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phoenixyfriend · 7 months

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How to Call Your Reps About Gaza

I make a lot of posts telling you to call your reps! Anyway, here's the overall shape of how to argue to them.

Disclaimer: I am not in politics. I do not have experience as a staffer. I am just someone who cares a lot about where things are going, and wants to help. Also, this is specific to the US, because that's where I'm based. Hopefully, people with expertise can add more suggestions on.

Find your elected officials.

My Ko-fi: this took me two days to write up, so uh. If you've got a few dollars, send them my way so I can keep doing this sort of thing, and maybe move out of my parents' house sooner.

General tips:

Be polite, or at least civil. Do not swear or shout at whoever answers the phone. This will quite possibly get your number blocked. Fifty civil calls over the course of several months will do more than one where you shout. You can be frosty, you can say you are disappointed, you can say you find the actions of your reps to be reprehensible or morally bankrupt, sure. But keep calm and aim criticism at the rep, not the staffer.

Keep it short. The staffers who answer call centers are busy. They usually start trying to hurry me off after about two minutes. I've yet to manage a call longer than four or five minutes. Pick one or two topics for the day, and focus on those. Cycle through them every time you call. Stick to just one from day to day if it's a large, ongoing issue like Gaza.

Plan for voicemail. I get voicemail more often than not. My House rep usually has a staffer free, but the Senators are almost always voicemail. This will give you a minute and a half max. Be ready to get your point squeezed into that.

Only call your representatives. The important, powerful word here is "constituent." You will be ignored or even counted against if you are from a different district or state. The first thing you start with is your name and address. A staffer will ask for the information they need. On voicemail, leave your full name, your city and state, and zip code before you go into your message. Do not lie, either. They look these things up in the system when you call. I'm not sure how--I think maybe they have access to a database of registered voters--but every time I call, they ask for my last name and address and at some point say, 'oh, yep, I've got you right here,' which indicates a database of some sort.

Research at least a little bit about their opinions. If they already agree with you, then it's much easier to leave a quick "I support you and want you to know that" to combat anyone who's arguing from the other side. If they don't, then you're best off finding out what specific issue they have so you can know the best kind of comment to leave.

Look up specific bills or arguments. I get daily emails from GovTrack about bills that are on this week's docket or have been voted on in the past day. IDK about anyone else, but being able to say that I disagree specifically with HR 815 or something makes me feel powerful, and possibly like I will be taken more seriously. Sometimes you can start with articles like this one, which include links to specific bills on the official congress website.

Email after if you can. Reportedly less effective, and takes longer, but you are more likely to get a written (canned) response, and it reinforces whatever you called about.

Basic structure of a call, at least as I've been doing it:

"Hi, my name is ____ ____, and I am a constituent from [city, state], [zip]. I am calling to express my opinion on [topic]. I am concerned about [short argument with a clear impact on the topic]. I ask that you support [measure or fellow congress member]/vote [yay/nay on specific legislature]. Thank you for your time, and I hope you keep my opinion in mind."

For this post, the topic can be stated as the war in Gaza, military funding for Israel, or unrest in the Middle East, depending on which you think your elected official will respond to best. That said, the structure should work for whatever your call is about.

Arguments to use against your elected official... or your on-the-fence cousin:

I'll be honest, some of these are not going to do much against your representative. They know the arguments, and have been going over them with each other for months. You just need to have one locked and loaded that they consider relevant instead of a nonstarter, in order to back up your opinion as 'founded' instead of 'nonsense, can be swayed with a good marketing campaign.'

I'll include explanations if I don't think something is self-evident (or needs more evidence to tell your cousin), but in most of them I'll provide some suggested verbiage that you can tweak as needed, and for a few of them, that's really enough.

THESE ARE FOR THE TOPIC OF CONCERN, ONLY. You still need to end each one with "I ask that the [official] votes to [action]" at the end. Give them something actionable (example from Feb. 13th). My go-tos right now:

Both chambers: Reinstate funding for UNRWA

Both chambers: Place mandatory restrictions on any aid to Israel, with contractual threats to cut funding if Netanyahu and his government continue to disregard civilian life

Senate: Put support behind Bernie Sanders and his motion to restrict funding to Israel until a humanitarian review of the IDF’s actions in Gaza has been completed (S.R. 504) (Tabled by the Senate on 1/16, but it is being brought back in as conditions continue to escalate)

House: Put support behind Rep. Rashida Tlaib’s petition for the US government to recognize the IDF’s actions in Gaza as ethnic cleansing and forced displacement, and put a stop to it.

House: Put support behind H.R. 786, introduced by Rep. Cori Bush, calling for an immediate deescalation and cease-fire in Israel and occupied Palestine.

What Not to Say

"There is no threat to Israel." I've talked about this elsewhere, but the short version is that this will be basically laughed out as you not knowing what you're talking about.

Anything generically antisemitic. (I mean, it might work on some of the white supremacists, but do you really want to encourage that thinking? No, so don't do it.)

Facts that you "heard somewhere" but cannot find a reliable source for. If it's being reported by the New York Times, NPR, or the BBC, it's probably trustworthy by government standards. If it's not a super common statistic, cite the journal you got it from by name. Remember, you aren't arguing to tumblr mutuals. You are arguing to your elected official or your 'I don't really pay attention' cousin. When it comes to this, big name news sources are better.

Unrealistic demands for complete isolationism, permanently abandoning Israel to its own devices, supporting Hamas, etc. Again, you will not be taken seriously. Pick an argument they might actually listen to, and use it to press them towards a possible solution. You want them to believe that if they adjust their position, they will be doing the will of most of their constituents, and thus more likely to get reelected.

The Ethics Argument

Third-party reporting has stated that that nearly 29,000 Gazans are dead since Oct. 7th, as of 2/18/24. The vast majority of those are civilians, and over half are children. Palestinians in Gaza are facing an acute hunger crisis threatening to become a full-blown famine.

The International Court of Justice has found that there is credible reason to believe that the state of Israel is committing a genocide against the Palestinians of Gaza.

This does not mean that every single Israeli is complicit. It does mean that the government, particularly Netanyahu and his associates, has been reprimanded by a large, diverse coalition of countries, and has consistently refused to listen to that court since.

This argument will possibly work on your cousin. Less likely to work on your elected official. They already know the numbers. I just wanted to get it out of the way first.

The Re-Election Argument: Michigan vs New York

Meanwhile, this is possibly the most effective. Again, this is not an argument of ethics. This is an argument of "how can I make my elected official do what I want." We do not use only the purest moral argument. We use what works.

What to say to your elected official: Michigan, as a swing state, was won by democrats on the power of the Arab-American vote in the 2020 election. We (either party) are at risk of losing Michigan due to the current Congressional approach to the Gaza conflict, as that demographic is now polling as likely to abstain from voting entirely. The risk of losing several congressional districts due to the Jewish vote is a real one, but the risk of losing the the executive branch is greater, especially after what we saw with Suozzi. Supporting Palestine might lose us parts of New York, but supporting Israel will lose us Michigan.

Explanation: Something that has been taking up a lot of time and space in the election coverage is the situation in Michigan, and more recently, there has been attention paid to the special election of New York's third district, AKA the "who gets to replace disgraced George Santos" competition.

Michigan is traditionally a swing state. While 2.1% doesn't sound like a lot, that is some 211k-278k people (depending on your source), and while not all of them can vote... Michigan was won by about 154k. Arab-Americans are not the only relevant demographic, but they sure are an important one, and they are vocally opposed to the situation. Approval has dropped from 59% to 17%. From that same article:

As Axios notes, Biden won Michigan in 2020 by 154,000 votes, but there are at least 278,000 Arab Americans in Michigan. Biden took Arizona, a state with an Arab American population of 60,000, by only 10,500 votes. In Georgia, Biden prevailed with a margin of 11,800 voters, in a state that has an Arab American population of 57,000.

Democrats cannot afford to lose these states. Pressure your congresspeople about that, especially if you live in one of those states. I assume most Arab-Americans in said states are already calling every day; the rest of you can join in.

Meanwhile, most Jews (considered the most pro-Israel demographic by strategists) in America are concentrated in a very small number of electoral districts. Of the twenty most-Jewish, ten are in New York, which is why I put it up in the section header.

One of those districts was won by a Republican in 2022: George Santos, New York's third congressional district. Following his scandals and ousting, the seat was up for a special election, and the two candidates were Tom Suozzi, a democrat who held the seat previously (he decided to run for governor, and lost), and Mazi Pilip, a Nassau county legislator who was of Ethiopian Jewish background and had been in the IDF. She ran on a campaign that leaned strongly pro-Israel and anti-immigration, and when Suozzi won, she interrupted his victory speech to accuse him of supporting a genocide against Israel due to his rather centrist, rather milquetoast stance on the conflict during his election campaign.

Now, Suozzi's win probably had more to do with Pilip being anti-choice than her pro-Israel arguments, but he still won.

Democrats can better risk possibly losing a few seats in NY than definitely losing three swing states.

"But I don't want Dems to win their districts after what they've been--" Nope. Listen to me. Surveys indicate that Republicans are on average more pro-Israel, because Trump and Netanyahu are buddy-buddy, and we do not have a viable third option.

Also, again, this is about convincing Dems to be better. "If you do not vote to put restrictions on funding to Israel, I will not vote for you in November" is a lot more powerful than "I will not vote for you either way, because of what you've been doing, but you should do what I say anyway."

The Re-Election Argument: Risk of Escalation

So, that thing I said about Trump and Netanyahu?

Yeah, so, while Biden is giving Israel military aid while cautioning them to slow down and be careful, Trump is... complicated, but suffice to say he's much closer to Netanyahu on a personal level than Biden is. Biden's relation with Netanyahu is reportedly pretty frosty, while Trump's is based on relations through the Kushners.

Just from wikipedia:

Netanyahu made his closeness to Donald Trump, a personal friend since the 1980s, central to his political appeal in Israel from 2016.[21] During Trump's presidency, the United States recognized Jerusalem as the capital of Israel, recognized Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights, and brokered the Abraham Accords, a series of normalization agreements between Israel and various Arab states.

Trump's been more all-over-the-place recently, badmouthing Netanyahu for being what Trump perceives as a loser, which complicates understanding what his approach is. It's kind of incoherent right now.

Given Trump's general history of being pro-Israel, though, and the attempts by House Republicans to push through a bill of unconditional funding for Israel. It failed, but notable is that the more recent bill passed in part because it was paired with aid for Ukraine and Taiwan (something Dems are much more invested in having happen).

What to say to your elected official: If Trump is reelected due to his current appearance of being more critical of Netanyahu, there is evidence from his presidency to indicate that he will support Israel much less critically if elected. While he claims to want to settle the Middle East, it seems incredibly likely that he will worsen the situation for Palestinians, and ramp up retaliatory strikes to groups like the Houthis in a manner that will impact non-military parties, igniting tensions that are already tenuous.

The Disrespect/Wild Card Argument

This particular argument is best used against the Very Patriotic Politicians who are more concerned with the US's image and Being The Alpha Nation than with other things. Basically, this might work on Republicans.

This isn't really something I believe in, as a matter of foreign policy, buuuut it might work on your rep, so. Consider it!

What to say to your elected official: With Israel's recent actions in ignoring Biden, blocking US-sent aid like those flour trucks that got stopped at the Rafah border because they'd be distributed by UNWA, and generally Disrespecting The USA and Being Unpredictable is not only making the US look bad for being unable to wrangle a smaller country, but also making it so we are less able to wrangle other countries in the future, because Israel cannot be predicted and might set someone off.

The Europe and Reputation Argument

What to say to your elected official: The United States is losing credibility as a world power known for its military and ability to manage international disputes on behalf of the UN, because it is seemingly unable to influence Israel, and losing credibility as an upstanding moral state that is not doing foreign coups and banana republics anymore, as it appears to be tacitly supporting Israel's ICJ-labelled genocide, which is a really bad look with the other Western Powers.

I'm not entirely sure who this might work on, but there's gotta be at least a few politicians who are really concerned about America's image, more than about actually doing the right thing. Figure out if your politician is one of them.

If necessary, you can bring up how Trump is threatening to pull US support for NATO if Russia attacks someone.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Iran-backed Militias

What to say to your elected official: I'm concerned that the continued support of Israel, and thus the funding of their actions in Gaza, will increase the instability of Iran-backed militias, as we have already seen with the Houthis and Hezbollah. Entire Muslim-majority nations are showing increased displeasure not only with Israel, but with the US by extension. We cannot afford another war in the Middle East when we haven't yet pulled all our troops from the last one, not with the recent and recurring economic recessions. Any situation would also very likely be complicated or inflamed by the growing tensions among Eritrea, Djibouti, and Ethiopia regarding Red Sea access as well.

Use this on the ones that claim to be pro-military or pro-veteran. See what they said about HR 815 before the foreign military funding amendment was added.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Egypt

What to say to your elected official: Egypt's government has been unstable since the Arab Spring, and even now the military government is incredibly unpopular. With that existing instability, the addition of economic strain from the reduced usage of the Suez canal, the international disputes occurring because they're the main throughway for aid into Gaza, and the threat of a sudden influx of nearly one and a half million Palestinian refugees should Israel continue to push south... Egypt is looking at a possible near-collapse as we've seen in nearby nations suffering similar instabilities.

Explanation: It took several years for Egypt to really start recovering from the revolts in 2013, and it has applied for four IMF loans in recent years. The current government is unpopular to such a degree that they are looking to build an entire new capital from scratch in the middle of the desert so that they're less open to the risk of civilian uprisings; one of the primary causes for civilian dissatisfaction is economic issues.

Due to Houthi attacks at the Bab al-Mandab Strait, traffic through the Suez canal is down massively, and since the canal "represents almost 5% of the GNP and 10% of GDP and is one of Egypt’s most important sources of hard currency." (src) Various sources are reporting that trade through the canal is down 40-50%, which is putting more strain on the already unstable economic and political situation.

Finally, Egypt's population is about 110 million, but the governorate that shares a border with Israel and Gaza, North Sinai, has a population of barely 500,000. A push of one and a half million starving, injured people will, very suddenly, nearly quadruple the population of the governorate, and require extreme aid response from Egypt's government to keep alive and prevent a larger crisis in North Sinai and neighboring governorates.

The Middle East Stability Argument: Normalized Relations

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned that Israel's continued attack on Gaza is jeopardizing any chance of normalized relations with the Arab states in the future. American has put a lot of work into trying to get these various countries to normalize with Israel, and our funding of the current attacks on Gaza are sabotaging all that effort.

This one can be combined with the Iran-Backed Militias argument: Israel, in pursuit of revenge against Hamas, is setting itself up to be in more danger long-term, rather than less.

The International Trade Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am concerned about how the war in Gaza is impacting international trade and shipping costs. With the Suez Canal down to half its usual capacity and the Panama Canal raising costs and dropping capacity in response to the water restrictions, along with rising fuel costs in Europe and Asia, global trade is incredibly strained. We are being relegated to the Cape of Good Hope, Cape Horn, and the Malacca strait for much of intercontinental trade, and the macroeconomic projections are looking very bad for America.

The Domestic Economics Argument

What to say to your elected official: Many of the plans for Israeli military funding cause damage to other parts of the budget. For instance, a recent plan put forward by the Republicans of the House suggested IRS cuts in order to move that money, a plan which would impact the US budget negatively in the long term; we need those 14 billion being spent domestically, not supporting an overreaction/possible genocide in Gaza.

Explanation: In general, pick something receiving budget cuts that your congressperson will care about. I care about IRS funding, and saw it mentioned as a target in an article, so that's what I've got in my suggested verbiage up there.

The fewer people that are working for the IRS, the more they focus on auditing poor people (simple, easy taxes) and the less they can effectively audit rich people (complicated, time-consuming taxes), which means rich people are more likely to get away with evading millions or even billions in taxation. So yeah, you want more funding in the IRS if you are poor. They are already auditing you. You want them to audit the big guys.

The Russia and China Argument

What to say to your elected official: I am worried that the current focus on funding Israel without restriction is causing us to lose sight of the international threat posed by Russia and China. Russia is actively invading Ukraine, which continues to put massive strain on the European economy with regards to oil prices, especially with the Suez situation, and China has been testing missiles near Taiwan, and thus testing US responsiveness to those threats, for months now. We cannot afford to support an internationally unpopular war if we want to remain ready for Russia and China.

This is less likely to work on Republicans, since Trump is friendly with Russia, but hey, give it a shot if they're one of the ones who aren't fully in his camp.

EDIT 2/22/24: I'm a bit unsure of this tactic, but I'm putting it out there with hopes that someone with more political experience can offer feedback:

"Congress, and the US government in general, has promised to sanction Russia for the alleged assassination of one man within a week of the suspicious death, after five months of refusing to enact even slight consequences on Israel for the deaths of nearly thirty thousand, half of which are children. This is ethically questionable at best, but for the interests of elected officials, it is a very bad look. The mismatch shows a massive bias by the American government in regards to Israel's ongoing mass murder, with over two million facing famine as a result of Israel's aid blocking, and America's reputation on the world stage, as well as individual politicians' reputations domestically with constituents, is plummeting."

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Finally, my ko-fi again. I spent a long time on this and I'd like to move out of my parents' house sooner rather than later. If you appreciate my time and effort, please feel free to donate a couple bucks.

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randombush3 · 10 months

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audentes fortuna iuvat

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two

words: 9541

summary: alexia and you as posh + becks III

content warnings: there’s some (a lot of) cheating + postpartum depression. it’s more frustrating than sad though x

notes: this covers 2019-22(ish). It was SUPPOSED to be the last part. It’s not anymore. I’m gonna do a fourth to deal w the mess I have created in a more self-indulgent amount of words than the 3k i had planned. That will probably have smut in it 😛

“Y/n left me.”

The limousine you are in is completely black, save for the white lines being measured out right next to you.

“What?” says Jenni.

“She left me,” Alexia says once more. The hotel room is a non-committal beige. They lie in the same bed, the older of the two welcoming her lost teammate wordlessly and without judgement. Tomorrow, they will return to Barcelona, losers yet another time. “She moved back to london. She took Nico.”

“She can’t just take Nico, can she?”

“Y/n, how’s Nico?” Your stomach turns, but whether that is provoked by the thought of the baby boy you left crying in your father’s arms or by the white powder outlining the rim of the woman’s nostrils, you don’t know.

Your son’s creasing eyes, red face, and grabbing hands appear in front of you. He screams as you walk away. He doesn’t understand why he has not smelt Alexia in weeks, and he misses the comfort of home.

Everyone waits for your answer. No one comments on the bags under your eyes. “He's fine,” you say with a smile. “He loves it here.”

“I think she is depressed,” Alexia tells Jenni, comforted by the arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close and tightly and reminding her that she is not as alone as you have made her feel. “She told me that she couldn’t be in Barcelona anymore, but she said that without giving me a chance to come with her. Her bags were packed before the conversation started — she might as well have called me from the plane.”

“Are you angry at her?”

“Yes.”

Alexia thinks about it.

“No.”

“No,” you say when they point at your very own line. The drug holds a place of both familiarity and hatred in your heart. The fine, white powder reminds you of greatness – of being the most successful girl group in the UK – but, also, of hospital visits. It’s not a past addiction, but it could have been. You light a cigarette instead, though it will make the vehicle reek. “I can't. I have a son.”

“You’re not a saint.” They boo. “You’re allowed to have fun. I saw you the other day, and you had no qualms with any drugs then.”

“No, I'm not a saint,” you reply. You regret that night — however little you remember. “But I am a mother.”

“Is it that thing? Postpartum?” Jenni asks. “The baby blues are really shitty, I've heard, but they’re not supposed to cripple you. Maybe the relationship has other issues.”

“I'm not angry at her, Jenni,” Alexia repeats. “I miss Nico. He looks like her. He has started to look a lot more like her now.”

“He would definitely suit those sparkly bralettes.” Jenni giggles at the thought.

With an understandable lack of good humour, Alexia ponders something more realistic. “He would suit a Barcelona kit.”

