingers trail the golden embroidery decorating his kaftan. “I’m married to a dashing, handsome king and live in a palace. I think they know I’m doing well.”

His hand gently grabs yours, keeping it against his chest. “As much I like flattery, especially coming from you, you can’t pull wool over my eyes, love. It’s not a matter of knowing but principle. Remember our wedding? The guests kept asking how you’re doing so much, you kept saying you’re perfectly fine before they even got a chance to ask.”

The memory elicits a chuckle from you. Yes, everyone seemed to be preoccupied with making sure you were happy and satisfied. It came to such a point, you yelled at Nikolai’s cousin ‘Yes, I’m fine!’ before she gave you a weird look and asked if you wanted some vodka mixed with your champagne. Truly, the only royal thing about Marina is her ungodly fortune but maybe that’s why you’ve grown to like her a lot - she’s down to earth and easy-going.

Nikolai squeezes your hand in a gentle, reassuring manner. “Just say the word and I will personally throw them out.”

“Kolya!” You gasp at his offer but it quickly turns into laughter. “They’re my parents and your in-laws!”

“They also refuse to show care and respect towards my beloved Queen.”

That mellow, loving look in his eyes nullifies any annoyance you might feel at his stubbornness. You pull your hand out of his grasp and place it on the side of his face. Consciously or not, he slightly leans into your touch. “I appreciate your concern.” Not minding the guards in the room, you’ve grown used to their constant presence, you peck his lips shortly. “But they have just arrived. You’ll warm up to them.”

Nikolai doesn’t answer at first. He only reconnects your lips, kissing you deeper, more desperately. When you feel his hands coming up to your waist, you lean away from him. For a moment, you swear you can see a grimace of dissatisfaction on his face.

“Be decent,” you reprimand him but the wide smile you wear so well rids your words of all seriousness.

“You started this.”

“And I will finish if you play nice.”

Nikolai takes a rather long step back, away from you,  just to make a point. He’s standing with his hands behind his back, an excited grin on his face. “You make an exquisite diplomat, you know that?”

“I learned from the best.”

The time for dinner came faster than you wanted it to. Anxiety bubbled inside your chest again. Still, you continued trying to soap up your eyes with thoughts that maybe when they sit across the table from a king, they’re going to withdraw their little jabs at you. As they say: Hope is the mother of all fools. And you’re about to learn that.

Nikolai raises his cup with wine. “A toast to our beloved Queen,” he announces in an official tone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spares you an adoring look. “Without her, I’d be a lonely, perplexed king. May we not know the world without her.”

To your horror, your father decides to join him. “May she get a grip and come to her senses.”

The dry wine tastes even more bitter as you take what’s supposed to be a celebratory sip. What if he’s right about you? It’s only the beginning of the evening and you already wish you can miraculously vanish or, worst case scenario, just run away. 

You’re about to take a bite of the roasted pheasant on your plate when your mother looks at you with raised eyebrows. She points her fork between you and the plate. “Should you really be eating all of this?” 

You don’t answer her. Whatever you say will only egg her on. Get a grip, you scold yourself and clench your fist to push fingernails into the sensitive skin of your palm. The pain is distracting, grounding.

 "You know, sweetheart, you're not getting any younger,” your mother continues. She always does that - throwing poignancies one after another and seeing what sticks. Now, when she’s literally the mother of the queen, she’s even bolder than before.

“Mother-”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She points her knife at you. “All I’m saying is as a wife, especially the queen, you have only one duty and you shouldn’t wait with it. Things will only get more difficult as you age.”

Nikolai gives your mother a bright smile. “Have no worries,” he cuts in. “We’re not waiting.���

You almost drop your fork. Flustering people is definitely one of his strategies but must he really involve your sex life in his word games? Although mortified at his bluntness, you must admit it works - your mother’s face is about the same shade as the roasted tomatoes on her plate. She casts her eyes downwards, poking at the food in front of her.

The air is filled with awkward tension but Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind in. In fact, he looks quite proud of himself. You, on the other hand, aren’t as good at putting up a believable front.

“So,” you begin in hopes of easing the atmosphere”, how are things back in…” You hang your voice. You were about to say ‘home’, only to realize that it would be an honest lie. The little town where you grew up hasn’t been home in years. “...Tamboyevka?”

“Oh, you know,” your mother says as she makes a dismissive wave with her hand. “Same old, same old. Cattle and field, nothing interesting to someone of your sort, I presume! There’s never been much use of you anyway.”

Listening to your mother’s condescending words, you push your fingernails further into the skin of your hand to distract yourself from the feeling of shame that continues to grow inside your stomach and pull you down with it. Maybe the marble floor will swallow you whole in the next few minutes and all of this will be over.

Then you feel Nikolai’s warm hand sneak between your palms, breaking up your painful distraction. He leans towards you ever so slightly and whispers:

“I’d much rather you pinch and scratch my hand than hurt yourself.”

You look at his concerned face. Words of reassurance, ‘Don’t worry, I’m alright’, nearly push past your lips when your father chimes in, continuing the conversation.

“But your brother, he bought some land down south,” he announces with excitement.

“More land?” you ask. “Ha barely manages with what he already has.”

The memory of your brother’s tired, grey face flashes before your eyes. Every time you see him, he looks even sicker than before as though he never sleeps or eats, only works in the field. He even collapsed on one July day and your parents kept saying that this is a sign of an honest, hard-working man but you weren’t as quick to call a man throwing up everything he eats ‘healthy’.

“You know how he is, always helping others.” Your mother is beaming with pride as if she’s the one doing the farming. “His crops feed two villages and it’s not nearly enough for him! Said he wanted tomatoes and citruses.”

Then it hits you. It’s not a revelation in any way but rather something you don’t think about too often - most of Ravka doesn’t get fruits in winter, especially the ones growing in warmer climates near the Shu Han border. And you not only can easily get it even when snow covers the grassy fields but you’re essentially fed it. Like that one time, you shared a tangerine with Nikolai while sitting in front of a fire, talking about unimportant things.

Despite your mother sitting right in front of you, her voice echoed in your head as though she’s a phantom haunting your thoughts and not a real person: Selfish. Spoiled. Entitled. Ungrateful. People starve because of you.

You focus on Nikolai’s warm, rough hand that’s still holding your own. The pleasant sensation is gradually grounding you, pulling you out of your head and into the present moment.

“What for?” you ask as casually as you can, not giving in to the spiralling thoughts. It still feels like you’re underwater, desperately gasping for air as your lungs burn. Squeezing Nikolai’s hand, you break the surface of the vicious tides trying to drown you in panic and shame.

Your mother, on the other hand, appears completely oblivious to your plight. “Some child told him they’d like oranges and he couldn’t say no. He’s wonderful, truly. A living Saint! What a blessing to call him my son. You should take a serious cue from him, young lady.” She waves the tip of her knife in your direction again. “But enough about your brother. What do you do when you’re not wasting time? Lay around and smell nice?”

“Well,” you swallow nervously, already knowing that she won’t be satisfied with your answer, “I meet a lot of people, take correspondence, travel across the country or read if I find the time.”

Nikolai must notice the telling crease of disappointment between your mother’s eyebrows. He joins the conversation under a skilful facade of a proud, boasting husband. “Don’t sell yourself short, love. Our Queen,” he puts strange stress on the title, “has started a scholarship for disadvantaged children, takes the time to teach young girls sewing, foreign languages and arithmetic.”

“That’s quite useless, isn’t it?” your mother looks between you and your father, not acknowledging Nikolai’s presence. She keeps stabbing the roasted pheasant on her plate with a fork as though there’s still life inside the poor poultry. “Shouldn’t you try harder?” she hisses at you. “If you continue being this lazy, the whole kingdom will fall apart! What will our neighbours say then?”

Nikolai suddenly gets up. He’s still holding your hand but you can’t be sure whether he’s doing that on purpose or if it’s just an unconscious reflex. The candlelight from the crystal chandelier cascades off his face, pronouncing the clenched muscles of his jaw - he’s angry and barely holding it in.

“Our meeting at this table is adjourned,” he announces in a firm voice. “This is beyond unacceptable. I have overlooked your transgressions simply because of your affinity to my wife. Still, I am disheartened and disappointed with the way you address your queen in her own home. The guards will escort you back to your chambers.”

You hear your mother and father trying to argue and protest, saying something about you being ‘too proud’ and ‘forgetting your place’ but you’re so dumbfounded you can’t make out the details. The guards lead them out of the dining room through one of the tall pairs of doors. When they close behind them, everything goes silent - the brick walls muffle any turmoil your parents might be causing.