“He would be made for it. You are his mother.”

“I'm not angry at her,” Alexia says for the third time, just to make herself believe it. Just to carve those words into her bones and tell herself that it isn’t anger, what she’s feeling. “I don't want to be angry at her. I think I'm going to see if I can move to arsenal.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Well, I'm not angry at her.”

“Alexia.” Jenni cups her cheek tenderly. “Ale.” She knows she shouldn’t. She’s not angry at you, and so there is no punishment needed. Not that… Not that kissing Jenni would ever be utilised as a weapon to get back at you. Or that she’d actually kiss her.

“Daddy, I can't get him tonight. No, I don't want to stay over. Daddy, I…” You hate the baby. You hate yourself. You hate that Spain hasn’t done well, and that your fiancée is disappointed that nothing is how it was supposed to be. Alexia is probably lying awake in bed, missing her son, and missing you. You expect one of her teammates to call you soon, and tell her that she needs you. You’re her person. “I'm going to get some sleep and I'll pick him up tomorrow. Probably around lunchtime, okay?”

“Alexia, bésame.”

…

You had passively bought your house. It’s how property sale works when you’re a celebrity. People are always willing to do things for you if you know the price, and it never hurts to use your name to add a new flashy level to whatever stupid business they are running. It’s a mutual exploitation, to some extent.

Highgate is beautiful. The house is beautiful.

The reception room, with its high, decorated ceilings, is your favourite place to numbly take in the twisted jigsaw of your life when Nico has cried himself to sleep. The nursery is on the first floor. He is near enough for safety, but at a distance that allows you to regret all the mistakes you have made.

You watch him roll over onto his stomach, eyes trained on the baby monitor though your fingers graze the ivory keys of your new piano, attempting to compose something worthwhile. At this rate, your solo career is going to fail just like your relationship seems to be doing.

Yesterday, while Alexia seemingly disappeared from the face of the Earth, you came out. It was an off-hand comment during the Graham Norton Show. A quick ‘my fiancée named him. She’s from Barcelona’ was all it took. You hope Alexia, wherever she may be, has heard about it. Jenni would have told her. You trust Jenni to be somewhat on your side because she always has been.

The doorbell rings just as you sniffle, wiping away the tear that slips down your cheek. “Don’t be pathetic,” you mutter to yourself. “You didn’t pay five million pounds to sit here and cry. You chose to come back home.”

Being in England – colder, drearier, lonelier England – has made you realise that your decision was not the right one. Or maybe it was. It has proven that you are as terrible a mother as you convinced yourself you were back in Barcelona, and it has also shoved the cavity Alexia leaves in your life when you refuse her entry right down your throat in the form of a constant lump and a dull stabbing in your chest whenever you think about anything past whether Nico has had anything to eat. You can’t even feed him properly, despite it being supposedly in your nature. You buy formula from the nearest Waitrose.

The doorbell rings again.

The insistence is not uncommon seeing as you are, at the minute, the English press’s number one target. You open the CCTV app on your phone so that you can decide whether or not to ignore the potential stalker, and your heart rate spikes when you see the hooded figure standing on the porch. Back to the door, it is not possible to determine the threat. A well-buried maternal instinct kicks in for once, and you ensure that Nico is still peacefully out cold before getting up to answer the door with the poker from the Victorian fireplace firmly in your grip. Just in case.

You are a mother, in whatever capacity you have decided that role looks like, and so you undo the three latches on the door with brave, protective fingers. The baby monitor’s volume has increased, and the fuzz of white noise is audible if Nico were to make a sound. The vague repulsion at the idea of it all is only an aftertaste in your silent prayer for the hooded figure to not want to kill you. Some sick part of your brain imagines Nico dead, as well. It tortures you.

The poker in your other hand, for the most fleeting of moments, is almost plunged into your chest. The imaginary, self-inflicted wound makes you think of the blood and how the baby upstairs would wail until someone found him. The grimace of annoyance on your lips is nothing new, but you have no more time to torment yourself because the doorbell is pressed again, rather impatiently.

You open the door and the hooded figure is right in front of you. “He’s asleep,” you say, the Spanish foreign on your tongue.

Alexia shrugs, and her hood falls down, revealing the brunette tendrils that hang from her slowly sinking bun. “I came for you,” she replies, so earnestly that it is as if nothing ever happened: past pain forgotten and replaced by sprouting memories of soft kisses and mornings where leaving was too hard to do. Some of them, you think, are not real. They don’t seem to be. Your blank stare is unsettling. You almost don’t believe her. “Can we talk?” she tries, and you notice the team-issued duffle on the tiled floor she is standing on. Then, from the pocket of her hoodie, she extracts a pastry box. The plastic window is filled with circles of different colours, and she holds out the macaroons to you as if to bribe her way into a home in which she is unsure she belongs to.

Stepping aside, leaning the poker against the wall by the door, you scratch at the bare skin of your neck. Alexia, while sweeping an arm down to collect her bag, fixes her gaze onto the ring you are wearing, and the diamond glistens with hope that this can all be fixed. “Would you like to come inside?”

She swallows the whine of anguish that tears her heart open at the idea that this might never be her house to live in, too, and she follows you dutifully as you lead her through hallways far more luxurious than the flat in Barcelona could ever be. This is what you left her for – the person you are, no longer in worn clothing with messy hair, is quite the opposite of the woman with her back to her moments before she had to focus on football. The necklace draped on your sharpened collarbones is new, and she does not dare believe what she has been hearing is true. Yes, there are pictures, but she trusts you. She will always trust you.

“Have a seat,” you say, gesturing to the wooden dining table. It is clean enough for her to determine that it is unused. Alexia places the macaroons in front of her, and aches at how you sit at the opposite end.

“I…”

“I thought you were going to give me all the time that I needed.” It is a statement of distance, as if your location is not enough.

Alexia, eyes widening at how unwelcome she suddenly feels, needs only to remind herself of the impending date of the wedding. It is beginning to loom uncomfortably, with the excitement of getting married drained out like a low tide on a deserted beach. “We have two weeks. If it isn’t going to happen, then you should tell me now. We have to give everyone notice so that they can cancel their flights.” Your silence spurs her on. “You will need to contact the wedding planner, because you refused to let me have a hand in any of it so I don’t even have their number. I’m sorry that you won’t be able to wear your dress. Vivienne Westwood is a big thing for you, I know. I’m sorry that it’s inconvenient.”

“But Alexia,” you whisper, “I don’t not want to get married.”

Her eyebrows furrow, head tilted slightly to the left. “I know. That is why I am saying this.”

Your voice grows louder. “No, no. Sorry, that wasn’t the easiest thing to understand.” Across the dining table, your love that has faltered, that has hesitated and been reconsidered and been stamped down over the past month, extends towards her: its final destination, always and forever. Alexia feels it grab her by the throat, wrenching the words from her before she can even formulate a thought in response, and her body is so drawn to you, in such a powerful fashion, that she pushes her chair out from the table with a grating scrape and is stepping towards you with a finality that makes her wonder if she’ll ever leave your side.

As she approaches, the idea that she is here becomes a little too real. You have played with the fantasy of it, of course, but the tenderness in her usually fierce eyes does not match the anger you had expected, and, in the most feeble fashion, you have never felt more apologetic in your life.

“I’m so sorry,” you begin to say. Tears stream down your face with freed anguish, and the words are so simple yet they bear the weight of your entire soul. “I’m so sorry, darling. I made a mistake, and I have been met with the most crushing of realisations: I can’t do this without you, Alexia.” I still want to marry you, Alexia.

The room seems to close in on your despair, attempting to bottle it, almost, and keep you trapped underneath a haze of emotions you don’t quite know how to sort through. “I… I’m beginning to hate him.” The confession hangs heavy over Alexia’s bowed head as she stands frozen in place, stuck in her journey towards you but unable to arrive. “I’m acutely aware of how cruel it is,” you continue, this next admission being what agonises you the most. It floods the room with guilt, and your voice trembles with self-condemnation that reigns harsher than any other voice in your head.

“It’s ridiculous. I’m evil and I’m wrong, and I just feel like it is inherently in my nature to be like this, as though some fault has been built into me with warning signs we evidently ignored.” You struggle to breathe. “I wish I could take back the day we decided to have him,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, lips doused in tears, skin searing with shame when Alexia cups your cheek with a strong, calloused hand. “He should not have to be stuck with me as a mother.”

Your chest heaves, and you are finished. You have never verbalised it before now, and it is impossible to decide whether it has helped remove the lead lining of your heart where it has been bolstered against your will. Her other hand steadily rises to your face, but then, with only a second of hesitation, she is pulling you upwards and enveloping you in her embrace. You feel a little bit closer to her. “Mi amor,” Alexia murmurs, tone cracked with sorrow and regret. “Lo siento mucho. Desearía haber sabido, desearía haber estado allí para ti.”

Gently, she tilts your face upwards to meet her gaze. “You are not evil and no estás equivocada. Estoy aquí ahora, y no te dejaré enfrentar esto sola nunca más.” You collapse into her. “I’m here, cariño, and I am not going anywhere.”

The sentiment is wonderful, and Alexia makes good on her word.

When Nico begins to cry, the sound piercing through your choked sobs, Alexia realises she has missed all of her life with you. Being separated and being apart due to work, she now knows, are two excruciatingly different things. The whiny wails from upstairs visibly jar you, though you pull away from Alexia to attend to him. “I will do it,” she declares, though her firmness is not mean. “Sit down. Eat the macaroons – they’re… ‘to die for’?” You nod with instinctive encouragement. “Sí. They’re to die for. Try. Jenni says that the pink ones are the best.”

“Jenni picked them out?” you ask with a briefly regained humour, eyebrows raising. “Had to get your friend to choose your apology gift?” In truth, neither of you know what Alexia would be apologising for, but Nico’s crying grows more incessant and Alexia is climbing the carpeted staircase before the topic can be discussed.

Alexia reaches her son with tears brimming in her eyes. The failure of Spain at the World Cup is amplified by the idea that she has disappointed him, though he does not yet possess the tools to pledge his allegiance to her country. In fact, Nico has been sleeping in Manchester United attire (your father has been his primary carer of late, and he does not charge you money, so the price is obviously Alexia’s sanity). She is more than glad to smell his nappy, and delighted about the opportunity to change him into something less hideous.

“Mama loves you so much,” she tells him as she manoeuvres his chubby legs into a plain, inoffensive onesie. “I promise, petit. I am going to help her, okay? And we are going to get through this together.” Alexia forgets about the taste of Jenni’s lips and the heat between them. “Mama just doesn’t see the direction she is going in. It is like her eyes are covered, and she is telling herself that she is walking down the wrong path, but this is not true. You are the most special thing in the world to us. You are the sunrise, the sunset, and the hours of the day.”

She pauses to stand him up on his tiny feet, hands hoisted underneath his armpits. He is heavier than when she last held him, but she is stronger than before, too. Women’s football is growing, along with her muscles. Nico babbles out a vague reply, but Alexia hears what he is trying to say. “I agree. We’ll be alright.” And, with all her heart, it rings true.

…

The following day, she calls the doctor for you, script written out on a piece of paper in front of her, translated perfectly so that her concern does not waver the information she needs to tell the receptionist. The clinic is famous and discreet, and they are quick to prescribe you antidepressants before the week draws to a close. You won’t be able to drink at your wedding, and everyone might think you are pregnant again, but Alexia reassures you that it will be worth it.

Wrapped up in your own bubble, the three of you enjoy London in a way that isn’t possible in Barcelona.

Here, Alexia has no commitment to football. There are no training sessions she must rush off to, there are no teammates to pry, and no one else to interfere with your private little routine. You quite like it, and she does too. It is only temporary, before you fly out to Menorca and hand Nico off to Eli in order to enjoy your respective bachelorette parties and then, in exactly seven days, your wedding itself.

“You’re still smoking,” Alexia says disapprovingly, the sleep in her voice enough to make you feel a pang of guilt. It’s late at night when Nico has finally been soothed from his aching gums, and she has been able to climb back into bed expecting to find you asleep already. “Why are you awake?”

“I’m still smoking,” you tell her. She sighs at the way you parrot her words, but presses an affectionate kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulders despite the lingering smell of cigarettes. “If I can’t drink, I’m going to smoke. This is Hollywood.”

“This is Highgate.” Her accent curls around the name with something a little too foreign for her to ever consider this place home. “Why are you awake?” she repeats.

You look down at the open notebook in your lap, the pages either blank or full of crossed-out lyrics. “He was so loud, but I can’t seem to write anything either so, really, it has been quite redundant.”

“I had to get a glass full of ice and hold it to my fingers so that I could help him. I could have lost some very important assets, but it seemed to do the trick.” He’s teething. You’re telling yourself that the antidepressants are little pills of miracle, and have kicked in already. “Feel.” She presses two freezing fingers to your cheek, and you gasp, flinching away from her.

“There’s a teething ring downstairs, you know,” you tell her. She shrugs. Maybe it isn’t clean. “Don’t give yourself frostbite. I happen to quite like your fingers.”

Alexia’s smirk is beyond suggestive, and her lips hit your neck once more with an entirely different heat to them. “Yeah?” You push her head away. “I bet it would feel good. Nice and cold.”

“You’re delirious.”

She continues to kiss you. “I don’t know what that means,” she mumbles into your neck, until her lips reach your face and she is near climbing into your lap – notebook long pushed onto the floor. “Dímelo en español.”

“No lo sé.”

“Ah. Una palabra inteligente.”

“Claro.”

She laughs into the kiss she presses against your lips. She never has never felt like this with anyone else. Never this relaxed, or loved, or safe. “Me vas a matar con tu inteligencia y voy a sentirme estúpida para siempre.”

“I love you,” you state softly. “I love every part of you.” Alexia, in that moment, decides to never do what she did with Jenni again, and to never break your heart by informing you of her betrayal.

…

You’re married.

You’re married to Alexia, a woman who bears the beauty of a goddess and the strength and will of someone who could capture the sun and tame the fire that rages on its surface.

You admire her as she sleeps so peacefully beside you, tanned skin warmed by the sunlight streaming in through the large windows of the hotel room. Later, you will get on the ferry, go back to Barcelona, and then fly to Capri for three days alone before Alexia’s preseason starts. Aside from a few meetings with Dave, you theoretically aren’t swamped with anything. You’ll be joining her in her city with Nico with a bit more permanence than last time.

Alexia buries her face in the covers, crawling into your open arms the minute the sunlight rouses her. “Everything is sore,” she groans, her bare skin slightly sticking to yours, the sweat from last night not yet gone.

“What happened to ‘mi vida, one more time won’t hurt’?” you tease, impersonating her heavy accent over your English with enough drama to get her to elicit another grumble. This time, it’s something about being bullied. “Darling, we have to get up. We’re having breakfast with our parents, and apparently Nico has been upset that we got a night to ourselves.”

“Pobrecito,” she replies with a newfound level of English sarcasm. She spent the wedding reception avoiding the dance floor, engaged in a long conversation with your father. The topics spanned over most areas of life, and briefly touched upon how you are doing now. Alexia, with much pleasure, confirmed the improvement, however miniscule it has been. She is very proud of you, and he is too. “I only want one thing for breakfast.”

Her hands begin to roam, the band of her wedding ring hitting your pubic bone. “Mi vida, one more time won’t hurt,” she mocks you from before but in her sexier, Spanish husk, sucking at your collarbone, straddling your waist.

You replace your near moan with a thoughtful hum. “I really want pancakes. Do you think they’ll make me some?”

Downstairs, where it is brighter and impossible to conceal the hickeys on both of your necks, you greet your parents, brother, Anya, and Gio. Alexia’s mother, her sister, and Jenni are sitting at the table, too. Your baby is pretending he isn’t teething, and grinning like an angel.

“How’s married life?” Anya asks as you take a seat opposite her, Alexia to your right. The table has a gradient of bilingualism, but Gio discovered that she picks up Spanish quite easily considering she can already speak one romance language. “We’ve already found, like, four articles talking about it.”

“How?” you ask, but you are not offended.

Gio shrugs. “Drones, I guess. Nothing bad, though. Some speculation about the other bride – if the article does mention that. Most talk is on the dress.” It was a bloody good dress. “And I suspect that there’ll be a juicy little question about who was your Maid of Honour.”

“Don’t be salty,” you tell her. The MOH issue was sorted out years ago – perhaps 2015 – when you binged Friends together despite having watched it thousands of times before. Anya has been yours, Gio will be hers, and you will be Gio’s. And they say trios never work.

“I left Mia with her dad for this.”

“You shouldn’t have had a baby with a man-slag,” Anya says with a snort, enjoying her second mimosa and Gio’s grimace at the idea of her daughter having to put up with her father’s revolving door of one-night-stands. “You’re one to make terrible decisions. At least our girl over here’s married someone who looks at her like she’s hung the moon.”

Alexia turns to you with a smile, as if on cue, with Nico in her lap. You glance at his rounded cheeks and shining eyes, looking back up at your friends as though to check they are still there. Alexia leans forwards so that she can whisper in your ear. “Te amo. Nico, también. Mi familia es perfecta.”

…

Returning to Barcelona comes with one negotiated condition on your part. You buy a bigger apartment, where there is space for an office and extra bedrooms. Alexia says her teammates will be taking the piss out of her grand new place the minute she sees it, but she is more than content to contribute to the finances with her new-and-improved salary for this season. “It’s weird to think that I’m from Mollet,” murmurs Alexia, standing in the middle of the large lounge area, surrounded by boxes. Most are from your old flat, but a few have been flown in from London. Alexia wanted you to have your Grammy with you. “This place is so fancy.”

“It’s half of what the men’s team get,” you remind her, holding Nico with care as he gnaws away on a frozen carrot. His saliva drips onto you, but the antidepressants are working, and the therapy has been effective enough for you to start taking childcare in turns. (You had tried to previously, but Alexia wanted you to focus on yourself, knowing that things will change for all of you once the season started.) “Hey.” You place your hand on her shoulder. She tickles Nico’s chin. “We deserve this. You deserve this. Why don’t you host one of your team’s dinners? I’ll take Nico round to your mum’s – God knows she’d love to shove some food down my throat, too.”

She shakes her head, strands of brown unstraightened due to the stress of the move and falling out of her bun with a determination to defy her hair bobble. “They would kill me if I did it without you. They’re all far too grateful that you invited Taylor Swift to our wedding.”

“She’s a friend.” If you hadn’t been distracted by various other happenings that night, you’d have clocked that Alexia’s side of the guests were completely up to their ears in celebrities they’d never expected to meet. “Okay, so do you want me to stay here?”

“I always want you to stay here,” she answers.

“Not what I meant.”

“I won’t take it back.”

Nico babbles an incoherent yet cutely Spanish-y noise, though his words are getting closer to being said at the old age of eight months. Then, suddenly, something in him clicks. “Mama,” he squeals, his little fist scrunching up the fabric of your t-shirt. “Mamama.”

“Nicolau!” Alexia replies with just as much enthusiasm, cupping his cheeks. She kisses his nose, and then his forehead, and then his chubby knees and socked feet. “Nicolau, sí, la mama et té a las mans! Bon noi, el meu bon i intel·ligent noi.”

“Does that count?”

“Mama,” Nico repeats, tugging your earlobe. “Mama. Mama.” It is easy to forget about the (lessening) resentment you harbour when he speaks. Alexia gets him to say it as many times as she can before he goes back to his carrot, but, even then, the two of you stay in that spot, marvelling at your creation.

Slowly, she turns around in a circle, absorbing the plain walls and towers of boxes. “This is going to be good. Life is going to be good,” you declare with such a firmness that it has to be true. “Darling, let’s get to unpacking and then we can think about a date for this dinner party.”

“We are going to plan the party?” She raises her eyebrows at you. “Is this party going to start at five o’clock?”

“Not all of us shit yellow and red.” (In a national sense – you’d have haemorrhoids for United any day of the week.)

Alexia takes Nico off you, in a show of cultural dominance. You’re actually outnumbered, considering he isn’t a British Citizen, and though he shares no DNA with your wife, he has inherited the same ability to narrow his eyes just enough to serve absolute cunt whenever he so pleases. If you weren’t feeling so ganged up on, you’d be a little impressed. “Nico y yo vamos a hacer croquetas de jamón. Adiós.”

“Darling, the kitchen isn’t–” But you cut yourself off, deciding that she can discover that on her own, along with the criminally empty fridge. You don’t hide your smugness at all when she finds you in your almost-finished bedroom, wearing a look of utter disappointment and mumbling out a heartbroken request for a food delivery as soon as possible.

…

November marks three years of being together and, also, four weeks of having Alexia’s ‘DNA’ – a pomeranian called Nala, whose Instagram account is run by her favourite parent after you called it silly and told your wife you’d much rather attend to your own seventeen million followers.

Towards the end of the month, after a well-spent morning and then a family outing to Barcelona Zoo, Alexia meets Jenni Hermoso in a restaurant in what Jenni calls ‘your new rich-people neighbourhood’ in her text to Alexia.

Alexia, really and truly, is happy to have her best friend back in Barcelona. She missed her last year, when Jenni had returned to Atleti, and that separation maybe made what happened the night Spain was knocked out of the World Cup just that bit more understandable. “You’re a Culer, no matter how hard you try to fight it,” Alexia had said when she had climbed back into her own bed, not wanting to fall asleep in Jenni’s arms. “It was terrible to not have Y/n or you.”

You and Jenni: Alexia’s people.

“How’s your wife?” Jenni asks with a grin, two glasses of wine into a pleasant evening at an expensive restaurant. “You’ve left her with Nico, so something must be working.”

In truth, you have been determined to get better. There were articles released not long after the photos of your wedding were circulated, and those speculated a lot about how you are finding motherhood. The baby pictured, captured by long-range lenses and invasive drones, was the world’s first glimpse at what Nico Putellas L/n looks like, and reminded many of them that you had a child to care for when in London, yet were frequently spotted at nightclubs and parties. You rise to most challenges, however, and find it a lot easier to adapt to weekly therapy sessions and pills every morning when you have a wrongful image to disprove.

“It’s as if it never happened,” Alexia says, both with pride and surprise. “She now seeks to spend time with him. She takes him with her to the recording studio – the album’s coming along well.” It’s your first on your own. Nico plays with one mixing desk, while Dave (flown in from London with the promise that the Barcelona sun will do wonders for his wife’s misery) plays with another. “And… Jenni, we’ve been talking. The clinic that we used for Nico asked us if we wanted to reserve sperm when we first had him, and now they have called asking if now is a good time. I think… I think that she is really considering it. She told me yesterday that her therapist wants me to sit in on the next session, so we can go over how we can make this time different.”

Jenni frowns, which is not what the woman opposite her had expected at all. “Why are you two having more children? You’re only twenty-five, Ale. Isn’t this going to affect your career?”

“The men do it all the time.” She’s done a spot of research. They are younger than her when their girlfriends start getting pregnant, and they continue to play with the added admiration that they are fathers as well.

“Yes, but they have the benefit of getting paid millions. They don’t have to fight with their federation for pitches or pay, and they can focus on football without their career sparking controversy for even existing.”

“Then my children will grow up with a mother who fights for change.”

“Or they grow up with a pop star who only wants things she cannot have and a footballer who can’t spend any time with them because she is too busy speaking at various conventions so that the next league match isn’t cancelled.”

“Jenni, do you think your opinion would be different if Y/n was a man?”

This elicits laughter from the other woman, who rolls her eyes in a way that can only be described as condescending. “Alexia, you’re forgetting that I’m a lesbian too, which is a magnificent feat.” Jenni references the kiss they shared, and what happened after that. “But, no. I don’t. I want you to be the greatest footballer in the world, and you want that too. What are you going to do when Y/n tells you she wants to move back to England? Are you going to give up your future here for her?”

The waiter interrupts briefly, collecting their empty plates and carting them off with a mission to retrieve the bill after a sharply declined offer for the dessert menu. “You don’t even know if that will happen,” Alexia scoffs, though she is a little sad that her exciting news hasn’t been well-received. “I was going to say that I’d think about the name Jennifer if it ends up being a girl, but now I’m leaning more towards María…”

She is kicked under the table, and she has to hold in her cry of pain because this restaurant is one of your favourite places to eat. “Mapi cannot have this victory over me. She’d be insufferable. Ale, you simply aren’t allowed to do that.” There’s another kick, but it is more playful this time.

Alexia laughs, smiling and thankful that the tension has diffused. “I’m only joking. Y/n has a list scribbled in the back of her lyric book. She’ll probably be called Elena.” That is much more acceptable to Jenni’s ears, and she files that information away for next year, when she’ll tell Mapi that Alexia doesn’t like her name.

…

It works. Alexia and you are lucky. The doctor tells Alexia that, if she were a man, the two of you would have to be extremely careful. Your wife marvels at your ability to destroy your body and stay fertile, but she supposes that you are not the kind of woman to be a lesbian. Sometimes, she wakes up in a cold sweat, believing that you have changed your mind and left her.

The New Year is a fresh start. Alexia decides to fix the (not so) hidden cracks in your relationship. She confides in her newly-acquired therapist. She may have made a mistake once; the secret is sandwiched between her worries about your susceptibility to depression and how Nico is a decided food critic.

Though the therapist, a lovely bilingual woman named Sofía, raises her eyebrows, she does not pry. She slides a paper calling card over to Alexia. The paper squeaks along the coffee table between the two comfortable armchairs of the office. “I specialise in couples. Seeing as your wife is already a client of mine, I think you should consider a joint session.” Alexia is new to the idea of mental health. Before, she had been too focused on football to care about it. Even when her father died, any professional she spoke to was only hearing how her mind worked because she knew it was what was best for her performance. “And, Alexia.” She looks up at the therapist with a small, nervous smile. “Congratulations on the pregnancy. I am sure Nico will make a wonderful older brother.”

Morning sickness drags you out of your shared bed most days.

Alexia asks you about couples’ therapy when you have finished your dry-heaving one morning.

“I mean,” you begin before pausing, gulping down the sour taste in your mouth and hoping nothing else is trying to hit the toilet water until tomorrow. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” She is dressed in her training kit, but she slings her jumper over your shoulders as soon as you shiver. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“It would do no harm.” As long as Sofía does not bring up Alexia’s confession, your statement will ring true. “You book the appointment. It’ll be easier to work around your schedule that way.”

“When are you flying back to London?” Her question is not filled with hatred for the city, but with resignation to the fact that your job involves you being stretched between here and there.

“Not until next month. I thought that I could take Nico to an away game with my dad if I got a flight for Saturday. The rest of the week would be interviews and photoshoots.”

“How’s the album doing?”

So far, your songs are only written when Alexia has paid you enough attention to swirl your thoughts and blur your vision. It is in these moments that the lingering, sinking weight inside of you dissipates. “Dave remains hopeful. It won’t fail, but I need it to be better than what we currently have.”

Shamelessly, Alexia is aware of her effect on your songs. She smirks; “Alba has been begging to babysit, you know.” With no care for your current state, Alexia’s eyes rake up and down your body. You grow embarrassed by how you are slumped over the toilet, and how she is standing above you as though she runs your world. “You look beautiful, mi amor,” she murmurs as you bashfully duck your head between your bent arms.

“You’re a flirt.” It feels too late for her to still be in the flat. “And you’re going to miss training if you don’t get a move on. There are eggs in the fridge, and Nico definitely liked the omelette you made him a few days ago. He’ll be waking up soon.”

A small sigh escapes the midfielder’s lips, but the prospect of the things she loves most in the world appearing in her life consecutively is enough to convince her to pad her way out the bathroom, swanning into the corridor with a little grin on her face as she sings out ‘bon dia’ to an impressively multilingual toddler and heads into the kitchen with the domestic intention of getting breakfast started. She leaves an omelette out for you, which you attack shortly after Alexia and Nico disappear into their daily routine. She drops him off at preschool, and you pick him up a few hours later, taking him first for lunch with Alba, and then to the studio.

You come home to a showered Alexia who is memorising her most recent match. She lets Nico slide into her lap without hesitation, but she stays focused on the football even when he tugs on the strands of hair falling out of ponytail. You marvel at the idea of having enough room in your heart for so much love. You decide that you are not like Alexia, though it is not necessarily a terrible thing. A further observation from watching your wife settle her son with a calm, muttered Catalan telling-off, coaxing him into loving football as though he does not already, is that you are so very content with your life at the moment.

But 2020 kind of sucks.

For the entire world.

You’re cut off from your home in any other manner than a digital one, and being stuck in a luxurious penthouse in Barcelona isn’t the worst fate, but it really isn’t ideal.

Elena, however, has the benefit of coming into the world with ever (physically) present parents, who could recite the java script for Zoom given that they spend hours on therapy calls. Elena, bright and smiley and the picture of her mother, spends the first few months of her life in a happy, happy family, protected by an entire football team and a fierce older brother. (And a yappy Pomerianian called Nala.)

“Y/n doesn’t like the name María,” Jenni tells Mapi when Alexia sends the first picture of your new addition to the Barcelona group chat.

“The next baby is going to be a Jennifer,” Mapi says, to both the forward and the unimpressed midfielder walking a few paces in front of such a silly conversation. “For that, I can only feel sorry for her.”

…

The routine changes the following year.

It starts with an abrupt but expected conversation. One that Alexia has been dreading.

Your album – the first one that is just you – was released two months ago, and it has done too well. Selfishly, Alexia had hoped it would fail. You have enough money, and she is earning more and more each season. Success, unfortunately, means that this little life can no longer exist. Or can it?

“I have to do it,” you whisper to her, tears in your eyes though the smell of sex still lingers. The quietness of a child-free apartment allows for you to hear her gulp. “It’ll be different this time, darling, but I can’t be here anymore. I can’t fly out to London every few days. I can’t leave you with a five-month-old and a toddler when you are training every day and playing matches every weekend. It’s not fair on anyone.”

Alexia kisses your bare shoulder, hands slipping round your waist as she pulls your sweaty body into her. Her chest presses against your back, but she is only behind you in this bed. She does not agree with you. She does not support it. But, like she always does, she bites her tongue. “If that’s what you want,” she replies, and part of you dies with the thought that she does not really care. “I love you. I want what’s best for you. For us.” And she tells Jenni all about it when she goes to see her a week later – the flimsy excuse of meeting a childhood friend for dinner enough to wrap a cloth around your eyes and leave you at home with a screaming toddler and a baby whose only flaw is that she grows distraught the moment she is put down.

In the dimly lit living room, the tension hangs thick in the air. You lock eyes. “Why can't you just move with us? Everyone will want you, darling, and life would be easier,” you plead, a month down the line. The house in Highgate has been readied for your more permanent return.

Alexia takes a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “Why can't you get it into your head that I'm not leaving Spain or Barcelona? This is my home.”

“What about the children? School? Life? My career? Does it mean nothing to you?”

Her eyes soften. Your heart breaks, and the piece of you that has already died somehow dies again. “I'm thinking of the children. All the time, I think of them. About the reputation of my name – their name. Putellas, the greatest in the world, or Putellas, the one with potential wasted at West Ham?”

“You're being selfish, Lex,” you snap. “This is an opportunity for all of us, not just me. Think about their future!”

“Their future is here, in the culture they know, the languages they speak. I won't strip them of their identity for the sake of a 'better' life. And my career? I've worked too hard to build what I have here. I won't throw it away.” I don’t want to throw it away. Underscored by Don’t leave me again.

The room echoes with the weight of her voice. “Their identity comes from both of us.” It’s too final for either of your liking. Elena begins to cry in her cot. “I want to try it. I want you to be open to trying it.”

She gestures to the suitcases by the door. “Trying it and doing it are two different things. You’re taking them from me!”

“You’re probably going to love life without them anyway!” you shout. You feel like the crying baby, except the tears rolling down your cheeks carry much more suffering than hers. “You’ll – what? You’ll go out with your friends, and you’ll be able to go to the gym whenever you want. No arguing, no crying, no toddler to entertain, no nappies to change. You never wanted children. I forced it upon you. I regret it, and I’m sorry. We’ll go.”

“Don’t go.”

I don’t want you to go.

“I have to.”

You turn your back to her as you fly through the corridor, prepared to console Elena in a taxi. Alexia slips her ring off her finger, and clutches it in her palm instead. Desperately, she searches for a solution. There is nothing within her reach, not even you.

…

She is an island amongst a sea of happy people. She is going to be the greatest footballer in the world. It kills her to realise that she can now focus on football.

Nico starts nursery, attending the same school you once did. He adjusts to life in London seamlessly, and Elena does not seem to care either way. He learns more English every day, and his other mother calls him nightly to read to him.

With childcare more than sorted, you are free to be interviewed, pictured, and invited to events. You rake in the publicity, especially after laying so slow over the course of the lockdown in Spain.

“Alexia.” Jenni’s hands knead her tight shoulders, partly teasing her. Alexia wears a frown, eyebrows knitting together with an emotion she’s not sure she can name. “Ale, it’s the same game as always. Nothing has changed.”

“I know,” she murmurs. “I don’t understand why I feel like this.” She has continued to speak to Sofía, though your joint sessions have now come to a halt while you spend your time doubling as a singer and model. The therapist, try as she might, cannot evaluate the situation effectively enough. Eli and Alba have both tried to help, hoping that weekly dinners and the constant reminder about the invention of aeroplanes would ease the turmoil of Alexia’s mind. It does not. “I am so alone, Jenni.”

Nala is too small to fill the emptiness of the flat. Screens don’t allow for her to kiss you, or play with Nico. She is scared she will miss Elena’s first words.

“You don’t have to be.”

It only takes a month for Alexia to break, and it sort of works.

In Jenni’s bed, it works. Hips keening, soft pants falling from her mouth.

Quiet moans that stay locked in Jenni’s apartment.

Each time Alexia leaves, though Jenni repeatedly requests that she stays, she walks out as half a woman. She blinks back her tears and she checks her phone. When she calls you – not a video call – you are never any the wiser to the scratches down her back.

Alexia remains an island, but the sand beaches are tainted with the arrival of someone else.

In this way, she is functional.

She can do sex. She can deal with borderline romance. She can fill the space that you are tearing open with every passing minute spent in that god-awful country you insist on calling home. She can fix it a little bit with Jenni.

She tells herself that it does not mean anything more than a bandage means to a wound. Who wears the bandage once the gash has healed?

Where does she put the used bandage?

Why is she focused on bandages?! She’s having an affair. It’s not an affair! (It is.) Alexia doesn’t… quite… wanttoadmititjustyet.

…

The buzz of your phone is the final push that gets you to conclude the current interview you are trapped in. Before checking what the notification is, you glance at the time. You have half an hour before you need to pick up Nico, and your parents said they would drop Elena home once they returned from London Zoo.

Alexia: Jenni has had a really good idea

It’s an intriguing text amongst the more practical ones that oil the mechanics of managing the distance. Tonight, Barcelona play their last match of the season. After this, she’ll be flying out to London. You have missed her. The last time you saw her in person was after Barcelona embarrassed Chelsea in Gothenburg. Elated and filled with pride, it was incredibly nice to have the biggest room in the hotel to yourselves. Her medal was almost as beautiful as her.

You: Go on…

Alexia: Just draw a heart on Nico’s hand from me porfa. You’ll see.

You slide into the driver’s seat of your newest self-indulgent car; a Porsche. Momentarily distracted by a camera flash, your turn onto the main road is a little risky, but you manage to make it to the school in time to collect your son.

“Was he good?” you ask his teacher as she hands you Nico’s book bag. You take in the sight of him: hair messy, school uniform stained though they require the little ones to wear aprons for most of the day. “It’s a little different here. I’m hoping that he’s enjoying himself.”

“Our new assistant is from Spain,” says the teacher with a small, tired smile, batting her long eyelashes at you. “We had to pry him off her.”

You let out a laugh. “He misses his mum.”

“He’s extremely intelligent. He knew to speak Spanish to her and English to us.” Though your grasp of Spanish is near-fluent after such reluctance from your wife to try English, you know that the two-year-old has a talent for juggling the three languages he is growing up around. You’re proud of him. “You shouldn’t worry about him. And, speaking of, we have a parents’ coffee morning just around the corner. It’s always great for the parents to get along – it helps the school feel even more like a family. Will it just be you attending?” Nico’s teacher is around your age, and you can smell her rose perfume that mingles with the soft hint of ready-mixed paint. She has deep, brown eyes, and she is definitely flirting with you.

“Next week, right? I’ll have to check with my wife.”

It’s then that a toddler-sized hand grips your fingers and tugs. “Mama, me voy,” he groans; something akin to Alexia’s impatience. It reminds you of when you used to go shopping and she’d herd you out with the threat of getting in the car and driving away. “Venga.”

“One sec, sweetheart.” There are countless ways in which you miss Alexia. “My wife and I would love to come.”

Her smile does not falter on her lips, but there is a greyish disappointment that dulls the warmth of her irises. You smile as you turn your back and lead Nico to the car. You are so excited for Alexia to complete the broken puzzle.

You melt when she kisses the heart drawn onto her hand when celebrating her goal. Nico copies her, lips pursing and sloppily mimicking the action on a similar heart. “For you, sweetheart,” you tell him as he settles back into your side, careful not to jostle Elena who has fallen asleep on your chest (the therapist did wonders for you).

“It was for you,” Jenni tells Alexia after the match. Her goal is now serving as the move Alexia feared she’d make. They have changed and been massaged and done the media the are required to do (women’s football is growing): they are free to roam Barcelona if they so wish.

Her flight is tomorrow evening – “I have a flight tomorrow evening.”

“Come over tonight.” It isn’t a question, yet it is not quite a command. Mapi passes the two of them, eyes narrowing at the way Jenni has wrapped her hand around Alexia’s wrist. The defender is aware that something is going on, though it breaks her heart to imagine Alexia ever doing that to you. Not knowing they are being watched, Alexia steps in; cups Jenni’s face, brushes her cheekbone with a stroke of her thumb Mapi knows is meant for her wife. Mapi’s stomach lurches. She feels sick.

“I need to…” It’s not a ‘no’. “Jenni.” She hates that it is not a ‘no’.

“Ale.” There’s a beat. Mapi blinks twice, shakes her head, and backs away. “I’ll miss you, you know?”

…

Jenni doesn’t seem to mind when, the next day, blurry pictures of you on a family outing make rounds through the tabloids she usually doesn’t read. The fact that, up until now, no one has known that your wife is Alexia Putellas has no effect on her. She was stupid for thinking the last six months meant something. Winning together, losing together. Sleeping together.

In this deal, Alexia has fucked over both women who love her. Except, you don’t know. She hasn’t told you, though Jenni had hoped for it secretly – hoped Alexia chose her – and it is obvious. Obvious to Jenni, who is well acquainted with the blonde hair in the wings of your concert at the O2. Obvious to Jenni, who refuses to think of herself as the other woman.

She consults Mapi.

Mapi, who she has come to shamefully realise already knows.

“I can’t believe the two of you.” The defender is clear in her distaste and disappointment and, honestly, her disgust. “But I am not going to be the one to break that poor girl’s heart.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

What is she asking? What does she want from this utterly useless conversation?

“Mapi.” Jenni closes her eyes, but she sees two faces instead of darkness. Nico. Elena. She’s Elena’s godmother. You decided that – convinced Alexia to choose her best friend over her younger sister, told your wife that there’d be another for Alba to corrupt. “Mapi, I love her. I don’t know what to do.”

“She loves her wife.” The next sentence proceeds to brutally remind Jenni who that isn’t. “Tell her you’re done. Find someone else. Anyone but her.”

That is Jenni’s resolve, because she knows that Mapi is right.

…

June, July, and August pass with bliss.

Everyone says that you are a beautiful couple with beautiful children. Alexia beams with pride as she flaunts her practised English, and gladly claims ownership of Nico when he wins a prize on speech day. Every child in Reception is awarded something but that doesn’t stop her from boasting.