Suddenly, your throat constricts. It’s hard to take a breath. Has it always been so hot in here? The tips of your fingers tingle, blood never reaching them.

He threw them out and you didn’t say anything. If they didn’t hate you before, they surely do now. You’re a disappointment, not their child. They haven’t done anything wrong, after all. You’re no good, useless, ungrateful, dramatic.

Suffocating with panic, you run out of the room through a different pair of doors, across the dining hall from the ones behind which your parents had recently disappeared. You hear Nikolai’s footsteps behind you but they are muffled by the noise of bloodflow ringing in your ears.

“Hey, talk to me,” he calls out in a soft voice. You turn around to look at him. His hand is almost at the height of your shoulder but it momentarily drops as though he just backed out from touching you. “What’s going on?”

For a man as smart as him, that’s a really stupid question.

“Why did you do that, Nikolai?” you snap at him.

His eyebrows furrow slightly. A gasp of disbelief brushes past his lips - he clearly thought the two of you were on the same page. “They were insulting you over and over again. I couldn’t just sit and listen to that.”

Truly, you should have expected that. He’s been adamant about standing up to your parents from the very beginning. Still, you’re angry that he just had to be stubborn and do the one thing you explicitly asked him not to do.

“What happened to laugh at insults? Isn’t that your own advice?”

“It is.” Nikolai finally finds it in himself to place his hands on your shoulders. “But I found myself unable to remain collected when the bitter words were aimed at you.” His palms brush against your dress and the skin of your neck until they’re cradling your face.

“I can,” you state firmly. “You should have let me handle this, I’m used to this.”

You escape his loving grasp and he lets you. Walking forward away from him, you’re not quite sure where exactly you’re heading. ‘Away’ would be a lovely direction but quite impossible when you’re confined to those four walls of marble and gold.

“You shouldn’t be,” Nikolai calls out after you.

Suddenly, you halt. You look at him around your shoulder. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be used to being treated like this,” he says in a defeated tone while walking towards you again. “They just keep putting you down, humiliating you. You’re not even slightly upset about that?”

“Of course, I am but…” you hang your voice, finally questioning your own feelings towards your parents. “It’s unfair for me to be angry with them. Ungrateful. I never went hungry or cold. They gave me medication when I was sick and made sure I went to school. Every year they’d give me something for my birthday. Neither of them has ever raised their hand against me. They’ve done all they could to give me a good life. Who am I to complain?”

“You’re the Queen,” he drones the word. His hand holds the side of your face again, thumb lovingly brushing your cheek. “People say your name in the same breath as the names of all the Saints. When I don’t know what to do or what decision to make, I always ask myself what you would do. And I’ve never once regretted that. There are important people who have agreed to my invitation only after hearing that you’ll be there too. You change everything. So you get to be angry when someone refuses to see that. I know you can take a few mean words but I don’t want you to.”

For a moment, the two of you stand in comfortable, intimate silence. Your absent gaze is stuck to the floor as you’re pondering his words. Whenever you’re about to accept that maybe, just maybe, you’re doing something good and important, the voice of your mother echoes inside your head: ‘Vain’. But Nikolai wouldn’t lie to you, would he? At least not in those circumstances.

“Can you keep a secret?” he speaks up quietly, bringing your attention back to him.

“Don’t tell me you put a wild racoon in my parent’s bedroom,” you joke, surprising yourself at your newly-found humour.

He scrunches his nose. “Alright, can you keep two secrets?” The echo of the empty halls carries your bright laughter. “To be honest, I wanted to marry you the moment you argued with me about stealing that merchant frigate in Kerch.”

“I could tell,” you answer with a slow nod. “You had a really stupid look on your face, all dazed and absent. In fact, you wore the same one on our wedding day.”

Nikolai’s lips turn into a playful smile and he’s about to say something definitely smart and smooth but a servant interrupts him:

“Your most royal highness,” she says nervously as she curtsies, “your mother wishes to see you. She seems thoroughly upset, if I may say so.” Judging by her fearful, wide-open eyes, she must have gotten a taste of your parents' hurt ego.

Anxiety once again floods your mind. Maybe you should go, apologize and pray they won’t go on a tirade about ‘raising you differently’. But then you hear Nikolai inconspicuously but meaningfully clear his throat.

‘You’re the queen’, his voice echoes in your head. A queen doesn’t cower and bow her head, does she?

“Tell her I don’t take visitations tonight,” you order the servant.

“Right away, моя царица.” She can’t hide the waver in her voice. Judging by her already fearful demeanour, she can guess quite well what will happen the moment she relays the information.

Yes, you will have to warn your parents that they actually can’t hurl insults at your servants. It’s going to be challenging, yes, but this newfound confidence is a ferocious beast, driving you to own up to the title of the queen - not in the way your mother and father want you to but in a way that you need to.

“Oh, one more thing.” The girl immediately stops and turns around at the sound of your voice. “Make sure they don’t leave their wing until either of us says so. I don’t want them wandering around my home.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

The servant bows again and leaves the two of you in a rushed step. Nikolai waits until she disappears around the corner to let his hand drop to the small of your back. He leans in close, indecently so. “I love it when you get all commanding,” he whispers against your neck.

An airy laugh leaves your lips as he pecks the soft skin behind your ear.

____

мой царь [mo-ee tzar] -> my tsar/king

моя царица [mo-ya tsa-ree-tsa] -> my tsaritsa/queen

[sukuna-dees-nuts]

@nessieartss i did it again lol

based on this ask and this ask because i couldn't get "rizzless sukuna" out of my head 😭 (and also Maki being one of Sukuna's friends is relevant which is why i tagged that ask)

anyway, please enjoy!!

Edit: part 2!!

---

Sukuna can’t keep the scowl off his face as he watches Yuuji from across the courtyard. He watches as his little brother effortlessly jokes with his friends, his face and movements animated enough that they’re clear even from so far away. Yuuji has always been the more charismatic of the two brothers; always the one to make friends first. 

Yuuji throws his head back in laughter, casually throwing his arm around Megumi’s shoulders. Sukuna feels a twinge of jealousy in his gut and he can’t stop the grunt that escapes his throat. 

How ridiculous is he? Getting jealous over nothing. It’s laughable. Sukuna doesn’t get jealous! 

Except… the more he watches his little brother interact with Megumi, the more he finds himself wishing that he could hang out with Megumi—

“Oh fuck me,” he groans, rubbing his hands over his face. 

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” 

Sukuna looks up. Maki takes a seat next to him on the steps, a meticulous brow arched in intrigue. He’s quiet for a moment as he rests his elbows on his knees. While he considers Maki to be one of his closest (and one of his only) friends, Sukuna briefly contemplates brushing his inner turmoil aside. This is her cousin, after all. Would she really want to hear about Sukuna’s stupid crush that he barely acknowledges himself?

Ah, fuck it, he thinks and sits up straighter. 

“How do you ask someone out?”

Maki blinks, taken aback by the question. She holds Sukuna’s gaze as if trying to gauge whether or not he’s being serious. Her mouth presses into a thin line.

“Depends on who you’re wanting to ask out,” she responds with a casual shrug. As she reaches up to fix her ponytail, she asks, “Are you saying that you’ve never asked anyone out before?”

Sukuna sniffs and says nothing, running his tongue over his teeth. His attention turns to his nails, examining them for any chips in the nail polish.

“It’s never been relevant before,” Sukuna grumbles. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Maki shift. She nods slowly with a hum of acknowledgement. 

“So, who is it?” Maki asks.

“Huh?” 

“The person you want to ask out, who is it?” she asks again.

This time, Sukuna hesitates to answer. He’s never been one to be ashamed of his preferences; he always makes his thoughts clear whether it shows on his face or in his words. Like the time when Sukuna argued that the Star Wars franchise was “extremely overrated” and Yuuji nearly had a heart attack (he still hasn’t let it go).

Finally, with a sigh, Sukuna answers in another grumble, “Fushiguro.”

The silence that stretches out between them is loud. Sukuna thinks for a moment that Maki might have gotten up and left. When he looks to the side, he finds that she’s still sitting there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He fully expects her to start laughing at him, but, she doesn’t. 

Maki continues staring at Sukuna until he narrows his eyes at her, opening his mouth to tell her to just forget about it and fuck off—

“Oh, you’re actually serious,” she huffs. “For a moment I thought you were pulling my leg.”

Sukuna feels his irritation ebb and he rolls his eyes. “Why the hell would I make a joke like that? There are other things I could use to bully you with. Like your stupid glasses. They don’t fit your face.”

Ignoring the comment, Maki goes on, “Fushiguro isn’t one for extravagance. If you really want to ask him out, you should pull him off to the side and ask him privately. He’d appreciate that.” The bell rings, signaling that it’s time for the next class. Maki and Sukuna get to their feet. 

“Also, it would do you well to work on your tactfulness,” the girl adds over her shoulder as she begins to walk away.

Sukuna flips her off. “Fuck you. I’m not asking you for advice anymore.”

He watches as his friend heads back inside before turning his attention back to Megumi who is walking in the opposite direction of his two friends. Sukuna runs a hand through his hair, exhaling a long breath. 

It’s another few seconds of watching Megumi walk before Sukuna’s feet start moving, carrying him in the same direction and he mentally curses at himself again.

Fuck it. Let’s do this.

[unfinishedslurs]

fwb to lovers (steddie)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says. “I can do casual sex. I’m great at casual sex. Friends with benefits will be a breeze.”

“You’re full of shit,” Robin says flatly. 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t do friends with benefits, Steve,” Eddie cringes from his hiding spot behind a shelf, like a criminal who’s been doing friends with benefits with Steve. “You fall in love with every age-appropriate friend you have. Add chemistry and compatibility to that mix, and you’re toast. Might as well slather you in butter and jam, that’s how toasted you are.”

“I don’t fall in love with all my friends,” Steve protests weakly.

Robin holds up a finger. “Nancy,” she starts.

“That doesn’t count! We weren’t friends until after we dated.”

She ignores him, putting up another finger. “Jonathan.”

Eddie frowns at that, mentally going back and pulling up every memory he has of Jonathan and Steve interacting. The jokes that Steve threw his head back to laugh at, the flush on his cheeks. It makes sense, and Eddie doesn’t like it. 

Then he realizes how ridiculous that is. He’s the one sleeping with Steve, a feat he’s fairly sure Jonathan hasn’t accomplished. Jonathan doesn’t know the sounds Steve makes when he comes, or how amazing Steve looks on his knees. Eddie smugly puts his jealousy to the side in favor of listening in. 

Steve has turned a bright red. “You can’t—”

“Me.”

He gives up trying to stop her, putting his head on the counter in shame.

“Plus Eddie,” she finishes, raising a fourth finger and waving it at him. Eddie nearly falls over with surprise. Sure, the whole conversation had been gearing up to it, but he wasn’t expecting an actual confirmation. Steve doesn’t even argue. “Four for four, Steve. Not including Tommy, Carol, the Tommy and Carol incident, or the time you made out with Argyle, which actually makes seven. Do I need to keep going?”

Woah, woah, woah, what? Here he is being jealous of Jonathan when fucking Argyle is the one he needs to watch out for. Eddie briefly wonders if he can get away with putting hair remover in his shampoo or some shit. Weed out the competition. 

No, that’s too far. 

He also wants to hear more about this Tommy and Carol incident. 

Robin is still waiting for a reply, eyebrow raised. 

“No,” Steve mutters into the counter.

“That’s what I thought.” She hops up on the counter, lightly tugging his hair to get him to look at her. “I just listed all your friends who aren’t toddlers, so which of them is it? Fair warning, if it’s Jonathan I’ll just kill you to put you out of your misery.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with Jonathan?” Steve asks, afronted. Maybe Eddie should be jealous.

“Nothing! Except the part where he’s your ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend. Even if they are in the middle of the world’s most awkward slow-burn breakup, that’s not the Dingus I know.”

“Are they really?” Steve asks, apparently oblivious to something even Eddie could see from outer space. “Doesn’t matter, it’s not Jonathan. It’s…it’s Eddie.”

“Eddie,” she echoes, entirely unsurprised. “Steve, you know I hate to be the voice of reason, but that is a remarkably bad idea. Like, Jesus, that’s rough.”

Ouch. He thought Robin liked him. 

Steve smirks. “So is he.”

“Ew.” Robin throws a VHS case at him. 

“Ow! Hey!”

“Dingus! Why is your brain so nasty all the time?”

“Oh, like yours is so pure. I can see your rent history, Buckley. How many times have you watched Fast Times this week?”

They’re off, bickering like the world's worst comedy duo, and Eddie has to stifle his laughter into his hand. Jesus, but they could go on television with this shit. Buckley is a master at coming up with insults. 

Finally, they wind down, and Robin leans against Steve. “You know this is gonna break your heart, right?” She asks quietly, sadly. Eddie busies himself with studying the back of whatever movie is in front of him, pretending he’s not straining to catch every second of this conversation. 

“I know,” Steve answers. Eddie’s heart skips a beat. “Worth it, though.”

“Is it?”

His laugh is hollow. “I guess we’ll see.”

The thing is, Eddie doesn’t want to break Steve’s heart. He wants to hold it in his hands, feel along the steadily-beating shape of it, learn all the things that make it tick. Wrap it in bubble wrap, store it away in his own chest so that no one else can get to it. Keep it safe. 

There’s just one problem with that. 

Eddie’s never been on a date in his life. 

Everyone knows Steve is a romantic. He’s the kind of guy who’ll buy flowers for a date, chocolates for Valentine’s Day, take you to the movie theater and make out in the back. All the classics. Eddie’s version of romance so far has been sacrificing himself to the wet spot so Steve wouldn’t have to deal with it. 

If he’s going to date Steve, he wants to do it properly. Which, okay, they can’t really risk necking in a theater, and they’d have to be careful at a diner, and Lover’s Lake is out for obvious reasons, and—

Jesus, dating as a queer is fucking hard. He hasn’t even been on one yet, and he’s exhausted thinking about all the hoops they’ll have to jump through. Maybe they could just get takeout and a movie, like they always do.  

No. No. He just said he was going to be romantic, dammit!

What is romance, anyway? Really it’s just a false sense of meaning attributed to certain gestures instead of others. In a different universe, ding-dong ditching burning dog shit on someone’s porch is probably a declaration of intent. 

Hmm. 

No! 

Okay, romance. He can do romance. After all, he wrote the greatest love story of all time. Between Sir Severus the knight and the great bard Edith the Magnificent. 

He’s never claimed to be subtle. 

He stares down at his notebook, page empty and mocking. He’s going to need some help. 

With a huff and a dirty look at the notebook, he heaves himself out of bed. Stalks through the hallway so he can punch a number in the phone with more than a little vehemence. 

“Wheeler? Yeah, it’s Eddie. Can you put your sister on?”

“Romance,” Nancy repeats, brow furrowed. “You’ve been sleeping with Steve, and now you want to romance him.”

“Yep.”

“And you came to me and not Robin because…”

“She can’t keep a secret from Steve. C’mon, Wheeler, you know this.”

She purses her lips in a way that he knows means she agrees with him. “You know,” she says, “As someone who did date Steve, I think he would just be happy to be with you. You could be doing anything, and it would be amazing to him because you were there.”

Eddie stares at her. “That’s such a cop out.” 

Her face instantly goes from sweet to annoyed beyond comprehension. It’s his favorite expression of hers. He makes sure to bring it out often. 

Eddie puts a single rose on Steve’s nightstand. Yellow, like his favorite color. There, he thinks proudly, declaration of intent. 

Nancy is less than impressed when he tells her. 

“What’s the problem?” He asks, affronted. “It’s a fucking rose! In his favorite color! There’s no way to misinterpret that!”

“Did you even read the pages I copied for you?”

“I started to, but then I remembered that yellow roses exist. He looks really good in yellow, and it’s his favorite color, so he’d probably appreciate a yellow rose. See? Romantic.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before pulling the book off her nightstand and flipping through the pages. He doesn’t get what the big deal is, he thinks his idea was pretty fucking swell, actually. He tells her so. 

The answering look she gives him could level a city. 

“It’s a nice idea,” she tells him. “The sentiment is right. It would be perfect if his favorite color was anything else.”

“What’s wrong with yellow?”

She purses her mouth and shows him the book, open to roses and their color meanings. 

“Son of a bitch!”

Friendship roses. Fucking friendship roses. Most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 9

~~~

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

~~~

Author’s Note: Aaand it’s finally done! I always have trouble wrapping up a story, and this one was no exception… but I hope you’ll enjoy it!

This will be posted at AO3 at some point. (In fact, if I write more BG3 fics I’ll probably post it on AO3 instead of Tumblr, as usual. And I do have a few ideas actually…👀)

Thank you all for the likes, reblogs, and comments <3 it has definitely helped me keep going!

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mildish?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, minor Karlach/Dammon, finally a happy ending for these two knuckleheads

Summary: You thought you knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only…now you do.

To begin with, you didn’t handle it well. You tried moving on, and that seemed to work. At least you told yourself that it did.