She explores the country with the children while you shack up in the recording studio, and brings hugs and kisses (and Red Bull) every evening after dinner. The visits are what reminds you of the sun Alexia brings, especially as the warmth follows her from Barcelona and London is blessed with golden days. Dog days.

“This isn’t permanent.” Alexia looks up from her phone, comfortable in your bed. The house in Highgate has flecks of Spain woven into the decor now, and you like it that way.

You climb into the bed beside her, and her arm lifts so that you can snuggle into her chiselled stomach (wow, she has been working hard this season). “What’s Jenni saying?” you ask, following your statement and hoping you’ll get her attention. She presses her phone screen into the duvet before you can translate the message – it is too long of a paragraph for you to handle. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that this isn’t permanent.”

Alexia, over the past few months, has been the most affectionate, loving, amazing person with the same smile and giggle you married. You thought she had disappeared and was replaced with stern, career-focused Alexia Putellas, jugadora del fútbol. You were wrong.

“I’m thinking January is when we’ll come back. Nico’s English will survive.” Your parents are going travelling. They’ve never been on the Orient Express before. “I want to be with you.”

It is a good thing Jenni has just broken up with her.

“I love you,” you continue. “So much.”

Alexia hums. Her heart breaks, and she does not know for whom. “¿En serio?” She is happy, she thinks. Certainly, she is glad that the four of you will be reunited.

You are.

January 2022 ruins things for Jenni Hermoso. She calls Pachuca back.

#barca femeni #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #fc barcelona #woso imagines #mapi leon #jenni hermoso #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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tojisbbg · 1 year

Text

𝙗𝙤𝙧𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙚

❝come and take a walk on the wild side, let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain; you like your girls insane.❞

♡ geto suguru ♡

a/n: was listening to this song earlier and it reminded me of him. 😞 i know there's been a lot of angsty shit on my blog recently, but i promise new content soon! how we feeling about a tattoo artist!geto smutfic? 👀 lmk in the comments!

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

content: geto suguru x fem!reader, takes place after geto becomes a silly little cult leader, spoilers (slightly, i changed up some stuff), angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, a little long 'cause i got carried away lol, not edited.

---

"y/n?! weren't you on a business trip?" gojo gasped, your sudden appearance made everyone's heads turn, including his.

however, gojo's words flew over your head, frozen in your tracks as your eyes widened. it really was him, his hair was much longer than the last time you saw him which was... ten years ago.

"suguru.." you breathed out, feeling your backpack that was slung over one shoulder slip off and fall to the ground. you felt your body tremble, his eyes meeting yours as they never wavered.

without any hesitation, you began to walk forwards, pushing past the sea of higher-ups that were grouping around behind gojo. you were about to walk past the tall white haired man as well, only to be halted as he grabbed your wrist.

"don't. he's not the same suguru that we once knew, y/n. don't let your emotions conflict with you, he's a threat to jujutsu high." gojo sternly said, his other hand lifting the bandages of one eye as he looked down at you with a begging look.

you looked up at him with a glare, a frown painted on your lips.

"let go of me, satoru." you calmly replied, making him thin his lips before a heavy sigh left his mouth.

"y/n-"

"i said to let go." you spoke through gritted teeth, twisting your wrist in his hold before ripping out of his grasp. the crowd gasped at your actions, you could hear principal yaga and gojo yell your name, but all of that just sounded like white noise.

you were blind and deaf to anything that wasn't related to the man in front of you. geto looked at you with an amused grin, watching your wobbly legs walk up to him without a single care for your safety, as you were now just a few inches away from him.

you noticed how his eyebags got darker, his eyes that once shimmered with joy were now replaced with nothing but emptiness and tire. it made your throat swell up, feeling it burn as tears stung your eyes.

"you grew out your hair, sugu." you said, though your voice was as soft as a whisper, allowing only geto to hear. you brought up a shaky hand and caressed the long and silky smooth ebony locks. he allowed you to touch it, humming in response.

"i didn't have the time to cut it." geto bluntly responded, onyx eyes looking down at you as you never once broke eye contact with him.

"busy?" you casually asked, earning a nod from him.

"killing people, right?" you added a follow-up question, which you knew the answer to, but all these years you were still in denial about it.

you heard it all over the news, read it on the paper and yaga himself told you. yet, still in your heart you believed that he was innocent and that it was nothing but a mistake or someone trying to frame him.

you knew geto like the back of your hand, he was gentle, calm and soothing. he reminded you of a soft, gentle spring rain shower in the middle of the night.

however, all of that hope would soon come crumbling down as you saw him smirk.

"how'd you know?" his tone dripped with nothing but sarcasm and malice, setting off goosebumps all over your body.

"you're lying to me! i know you'd never do this, suguru. i've known you for years. who's behind all of this? there's still time to fix everything!" your voice trembled, clammy palms coming up to cup his face as your thumb dragged along the soft skin of his cheeks.

"fix? there's nothing left to fix, y/n. everything that you heard was true, i killed that entire village. matter of a fact, it didn't stop there. i killed more and more and even more people all these years!" he laughed like a maniac, making your heart rate increase, feeling his larger hands cup yours.

"stop... please, stop." you sniffled, tears streaming down your face, which made him frown.

"why are you crying? isn't this what you wanted to hear?" he asked with faux sympathy, his thumb brushing away your tears as you looked at him with glossy eyes.

"i missed you so much. every night, i prayed that one day you'll come back and say that everything was a lie. and here you are now, telling me all of this bullshit! why, suguru?! why did you leave??" you yelled at him, not caring about your safety at that moment, knowing that he wouldn't dare to lay a finger on you.

"it's simple, y/n. i'm creating a world where us jujutsu sorcerers can live peacefully without these filthy monkeys." geto tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his words making your stomach churn with sickness.

yet, this was your last attempt in trying to convince him. who knew when you'd ever see him again? if he disappeared for ten years without a trace, then perhaps your next encounter with him might be too late.

without thinking, you closed the distance between you both, burying your face in his kimono as he let you embrace him without any protest.

he still smelled of the same fragrance that you bought for him in your teen years. you cried on his chest, gripping onto the fabric as your arms tightened around him.

"please, don't leave me again. come back to us, suguru. we'll find a way to fix this, i promise. i'll help you!" you tried to persuade him, feeling his chest take in a huge supply of air before breathing it out. suddenly, you felt him pull you away from him.

your breath hitched when you saw his face morph into a scowl, his fingers grabbing a hold of your jaw to look at him dead in the eyes.

"come back? come back to what, huh? my execution or that terrible life that i abandoned ten years ago? it's time that you realize that things aren't the same for us anymore, y/n. i am no longer on your side, we are enemies now. your sweet sappy talk won't work on me, i'll proceed with my plans no matter what. and if you get in my way—" he harshly spoke, each of his words stabbing you in the heart multiple times, making it bleed and cry.

"i'll kill you." geto's eyes darkened, his tone dropping an octave lower as you gulped. he let go of you, walking back to the huge bird that you assumed was his form of transportation.

"i'll see you all on the night parade of a hundred demons! bye-bye~" he sang out, waving at everyone as the bird took off. you watched him grow smaller and smaller into the distance until he was no longer visible to your eyes.

your knees felt like jelly, no longer being able to support your weight before collapsing. you sat on the cold cemented ground, tears dropping onto your thighs as you sobbed. you could hear distant murmuring which belonged to the higher-ups, probably snickering about your unacceptable behavior today towards a traitor, but you couldn't have cared less.

he was your suguru, your best friend.

he's the only person who's ever made your heart flutter and make you feel like the world's cruelty didn't seem so bad when you were with him. in a never ending void, geto was your comfort.

you heard footsteps nearing close to you before feeling a hand on your shoulder. you turned to your side, being met with the familiar cerulean eyes.

"come here." gojo softly said, pulling you into his embrace as you cried on his shoulder, feeling his arms wrap around you.

"it's so unfair! so fucking unfair, satoru!" you choked out, feeling him stroke your back in a comforting manner.

"i know... i know, y/n."

---

it's been about two weeks since the incident, you were on mandatory house arrest while the higher-ups further investigated your loyalty towards jujutsu tech. not that you minded, in the end, you knew you'd slip out of these accusations because gojo satoru existed.

and yaga knew you as if you were his own child.

nonetheless, you treated your little 'punishment' as a well-deserved break. long before the incident, you've been quite literally abused with never ending missions, the majority of them shoving you overseas since gojo couldn't go on them frequently due to his students.

you'd occasionally see him, but it was like on a rare moon. you worked full-time and overtime as a sorcerer.

what a hassle.

night had fallen, you glanced at your window which was slightly opened to let in the cool spring breeze. you could hear the faint sound of the sky rumbling, storm clouds slowly grouping together.

"looks like it'll storm tonight." you mumbled to yourself, walking towards your window as you closed it along with the curtains. a few seconds later, you heard a knock at your door.

who'd pay you a visit at this hour? it's nearly a little past midnight.

regardless, you pushed your thoughts aside and went ahead to open the door.

"oh, shoko?" you called out, your tone a little surprised in seeing her so late, assuming that she'd be long knocked down by sleep.

"mhm, mind if i come in?" the dark brunette asked, taking one last drag of her cigarette before throwing it on the floor, crushing beneath her foot.

"no, of course not!" you gave her a smile, stepping aside to let her enter your house.

"so, what was that whole romeo and juliet incident involving you and suguru about?" shoko chuckled at her own joke, making you sigh.

"so you've heard." you replied, making her hum.

"i did. you know, i'm a little hurt that i didn't hear it from your mouth instead. those shitty higher-ups really have a way with their words, and it's not poetic." she snickered, making you scoff.

"they always exaggerate shit." you grumbled, balling your hands into fists.

"mhm, so, i need to hear it from you now." shoko took off her white coat before tossing it to the side, plopping on your couch as she patted the empty seat next to her. you took in the offer, sitting down as you looked down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers.

"i.. he-" you could feel your words starting to get stuck in your throat, the memory of that day washing so vividly clear in your mind, making you feel sick. shoko attentively watched you, a long pause embracing your lips.

"you know i trust you, right y/n?" she suddenly blurted out, making you look up at her with wide eyes.

"huh?" was the only thing that left your lips, a little astonished to hear it from the lips of the woman who was left to cope with everything by herself after geto's departure.

it was cruel and uncalled-for, after all, the four of you were best friends. but, life happened and it was a harsh split.

"if i were in your place, i'd feel the same and i know satoru felt the same too. he's just too ignorant to come to terms with his emotions. so, tell me." shoko offered you a small smile, comfortingly rubbing your back as you told her everything.

"ah, i see. i've gotta say, you got some balls, y/n." she giggled, making your face turn red.

"that's not the case, my body just led without my control." you defended.

"hm, you must've gotten a harsh earful from principal yaga." she leaned back in the sofa, hazel eyes meeting yours.

"yeah." you thin your lips.

"are you serious right now, y/n?! you're one of my most trusted students, a senior and mentor at jujutsu tech! how could you act so rash and stupidly like this?! it makes no sense, i'd rather have it be satoru than you. do you know how much of a dangerous position you're in now? they're investigating you because of rising accusations that you might be suguru's accomplice. they're questioning your loyalty and if you're possibly another traitor like him!"

yaga's words rang loud and clear in your head, making you scowl as you slumped back.

"you're still in love with suguru, aren't you?" shoko suddenly blurted out, making you choke on air as your eyes widened.

"what?!" you gasped, a little mortified at how she knew.

"i'm not stupid, y/n. you were so painfully obvious back when we were teens and it seems like nothing has changed now either." she smirked at you, watching how your body was fidgeting as you tried to think of a quick lie.

but, you soon gave up, not having the energy or will left to care about covering up your stupid crush. you nodded your head, not meeting her eyes as you were afraid of being teased.

you've kept this little secret of yours hidden for over fourteen years, but, now someone knew.

"shoko?" you absent-mindedly called out, being lost in your thoughts.

"hm?" she hummed in response.

"you're a doctor, right?" you stupidly asked, making her laugh.

"of some sort, yes." shoko played on with your words, even though you already knew the answer to it.

"then tell me how to stop feeling like this. i can't live knowing that he's suffering and being swallowed in a pit of self-loathe, blame and pity. i can't stop loving him, shoko." you looked at her with begging eyes, feeling tears pricking them.

"i'm a doctor who heals people's injuries, not a relationship therapist." she nonchalantly spat, her words smacking you back to reality.

"right." you said, tone laced with disappointment but you expected it. after all, there simply was no answer to your question, nor was there a solution to your problem.

"but, i can try." she gave you a cheeky smile, making you cock an eyebrow.

"how?" you asked, a little confused at what she was suggesting. shoko grabbed her coat, digging something out of her pocket as you watched her pull out a small card.

"what's that?" you asked with curious eyes, taking the card before examining it.

"suguru's number, well, it's his weird cult's main line. but, maybe it might come in handy. i don't know, do as you will with that information. i should get going before it rains." shoko smirked, looking at you with a playful glint before getting up and putting on her coat.

you walked her to the door as you watched her slip on her shoes, twisting the lock afterwards to unlock the door.

"you won't tell the higher-up or satoru about this, right?" you asked with a little caution, feeling a little uneasy.

"of course not, my time is pretty precious, you know? i'd never waste it on talking with those fools. oh and by the way, i never gave you this information. goodnight, y/n." she gave you a bright smile before waving at you as she walked out.

---

"hello, master geto suguru's assistant speaking, how may i help you?"

"uh, may i schedule an appointment with master geto? i've been dealing with sleep issues and would like to consult him."

"and what are these sleep issues like?"

"well.. um, of monstrous creatures, i think? and it feels like there's another entity residing with me."

"i see, well, you could come first thing in the morning tomorrow."

"ah, you see, these dreams tend to worsen at night. so, i was hoping if i could perhaps consult with him tonight?"

"at this hour? i doubt he would."

"could you ask, please? i'm willing to pay a pretty penny to him."

"please hold."

the line goes silent.

"he surprisingly agreed. master geto will be meeting you within the next hour at the location that will be texted to you."

"thank you."

---

your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you skillfully sneaked out of your house, avoiding all the cctv cameras. it was pitch-black outside, the only source of light was from the dimly lit street lamps as the moon was covered by the thick storm clouds. you decided to take a cab to the designated location, which was a park close to shibuya, not wanting to loop ichiji and waste time to create lies for your cover-up.

it seemed like you arrived first, leaning against a tree as you waited for him to come. your hands were getting cold and sweaty, your nerves were eating you away as well.

what if things escalated and got out of hand? you had no backup plan for a potential attack. your cursed energy is drained due to your fatigue, and geto is a strong sorcerer himself, it'd be difficult fighting against him.

all these last minute questions buzzed in your mind, making you slowly regret your rash decision to contact him without any proper precautions.

was this a bad call?

"so, i was right. it is you." you heard a familiar voice speak within the distance, footsteps nearing you as you looked up to see a figure inching closer to you. the faint light emitting from the street lamp allowed you to see the figure that was dressed up in a purple hoodie and green cargos.

geto stood in front of you, taking off his hood as you saw his disheveled hair from being shielded inside the hood. it seemed as if he grew fond of the new hairstyle of keeping a half-up do.

he knew it was you?

"but, how?" you asked, a little shocked at how you failed at being so discreet. you didn't even speak to him nor give a name to his assistant.

"it was a hunch." geto smirked with his eyes closed, shrugging his shoulder. you looked down at your shoes, your fingers playing with the hem of your t-shirt as you didn't know what to talk about.

"so, why'd you wanna see me? surely, it's not to exorcise curses." he cut straight to the chase, raising a brow as he looked down at you.

"i don't know." you blurted out, not meeting his eyes. it was true, you didn't know why you called his stupid cult to set up an appointment with him at like one in the morning.

you didn't know why your mind couldn't wait and think this whole plan twice. you had nothing in particular to tell him, it was clear that geto didn't agree with your plans of him returning to jujutsu tech.

"do you think my time is something to waste?" he scoffed, making you wince at the brazenness of his tone. you let out a sigh, finally looking up at him with a furious glint in your eyes.

"could you stop acting like that?" you balled your fists in anger, making him narrow his eyes at you.

"like what?" he bluntly spat out.

"like we're strangers! how can you just forget everything that we've been through, huh? you were my best friend, for fuck's sake! we went to school together, hung out almost every day, went on missions together, celebrated each other's birthdays. all kind of that crap! how can you just stand here and look at me like i'm nothing more than a mere bug that you could step over and move on with your life?" your voice trembled as you spoke out your feelings, but, your voice never once wavered. you made sure that each of your words were loud and stern enough to drill into his skull.

"you wanna know why, y/n? i'll tell you why. it's 'cause you don't mean anything to me. i've cut all my ties between everyone back in that school. you are nothing more than a stranger to me, actually, you're being quite a nuisance to me now." geto said in a monotone, words piercing through your heart as it made tears sting in your eyes.

"lies... you're lying! cut the bullshit, suguru. you promised me that when we're both together, we're the strongest. even stronger than satoru!" you bellowed, feeling the rush of adrenaline as your body was being overwhelmed with all kinds of emotions.

pain, anger, sadness and frustration.

nothing was making sense, he wasn't making sense!

"yeah? well, welcome to reality, y/n. i don't need you anymore to be the strongest. in fact, i don't need anyone!" he yelled back at you, his face now displaying an irritated expression, but you continued to push his limits. you cupped his face in your hands, thinning your lips as you saw his face relaxing to your touch, going back to his resting face.

"i know, suguru. you never needed me or satoru to be the strongest. suguru... mistakes happen, it wasn't your fault." you spoke to him in a soft voice, caressing his cheeks. his eyes widened at your words, looking at you with a puzzled look. you felt his hands creep up before wrapping over yours.

"don't you dare speak to me as if you know everything. god, you disgust me." he roughly shoved your hands off of him, making you gasp, as it wasn't your intention to offend him. geto looked at you once more before turning his heels, walking away.

"sugu-"

"i'll let it slide this time, but i can't promise to be this generous if there's a next time. let's never meet again, y/n. unless... it's for killing one another." geto spoke with a low voice, his face turning to the side as he looked at you through his peripheral vision.

your mouth was wide open, not believing how crudely he could say those words and prance off. you gritted your teeth, running towards him before harshly grabbing his arm, pulling him towards you with all the strength in your body.

"what the f-"

"i'm sick and tired of your bullshit. you act like the world revolves around you, like you're the only one who's been through shit. yet, when it comes to facing things, you're nothing but a fucking coward!" you glared at him, your grip on him tightening to make sure he can't break free. geto scoffed, using his free hand to grab your jaw, pulling your face closer to him before looking down. you squirmed in his tight grasp, but he didn't budge.

"oh yeah? my words must've hurt your little feelings, didn't they, y/n?" he pouted, faux sympathy laced within his tone.

"shut up! you know i'm right. the incident with riko and toji had a toll on all of us, but it struck you the hardest." you tried your best to speak coherently through your squished cheeks.

"it did. what about it? you never did anything and neither did satoru. i took my own matter into my own hands. that's not cowardice, it was a leap to another direction, my redirection. silly little girls who chew on their emotions like you won't understand my motives." he smirked, making you wince as he squeezed your jaw, your hands coming up in defense to peel them off.

"redirection? ha! don't make me laugh. you wanna hate toji for killing an innocent girl who you were supposed to watch over? it'd make you a hypocrite, 'cause what makes you any different from him now?" you gave him a grin, bullets of sweat running down your forehead.

"guess you do have a brain somewhere in that stupid head of yours." he grumbled, releasing you from his hold before turning around to once again leave.

even if it meant that you'd have to chase him to the end of the earth, you're more than willing to do so.

you lightly jogged behind him before catching up, now standing in front of him as you blocked his space. you could sense him slowly getting annoyed, hand dug inside his pocket.

"don't you know that it's rude to leave mid-conversation, master geto?" you threw in a slight tease, trying to ease up the situation, but that might've irritated him even more.

"seriously, what is your problem? move." geto sternly ordered, his patience running low. but you didn't bother lifting a single muscle, staring back at him.

"no."

"i'm gonna kill you."