Then something happened that gave you hope. Perhaps he feels something for you too, after all?

~~~

You find him on the path close to the archway, in almost the same spot where you talked to Bex mere days ago. You take a moment to study him from afar. It’s hard to be sure when there’s nothing but the light from the moon illuminating him, but you think his shoulders look tense. Is this your doing?

You wish you could hug him, offer to him relax in your arms.

“I’m afraid your personal blood bank will be closed for a while,” you joke as you walk closer, hoping it will lighten his mood. “For restocking purposes.”

Astarion doesn’t turn around, and when he remains silent for several tension-filled seconds, you wonder if your quip was a mistake.

“Did you mean it?” he finally asks.

The question takes you by surprise and try as you might, you can’t figure out what he’s talking about. “I’m sorry?”

“You said that you’d do anything for me. Did you mean it?”

Oh. That. “Yes.”

Your heart starts pounding as he shifts to look at you. Silvery beams of moonlight caress his beautiful face, a face painted with apprehension — and possibly hope.

“And what does that mean?”

“What do you want it to mean?” you ask in return, because you’re not ready to say those three little words. Not yet.

“Nice try, Tav.” His jaw tightening, Astarion suddenly looks closed off. “If you’re going to play coy with me you might as well leave.”

With that, he turns away from you again — and it feels like a stab to the heart. “It means,” you amend quickly, “that I care for you.” You’ve never been good at expressing your emotions. Never been good at opening yourself up to other people. And it’s scary to do so now. “Deeply.”

Astarion scoffs. “I bet you said that to Gale too,” he says, and the bitterness in his voice stings.

“I– what are you talking about?”

“I saw you. You went to him.”

Acting without thought, you rush forward to place yourself in front of him to make sure that he looks at you; he needs to fully understand what you say next. “It wasn't like that, we only talked. Astarion, you’re special to me.”

You steel yourself for another cutting remark, but you’re helpless against the sad expression that replaces the anger. “So special that you decided to end things between us?”

Fool. You’ve been a fool. “I ended things because I didn’t think…” Taking a deep breath, you tell yourself to be honest. “I did it because I was jealous and I couldn’t handle the possibility of you breaking my heart.”

His brow twitches in confusion. “You were jealous? Of who?”

You desperately ache to touch him, but you hold yourself back. “Shadowheart. Halsin. Anyone that I thought was sharing your bed besides me.”

“Tav. Darling.” He sounds exasperated but hearing the endearment again sparks tingles of joy and hope inside your chest. “I haven't invited anyone to my bed since we started sleeping together.”

Oh. Oh. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” For the first time since you found him, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you knew that.”

“No. No, I didn’t.” To say that you’ve been an idiot is an understatement. You’ve let yourself see things that aren’t there because you are insecure. “I haven’t either, you know. Been with anyone else since you.”

The smile twists into something teasing and sultry that feels more like Astarion. “Is that so?”

“It is, and I honestly can’t believe you’d think anything different.” It’s true. While you wouldn’t call yourself unattractive, you’ve never really been one to draw the attention of potential lovers. You’ve had a few before Astarion of course, but in general, people have been more inclined to remain your friend rather than try to pursue something more. “You wouldn’t have looked twice at me if you had seen me on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.”

“Now that is just untrue, my dear Tav.” He reaches for your hand, taking it in his. “As you so bluntly pointed out that night, my motives for seducing you may partly have been driven by self-preservation, but I chose you for a reason — and not because you're our reluctant leader.”

His slender fingers grip you tighter and the touch is exactly what you need just then. “Is that so?” you echo, attempting to sound teasing. You fail spectacularly.

“I was drawn to you even before I started to develop feelings for you.” Lifting your hand, he presses a lingering kiss on the sensitive skin of your palm before resting it against his cheek. “At first, I thought it was the need for your body that kept you in my thoughts night and day. But as I got to know you better, I realised it was your mind — you — that held my attention.” Closing his eyes, he leans into the touch with a sigh. “What Cazador had me do… It taught me how to read people. But you…?” He opens his eyes again to look at you, and what you see makes your heart skip a beat. “I thought I had you figured out, but you continuously prove me wrong. And I appreciate that more than I can express.”

“Astarion.” There’s so much you want to say. So much you need to say. But in that moment, you finally find the courage to tell him what you should’ve told him weeks ago, so the rest will just have to wait. “Astarion, I love you.”

His eyes widen in surprise as something vulnerable flashes across his face. After five heartbeats — you know, because you counted — he lets go of your hand to gently cup your neck.

The kiss is soft and gentle. Careful. In a way, it feels like a first kiss.

“Why didn’t you tell me that instead of breaking up with me?” He kisses you again before you can reply. “There you go again, doing the unexpected.”

You don’t even try to hold back a smile. “Have to keep you on your toes, you know. And I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t sure it would be welcomed, you silly goose.” To your surprise, it no longer hurts as much thinking back to that night. “First you disappeared and then when I found you, you were sitting between Halsin and Shadowheart.”

“My my, were you jealous, darling?” he drawls in mock surprise. The bastard.

“Of course I was!” You very carefully wrap your arms around his waist, ignoring the ache from your injury. Because you need to feel him against you, pain be damned. “Why do you think I gave Gale so much attention?”

“And got yourself decadently drunk, too. It was a glorious sight.”

“Oh shush, you.” Despite yourself, you laugh.

“I have to apologise, though, my darling. I, too, was jealous.” His breath is warm against your cheek as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I could tell something was troubling you, but you kept being so elusive. I assumed… I thought that meant you only deemed me worthy of getting access to your body, and nothing more.”

“Astarion.” The sincerity and sorrow permeating his words make you feel like a villain. “Gods, I’m so sorry, too. At the time, I didn’t think you’d be interested in anything else.”

“I want anything and everything you give me, Tav.” You feel his fingers slide down your uninjured side, gripping you as firmly as he dares to. Lifting his head to get a better look at you, his eyes lock with yours. “I love you, with everything that I am.”

You can see the truth of it in his gaze, can feel it in his touch. He loves you. Was it always there and you were just blind to it? Or did he hide his feelings, just like you did?

It doesn’t matter, you decide, because all you need to know is that he’s in your arms.

“You have all of me, Astarion.”

“My beautiful Tav.”

You share another kiss, and then Astarion insists you both go back to camp to let you rest. The thrumming pain of the wound is there, but it’s easily overshadowed by the warmth blooming in your chest every time Astarion throws a smile your way on your way back. His hand is still linked with yours — it’s such a small detail but it feels infinitely more intimate than anything else you’ve shared with him so far. It’s impossible to stop smiling — not that you’re trying.

He follows you to your tent but to your dismay, he tries to leave after he has made sure that you have everything you need.

“Please don’t leave,” you say, refusing to let go of him. “I want you to stay. Stay the night.”

“Tav, my love, you’re in no condition to have sex.”

My love. It almost throws you off course to hear the new endearment. “Astarion, my love,” you counter, and oh, it’s worth it to see his reaction, “I wasn’t suggesting we’d have sex. I just want you close. Assuming that’s alright, of course.”

“Really?” He sounds just a tad surprised; that’s something you and he will need to unpack before going any further. But not tonight. “Well, that I can do.”

It takes a bit of careful shuffling around, but you manage to find a position that’s comfortable for you both without putting pressure on your injury.

He’s here. In your arms. You didn’t think you’d get to have this, but he truly is here. Your contented sigh is nothing but a muffled exhale into his curls but he doesn’t seem to mind, giving you a fond chuckle in response.

“Are you sniffing my hair, darling?”

“No.” It doesn’t sound convincing even to your own ears. “Well. Maybe a little,” you confess. “I can’t help that you smell nice.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, pet. Your scent is quite enticing too, you know.” You feel his chest expanding as he takes a deep inhale. “Drives me crazy sometimes.”

“Since you drive me crazy on a regular basis, I’d say that’s only fair.”

“Why, you little cheek..! Just watch me be even more annoying from now on.”

“You’re not annoying,” you say, trying to hold back a yawn. “You’re just a handful.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Of course–“ you lose the battle against another yawn. “…you will.”

You feel the press of his lips against your skin. “Quite right.”

“Astarion?” Your eyelids start to get heavy, and for the first in what seems like ages, you feel completely safe and relaxed. “I’m so happy I have you in my life.”

“Me too, darling. Me too.” His hand slides down to find yours, lacing your fingers. “Now go to sleep, my love. I’ll watch over us. And tomorrow we will face whatever comes next. Together.”

~~~

[zorobraun]

sexual tension with ghost that leads to sex (but he’s not toxic anymore) part four

at one lonely night, simon thought that he just needed a distraction to stop thinking about you all the fucking time. yet… “you’re so big and strong.” ghost almost frowns when he hears the woman he was about to fuck — so he can think it’s you instead — whispering on his ear. fucking hell, this lady sounds pathetic; even though she’s not mocking him at all. however, he’d much rather hear you saying those words in your usual mocking tone, than her saying them in a seductive one. “actually, i have a girlfriend. sorry.” he lies, smiling politely. if he had been honest, he would’ve said: “actually, you’re not y/n, so i physically can’t get hard, even though you’re pretty fuckable. sorry.”

(…)

“jesus christ, maybe we should get him a dog.” konig says to alejandro and soap while they stare at their lieutenant’s miserable and lonely figure. ghost is taking a deep breath as he feels the sun on his not so exposed skin. “bro had to reconnect with mother nature to try to get over y/n.” soap jokes, making they burst out laugh. “y’all are mean. malos!” alejandro punches their arms, laughing. meanwhile, ghost decides that it’s enough mother nature for today and walks back to the base, just to find the three of them holding back a laugh. “morning, lt.” they all say together, looking quite suspicious. “get the fuck outta’ my face, bastards.”

(…)

after a few days suffering to get over you, the day has finally arrived — soap’s birthday. ghost sighs as he enters the downtown bar, the overwhelming noise of people talking loudly mixed with music invading his ears. “finally! i thought you wouldn’t come.” soap punches ghost’s arm, hugging him tight. “drunk already?” ghost chuckles, taking a look around. “you know me, lt.” he smirks, taking a long sip of his long neck beer. “come on, we’re all over there.” soap adds, pointing to the corner of the bar, where the pool table is.

they all greet ghost with sincere smiles and hugs, one thing about lieutenant ghost is that he’s very loved by people, somehow. he grabs a beer as he joins the team’s conversation, sitting on the edge of the pool table. “lt, that girl is staring. like, for real. i think she wants you.” konig discretely points to a blonde woman, making all of the boys look at her simultaneously. “fucking idiots, y’all don’t know how to fudge.” konig rolls his eyes, they all laugh.

“if you fumble her, i swear to god…” soap stares at his best friend. ghost grins, holding back a laugh. “i might, not gonna lie. i’m not in the mood.” simon shrugs, making them mock him with annoying sounds. “right, she’s not y/n!” alejandro mocks him again and ghost chuckles. “i’ll fucking kill you when we leave this place.” ghost jokes, pulling his jacket up to show his glock. “alejandro didn’t lie, though. you were always in the mood with her.” soap adds, they all laugh again, except for ghost.

“what did y’all expect?” obviously they all stay silent, or else simon would kill them. “i was on my knees for her.” he chuckles, knowing damn well that he is obsessed with you still. “literally.” konig points out, making them hold back a laugh. ghost sighs defeatedly when he notices the sudden silence, all of their dread faces, staring behind him. of course you had to come. “h-hey, y/n!” soap smiles nervously, walking towards you. ghost swallows hard, standing up. “happy birthday, soap.” you smile wholeheartedly, hugging him. “i bought you something, hope you like it.” you stroke his arm slightly, he kisses your cheek as he thanks you.

ghost turns his back to face you and the world stops. his heart skips a beat when you look back at him, you look so beautiful in this black short silk dress. you think he looks very handsome in all black too, but you’d rather die than say it out loud. they all clear their throat as they start talking to each other, pretending to not care about you and ghost at all.

“now what are you even doing here?” you finally say with some sort of disgust in your words. ghost is in shock with your bratty attitude, coming closer to you. “come again?” he frowns, your gaze on him suddenly getting on his nerves. “soap said you wouldn’t be able to make it, that’s why i’m here, obviously.” you roll your eyes, trying to ignore his perfume messing up all of your senses.

“well, sweetheart, soap fucking lied. now fix your attitude, we’re not together anymore.” he says in his usual bossy tone and you just hate it so much. you chuckle dryly, stepping in closer, so he can hear you very clearly. “have we ever been together, simon? i just remember being your sex toy, that’s all.” you force a smile, already getting mad at his stupid face. “you enjoyed every second of it, though. if you weren’t such a whiny bitch, i would’ve made us official.” he says straight to your face, just a few inches away from yours, actually.

you swallow hard, as if you were preparing yourself for something you’ve been wanting to do for a while now. you slap him in the face with such a force, that your palm stings. your breathing grows a bit faster, a part of you afraid of what he’s going to do about it. half of the people around you is staring at you and ghost, with curious but shocked eyes. suddenly, all you hear is the loud music; ‘closer’, by nine inch nails. you hold your breath for a while. simon has this hatred painted all over his face as everybody’s attention goes somewhere else, thank god.

ghost thinks you’re very lucky to be you and above all, a woman. he would never hurt a woman, specially you, of course. but oh god, he’s mad. he’s furious. he just wants to make you suffer so bad, he wants to absolutely ruin your entire life, make you feel humiliated in front of this entire bar, just like he’s feeling right now. he grabs your arm in a tight grip as his lips come closer to your ear. “you’ll fucking regret that.” his tone sounds deeper now that he’s seeing red.

before you could answer, simon’s grip obliges you to keep up with his wide steps. you’re following him like a puppy and it makes you try to get away from him, but he’s way stronger. and besides, you don’t really want to leave him. “hey you, let her go!” a random guy yells at simon, placing a hand on his chest. you frown, as if you’re telling the guy that he just made a huge mistake. “get the hell outta’ my face before i break your fucking nose.” simon says in a very annoyed tone, his grip on you never leaving.

“do it, asshole. you don’t have the b…” the poor guy suddenly falls onto the ground, his hand pressing against his bleeding nose. you widen your eyes, holding simon’s arm. for a moment, he realizes how much he missed your gentle hands on him. he doesn’t waste any more time as you both walk towards the exit. “u-um, i’m sorry, okay?” you mutter nervously as you both leave the bar. ghost is walking the two of you to his car, you notice.

“i wasn’t thinking straight.” you add when he pushes you against his car’s closed door. he’s looking into your eyes a bit differently than before; like his hatred just turned into something more powerful. simon grabs the sides of your neck so hard that you could almost choke. you start praying to god, maybe this is the day you’ll meet him in heaven. well, you’re indeed going to heaven tonight. just not to meet jesus. simon pulls you close by the grip on your neck, kissing you slowly. oh, so this is heaven…

the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth like he’s claiming you for the thousandth time makes you moan quietly against him. he swallows that one single sound of yours as if it was his favorite drink. you both hold back the urge to say that you’ve missed each other so bad as he eagerly bites your bottom lip. you breathe out as your hand goes to the small of his back, pulling his body closer to yours. he almost groans when he feels your tiny figure trying to get some friction against him.

“do you ever… think straight, when i’m around?” he finally says something as he stops kissing you, out of breath. your cheeks get red when you realize you’re already melting to the way his voice sounded firm, but calm and flirty at the same time. that burning hate of his seems to fade away when you chuckle. “not really.” he holds back a smile.

“as much as i want to fuck some decency in you…” he stares at your lips for a second. you press your thighs together. “i won’t do that.” he grabs your jaw, his face too close for your comfort. “‘cause i know this was your plan all along.” he places a suggestive kiss under your ear. “besides…” he pauses. his breathing on your sensitive area making you shiver. “i’m over you.” simon completes, knowing damn well that this statement will absolutely destroy you in so many ways. so you almost throw up when you notice that he sounds so sure of what he just said. little do you know, he’s a proud liar.

“no, you’re not.” you think out loud, wanting to punch yourself for sounding so desperate, so dependent of him, of his stupid affection for you. you just can’t bear the tought of him moving on so easily when you’re right where he left you. suddenly, you feel the urge to cry. you grab the hand that was on your face, placing it above your beating heart. “tell me you don’t feel a single thing for me and i swear to god, i’ll leave for good. you’ll never hear from me again.” you say with watery eyes staring into his. simon’s breathing grows erratic, his throat is so dry that he thinks you’ll be the death of him. he wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction from you, honestly. maybe he wasn’t the only one that still didn’t move on.