"okay."

"i'm being serious, y/n. go home."

"no."

geto grumbled at your stubborn behavior, scratching his head as he didn't want to use jujutsu against you when he knew that you were bluffing around.

"fine! then what do you want from me?!" he was fed up, eyes boring holes into your body.

"i need answers. i want... no, i need you to tell me everything that you went through after that incident." you replied, eyes looking into his with determination and perseverance. geto's eyes locked with yours, your knees turning into jelly.

you tried to look for some form of truth in his eyes, but you only see nothing but a vast abyss. those same eyes that once twinkled on those hot summer days where you spent being a bunch of reckless teens doing stupid shit was gone.

suddenly, it began to rain. a few drops turned into pouring rain, making your clothes wet along with his. you saw him take in a deep breath before averting his gaze.

"goodnight, y/n." geto pulled up his hood in order to avoid his hair from getting wet as he avoided your request, deciding to walk in the opposite direction.

you stood frozen in your steps, not bothering to run after him. you watched him slowly get smaller and smaller in the distance, just like you did two weeks ago.

you felt your heart shattering to pieces, watching your best friend, and the person who owns your heart walk further towards the dark path. the sickening and thick feeling of guilt has always embraced you ever since geto left jujutsu tech for good, the feeling of being responsible for his outcome always washed over you.

you were his best friend after all, yet you failed him. you watched him spiral down to his downfall, still, you turned a blind eye. it was foolish, you were young and so stupidly dumb.

of course, you didn't know any better at the tender age of sixteen. hell, you didn't even understand your own emotions, let alone anyone else's. nonetheless, after that whole incident, there was a split between the connection you, geto and gojo shared.

gojo coped by training until he passed out cold on the ground, geto resorted to self-isolationism, and you?

you'd disappear to god knows where. it wasn't a lie that you were a very rash person, your decisions being impulsive. after you touched school grounds, you booked a ticket to italy and stayed there for a couple of weeks.

no one questioned it, none of your friends.

of course, yaga soon tracked you down and threatened you to either come back or else the outcomes wouldn't be in your favor if he had to go there to get you.

so, when you did come back, gojo seemed as if nothing ever happened. meanwhile, geto's condition looked extremely poor. however, you selfishly ignored the red alarms in your head and thought maybe he was still going through it and needed space.

not to mention that you haven't properly healed from that incident and seeing how satoru was doing a little too well, neither has he.

at that time, you didn't want to bring up those events nor even trigger those horrific memories for you or the others. the mere thought of it made you have an instant panic attack. so, you chose to ignore it and hoped that maybe geto could recover on his own.

but, that's where your mistake was.

you should've asked. you should've been by his side and tell him that it wasn't his fault. you should've been there for him.

all these should've and could've's, yet nothing could ever fix what was already broken.

which is why your decision was final. you already lost him once and you weren't gonna lose him for a second time.

you woke up from your trance, picking up your legs as you ran as fast as you could. surely he couldn't have walked that far in the span of five minutes. you ran like a lunatic in the pouring rain, your clothes sticking to your body. although your vision was blurry with a mix of your tears and the rain, you were able to make out his figure, which was leisurely walking at a slow pace.

without thinking twice, you crashed into his back as you wrapped your arms around his waist. you felt geto jolt from the unexpected impact, his body freezing on spot.

"what the fuck?" geto breathed out, his heart nearly exploding from the shock. he looked down and recognized your hands, exhaling in relief that it was just you.

"do you remember when you'd summon your stingray shikigami every time i'd whine to you about my feet hurting from a long mission?" you sniffled, your words slightly muffled into the cloth of his hoodie, but geto had keen ears.

"yeah, you were pretty aggressive about it too." he snorted, making you break out into a small laugh.

"i sometimes lied about my feet hurting. your stingray shikigami can't carry more than two people at a time. i wanted to spend time with you alone." you snuggled into his back, squeezing him gently in your arms to get impossibly closer to him.

you could vividly remember how you and geto would spend hours surfing the sky on the curse, overseeing different people and how they lived their normal lives.

"did you chase me all the way here to confess that?" geto laughed, making you let out a deep sigh as you loosened your grasp on him. this allowed geto to turn around, now facing you.

he took note of how beautifully destroyed you looked under the dimly lit streets. your hair sticking to your neck and forehead, cheeks rosey red, eyes puffed up from crying and lips swollen from biting them so much.

you looked up at him, his face now wet from the rain as his hood was long put down, his hair messy and wet as well. your heart bled little by little as you looked at his drained out face. in your mind, you thanked god that it was raining or else he could've seen how your tears were like a nonstop waterfall.

"i'm sorry." you choked out, looking at him with glossy eyes. geto raised an eyebrow, slightly confused at your sudden apology.

"what?" he asked.

"i'm sorry for being a horrible friend. i knew that you weren't holding yourself up well. when i came back, i saw how thin you got, your dark eyebags, those fake smiles... i noticed it all. yet, i didn't say anything because i was selfishly thinking about my own sanity. i'm sorry for not being there when you needed someone the most, suguru." your knees gave out, collapsing on the ground as you sat on your knees while crying into your palms.

geto's eyes widened at the revelation, unable to move a single limb as his brain tried to process your words. he never craved for attention nor did he ever raise a hand for help, but, he always hoped that someone saw through those fake smiles while he died a little inside every day.

and you did.

geto never resented you or gojo in the slightest when he chose his own path, it wasn't something he did out of hatred for you two or anything against anyone in jujutsu tech. it was his brain that twisted everyone's words, from toji's last words that were uttered to him along with yuki's ramble about sorcerers.

it was during the wrong place at the wrong time.

whether you were there with him or not, there was no saving geto suguru.

he crouched down to level with you, watching how your body shook as you cried uncontrollably in your hands.

"i don't hate you, y/n. and... whatever that i went through and the outcome of it isn't your fault either, so stop blaming yourself." geto spoke in a gentle voice, peeling your hands off of your face to look at you. with tear-filled heavy eyes, you opened them and looked at him through your fuzzy vision.

his voice was now like the suguru you used to know, so soft and honey-like. there wasn't any malice or anger rooted into his words or tone.

"i could've stopped you from leaving." you reasoned, choking on your breaths as you tried to calm down, wanting to hold a collected conversation now that he's willing to open up.

"i don't know about that." he thinned his lips, looking down at the cemented ground.

"everything fell apart after you left. satoru tries to hide his pain, but i could see right through him. he doesn't wanna talk about it. then shoko... she didn't even know the full story until much later and i don't think she's coping too well even now. everyone's a mess because you left, suguru. you were the glue that held us together." you confessed, making him pause for a second.

"and i wore off, yet, no one put me back together. this path that i chose—it was the only way i found relief. it held me together at my lowest, y/n." geto's voice shook, your throat going dry as you could see him slowly break in front of you.

"suguru." you called out his name, not even knowing how to respond to such heavy words. he stood back up while collecting his composure back, extending a hand to help you up. you accepted, the skinship between his flesh with yours sent electric shocks all over your body.

"i'm glad that even after all these years, you still have the heart to love and care about someone like me, y/n. however, if you met up with me tonight with the intention of trying to convince me to come back, then i'm sorry because it won't be happening." he gave you a sad smile before fixing your soaking wet hair that was sticking to your face. you shuddered at his touch, looking at him in disappointment.

"i know." you bit your lips, preventing a cry from escaping your throat. geto nodded at your acknowledgment.

"you should head home before you catch a cold, y/n." he spoke with genuine concern, making your stomach flutter. you chewed on your bottom lip, not wanting for it to end this way.

"run away with me, suguru." you suddenly blurted out, your own mind shocked at the suggestion that left your lips. geto's eyes were now the size of two full moons, his mouth wide open.

"what?" he gasped, completely flabbergasted at your ridiculous suggestion.

"i mean it. let's run away, together." you gave him a crazy look, holding his hands as you gave him an insane smile with pleading eyes.

"are you out of your mind, y/n? did you drink before coming here?" geto asked in shock, but there was no foul scent of liquor radiating off of your body or mouth.

you were completely sober and in the right state of mind.

"i can't watch you destroy yourself like this anymore, suguru. this path that you call your redirection is slowly killing you. i can see it in your eyes. you kill people not because it's fun or you want to, but because it's a coping mechanism from what you witnessed. if you go back to jujutsu tech, you'll be executed without hesitation. so, why bother living a life like this? let's start fresh somewhere else in this huge world." you explained your idea, as each word leaving your lips made you sound even more insane.

were you even thinking this through? you're asking him, a mass murderer, to runaway with you, one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers to be born in this era that's supposed to help humanity.

"you're willing to throw away your life for someone like me? no, i can't accept this." he shook his head, declining your offer.

"do you think this is a life that i want to live? a life where i'm chained to the responsibility of saving people, to fight life and death face to face every day, to pretend that everything's fine? i've reached my limit, suguru, and so have you." you argued, making him bitterly chuckle.

"do you have any idea how many people i've killed with these hands? if blood was thick enough to stain, my hands would be darker than red. do you still want to forgive a sinner like me?" he shamefully admitted, an attempt to make you disgusted of him or even burn in hatred.

he wanted you to loathe him for his crimes, to have an immense amount of resentment towards him. but, instead, you treated him like a delicate petal.

you brought his hands up to your face before kissing each of his palms. geto's eyes widened at your sudden action, not expecting you to react this way.

"i'll bear your sins with you. you're not alone anymore, suguru. i'll follow you into the deep pits of hell if i have to." you cupped your face with his hands, staring deep into his eyes with a determined glint, making him speechless.

that was the last straw, those very few words that you uttered to him in a matter of seconds was all that it took for geto's walls to come crumbling down. you watched his eyes well with tears before he bit his top lip to stop a painful cry from leaving his throat.

"it's okay, sugu. let it out." you encouraged, rubbing comforting circles on the back of his hand with your thumb.

"i-i.... i swear, y/n, i didn't take my eyes off of her even for a second. i even offered to take her away from the mission so that she could live a normal life. i didn't know when that shitbag entered, i didn't even sense him the slightest. one minute she was smiling and then... i see her on the ground bleeding." geto cried, trying his best to speak in between his sobs as you attentively listened to him. your heart shattered to millions of pieces as you watch him break down in front of you.

"i know, suguru. it's not your fault, come here." you closed the distance between you two, hugging him tightly as geto buried his face in the crook of your neck, the pouring rain continuing to rain on you guys with no mercy.

"satoru definitely blames me. i screwed up, y/n!" he added, making you shake your head as you disagreed.

"he doesn't, suguru. he knew the extremity of the situation and both him and i were nearly on the verge of death. it's not your fault, suguru. whether it was me or satoru in your place instead, riko would've died regardless." you comforted, stroking his hair as you tried to calm him down. he pulled back, looking at you as his eyes were now red and puffy from crying.

"i felt like i killed her and because i found no escape in that pit of guilt, i tried to derive relief by killing even more people. i.. i didn't even wanna kill them, but i did it for that feeling of finally being able to breathe. i can't do this anymore, y/n, i can't! absorb, exorcise, ingest, absorb, exorcise, ingest! i can't fucking do it anymore. i can't even enjoy a meal because of how pungent the taste is left on my tongue. the taste of curses, like a rag wiped with shit and vomit. i'm tired, y/n." he rambled, finally opening up about his true emotions. seeing him like this only broke you more, seeing him this panicked, scared and shame-filled.

he was just a kid.

"i know... i know, suguru. it must've been so hard on you and you've suffered enough. it's time to tap out and find happiness, sugu." you stroked his wet cheek, feeling him tremble under your touch.

"why would you do it for someone like me?" geto whispered, his voice cracking as a lump formed in his throat.

"because i love you, suguru. as my best friend and as a person. i loved you ever since we were kids. i can't live without you and i learned that the hard way through fourteen lonely and miserable years. me living a happy life is a life with you, sugu." you confessed your feelings, watching his eyes soften.

"i love you too, y/n." he smiled through his tears, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. your heart was filled with content, an overwhelming wave of emotions struck you.

you pulled his hood over his head before pulling his head down. leaning in towards his face, your lips just centimeters away from his. geto closed the distance between you two as he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you in for a kiss. your hands clutched harder onto the fabric of his hood, your lips perfectly molded against his soft ones.

you could taste a mix of the rain along with both of your tears, kissing him hard in the pouring rain. geto walked forwards with you still in his hold, your back now hitting against a tree as he pressed his body into yours. the warmth radiated off of him to you, making you whimper.

geto couldn’t wrap his head around this new feeling which set his soul on fire. his mouth was producing more saliva than usual, like how you’d salivate when you eat good food. the awful taste of curses no longer lingered on his tongue, instead, now replaced by the taste of your sweet cherry flavored lips.

it nearly made him cry.

he tilted his head, angling his lips to kiss you deeper and harder. you could feel his body shudder, lips shaky as he kissed you like this was his last time with you.

you let go of his hood, the wind blowing it down which made you tangle your fingers into his wet ebony locks. geto's tongue swiped against your bottom lips and you gasped, allowing him to enter his tongue.

the kiss was full of need and love, the both of you touching one another and pressing onto each other impossibly closer. you both finally pulled away, gasping for air as you looked up at him, a warm smile painted on his lips.

you went on your tippy-toes, pressing gentle kisses all over his face. you kissed his forehead, cheeks, the tip of his nose, his chin and finally; you pressed a tender and loving kiss on his lips. geto chuckled at your actions, enjoying the affection he was receiving.

"so, what do you say?" you asked once again, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. geto looked down at you, seeing how your eyes glimmered with anticipation and it warmed his heart to see how much you wanted this.

not for you, but for him.

geto gave you a cheeky grin, gently grabbing your chin before leaning down to press a kiss on your lips.

"let's run away, y/n."

---

"happy anniversary, y/n! open it, baby." geto eagerly encouraged, his eyes sparkling as he placed the small, neatly wrapped gift on your lap. you chuckled at your boyfriend's adorable behavior.

it's been about five years since you both left behind your tragic lives, finding escape in the peaceful city of venice in italy. you both left that night, in your sopping wet clothes, not even bothering to go back for your stuff because it'd be too risky.

these past five years were nothing but a dream that finally came into reality. no more curses, no more exorcisms, no more death or tragedy. you and geto were just two normal people living your lives.

sometimes you sit alone in your balcony and think about how your life did a whole three-sixty. all those lonely nights that consumed you with your own guilt, self-loathe and tire... was no longer an issue.

instead, you slept peacefully besides your lover, wrapped up in the soft silk duvet that smelled like a mixture of you and him, indulging in his warmth.

of course, it was never that easy in the beginning. you both still suffered from very traumatic dreams, especially geto. you'd wake up in the middle of the night finding him crying quietly or having a panic attack.

but, you were always there for him, holding him like a precious gem as you cradled him in your embrace. you stroked his hair, kissed his tears away and held him tight.

you healed geto suguru.

you spent five happy and peaceful years with the love of your life, as if you both started from a clean slate. they say that hair holds memories, so, geto cut his hair back into his shoulder-length wolfcut. you dyed your hair along with cutting it short.

both you and geto owned a small restaurant that was pretty famous with various japanese cuisines.

it was definitely a new beginning.

"oh my god! this is adorable, sugu!!" you squealed, nearly falling off of the gondola as you held up the bunny plushie before hugging it. geto looked at you with hearts in his eyes, watching his cute girlfriend gush over the toy.

"there's a surprise for you inside its carrot." he gave you a cheeky smile, making you hum in confusion as you examined the carrot. you noticed it had a little zipper, tugging it before shoving a finger inside.

you felt something thin and cold, like a ri-

your eyes widened at the realization, tears pooling in your eyes as you looked into geto's eyes. the familiar softness and adoration that he's always held for you shone through his beautiful onyx eyes.

"pull it out, my love." his voice was like a whisper, your tears streaming down your cheeks as you pulled out the gorgeous diamond ring.

"if someone were to ask me what is a moment in my life that i never regretted, i'd answer that it would be every moment that i spent with you. i don't think i'll ever be able to repay you for all that you've done for me, as my best friend and as my lover. you saved me, honey. because of you... i had a second chance to life. thank you for everything, y/n. i love you so much, so, so, so, much. there isn't enough languages nor words on this earth that exists for me to express my love for you. which is why i want to keep loving you until the end of time. will you marry me, y/n?" geto caressed your face, watching you give him a bright smile as you cried tears of joy.

"yes! make me your wife, geto suguru!" you yelled in happiness, surely to have piss off the italian neighbors who were trying to sleep at this hour.

but, you didn't care. you just got engaged with the love of your life.

geto chuckled at your reaction, slipping on the ring before pulling you in for a kiss. all of a sudden, you felt wet droplets on your head, making you both pull away and look at each other in shock.

"it's raining." you said the obvious, making geto smirk before once again pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"it's a sign that we're meant to be together forever, y/n." he smiled against your lips, making you giggle at his superstitious reasoning as you pecked his lips.

after your little date, both you and geto reached home, changing out of your wet clothes into pajamas. you walked outside the bathroom, watching your fiancé place down two hot cups of tea on the table before sitting down on the sofa.

you took in a moment to soak in the image of how gorgeous geto was. sometimes, you questioned if you even deserved to be with such a beautiful man inside out.

"so, you gonna stand there and watch me or come here to get a better view?" geto teased, patting his lap as your cheeks tinted red. you giggled, walking over to him before sitting on his lap, placing your head on his shoulder as you watched the diamond sparkle under the light.

"this is like your hundredth time looking at it, honey." you can feel the deep vibration of his laughter against your chest, making you hum.

"it still feels like a dream, a long dream that i never wanna wake up from." you admit, gawking at the ring before nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck, pressing soft kisses.

"this is our happy ending, y/n. it's just you and me, together forever." he whispered, making you smile as you raised your head to meet his eyes.

"that's all i need." you answered, kissing him on the lips.

geto stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, eyes twinkling with love and adoration. he couldn't get enough of your voice, your touch and your presence in general. you were the light in his life, the person who kept him sane.

you rested your head on his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist while he played with your hair. you listened to his heartbeat, feeling yours syncing with his as the gentle thumping sound lulled you to sleep.

"do you miss them?" geto suddenly asked, making you hum.

"yeah. do you?" you asked him the same question. you felt his chest heave before relaxing, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

"yeah." he softly answered.

"do you think satoru's married by now?" you thought out loud, making geto snort.

"i highly doubt it. he's too much of a manwhore." geto snickered, referring to how gojo was a player by heart.

"so were you! getting all the ladies back in high school. but, look at you now, stuck with me forever." you looked at him with a smirk, making him laugh before pecking the tip of your nose.

"that's 'cause you're the only lady my heart was meant for." he cheesily answered, making you squirm in his embrace.

"what about shoko?" you asked, since you were on the topic of your old friends.

"eh? hopefully with a boyfriend if lung cancer hasn't taken her out already." geto nonchalantly responded, making you gasp as you slapped his arm.

"suguru!" you scolded at his brash words.

"ow! i'm being logical." he winces, even though it wasn't a painful impact.

"i hope shoko's doing well. if it wasn't for her, none of this would've happened." you smiled, reminiscing back to that night when you last saw her.

"hm, you should give her a call then. i doubt she changed her number, she's too lazy for that." geto suggested, making your eyes widen.

"huh? wouldn't that be too risky?" you looked at him as if he grew two heads.

"probably not, i'm sure she predicted something like this." he shrugged.

"i'll see. i don't think satoru has changed his number either. you should give him a call in that case, suguru." you caressed his bottom lip.

"maybe. i'll see." he copied your answer, making you chuckle.

a lot has happened between these past five years, both you and geto took it one step at a time. maybe one day, you both can finally muster up the courage to catch up with your old friends.

but for now, no one else needed to exist in the world that you both created that was meant for you two only.

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dira333 · 3 months

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Behind the scenes of a Tumblr Writer - Tag Game

Hey there, I love behind the scenes and since this is something that's rarely talked about, let me start the chain... if you feel uncomfortable with a question, just skip it. You can add some if you want as well.

Started writing: I wrote my first Harry Potter fanfic at age 10. Started posting around 15,16 years old. I'm now 31, so...