“you let your fear of love win again and you’ll fucking lose me, simon.” you’re literally tearing up now, his hand might be shaking against you. “this is the last time i’m fighting for you, do you understand? i’m done fighting alone, when you don’t even move a single finger for me.” your heart misses a beat when you realize you can’t even get a reaction from him. “i want you to fucking say something, do something!” you let go of his hand as you hit his chest, pushing him away. simon stays silent and you close your eyes, tears running down your face as you take a defeated breath.

you look at him. “goodbye, simon.” you’re saying these words so many times that it’s becoming your tagline. you lick your lips and sigh, walking away. he’s paralyzed as his heart keeps screaming don’t let her go, don’t let her go, don’t let her go. he feels like having a panic attack when he tries to breathe deeply, but he can only breathe shallowly. don’t be a pussy, you’re embarassing. your family, they were never a good example of love. you can let it go, you can let them go. what you can’t let go, is her. do something. do something. do something.

simon swallows hard as your absence pulls him out of his messy thoughts. he takes a look around, but you’re already far away. it doesn’t matter, he’d follow you through hell. his steps are wide and fast as he doesn’t lose track of you. he shoves some people away on the sidewalk. he doesn’t care. then you feel it — his hand on your wrist. you stop walking, already knowing that he’ll say some nonsense shit to make you feel less worse, just like the other night. you turn your back to look at him with annoyed eyes. he takes a deep breath.

“y/n, i once said to soap that you’re too good for me… but i was wrong. it turns out that you’re the best part of me.” simon’s hands go to the back of your neck, looking into your bright eyes. “i realized that too late, when i lost you.” he pauses, licking his lips nervously. “i can’t lose you again, i don’t want to. all i want is you, by my side.” you swallow hard. “i’m sorry, love, for being so complicated. i’m a fucking prick but… i’ll try to be a better man, from now on.” his fingers caress your cheeks.

“i love you. i love you too fucking much. i wouldn’t even want to fall in love if the person i fell in love with wasn’t you.” he chuckles sweetly when he notices your shocked face. “i’m sincerely in love with you and it pisses me off, ‘cause i didn’t know i was able to love someone this much. so stay with me. stay with me today, tomorrow, and the day after that. the other ones too.” simon gives you sweet little kisses all over your face, making the both of you chuckle. “you’re my entire heart, dumbass.” he grins wholeheartedly, and…

you kiss him hard. god, you want to fucking kill him, then bring him back to life.

well, you kind of did.

(…)

“how’s the water temp?” simon looks at your flushed face as you let the water run down your body. “warm enough.” you smile, pulling him close so he can get under the shower with you. he chuckles, kissing your wet forehead. you try to push him away playfully when you notice his gaze on your body — he doesn’t even move. “stop looking at me like that!” you complain, laughing. “you do realize that i’ve already seen your entire body like, a hundred times, right?” he raises an eyebrow mockingly, laughing at your unnecessary shyness.

“i’m not complaining, though.” he smirks, caressing your arm. “you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid my eyes on.” you hold back a smile, rolling your eyes. you give him a quick little kiss, holding onto his forearm, since he’s too tall for you. “aw, thanks. it’s a shame i can’t say the same for you.” you joke, he closes his eyes as he laughs. “you’re so dumb, i swear to god…” simon cups your face so he can kiss you again.

“okay, okay.” you pull away, lips still close to his. “i think you’re very handsome, no joke this time.” you smile, looking into his eyes. “and i might love your forearm’s tattoo more than i love you.” you joke, caressing the area you just mentioned as you stare at his toned forearm. your man is just so attractive. he raises an eyebrow. you both chuckle. “just say you ‘wanna fuck, dickhead.” simon teases, you slap his arm.

“i don’t, dumbass.” you roll your eyes playfully, smiling too. he’s looking at you as if he knows you’re lying, but you both choose to ignore that. “help me wash my hair, i’m done with you.” he laughs, grabbing the shampoo. you close your eyes when you feel his fingers rubbing your scalp gently. your relaxed sigh makes him hug you from behind, foam getting all over your stomach. “sleeping on me now, love?” he teases with a kiss on your cheek. you’re really feeling sleepy as his face goes to the crook of your neck, feeling your soft skin against his body.

“i like having you close to me.” you mumble, eyes still closed. simon smiles half heartedly, holding you tighter. you’re both too warm to the touch. he sighs lazily as he pulls away, letting you wash the shampoo out. simon takes a deep lovesick breath while watching you do your thing. he sighs, touching his face — your natural beauty makes him ask himself when did he get so lucky. the way the water runs down your wet soft skin, your perfectly balanced body proportions… you’ve got him on his knees.

“‘wanna know a secret?” simons smirks. you chuckle, nodding. “i’m really happy that i’ll get to sleep next to you for the first time, in my own bed, at my own house. it’s something i’ve been… dreaming about for a while now.” you pout as he caresses your arm, chuckling at your cute reaction. you love the fact that the two of you aren’t at the base tonight, making the intimacy much better. “i can’t wait to cuddle with my beautiful, breathtaking, sexy girl and wake up next to her.” simon says playfully, looking at you with those eyes. you raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at him. “you’ll let me fuck you, right, baby?” he jokes and you both laugh out loud. he pulls you into a playful tight hug.

“i already told you.” you roll your eyes playfully as you push him slightly away. “we’re not fucking tonight. i need to know if you really love me for me and not for the way i suck your dick.” you mock at him, making him laugh too loud again, in disbelief. “you got me there, sweetheart.” he clicks his tongue. “i do love the way you suck me, that’s why i fell for you in the first place.” he mocks back with a grin, lying. he fell for you because your vulnerability picked his soul up from a very dark place.

“you’re insufferable, simon.” you chuckle as you kiss him, and…

you let simon riley fuck you in the shower.

(…)

when the two of you finally lay down on his bed, you hear simon’s heavy but relieved sigh. you smile half heartedly as you both look at each other. “i can’t believe i had to wait for so long to sleep next to you.” you mock at him, making him roll his eyes as he laughs; the fact that he came off as the one who played hard to get due to his trauma is embarassing. “don’t even fucking start.” he hugs you, giving messy kisses all over you as a way to shut you up. you’re both laughing like idiots as you feel his heavy body almost suffocating you.

“g-get away from me!” you chuckle, making him chuckle too as he pulls slightly away from you. “you’ll see that it was worth the wait.” he jokes, kissing your forehead. “oh, i know.” you smirk as your face goes to the crook of his neck, making yourself comfortable. you hug him as you put one leg around his. simon chuckles, pulling you even closer as his hand gently strokes the small of your back. your breathing is too calm now, maybe you’re already asleep.

“wake up, sleepyhead.” he says playfully, hugging you tight before pulling away from you. you sigh impatiently as you open your eyes. before you could punch him in the face, he starts. “i need to make us official.” you raise an eyebrow, holding back a smile. “is that so?” you chuckle, kissing him. you sit on the bed as he caresses your thigh, still laying next to you. “i’ve never been that much of a romantic, so this will have to do, i’m sorry, love.” you both chuckle as you nod. “i’d rather marry you already but let’s take it one step at a time.” he smirks, making you blush.

“i wanna’ do it right this time. i no longer can imagine myself without you, so…” simon clears his throat, frowning. you can see that he’s struggling, so you kiss him quickly. “yes, i’ll be your girlfriend, simon.” you get it over with, making him let out a relieved laugh. “thank you so much, gorgeous. i just felt weird to ask you that, ‘cause i feel like we’ve been dating since the night you knocked at my door.” he chuckles, you obviously agree with that. “true, i remember being loyal to you even though we were just fucking around.” you point out, making you both laugh at the statement.

“i was loyal too, you know? my cock was very loyal to you as well, it wouldn’t even get hard with anyone else.” he mocks with a loud laugh, getting embarrassed with the memories. you slap his arm. “babe, i’m not joking.” simon adds, now you laugh out loud. “you’re disgusting, i can’t believe i accepted you as my boyfriend.” you joke, laying your body on top of him. he hugs your waist with a playful grin on his lips. “fuck, i miss when you actually had some sort of respect for me.” he gives your ass a slap, making you chuckle against him.

“you know i love you.” you look at him with a playful smirk. his lovesick eyes, his caring smile. oh, you’re really in love. you both stay still and silent for a moment, just feeling each other’s warmth. “i almost forgot.” he breaks the silence as you frown, growing curious. he stretches his arm under the bed, making you even more confused. simon sits on the bed with you on his lap. “i bought you flowers.” you open your mouth in both surprise and excitement. did simon-heartless-riley bought you flowers? “no, you didn’t. when did you buy them? i was with you the whole time!” you chuckle in disbelief before smiling like a teenager in love.

“i bought ‘em a few minutes before heading to soap’s party, as a promise to myself.” he explains, caressing your thigh with his free hand. “a promise to yourself?” you ask, smiling curiously. “yeah, love. a promise to myself that…” he pauses as his hand finally appears again, this time with a beautiful bouquet of mixed flowers. you pout softly as you caress his arm. “…that i would get the girl.” simon stares into your bright eyes. your reaction makes him chuckle quietly before kissing you in a very tender and meaningful way.

he certainly got the girl.

finally.

tags: @nijiru @ahleeyuh

[saaraofthesand]

Oda Didn’t Understand Dazai: An Opinion By Me

@catboychuuuya wanted me to elaborate on that bit in my Soukoku post about Odasaku not really understanding Dazai. I aim to please, so here I am.

Let’s begin

Part A: Buraiha Trio

Oda wasn’t necessarily a bad friend. He just didn’t really know what to do with Dazai. I actually think Ango was both a better friend toward, and had a better understanding of, Dazai (Oda pushed Dazai toward the light, but Ango was the reason he got to stay there).

Oda decided that Dazai should live in the light, but I think Ango always thought he belonged there. Like he knew that Dazai had the potential to be good.

In the prologue of the Dark Era light novel, Ango is the one truly bothered by Dazai’s apathy and suicidal tendencies. Oda has very mild reactions to all of it. Dazai is basically crying out for help, and Oda’s reactions are very indulgent (kind of “that’s nice, sweetie”).

"'Oh yeah, I created a new hot-pot recipe. Would you guys be up to trying it next time we hang out? I call it the 'superhuman stamina pot.' You can run for hours without getting tired after eating it. It’s a dream of a—'

'Not in a million years,' Ango sternly declined.

'If it keeps you from getting tired, then it might be pretty useful before a hard day's work,' I added.

'…Odasaku, that's exactly the problem right there. You're enabling Dazai. You don't speak up, and that's why he goes off the rails.'

I see. So this was what Ango meant by 'enabling' him. You learn something new every day."

Now, again, Oda was not a bad person or friend. It’s normal to joke around with your friends. But also, I think it’s pretty clear (Particularly in Storm Bringer and the Dark Era) that Dazai was genuinely struggling in the mafia. He was extremely unhappy.

Another problem with Oda is that he put Dazai on a pedestal like almost everyone else in the mafia (exceptions are Chuuya and Ango for sure).

"No matter what he did, Dazai seemed to reach heights that normal people couldn’t."

The difference between Odasaku and the rest of the mafia is that Dazai greatly admired Odasaku. He admired his belief system and resolve. That’s why I think it’s so sad that Oda didn’t really understand Dazai, because Dazai took Oda’s word as gospel.

There’s one last quote from the prologue that I want to talk about:

"We had a saying in the Port Mafia: 'The greatest misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.' If he wanted to, he could even have a picnic in the middle of a firefight. Dazai was practically born to be in the Mafia."

This is the first case where I think it’s clear that Oda has a fundamental misunderstanding of Dazai.

Dazai was not born to be in the mafia. He was groomed to be in mafia by Mori. Mori picked him because he was an extremely intelligent, yet directionless child. I think we all spend so much time thinking of Dazai as a puppet master that we forget that he is also capable of being manipulated himself.

Dazai is eighteen during the Dark Era. Eighteen. He’s a teenager. He’s not a mastermind. He’s a lost kid in desperate need of guidance. He spent four incredibly formative years of his life suffering under Mori’s thumb (One before officially joining the mafia, three after). Odasaku was Dazai’s hope, someone he could look to instead of Mori. He wanted to be like him so badly.

Part B: Something to Live For

“Odasaku…,” Dazai said softly. “Forgive me for the absurd wording, but—don’t go. Find something to rely on. Expect good things to happen from here on out. There’s gotta be something…”

Yeah, you read that right. Dazai just presented an optimistic outlook on life.

He’s speaking to someone who has just lost his main purpose in being in the mafia, taking care of those orphans. Yet, he’s begging him to find a new reason to live anyway.

Part C: Last Words

That brings me to Odasaku’s final moments.

“‘You won’t find it,’ Odasaku said in almost a whisper. Dazai stared at him. ‘You should know that. Whether you’re on the side that takes lives or the side that saves them, nothing beyond your own expectations will happen. Nothing in this world can fill the hole that is your loneliness. You will wander the darkness for eternity.’”

Okay, so, Odasaku is right that Dazai won’t find purpose in the darkness, but he’s wrong about why. Dazai is not an empty person incapable of happiness. Even though Dazai thinks this means that Odasaku understood him well, we can’t forget that Dazai doesn’t really understand himself. His feelings. His mind. Dazai genuinely believes that nothing can make him happy, but he’s wrong and the consequences to Oda’s words are huge.

Now, Dazai thinks he’s a villain pretending to be hero. He thinks he’s inherently empty. WHICH IS WRONG.

Think about why Dazai went to Oda’s side in the first place. Because Oda was his friend. Dazai put his personal feelings first in that situation, and he does that more often than people tend to notice. He’s actually motivated by emotions a lot.

During Storm Bringer, Dazai basically moves Heaven and Earth to stop Verlaine and keep Chuuya in the mafia.

“‘I joined the Mafia because of an expectation I had. I thought if I was close to death and violence—close to people giving in to their urges and desires, then I would be able to see the inner nature of humankind up close. I thought if I did that…’ Dazai paused before continuing, ‘…I would be able to find something—a reason to live.’”

We have to remember who prompted Dazai to think that, Chuuya. An idea born from Dazai’s relationship to another person, not the idea itself, was what made him join the mafia.

Ranpo is definitely autistic coded, but so is Dazai. Since No Longer Human was extremely influential on BSD, and that novel has a lot of autobiographical elements in it, it makes sense that Dazai seems autistic. After reading No Longer Human myself, I really do think that Osamu Dazai (the author) was autistic. Yōzō’s (the protagonist of No Longer Human) behavior is very autistic. I mean, at one point, he describes masking verbatim.

I’m mentioning this because I think that what Dazai hopes to understand is not a reason to live itself, but other people’s motivation to live. It’s an extension of the very autistic feeling of alienation from other people. Dazai thinks there’s something wrong with him because despite caring about other people a lot, he has trouble understanding their illogical behavior. He also struggles to understand his own illogical behavior.

I also think this is why Oda struggles to understand Dazai. Because people who aren’t autistic usually struggle to understand autism. Autistic people often get profiled as ‘sociopaths’ (an outdated term that refers to Antisocial Personality Disorder) and are seen as emotionless monsters.

Dazai distances himself from other people as a defense mechanism. In his own words, “I always lose the things I don’t want to lose the most. That’s why I don’t feel anything anymore. The moment you get your hands on something worth going after, you lose it. That’s just how things are. There is nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging a life of suffering.” I think that indicates that he cares very much about the people in his life, but that he also lives in constant fear of losing them.

Conclusion

I don’t know how well I articulated any of this (I’m neurodivergent, can you tell?), but my point is that Odasaku took a lot about Dazai at face value, instead of trying to peel back the layers and understand him as a person. He ended up dehumanizing Dazai a bit in the process.

Dazai is far from perfect, but he’s also not inhuman.

I think about this quote from Atsushi a lot, “People need to be told they’re worthy of being alive by someone else or they can’t go on.” Like, what would have happened if someone told Dazai his life was worth living even without some grand purpose?

[sumaneun-stars]

'Unreal'

Pairing. Sunghoon x reader

Genre. Fluff

Warnings. None:>

Synopsis. In which a dare from your friends could either ruin or spark a relationship with the absolutely gorgeous man you met at the mall.

You got the second text from your group chat, after you had a girl's day out two days ago. 

Chaewon: "Y/n! A reminder, don't forget the dare!"

You rolled your eyes at the message.

Y/n: "I don't have memory loss, Chae”

The dare, in fact, was an embarrassing one for an introvert. You couldn't even talk to a child without stumbling over your words, let alone tell a good looking person who's about your age, that he's handsome.

You walked away from the counter, bags in hand after you got carried away while picking a birthday gift for your classmate. I mean, it had been a while since you went shopping. You waited for the elevator beside another person who you didn't focus much on, and got on once it arrived.

“Which floor?” The person asked.

“Ground” you said simply, too busy shifting the bags to a comfortable position to look at his face.

‘9th floor to the ground floor, might take a while’. 

You let air fill your mouth in boredom, looking around the elevator, until you caught a glimpse of the person's face who stood beside you from the spotless walls. The air left your mouth like a balloon being let go, leaving your lips in a pout.

You looked up at him, starstruck. ‘An angel. He's not real. Am I dreaming?’. He looked like some ice prince or an angel descended from heaven. Maybe even an alien, considering that his features were out of this world. Whatever he was, he was certainly not human. He was simply unreal.