Started blogging: I started on a German fanfiction site around 2010/11 I think. Might have been earlier too, but back then I was mostly reading, no posting. I really started when I got into One Direction (very late, tbh)

Followers: Currently at 961, which is wild to me. I don't even know that many people IRL. I convince myself that half of them are bots tbh, so I don't freak out all the time.

Communication: The people I talk to regularly are: a few writers who answered after I constantly reblogged and commented on their works and a few people who commented and reblogged my work. Writing and blogging on here can be pretty lonely, depending on your personality and the time you're active (I'm from Europe and a lot of my followers seem to be living in Northern America, so there's the Timezone thing) ... And I found that the best way to strike a conversation is to reblog, comment, and to not be shy. I do wish I got more asks, though....

Likes: I actually filter them out. I have 793 original posts up at the moment. It doesn't give me anything to know how many likes a fic has other than to tell me which characters are liked more than others or maybe that one fic does especially well. My activity only shows me comments, asks, reblogs with tags, and answers to my own asks. I live for the tags and the comments.

Requests: I love talking to people about ideas. That's how I started the plotbunny game because I have so many ideas and so little time. And sometimes an idea just doesn't want to be written out fully. Requests are fun because YAY, I get some mail... but then I freak out because I don't really know how to write this NOW and then I freak out because it's been a week already, two weeks, wait, two months? I'd rather have suggestions where people tell me vague things like "I'd love to read something about this side character" or "Have you ever considered this character with a soulmate trope"? because then I don't have the feeling of failing the request when I write it a little bit differently.

Writing: I am a fast writer. I know that's one of my talents. I can churn out a oneshot of 1k words in less than an hour. People read slower than I write. That can suck sometimes because you've just posted this and you want to know what people are thinking but they're not as fast as you are. I do have a lot of ideas. I want to write constantly but my brain doesn't always want to. I am trying to respect that.

There are also certain things that I just feel wrong writing. I cannot write anything suggestive (I also don't like reading it) and everything past that gives me panic attacks. I can hardly write mean characters and jealousy feels so wrong to me that I cannot write it. I've also overdone it with the soulmark trope and now I feel like everything I write about it feels lifeless.

I write best in the mornings before going to work, but I don't have much time there. I don't need special music (but it helps), but I need to have at least some energy left and at best, no distractions. But I have been writing for over 20 years, so I will say experience helps a lot.

Tagging: @revasserium @shoulmate @lemurzsquad @screamin-abt-haikyuu @toomanygoldfish @satorisoup @emmyrosee @reverie-starlight @alienaiver and @writingsofanomnivore and everyone else who wants to join

#tag game #writing game #behind the scenes #writing

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mr-spotatohead · 1 year

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-Inseparable.-

Welcome Home & Child!Reader Platonic.

Words: 3,470.

|Contains: Swearing. Slight Horror.|

Synopsis: You draw a lot, and you want attention from your mother, but she doesn't give you the attention you need. Until she puts on a show for you that caught your eye. And the main character gives you the attention you deserve.

You ran your hand across the white paper containing a green crayon. Your small, untrained hands made you pick up the crayon with your closed fist, scribbling on the paper with your grass-colored crayon. You were on your knees on the floor, with your toys and painting materials scattered around. You had your tongue out, concentrating hard on the work of art you were going to make.

"Uhum, yes, yes, I've checked that before." Your mother said in the background, her footsteps rushing, the sound of her shoes with a heel clicked against the floor. You continued drawing content to show the end result to your extremely busy mother. The cheap TV played in the background, it was something that didn't catch your attention.

You finished the drawing and got up awkwardly, happy to find your mother in the house, which was easy since she was right behind the couch. She was on the phone, her purse already in her arms, you approached her talking to her but she didn't hear you because she was already talking to someone else. She walked straight past you and made her way to the kitchen table, grabbing her car keys. You puffed out your cheeks. After being ignored, again. You walked back to the floor in front of the television. Your mother soon came close to you and bent down, placing a kiss on your head. "Sorry honey, mommy has to go out now. How about a cartoon for you to watch?" Your mother suggested already changing the channel, just watching the first thing that looked childish was enough. It was a cartoon. That was enough. You didn't even have time to show her your drawing because your mother already closed and locked the door. And left you alone again. Not that you cared, you're old enough to take care of yourself, and you are proud of it. But still, it was very disappointing not to have your mother's attention, all your drawings, all your work, your mother didn't have time, at least not anymore. You sulked now, you looked at your toys on the floor, you didn't feel like playing. Until an animated song started playing on the TV. Making you look at the screen. Your curious eyes observed how bad the quality of the show on your TV was. But that didn't matter to you. What caught your attention was the funny colors of the show. You watched the animation of the show go on like a normal day, showing a few houses in a colorful neighborhood, the camera moving closer to a greener place, focusing on a character. A man with blue hair. You kept looking at the screen, seeing that the character was concentrating on painting a picture, and when he finished, the character noticed the presence of the audience and commented. "Oh, hello, neighbor! You've finally arrived." The character smiled at the audience and that caught your attention. He moved to the side and put his equipment aside. Focusing on the audience. "It's a beautiful day, isn't it? How are you?" The character asked turning his head to the side. You, not taking your eyes off the screen, decided to sit on the floor. Curiosity on your face.

There was a silence after the question, and you wondered if the television had frozen as it sometimes does. But you could hear music in the background, so you decided to answer happily. "I'm fine! I just drew a picture, so I'm happy." "Oh, that's wonderful. When you're happy, I'm happy." The character smiled closing his eyes, with his hands together. You crossed your legs and let your hands rest in the space between them. A silly smile rose to your face. You genuinely liked that the character was paying attention to you. You, being a child with a creative mind, genuinely thought that the character was talking to you. Not noticing the generic lines that he responded to after you spoke. This character, that you just met, you don't know his name so far, but he asks you questions! He asks things of you. And that was exactly the kind of attention you wanted. And you were loving it!

"How many apples are in that tree?" "Four!" "Perfect! Four apples, one for Julie, one for Barnaby, one for me, and one for you, neighbor!" Wally was smiling and looking at you with such enthusiasm, you were jumping in place, even though you knew there was no way you could eat the apple. "Woah, time passes when you're having fun, doesn't it?" Wally said after the episode was coming to an end, at least you learned this character's name. "Well, we better get some rest, see you tomorrow, neighbor!" Wally said with a smile on his face, a little wave of the hand and then the credits rolled, you, still not satisfied, wanted more of that show. You just loved everything and everyone! Luckily, you saw the intro and the same song start playing again. You smiled contentedly, expecting more from the program. . . . This is the second day you've been watching Welcome Home, all afternoon you've been marathon watching the show, learning more about the characters, 'talking' to Wally and watching the comedy episodes. Today you were already in the living room waiting for the program to start, excited to watch them all again. Your mother noticed that you were absent in running around the house, she walked around the house, not being late this time. She noticed you in the living room, sitting on the floor watching TV. Your mother came over and when she went to ask you something, the show music started up and you excitedly hummed along. Seeing Wally already leaving his house, you smiled contently and spoke his name aloud. "Wally! Hi!!!" The puppet started with the identical opening line, which you didn't even realize was all from the show's script. But you were still happy to see the puppet answer you with the same "Oh, hello, neighbor! You've finally arrived."

You answered each question happily. Your mother looked at you with soft eyes. She saw how innocent you were to answer the TV. It was something simple and cute, that made you excited, so your mother let this channel play more often. . . .

This was the third day you were in the living room, waiting to watch your new favorite show. Your face was freshly wet, because what had happened earlier had made you very anxious. Your mother argued loudly on the phone, swearing, she even locked herself in another room so you couldn't hear, but it was difficult. So you tried to overcome this on your own, so you were lying on the floor drawing Wally, being soothed by drawing him. Your mother had to leave early today, but she would be back early too. So you were alone, waiting for the program to start. And when the music started, you excitedly sniffed and looked at the TV with sparkling eyes. Waiting for entertainment after waking up in an unpleasant way. Wally then appeared again, you were on the floor and quickly got up and sat down, grabbed your blankets and wrapped yourself up, since it was cold. Your favorite character came out of his house and started with his same normal question. "Oh, hello, neighbor! You've finally arrive-"

Suddenly, he stopped, in the middle of the sentence. You notice that the eyes of the puppet on the screen widened a little, as he noticed... something? Maybe. You curiously frowned slightly, wondering what had gotten into Wally? This is different. The pause that was taken left you confused, and then he continued, but his posture was different. "Uh- It's a beautiful day and…"

"How, uh. How are you?…" You watched the puppet in front of you with a more droopy posture, it didn't look like he was confident like all the other times. You shook your head, not thinking much. "I'm fine, how are you?" You asked just to ask, because you knew Wally would answer that anyway. But what you didn't expect was that the silence returned. The figure of Wally standing there, looking at you. Then you heard a low: "Are you sure?..."

You raised your eyebrows. Oh, he really answered you this time. You ran your hands over your face, feeling your hands get a little wet after wiping some of the liquid off your face. You looked down at your drawing and then looked into the puppet's eyes. "Hhm, I'm fine, Wally." You hummed affirming what you said earlier. But that didn't seem to have much effect, as the puppet in front of you stared at you with a silence in the background that seemed like forever before something happened.

And it wasn't what you expected. Because the image of Wally looking at you was soon replaced by the continuation of the episode. The view was of a clearing and a butterfly fluttered across the screen. You were surprised by Wally's strange behavior, but you ignored it.

The episode continued as usual, although Wally didn't appear for a few minutes. The characters are in a situation and need help, it was in this part that Wally would ask for your help in this situation. But he wasn't there. You questioned for a few seconds until the screen started to crash, the voices of some characters in the background still talking, but the screen was a mess, there were two scenes trying to appear on the screen, the colors were all mixed up and this made even the voices of the characters stop. Sitting in the dark with the screen all glitched made you a little worried, you remember that the last time the television was like this was on a rainy day. But it wasn't raining now. It made you get out of your blankets and look at the TV still frozen, occasionally making sounds. Suddenly an idea popped into your head. Your mother once hit the TV hard because she said it would fix it, you saw her do it, and it worked, maybe you could try it. Getting close to the TV you raised your small hand and slapped it lightly. Looking at the TV, it didn't work. Maybe you need more strength? You made your hand into a fist and when you went to lift it you were startled by the screen behaving more aggressively with colors and a loud, not pleasant, sound was made. "DO NOT" It was written illegibly on the screen, but you were able to read it despite the mess of glitches. "FIX IT." It appeared at the bottom of the screen, along with the other words. You stopped moving your hand and observed what was happening on the screen. Suddenly. Statics. The television became pure static, no music, no show, nothing. And then only two words appeared. The font was better, despite the random color streaks being made on the screen. "Let me." After a few seconds. The TV went black and a song started. You realized it was the intro of the show, without much doubt, the show started again, the animation of the houses in the neighborhood, the title 'Welcome Home', everything was normal again. You sighed, glad that it was working again, and then you saw him. Wally had his back to you, with a white canvas in front of him, he wasn't painting anything. And then he noticed you. He turned and smiled looking at you. "Oh, hello again neighbor." Wally said putting his brush aside. "Sorry about that, something happened. An... inconvenience." The man in blue said with a smile and his eyes closed, looking even a little forced. "But now! No interruptions. Let's talk, shall we?" Wally put his hands together and smiled broadly, looking at you again. You looked surprised at the screen. Talk? About what? You frowned and turned your head away. "Aren't we going to help your friends? Earlier they seemed to need help with who took their-"

Suddenly the screen changed and some characters from before appeared with a big smile on their faces. "Wowie! Thanks for finding my stuffed animal Wally and neighbor!" Sally said hugging the little toy. Julie nodded in agreement happy that they had found what was missing. And then the screen crashed and went back to the same greenish corner with Wally standing there smiling.

"See, they already found it, everyone is happy." Wally explained trying to convince you that there was no need to 'end the episode'. You frowned slightly, clearly not convinced. Wally quickly began.

"Although…" In a slightly lower voice, you looked at the screen curious by your favorite character's change of mood. "I'm out of ideas of what to paint." Wally let you look at the blank canvas with nothing on it. You happily jumped in place, taking interest. "Oh! I can help you!" You said enthusiastically, the puppet looked at you and a smile formed on his face, he put his hands on his own face, with the same kind of enthusiasm. "Perfect!"

Time passed and you two talked for hours. While Wally was painting what you suggested, you yourself decided to draw another picture, the atmosphere was fun and comfortable. You were loving this session of talking and painting.

"So, (Name)." Wally started, you hummed paying attention, not taking your eyes off your drawing. It was nice to hear Wally say your name instead of just neighbor, you told him at the beginning of your long conversation. "Why were you crying before? If it's okay to ask." Wally asked a bit monotonously, you scrabbled a bit at the colors abstractly and hummend thoughtfully. "Hmm, well…"

Wally is your friend, right? It's okay to tell him about you, he also tells you all about himself, so fair enough. "My mommy is very busy. She ignores all my drawings!" You said with your cheeks puffy. "Ah, but that's just not very nice of her, hm?" Wally commented, and you aggressively nodded several times. "But that has nothing to do with your crying, does it?"

You stopped swinging your legs and looked at the TV screen and just watched the back of Wally, who continued to paint the picture. You sighed and continued. "Yeah… Today my mom had an argument on the phone…. And she's very short-tempered, you know? She'll blow up at anything. She gets aggressive."

Your last line was probably what made Wally stop moving the brush across the canvas, as you were looking at the canvas, you saw Wally glance at you, his eyes were a tad sinister.

"With you?…"

You looked at Wally a little innocently and shook your head, "No, not with me, she locks herself in her room and breaks things right there. And I don't like it when she gets like that. That's why I was sad." As if your words were air, the puppet on the TV sighed, and turned his back again and continued painting.

"I'm done!" You smiled excitedly, the puppet looked back and watched you. "Already? That was quite fast." You laughed at Wally's comment and then got down on your knees, bringing your drawing to the screen, trying to show your drawing to the screen. "Look, look, what do you think?!" You smiled and looked at your drawing, expecting some kind of comment from Wally, but it was so quiet that you had to put your drawing down and look at him.

Wally was staring at you the whole time you got close to the screen, and the puppet raised one hand and coughed falsely. "I'm sorry, it's just that I can't see the drawing if you don't look into my eyes." Wally explained this and you were confused, the puppet explained to you how he can't see anything if someone doesn't look into his eyes. You thought that was strange but you held up the drawing while looking at Wally. And then he finally reacted, taking his eyes off you and looked at the drawing in your hands. He smiled big when he saw your little work of art, complimenting you in every way, watching your smile grow wider and wider with his company. You spent the whole afternoon talking and having fun, your mother came home a little exhausted. She greeted you from afar and went to make herself a cup of coffee. You didn't, however, do the usual thing of running after her after she arrived. You kept your conversation with Wally happy and content. Your mother noticed the change in your behavior. Like every day, you stopped interacting so much with her and started to stay more in front of the TV. Maybe this was a consequence of her actions in leaving you alone so much that now you didn't worry about bothering her. But one night. That's what changed things. You were so annoyed by your mother's neglect that you decided to turn on the TV on your own at night and talk to the only friend who made you feel good.

After the intro passed, you couldn't even keep your crying face long, after you knew that you would be happy with your friend's presence. You didn't even wait for Wally to arrive right on the scene and you quickly began to talk and talk, making the puppet in front of you look surprised by your state. You tried to wipe your full tears on your sleeves, along with your snot. "Shh, shh…" Wally tried to calm you down, you were so close to the screen, it was a bad feeling to see you in that state. The puppet managed to cheer you back up with sweet comments. Your face was red with a huge smile now. Although you started to cry in your room when you realized that your mother was ignoring you while she fiddled with her laptop, you ran into the living room in a loud, clearly sad voice. Your mother noticed her actions at that moment. And she tried to tidy things up a bit. She went into the living room, where she heard where you were talking.

What was strange, were you watching that program again? It looked like you were complaining about her to the TV. She walked silently into the living room and saw you standing near the TV, talking to it.

"Wally, can you be my best friend?" You asked, a few tears escaping and you wiped them away with your sleeves again. Your mother frowned at seeing you in this state, and just as she was about to step in to comfort you she noticed something that was probably not normal. "Of course, (Name). Best friends forever?" Wally asked smiling with half open eyes, he put his hand on the TV screen and you nodded aggressively with approval. "Forever!" Placing your hand on the TV screen where his was. Wally smiled contentedly, and since you were looking at him, he could see everything. He even managed to notice your mother in the back of the room, watching the interaction. The puppet's eyes widened a bit and he looked at you a little worried. Your mother then arrived frightened. And clearly with her heart in her hand. "(Name)." Your mother said firmly. You looked back and saw your mother's hand outstretched. "Come here." She said breathlessly. Staring at the puppet on the screen in fear. You denied it, however, and frowned. "No. I'm having fun with Wally." The nominee softened his gaze at looking at you, but soon intensified at looking at your mother. She approached you and pulled you up, quickly moving away from the TV. "(Name). Go to your room, it's not safe here." Suddenly the TV made a loud bang on the screen, two hands were there now, Wally's eyes fixed strongly on your mother, clearly not liking that you were being forced to leave him. "Stay the FUCK AWAY from them!" Your mother shouted at the TV, clearly frightened. You began to tear up again. Your mother was arguing with your best friend, that wasn't fair! "N-No, don't fight please…" You looked at Wally and he was looking at you, there was no emotion on his face except for that stare. But you still saw him as your friend. Your best friend! "Wally!" You held out your hand as if it would help you, and the TV once again made a loud bang. Your mother in panic quickly ran to her room and left you there, you still crying tried to open the door, but it was too late after you saw, your mother had unplugged the TV.

She still looked panicked and started to drag the TV away to throw it away. That night was the last time you saw your best friend.

. . . Was it?

-OO I was holding myself to not make a long one shot, I kinda see this as a rushed thing, but hey ho, I still liked writing this one :D-

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally darling welcome home #wally darling wh #welcome home wally #welcome home puppet show #welcome home fanfic #welcome home x you #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #wally darling x you

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 4 months

Text

Session Two; Secret's Out - L.JH

🎙Who; Lee Jihoon (Seventeen) x reader 🎙What; smut, fwb, producer/idol Jihoon 🎙Wordcount; 3.8k 🎙Warnings; profanity, high heel kink, dick stepping(light), marks, slight pain kink, manhandling, fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, dirty talk

Summary; "Everyone knows that Jihoon does not like high heels. Everyone assumes it's because he's insecure about his height. Everyone happens to be very fucking wrong."

Minors do NOT interact, which means liking/reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist- 🎙 In The Studio Masterlist 🎙

Part 2/? of In The Studio; a series of Jihoon fucking in his studio.

Jihoon doesn't like it when you wear high heels. You've always assumed it's because of the added height and he's never really given you or anyone reason to think otherwise. When the guys teased him about it in the past, Jihoon never corrected them and just made vague sounds in response, if he even responded because he often ignored the jabs. So it makes logical sense that his aversion to you in high heels is because he's sensitive about his height and heels always make you much taller than him. And being a good friend, you take that at face value and refrain from wearing any heels around him, not wanting to make your precious friend feel insecure in any way.

The plan on this day isn't to make him insecure either, you'd genuinely never want that. But you know that even though you two have plans, he'll still be working for quite some time once you arrive at his studio because he always fucking does that. Which means he'll be busy and you'll both be seated in different places so taking the chance to break in the heels you just bought won't cause any problems, right?

"What are you doing?" Jihoon asks as soon as you sit on the couch and open the shoe box, revealing the brand new sleek black stilettos inside. He isn't even back in his chair from letting you into the studio. "You know I don't like you wearing heels."

"I've got to break them in and it's not like I've got anything else to do while you spend the next hour telling me you'll be done in a minute." You point out. "And we're both going to be sat down the whole time, you won't even notice the height."

"The height doesn't bother me." He informs, making you look up at him questioningly.

"It doesn't?"