Your mouth was slightly parted in disbelief, resisting the urge to poke him to see if he was real or just another one of your hallucinations. Except you did poke him. A dare is a dare. Your mouth opened to speak, but once he brought his attention to you, you were lost for words. 

His eyes sparkled as his lips were brought into a polite smile. He held a confused yet gentle expression, and you couldn't help but stare at him with heart eyes. He cleared his throat, bringing you back to your senses.

“You're handsome” your voice came out as a mumble.

“Hm?” He leaned closer to you. You got a slight whiff of sandalwood and cinnamon. You could faint on the spot, no joke.

“You- you're extremely good looking” you said without thinking, still staring at him.

He brought his hand on his mouth, chuckling at your words. ‘Oh. My. God. This man has the prettiest hands ever’. He removed his hand, still holding that gorgeous smile of his. He had fang-like teeth. It's probably illegal to be this perfect. 

“You too- I mean- you're pretty” he replied, smiling with his eyes. Your cheeks flushed red, but you knew he said that out of politeness. You hid your face in embarrassment, looking away as your cheeks boiled in your skin. ‘You're such an idiot, y/n’. There was an uncomfortable silence between you two, until the elevator door opened.

You walked with fast steps out of the elevator, too embarrassed to even look back.

“Wait” you heard his honey-like voice once again. It was probably in your head, or was it? You stopped in your tracks when you felt a hand on your shoulder. ‘He's so tall’. You looked up at him in silence.

“Do you mind if I- I get your number?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You couldn't process his words.

“My number?” You asked in disbelief. He nodded in response. You started glitching. Your hands went back and forth from your head to your hair, and finally to your pocket. You took out your phone and gave it to him. He chuckled at your wallpaper- a poorly drawn frog with a crown on its head, with goofy handwriting spelling out the words “frogs are queen cards too”. One of your artworks, of course.

“Oh that's just what I did when I was bored, I'm actually talented” you mumbled to defend yourself and your dignity.

“It's cute,” he said, making your heart race at the smile that formed on his face.

“Sunghoon!” You heard from a distance, and saw him turn at his name, probably. It came from a group of boys- his friends, of course.

“I gotta go,” he told you, pursing his lips in guilt. “Bye, queen card” he said with a slight smirk, before handing over your phone after typing out his number and running towards his friends. 

You were left speechless. You watched as a few boys hit his shoulder, teasing him as they screamed a few ‘ooh's and ‘ah's at him. He had a shy smile on his face, before he looked over his shoulder at you one last time. 

‘Sunghoon… 

Woah.’ 

[fallingdownhell]

Genshin.l men when you pluck off their first grey hair.

Uhh, I know some good candidates for this one! xD

Characters Included: Itto; Kaveh; Zhongli; Kazuha

Content: Fluff; established relationship; overall just good feelings and joking around; no drama at all in this one

Word count: 1,3k words

Have fun with this one!

Itto

It was your usual hangout day with Itto and his gang, but you were bored

You guys weren't doing anything interesting or fun, just sitting around, playing cards

well.. Kuki may be entirely satisfied that the boys were keeping low on their shenanigans, but you were bored out of your mind. Your boyfriend wasn't really paying attention to you, too invested in his stupid card game

somewhere along the way, you decided to lay your head in his lap, hoping to garner some attention this way

when that also didn't work, you started to play with his hair to get a rise out of him, but that also failed. He did enjoy your touch, but ulimately, it wasn't enough to distract him

that was, until an idea formed in your head. True, it may sound like a stupid one, but your boyfriend was also known to not exactly be of the brightest sort

so, with feigned shock, you suddenly gasp as you pluck one of his hair out of his head, the sudden exclamation finally getting Itto's attention

"What? What's wrong, babe?"

"Itto.. I think you're getting old.. Look, your hair is going white!"

You play your part good, but it obviously was a pretty stupid prank to pull on him. Everyone caught onto it the moment you spoke it out loud. Well.. everyone, except..

"WHAT? ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

Itto practically jumped up, panic written all over his face

"This can't be! Not my hair!"

You look at him, puzzled, confused that this stupid joke actually worked on him. You looked to the other gang members, but they only sigh and shake their heads

When Itto finally got in front of a mirror, you could almost see the gears turning in his head.. it took him a solid minute until he realized it, too

"(NAME)!!", he screamed and now you couldn't hold back your laughter

Kaveh

For a man, Kaveh was overly focused on his physical appearances

he always made sure to stay relatively on top with his choice of clothes and his hair is always well taken care of

and while that might sound like someone who would be overly arrogant, Kaveh was not like that at all

he just really cared about what he looked like, always wanting to "Impress", if you can call it that

so, one day, you thought about a little prank. You didn't think anything bad of it, it was just a harmless joke...right?

well... one time, after waking up in bed together, Kaveh asked for you to brush through his hair while he was looking through some sketches again, and that was just the perfect opportunity to execute your plan that has been brewing in your head for the last few days

For a few seconds, you silently brush the comb through his hair, followed by your fingers to smoothen it up again, when you suddenly gasped

"What? What's wrong, (name)?", Kaveh sounded confused at the sudden change in atmosphere, slightly alarmed

"Kaveh.. I think I found a grey hair here.."

"...WHAT? PULL IT OUT! PULL IT OUT!", he screamed.

This couldn't be happening! Not yet! He wasn't even THAT old!

You plucked the single hair out like he requested. And while it was just a normal, blonde strand of hair like the rest of it, Kaveh was an expert in stressing himself out so much that he actually thought to see it as well

"No, no, no, no!"

He began pacing through the room, trying to think of a solution. This couldn't be happening!

You almost couldn't hold back your laughter, but when Kaveh suddenly ran out of the room, completely forgetting about anything else, you knew that you might have messed up a little bit with your prank...

Zhongli

You and Zhongli were laying on the couch, his head rested in your lap as you massaged through his scalp

The events of the day had tired him out more than usually and you noticed that as soon as he came through the door of your shared home

so, you offered to help him relax a bit. You made him a cup of his favourite tea and were now spoiling him with this incredible massage, he felt like all his dreams had come true at once

his eyes were closed, humming from time to time, telling you just how much he enjoyed this

"Hmm..", you let out after some time of you being quiet. Zhongli rose an eyebrow at that, but otherwise remained as he was

when nothing else came from you, he opened one of his eyes, staring up at you

"Is something the matter, darling?"

"Hmm? Oh, not really.. I just noticed, you seem to have gotten a few grey hairs.."

Your tone was gentle and you kept up the relaxing movements through his hair

"Ahh.. Is that so?", Zhongli quietly spoke, closing his eyes again

"So it seems that the wheel of time is finally catching up to me, as well."

"...Are you bothered by it?", you ask, carefully, not knowing how he would react to that revelation

"Not at all. This is just how things are supposed to be. I don't mind it at all."

And he meant that. He couldn't be bothered by his hair turning a different colour, when everything else in his life was just perfect...

Kazuha

You and Kazuha were currently on board of the Alchor, making their way back to Inazuma

You had decided to accompany him on one of his travels and it has truly been one of the most amazing experiences in your entire life

The things you got to see during your travels, the people you interacted with, and the memories you made together with Kazuha.. it would surely stay in your mind forever

Currently, you were both out on the deck, just looking out into the distance, silently enjoying each others company

normally, you would sit with your back against Kazuha's chest, his arms would be around you while he simply held you like this. Sometimes he would kiss your hair and other times, he would tell you a poem that he just came up with. You cherished those peaceful moments with him

This time however, your roles were reversed, with Kazuha sitting with his back against your chest, half sitting against you and half laying in your lap, while you gently stroke through his hair

he wasn't really thinking about anything in this moment, instead enjoyed the gentle breeze of the wind and your touch in his hair.. surely this must be what heaven felt like

he was sighing every now and then with content and each time, you smiled at the sound, glad that he was enjoying this

then, one time, when you took your hand out of his hair to put it to a different position, you noticed a few loose strands of hair caught between your fingers

you pulled them out and stared at them a bit.. something felt off about it somehow..

"Kazuha.. is your hair starting to grow grey?"

At first, he wasn't sure if he heard you right. He opened his eyes, only to find a serious expression on your face

You really weren't joking...

"My dear...", he only said, sighing a bit

"What?", you asked, feeling a bit offended at his tone. You looked at him a few more seconds until you realized it..

your eyes grew wide and Kazuha knew you finally got it, a sly grin making it's way on his lips

"Oh...", was all you said, embarrassed that you forgot something like that

Kazuha just smiled, but said nothing further about it, just closing his eyes again as you continued with what you were doing before

Would he ever let you live that down? ...No, of course not...