Jihoon scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. "No, I've told you assholes, I'm not insecure about my height."

"Then why are you against heels?" You raise an eyebrow in intrigue, trying to figure it out yourself. But Jihoon gives you no assistance in any way and simply sits down and turns back to his desk with clearly zero intention of answering. You stare at the back of his head for a second then give in trying to magically understand and go back to taking your brand-new shoes out and slipping them onto your feet. Of course, you already tried them on in the store so you know you like them quite a lot; they're simple but elegant with a little dainty silver chain around your ankle. "Will you take a picture for me?" You ask as you take your phone from your pocket and extend your legs out, already pretty sure he will refuse.

As expected, Jihoon's response is simple. "No."

"Fine," You try to get a good picture of your new shoes to send to your friend but the angles are quite frankly put, shit. So you get up and move aside to prop your phone up on the floor on selfie mode and set a timer. You quickly shuffle back just enough to get a decent view of the lower half of your legs.

You don't notice because you're busy trying to take a photo that really shows off the shoes, but Jihoon looks over the second he hears you move. Though he's not really paying attention to you but your feet. He keeps trying to look away and finish his work but he's so distracted. You're driving him insane and you don't even notice.

"Okay, I can't decide which one is better." Your sudden voice jolts Jihoon back to reality and he looks up at you to see that you're now just standing there with your phone in your hands, flicking between two photos. "Will you pick for me?" He doesn't have the chance to respond before you turn and approach him. Jihoon's gaze drops back to your shoes and he swallows hard. That you notice. "Ji?" You wonder, stopping at his side and offering your phone. He makes a vague grunt of a sound in response. "Will you pick for me?"

It takes a few seconds for Jihoon to force his eyes to focus on the little screen held out to him. He just stares as you flick between the two photos slow enough that he can get a good view of them both and compare them mentally. At least that's what you hope he's doing. Really, he's just dumbly staring with slightly widened eyes, no thoughts in his head.

"Which one?" You prompt when he remains silent for too long.

"Ei-" He starts but his voice cracks so he quickly clears his throat. "Either."

"Either?"

"Either."

"Right." You mutter, looking at him suspiciously and locking your phone blindly while lowering it. Jihoon lets out a relieved little exhale. "What's going on with you?"

His head darts up to look at you. He looks very caught out, eyes big and cheeks tinted a soft pink. "What? Me? Nothing." He tries to turn back to his computer but you grab the back of his chair and pull it away from the desk. Jihoon yelps and tries to catch the edge of the desk but he doesn't react fast enough, giving you space to nudge him further back and move over to stand right in the way of his computer. "I need to-"

"What's going on?" You demand, crossing your arms over your chest. It feels oddly reminiscent of the very first time your relationship turned from platonic to sexual those months back. You've had an awful lot of sexual encounters since watching him jerk off in that very chair, but you can never forget that first one. Your eyes drop down to his crotch, you're pretty sure he'd be honest if you had disturbed him when he was in the middle of masturbating, in fact, he's told you as much multiple times before and it always ended with you both getting off in some way together. And there's no bulge in his sweatpants, so clearly, that's not the issue here anyway.

"Nothing, let me-" He tries to scoot forward, one hand reaching forward to urge you aside but you lift your foot to put it on the edge of the chair between his thighs to stop it moving. Jihoon immediately freezes, eyes blown wide and glued to your foot a handful of inches away from his crotch. "Fuck," He whispers, slowly leaning back in his seat until his back is pressed against the backrest while his hands grip the armrests.

You stare at him consideringly for a moment, trying to decipher what the fuck is going on here and the whole time, Jihoon's wide eyes remain on your heeled foot. You adjust it a little as you lean back against the desk for balance, you don't intentionally move your foot closer to his crotch, the flat of your shoe more firmly pressed to the seat between his thighs, yet it happens and Jihoon swallows thickly.

It's now that you notice the subtle change in his sweatpants, a sign that Lee Jihoon is getting hard. And suddenly, it all makes an awful lot of sense. Why Jihoon doesn't like it when you wear high heels. Why he's been looking at your feet darkly in what you had initially assumed was hatred. Why he can't seem to remove his gaze from your heeled foot now it's so close to his hardening dick. Lee Jihoon has a high heel kink.

An amused smirk tilts your lips up as you unfold your arms and rest your palms on the desk either side of your ass. "Oh, I see what this is." You muse, tone a little teasing. You know from experience that Jihoon can handle a little teasing where his kinks are concerned, he does the same to you too, but you both never push too far, still walk carefully along that edge ready to pull back in a second if you notice the other getting uncomfortable. Without hesitation, you lift your foot and lightly press it against that rapidly swelling bulge. Jihoon's head immediately tips back and he lets out a broken little moan. "You've got a high heel kink, don't you, babyboy?" You coo, applying a little more pressure and grinning in satisfaction at the moan it pulls from Jihoon's chest. He doesn't even try to respond, just grips the armrests harder and subtly rolls his hips up to press his cock harder against the underside of your shoe. "Cute,"

Jihoon always looks so fucking beautiful like this, when he's focused on his pleasure and moving his hips to search for it without a care in the world, no shame in his veins just pure arousal. You truly do wish you could have him like this always; keep him to yourself selfishly and allow no one else the pleasure of this sight. But you can't, you both may only be seeing each other sexually but you also have agreed that it doesn't have to remain that way at all. Still, it doesn't stop you from wishing this moment could last.

Unfortunately, your legs have other thoughts and the position soon grows uncomfortable and unsteady for you. Jihoon's head jolts up when you remove your foot. His eyes are so heavy-lidded when they land on you and full of betrayal at you removing the source of his pleasure.

"Just give me a second." You giggle amusedly and slide yourself up onto the desk after moving aside his keyboard to give yourself space. "Come here." You encourage, motioning him closer with a curl of your finger. Jihoon immediately rolls over in his chair between your spread thighs and grabs your right leg himself to lift back up and put your foot back against his aching erection.

He doesn't even say anything, just holds your ankle in his left hand and uses his right to press down on the top of your foot and keep the pressure how he wants it while he essentially humps your sole. It's both entertaining and pretty arousing. Seeing Jihoon be so utterly shameless always does something to you, always makes you throb with need for him.

You can't help but wonder how far this kink of his goes, if he just wants to rub against the flat of your shoe, or whether the heel itself plays a part, though you can't imagine it would do much but hurt in a non-pleasurable kind of way if he rutted against the thin stiletto heel. Still, he has a high heel kink, not a regular shoe kink, so the heel has to be important, right?

Curiously, you lift your left foot and place it flat on his right thigh. Jihoon's closed eyes snap open and look at your left foot, his hips slowing down a little now that you have pulled his attention elsewhere. You're very aware of the fact that Jihoon does like some pain during sex, you're not sure of the extent but you're confident enough to not worry here, knowing that he can handle it. You adjust your footing a little then tilt your foot back, digging the thin heel into his thick thigh. Instantly, Jihoon moans, thick and needy as his head tilts back and he goes back to rutting up desperately against your shoe.

"Oh, baby," You hum appreciatively. "Gonna make yourself cum like this, hm?"

"C-can't," It's the first thing he's said in a little while, the first attempt he's even made to utter a single syllable. His voice is deep in the way it gets when he's so full of arousal that he can't think straight. It's truly one of your favourite sounds and always sends a shiver down your spine.

"Can't?" You repeat, adjusting your left foot so it's higher up and angled so that when you press your heel back down against him, it's on his inner thigh. His back arches as he gasps and moans, much higher in pitch than his speaking voice in a contradiction that would make you giggle if you weren't too focused on the arousal simmering in your stomach.

"Can't," He confirms then grips both of your ankles hard to still both feet and give him enough mental clarity to open his eyes and land his dangerously dark gaze on you. You're pretty sure you know what this means and feel yourself clench on nothing in anticipation. Jihoon's jaw flexes a little as he clenches it, and then he's up, kicking his chair away carelessly to grip your thighs and pull you right to the edge of the desk while his lips crash onto yours with burning desperation, tongue quickly darting into your mouth to find your own. "Need you," He informs breathlessly when he pulls back far too quickly for your liking but his hands are working on the fastening of your jeans so you really don't have it in you to complain. Jihoon is about to fuck you and based on how he's acting and the pure need in his eyes, he's going to fuck you so good.

"You need to move so I can take these off." You remind, nudging at his firm stomach to try and get him to back up, but Jihoon refuses. "Ji,"

"No," He answers, moving just enough to pull open the top drawer on his right and grab a condom, one of many he keeps in that drawer so that he can fuck you whenever the mood strikes you both. Admittedly, it's a lot.

"What? How else-" You yelp when he wraps an arm around your waist to lift you enough that he can roughly try and tug your jeans and underwear down. He only manhandles you when he's turned on so much that he can't even think rationally and the only thought on his mind is burying his cock as deep into you as humanly possible. And knowing that, being manhandled by Jihoon only turns you on more than the show of strength itself. You brace yourself with one hand and help him with the other quickly.

Together, you work the clothing down to your mid-thigh and then Jihoon puts you down and forces his hand into the gap between your thighs and the clothes.

"Ji," You gasp as he plunges two fingers right into you, the jeans around your thighs make it hard to spread your legs so you're kind of tight like this, but Jihoon knows you, knows you can take it, especially when you're wet like this. Plus, he already fucked you this morning in your bed so he is certain you can handle this rough behaviour right now.

"Get me ready," He grunts, tracing his lips over your jaw and bullying a third finger into you to curl and stretch them. He can't really thrust them at this angle, he's got very limited space but he does what he can to make you gasp and get wetter by the second.

You reach aside blindly until you find the condom on the desk to grab before your hands find his waistband and yank open the tie to loosen them. You don't even push down his sweats that far, you both can't reach and don't fucking care, just want to get his cock out and in you. Quickly, you shove down his boxers a little and pull his erection out so that as soon as you've got the condom out of the wrapper, you can roll it onto him.

"Hands on the desk." He orders, pulling his fingers from you to grab your thighs and push them up, making your body naturally lean backwards; so you plant your palms on the desk behind you for support and watch as he lifts your legs to his shoulders, resting your calves there before reaching down to grab his erection and line up with you.

Jihoon only glances up at you to check in quickly and noticing that you're more than okay with all of this, he wastes no time burying his hard cock in you right to the hilt. It's another thing he doesn't do unless he's insanely turned on and desperate to cum, go fast from the get-go, he'll usually ease into you to allow you both to savour the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls. But when he's like this, he doesn't have the patience for that, he just wants to cum with your pussy hugging him tight.

You both moan at the feeling of getting what you both so desperately want. Jihoon takes a second, then another, squeezing your thighs appreciatively like he always does when he's buried in you, and then he pulls back and starts to fuck into you in short powerful thrusts aimed right at your most sensitive spots. Your head drops back as you moan with every thrust, little ah-ah-ahs that give him all the information he needs to know that he's fucking you right.

As much as Jihoon is desperate to cum, he will never pick his pleasure over your own. Without fail, he'll always make sure you orgasm before him even like this. Though he doesn't have the patience for multiple when he's in this state like he usually gives you before allowing himself to fall over the edge with you. Today is no different, Jihoon wants you to cum first and soon, he can feel himself hurting towards his end. You're so fucking tight like this and he can see those fucking heels in his peripheral and feel the blooming bruises on this thigh from you digging them into his delicate skin. So he slides one hand down from your thigh to force its way between them and thumb at your clit harshly, it's messy and not very coordinated for a usually very coordinated man but there's not much else he can do like this. There's not much else he needs to do. He feels you tightening up around him and groans, hand on your thigh squeezing encouragingly and hips keeping the exact same pace and angle to not risk ruining your impending orgasm.

"Ji," You warn, voice getting higher.

"I-I know," He replies and squeezes again. "Cum for me, baby,"

It's a few more rough presses of his thumb against your clit and then you're tensing up a split second before your back bows and you let out strings of moans and curses mixed with variations of his name in a combination that is pure music to his ears. There's a fraction of a moment here where he regrets not pressing record on the room mic so that he can listen back on this session like he has many of them before, but he doesn't have the brain power to consider it for long.

Jihoon knows you don't need him to keep playing with your clit or fucking the same way to ride through your orgasm so he moves both hands to press against the back of your thighs, folding you up. He hadn't intended for your heels to wind up pressed to his chest, it's just a real fucking happy accident that causes him to rapidly piston his hips, fucking his cock into you with nothing but the intention to cum.

You whine at the fast stimulation, it's teetering on the brink of making you too sensitive as the dregs of your orgasm trickle through your system, and feeling so fucking good that you never want him to stop. It feels good, perhaps too good even but you just take it, eyes rolled back and head lolled back on your shoulders.

After a moment or two, you have enough presence of mind to lift your head and look at Jihoon; his eyes are closed tight, eyebrows furrowed with utter desperate concentration as he chases his high and sweat dappling his forehead. Without thought, you press both heels into his chest and just like that, Jihoon's hips slap harshly against you a few times as his orgasm racks through his body while he chokes out gasping moans and digs his fingers into your thighs tightly. You don't bruise quite as easily as him but you're pretty sure he's going to create at least a few faint ones with how hard he's holding you. Not that you mind.

Slowly, Jihoon falls still and then loosens his hold though he doesn't open his eyes yet as he pants and tries to suck in some air.

You know he's feeling much more like himself again when his hands slide up to lift your legs by the back of your ankles so that he can press a soft, grateful kiss to the exposed skin on the top of each foot. And then he carefully pulls out of you with one hand holding the condom in place and the other supporting your ankles in one hand. He gently helps you lower your legs down before he moves aside to dispose of the condom and grab the wipes from the drawer.

"So," You start when he's back in front of you and doing his best to wipe at your sticky thighs. He looks at you and notices your grin. "High heel kink, huh?"

"Shut up." He scoffs, though there's a twitch to his lips giving away his little smile when he turns to clean himself up too then throws out the wipes.

"What?" You giggle and slide off the desk carefully to pull your underwear and jeans back up and fasten them into place. "It's cute."

"Seriously, babe, shut up."

"No." You giggle and tottle over to throw your arms around him from behind. He sighs and finishes tying up his sweatpants back in place before turning to face you, naturally putting his hands on your waist.

"Hm, maybe you can wear heels around me more." He muses, realising your modest cleavage is right in his face. He leans in and doesn't hesitate to suction onto the skin he can access like this.

"Shall we go now?" You suggest, running your fingers through his hair. He hums against your skin then smooths a hand down to your ass to slap it quickly. "Asshole."

"Mm," He agrees and steps back to eye the growing bruise then lowers his gaze to your feet. "You need to change those though, I can't be seen with my dick hard in public."

"Spoilsport."

"I'm a fucking idol, I can't risk that shit." He scoffs and moves to save his work and turn off everything while you remove the high heels and pack them neatly back into the box they came in.

"Yeah, whatever, they're off. Now let's go get take out and fuck in the backseat."

"Sounds good to me, baby."

#wkcnet #svthub #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen jihoon x reader #seventeen jihoon smut #seventeen woozi x reader #seventeen woozi smut #svt jihoon x reader #svt jihoon smut #svt woozi x reader #svt woozi smut #svt smut #svt fic #seventeen fanfic

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bluecollarmcandtf · 5 months

Text

"Dude, I took over your dad's body.."

"...and goddamn is there a lot of him to work with! I've been a ghost for years now, but I've never been inside a 6' 3" ex-linebacker! I've been checking him out all afternoon, and let me tell you that this man is big and hairy all over," he punctuates his comment with a wink.

Your dad, the man you've looked up to your entire life, is saying things you don't want to think about while casually laying on the couch in nothing but a robe and booty shorts. The urge to puke is suppressed, but you know that Jimmy has crossed a line here. Your deceased friend has possessed bullies, professors, and more, but he's never had the balls to take over your own family. What was he thinking?

"I jumped into him while he was at work. I think his coworkers probably found it strange when I picked up his briefcase and waddled his ass out the door," Jimmy chuckles at the memory, "But don't worry. Your old man had plenty of sick days he wasn't gonna use."

It doesn't take long for you to burst out in anger at the spirit controlling your father. Your face is hot, and you can't stand to watch your dad get puppetted around like a fool!

"Calm the fuck down!" he swears uncharacteristically, "Give this big guy a hug. Come here. Daddy needs some love..."

The thought of hugging your father while he's being forced to act like this feels wrong, but you relent. A part of you is glad for the embrace. It might not actually be your dad, but paternal comfort is exactly what you need right now, and your real dad isn't the type to give his child a hug.

"That's it, son," Jimmy pets your head with your father's thick hands, "Let daddy take care of you. Let your dumb old fart-of-a-father give you some much-needed attention."

You can't help but chuckle at the self-deprecating joke. Your real dad was too proud to laugh at himself, and he'd never made an effort to be anything other than distant and formal with you. In fact, there was a lot your real dad would never do; he'd never leave the office in the middle of the day, he'd never lay around the house like a lazy bum, and he'd certainly never let his hairy chest and thick legs be on full display in front of his disappointing gay son.

Suddenly, while still embraced, you realize there's something poking into your waist.

"Sorry, dude," your father whispers in your ear, "I guess your dad is just happy to see you."

You push him away, insisting that Jimmy needs to stay out of family members' bodies because this just feels so wrong! You search the pair of unnaturally blank eyes for any sign that Jimmy might be listening to you.

"You need to relax, bro," your dad (Jimmy) groans in annoyance. He looks disappointed, but then he sparks up and gives you a new look of excitement. "Son," he says with exaggerated machismo, "Take a page from my book and learn to chill out. It doesn't matter what the world thinks about you or me. I'll prove it to you..."

With a placid grin and blank gaze, your father lumbers past and marches straight out the front door of the house. You're almost too stunned to follow. Was Jimmy really going to parade your dad's body around the neighborhood in nothing but his robe?

"Afternoon, neighbor," your father's rumbling tone bellows across the street, "Lovely weather, today. My son thought I should take my fat hairy gut for a little stroll in the sun. You know us dads have got to keep our boys happy. Am I right?"

Mr. Jones stares at your father from his porch, just as shocked as you are. He often drank beers with this man and every other neighborhood dad at backyard barbecues and living room game watches. This was not how he normally interacted with the man, and it obviously struck him as weird.

"You alright, Bob?" he asks hesitantly.

"Right as rain, neighbor!" Jimmy answers with a tone that's too goofy to pass as my dad's, "If that's how you're staring at me now, I wonder what'll happen if I take this robe off..."

Before Mr. Jones can process the flirtation in your father's voice, you shuffle your dad further down the street and away from the whole interaction. That may have been hilarious, but Jimmy was going to destroy any reputation and respect your father had around here!

You demand to know where Jimmy is going with this body. It's not like you have any ability to even slow the ghost down when he's got the weight and strength of your 200 lb father.

"I'm thinking the park. Your dad could use some cardio," he smirks, an unfamiliar expression on the grown man's face, "Or maybe the public bathroom on the north end. You know, it has that hole in the stall..."

No amount of reasoning or arguments can change Jimmy's mind. Apparently he's set on wearing your father to the city's most notorious gay hookup spot.

"Don't look at me like that," his gravelly voice sounds amused by your frustration, "With me in charge, your dad will be the dirtiest slut that bathroom's ever seen. Don't you think it'll be funny to see such a massive, manly bear serving man after man in there?"

You sigh in disbelief.

"Or...maybe I don't have to rent out your dad's body to a bunch of strangers..."

You wonder where he's going with this. It sounds like an ultimatum is coming, and you don't like the idea of your crazy dead friend giving you an ultimatum.

"...your dad could hold off on bottoming for strangers...if...you let him be your submissive little bitch."

The choice is an annoying one, but you're pretty sure you can't let your dad have unprotected sex with strangers in a public place. This is what he'd want right?

"That's what I thought," the grin on your father's face twists maniacally. He tussles your hair like he's the proudest dad in the world, "Let's head on back home, buddy. Daddy's gonna lick every inch of sweat off that body of yours. He's got years of emotional absence to make up for."

One of his beefy arms cradles your back and turns you around. You're relieved to no longer be headed towards the public bathroom, but you're still a little nervous about what awaits you at home. How does Jimmy expect you to enjoy any of this when it's your dad doing all these things to you?

"Daddy's gonna treat you to a night that's all about you," he goes on, "Cooking you dinner, rubbing your feet, cuddling on the couch, and so much more. I want you to think of some humiliating things daddy can do for you while we walk back. Make sure they're extra degrading or your dad will just have to step out of the house and degrade himself where the entire city can see..."

The last comment gives you butterflies in your stomach, but it also gives you a bit of a hard-on. Maybe Jimmy playing with your dad wasn't so scary of an idea after all. With him possessed, anything was on the table: personal affirmations, some much needed bonding, roleplay, revenge, humiliation. Heck, you could even give your father a golden shower and Jimmy would have him smiling through it!

Walking home, you steal glances at your dad, towering over you as his rotund gut leads the way. Home can't come fast enough!

#gay dad and son #male possession #gay dad bod #male mind control #body swap #gay fatty

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moodymisty · 5 months

Note

I mean you got anything sweet for Blood Angels...

Though my brain keeps jumping to Flesh Tearers but I feel like that's just me trying to get myself to write for Flesh Tearers (and Lamenters)

(Rambling idea below)

I mean lets be honest Blood Angels are ultimate predators for humans... being so handsome I mean Sanguinius was often called ethereal and other worldly with his beauty. So of course his sons are handsome and all so well bred for the arts... easy to lure in many humans to just listen to their prose or see their paintings.

Just don't show up during your period because suddenly a lot of the poetry is about blood or blood adjacent... they can't seem to find the right red paint... and why do so many of them look at you like they are dying of thirst?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Do I have something for Blood Angels- BOY DO I! Enjoy! I didn't exactly do your idea but I've had this plot in my head for weeks and wanted to use it and you're ask was the only one that let me /sob Not my best work by far, but I hope you enjoy.

Relationships: Unnamed Blood Angel/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral, Period blood kink/menstrual kink that type of stuff, Is this too weird? maybe I dunno you guys all seem like freaks so hopefully this will go over well? If not I can just return to my dungeon

"Why are we going this way?"

This is a long way around, though some of the Red Tear's maintenance areas. He doesn't answer you however, and with disgruntlement you let the question lie as you return to more civilized parts of the Red Tear.

This whole interaction has been odd, since he had picked you up to escort you back from your duties. Normally he doesn’t act like this; He's stoic and lacks a good bit of emotion yes, but you almost feel as if now he’s taking you to your execution.

"I thought you were missing,"

You had jokingly said, walking closer to him. This planet had been pleasant enough after the Blood Angels brought it under the Imperium, but you're quite eager to return to Terra. Or at least the Red Tear.

He ignored your little comment and stepped closer, but you noticed his face change when he got close enough to touch you. His body became more rigid, and you furrowed your brow as you looked up at him.

"Are you ok?" You say as he clears his throat and nods stiffly. "Yes. We should return to the Red Tear. Our work here is done."

You look up at him again try and get any sort of hint as to how he's feeling, but he only has that same, stiff expression; Though slightly more irritated than usual.

You round yet another corner to see a group of freshly armored Blood Angels leaving one of the armoring rooms. They all perk up at the sight of you, staring at you like something fierce. You get more than a bit uncomfortable under their gaze, until your supposed guardian grabs your arm and swiftly pulls you down the hall past them. He glares at them to keep their distance, and you grab at his gauntlet to try and relieve some of the pressure. You're arm is in pain from how tight he's pulling you along, until you stop in front of a room he opens.

It's not your own, so you presume it's his. He shoves you inside.

"Stay here."

As a diplomat you technically reside outside the command structure of the Blood Angels, but no one in their right mind would disobey an astartes. Especially one that is looking at you with such fire in his eyes. He turns to leave, but your sudden question makes him turn towards you again.

"What is all this? Why are you-" He grabs you tight at the shoulder, and you gasp in pain as the force of it pins you to the wall.

"Why do you smell like blood?"

You pull at his hand and grimace in pain, and at his oddly specific question.

"What? It's just normal, It's that time of the-" He lightly shakes your shoulder and despite speaking relatively quiet, his voice still hits you in the chest with out seething it sounds.

"Every one of my brothers on this ship can smell you. You're lucky I got to you before one of them did."

Even if they did, why does he speak of it like something would happen? Like he avoided it for a reason? He's talking as if you would be in danger if they found you, for something seemingly so simple.

“What would happen if they did?”

You quietly question, watching the expression on his face instantly change. He looks conflicted, like he’s nearly lost in thought. For awhile you think you may not even get an answer from him, until you finally see his lips shift.

“I, assume you’ve heard mutterings of a curse in your time here.”

You have vaguely- even he had cursed it once. At the time you'd assumed it some sort of unfamiliar swear or perhaps just an odd phase adopted by Blood Angels, and so you'd paid it little mind other than the initial confusion. When you hesitantly nod, he continues.

“The curse is real. It has changed our legion. And,” You figure he’s about to speak a secret he shouldn’t to someone like you, so you stay quiet.

“It makes the smell of blood, tempting.” He continues. “It sates a hunger only we Blood Angels possess, and keeps us from going raving mad.”

He quiets, and you feels his gauntlets shift on your shoulders. He changes the subject to something adjacent; You assume he probably feels guilt for confessing a chapter secret to you.

“You’re not hurt?” He says confusedly. You aren’t particularly surprised he knows little about such things, though explaining it to him in this state would take far too long and be far too unfruitful.

“No. I'm fine.” He hums. You think you hear him mumble about hearing such a thing from somewhere, a woman's illness, and the comment would make you laugh if he wasn't looming down on you so intensely.

“Very well.” He shifts his jaw a bit, the scars along it shifting. He seems to have run out of things to say, though it also seems like he can't pull himself away from you. His throat and jaw are tightly wound, like he's holding something back.

“You want some… Don’t you?”

He seems surprised oddly enough; Perhaps by your bluntness and stupidity. Many legions would not take kindly to you assuming things about them, but Blood Angels are remarkably kinder. He is remarkably kinder.

“I," He grimaces. "I would owe you a great deal. Our superiors look at those with the Red Thirst as little more than a danger.”

The Blood Angels have been nothing but kind to you, in their own way. To even just be on the Red Tear is a safety and security you couldn’t repay.

It helps that it's him; You haven't ventured far around the Blood Angels ship alone, and you shamefully feel yourself beginning to get attached. If this curse can be sated by something so seemingly menial to you, then you have no reason to refuse.

“Ok.”

You move to take off your pants hands shaking just barely in nervousness, as he drops to his knee with one heavy thud. The sound startles you, just as your pants fall to the floor.

Once they’re off, and just your underwear remains, you hesitate for a moment. His stare is so intense, and you don't know how to describe it other than hungry. Given what he's told you, it makes perfect sense.

After what feels like and eternity of you being frozen, you finally manage to regain enough control to peel your underwear away. He viscerally reacts to the presumably iron filled scent, and the sight of blood against your now bare skin.

You see the way the knot in his throat bobs just above the black skinsuit beneath his armor.

With a speed that has you almost letting out a scream he grips your hips pulls them forward enough that the angle feels precarious, but he has a solid enough grip that leaves no chance of you falling. He throws your right leg over his shoulder next to open your thighs, your foot pressing against the front of his jetpack.

He hesitates for a moment, and you look away from the sheer intensity of his expression before you feel his hot breath on your skin.

You feel the moment he finally takes a taste and you can barely hold in a whimper, it coming out a tiny squeak as you feel the way his hands shift and tighten against your hips. Any hesitation he had is gone near instantly, as he presses his mouth against your cunt.

His armored hands grip at your hips with a strength that makes you ache and fear bruises, easily keeping your legs spread with minimal effort as his tongue laps at your folds. You can see the blood smear across his face, though he pays no mind. He acts as if this is the first meal he's had in ages, or the last he'll ever have.

But while perhaps your pleasure might not be at the forefront of his mind in his quite literal bloodlust, the way his tongue slips between your folds and teases you still makes shivers go up your spine. Your hands grip his hair and attempt to steady yourself, as his strength pushes you around. It's impossible to stop the way your hips push forward trying to get closer to him, gasping as he briefly brushes around your clit.

Suddenly however he pulls himself away, mouth stained much the same as your cunt and upper thighs are. You can see his eyes are glassy his throat bobs.

"I should stop."

He mumbles something to himself about loosing himself further to the Thirst, as if he's treading a line between sating his hunger or falling victim to it. You, perhaps stupidly, encourage him to do the exact opposite.

"No, no just, just a bit more,"

You breathlessly whisper and attempt to pull him closer. He silently resists for a moment, before the knot in his throat bobs and he returns his mouth to between your legs. You can't stop the loud moan you let out into the barren room, damning the consequences of anyone hearing you.

You're so close to that peak you only need a bit more, and the way his teeth scrape against your skin and nose presses against your clit gets you there. Your hands tighter in his hair and you inhale, trying not to cry out. But even after you start to come down he continues, his mouth overstimulating so many little nerves you feel on the edge of tears. Your face is hot as your fingers grip at his armor, desperately whining for him to simultaneously stop, and never stop.

He pulls away again, and gently emoves your leg from his shoulder to let you stand and wobbly attempt to yourself. Your knees feel weak and so many of your muscles are sore, even though he was exceedingly gentle with you.

Realizing his face is a mess, he uses the fabric of his cape to wipe it; How fortuitous the fabric is red.

"You should still keep clear of my brothers until this, passes. You never know how close one of them is to loosing themselves and hurting you." You'll heed the warning. If they're anything more than what gusto he already displayed, you wouldn't be surprised angels more lost to the thirst would be dangerous to you. He displayed a remarkable degree of restraint, you could tell.

Though, a curious part of your mind wonders what he'd be like if he hadn't.

"Do you at least feel better? I don't know how the Thirst works but," He nods.

"Yes. It is nice to not have my head so clouded. I... Thank you."

You smile, before accidentally letting more words tumble out of your lips that you should've allowed. It seems his presence always seems to makes you accidentally forget how to not act a fool.

"Always happy to help." He takes your phase at face value, though you suppose you wouldn't refuse him if he asked again. It wasn't as if this ended badly for you.

"You are kind, offering yourself to a Blood Angel. Not many would."

Beyond their sophisticated veneer they are still dangerous predators more than capable of killing you with the slightest motion, you understand why any few who learn about their supposed defect would fear them.

Maybe something is clouding your judgement, but you don't fear him; At least not yet.

Adjusting your clothing you watch as he rises to his full height, his cape flowing behind him. You grip your own fingers nervously and look around.

"But, would you mind bringing my back to my own quarters? I'll admit I have no idea where on the ship you brought me, and I'm still a bit woozy." He offers a gentle but stoic smile.

"Of course."

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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avatar-anna · 1 year

Text

Girl Gone Live

this is literally so stupid and so corny, but i don't care i'm here for a good time, not a long time, you know? enjoy!

"Okay, is this working? How do I know this is working?"

You squinted at the screen, feeling older than you actually were as you waited for some sign that the live stream you set up was working. Thankfully, comments started rolling through and the viewer count went up, and then it started to skyrocket, which made you a little nervous.

"I...think it's working! Cool. Well, um, obviously I'm Y/n L/n, and I'm a celebrity makeup artist. I recently did Olivia Rodrigo's makeup for her music video 'Vampire,' and I thought I would kind of walk you through how I achieved that look, I guess."

Before going live, you'd considered making a little script but decided against it. Hearing yourself bumble through the introduction now, though, you kind of wished you had.

No one seemed to be put off by your awkwardness, though. As comments streamed past, you saw some about the music video and Olivia and what it was like to work with her, but there were also a lot about Harry. You weren't necessarily surprised by Harry's fans flooding the comment section because you sometimes appeared in the background of posts from other people on Love on Tour and you'd become known as the tour's makeup artist. Sometimes you posted the looks you did for performances and little videos of you doing makeup before the show. The attention was a little jarring if you thought about it too long, but you decided it could be worse. After all, you were Harry Styles' long-term girlfriend.

But that wasn't what this livestream was about.

Your eyes scanned the comments as they moved a mile a minute, hoping to snag on a question. "Oh! Someone asked how I met Olivia. Um, as some of you may know, I'm currently working as the makeup artist for Love on Tour, and Olivia came to one of the shows, and we just talked for a really long time about makeup, and she asked me to do her makeup for the video a few weeks later."

It was a fun side gig while you were on tour with Harry and his band. You loved touring for the most part, but this was something different and exciting, so you flew back home during a break in the tour to work with Olivia on "Vampire." Harry tagged along, happy to watch you work instead of the other way around for once. He had a grin on his face the whole time as he watched you do your thing, playing assistant, grabbing whatever you needed when you asked, and holding a palette for you while you did Olivia's makeup. Overall, it was a fun shoot for both of you.

You were back on tour now, and since you had a little time to kill, you decided to go live for the first time to talk about makeup. If it went well, you could maybe make it a regular thing, so you hoped people actually watched and were interested.

*.*

Brynn watched her phone intently, pen in hand as she waited for Y/n to name-drop the next product she was using so she could write it down and see if she could afford it later. Not only was Brynn a huge fan of Olivia Rodrigo, but she had been a Harry Styles fan since she was in grade school, and when she got the notification that Y/n was going live, she was one of the first people to join.

"Luxury or drugstore makeup? Good question," Y/n said as she moisturized her face. "Honestly both. I love trying new things and seeing what works for me. When I was starting out, I mostly had MAC in my makeup kit, but now I've branched out a little more and added things here and there. But that's my professional kit, which has all the things I know with certainty will work perfectly for whatever look I'm trying to achieve. My personal one is where I do more experimentation with brands and products and trends. I guess that doesn't really answer the question, so both. I definitely use both.

"And what's cool is that Olivia loves makeup too, so she kind of knew her way around and what products worked best for her," Y/n continued.

She's so cool, Brynn thought as Y/n moved onto explaining how she did Olivia's base makeup. She didn't feel like Y/n was trying to push any particular product on her audience, nor did she hide which products she used. Her explanations were clear and easy to follow, and she even gave alternative products when she used one that was on the pricier side.

"Olivia loves herself a glowy base, and we really played that up because of the song. So to give her that Cullen-esque sparkle, I added some liquid highlighter into her foundation."

Brynn watched intently, wanting to see just how Y/n did it. Then, feeling compelled, she typed a comment. She didn't think Y/n would notice it, or be able to see it at all amongst the thousands of others, but she couldn't help but try to be noticed.

As Y/n blended her foundation in, Y/n smiled. "Someone asked how long it takes to do Harry's makeup on tour. Um...It kind of depends. Sometimes it's hard to actually get him in the chair because he gets so pumped up before he goes onstage. But once he settles enough for me to do it, it goes pretty quick. If he lets me, I get to put a little bit of glowy balm on his cheeks, but that's as creative as I get."

Y/n's smile changed, though Brynn couldn't really say how. It was almost like she was exasperated as she talked about Harry, and Brynn became just a tiny bit jealous that this person on the other side of her screen for knowing him well enough to be exasperated by him. What she wouldn't give to chase Harry Styles around so she could do his makeup. It left Brynn wondering how people even got into these situations.

Y/n finished up her base makeup while she answered more questions about the makeup products she used for the music video and a few about Love on Tour. She talked about her favorite songs and the places she'd been and the people she hung out with before and after shows.

"Oh boy, okay. I'm not a huge fan of bold lip colors on myself, but this is what I used on Olivia," Y/n said as she lined her lips. She'd just finished adding a light, almost haphazard, dusting of shimmer to her eyes, and despite the pixelated live stream feed, Brynn could still see it catch the light. "We wanted this to be the focal point of the whole look because, you know, vampires."

Y/n stopped talking briefly as she applied the lipstick she used for the music video, then shifted from side to side with her hands beneath her chin to show off the finished look. "Not my usual style, but—"

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you."

For a moment, Brynn thought she was dreaming. Mouth dropped open in shock, she watched as Harry Styles appeared onscreen in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His hair was messy, as if he'd just been sleeping or a storm had just run through it. The video quality wasn't great because it was a live stream, but Brynn couldn't help but think he looked so cute and warm with his sleepy eyes, especially as he stretched his arms above his head, though her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when the waistband of his sweatpants dropped a centimeter. Not even caring that they'd fallen a bit, Harry shuffled forward and sat down next to Y/n and kissed her shoulder. He didn't seem to notice Y/n's phone propped up in front of her, or the look of disbelief and slight horror on her face. Not when she tried to speak to him, and not when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

And through it all Brynn watched, feeling like she'd entered an alternate dimension.

"You look cute. I like the sparkle," Harry said, tapping his knuckle against Y/n's nose. She still looked like she was in shock, but when he leaned in—leaned in to kiss her, Brynn realized—Y/n seemed to shake off some of her stupor.

"We—We're not alone," she said, gently resting her fingers over Harry's mouth to stop him.

Brynn didn't want to tear her eyes away from Harry and Y/n, but she darted her gaze down to the comment section, which confirmed everything. This was no dream, this was really happening, and everyone who was watching was losing their minds.

"What do you mean, lovie?" Harry asked, brows furrowing, clearly confused by Y/n's odd behavior. He finally looked at the camera, his brows shooting up when he realized that Y/n was live streaming all of this. "Oh."

"Yeah 'oh.'"

"I thought you were on the phone—"

"I wasn't!"

"Well, how was I supposed to know! You didn't tell me. And since when—"

"Harry put a shirt on!"

Brynn watched their bickering in a daze, waiting for the inevitable end of the live stream. To her surprise, though, Harry grinned a little before taking Y/n—and the whole Internet, to be honest—by surprise and kissing her.

"Are you insane?"

Harry merely shrugged. He leaned in again, but Y/n pushed his face back with the palm of her hand. They began to bicker again, but this time, Y/n scrambled for her phone in the process.

"You drive me crazy."

"Now, I know that's not true."

"Harry Edward Styles, I swear to God—"

And just like that, the live stream ended with a wink. Brynn stared down at her phone almost as if she was waiting for Harry and Y/n to reappear on her screen. They didn't, and she was left sitting alone in her bedroom, wondering what the hell had just happened.

#harry styles #harry styles x makeup artist! yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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sankttealeaf · 1 year

Text

gaze upon the stars

pairing ; gale x (cleric) gender neutral!reader

summary ; you make a comment that you've never really seen a meteor shower before, and Gale decides to correct that | AO3

other info ; you know who you are who wanted this3<3 enjoy just pure softness with everyones favourite wizard man<3 gale u are always a winner in my eyes. they star gaze, they kiss, that's it, it's so self indulgent!!

word count ; 4.8k

Your nightly routine usually involves one last check in with your companions before you retreat to your tent. It’s something you actually look forward to doing, gathering up everyone’s opinions on the day and where they think you should go next. As you finish up your conversation with Lae’zel, your attention shifts to where Gale’s tent is after hearing a small commotion coming from that direction. You approach hesitantly, seeing the wizard leave his tent with an arm full of books and a slightly befuddled look. When he sees you, his face lights up.

“Just the person I wanted to see!” Gale grins, arms outstretched which causes the books to scatter on the floor. "I've been meaning to ask you a very important question." He holds up a book you vaguely recognise to be about the stars. “Are you busy? If you are, I highly suggest clearing those plans.”

“Hello to you too, Gale,” you laugh, taking the book from him and giving it a quick flick through. Lots of dense information about space and the cosmos and what to look for when searching the stars. It’s a little intense for a nightly read before bed so you hand it back to him. “What are you doing, exactly?”

"How are you with heights?" he asks, packing something away into a carriable box before giving you a grin. You have seen that look before - he has a plan in mind and is about to rope you into it.

"How tall are we talking?" You glance at his packed bag and the other box at his feet, eyebrows raised in curiosity. He quickly places the book you just had into his bag as he stands.

He points eastward. "There's a hill not too far from here that overlooks the valley. It may make someone with a distaste for heights a bit queasy." He picks up his things, nodding in the direction with his head. "There's a meteor shower forecast for tonight and we’re going up there to get a good spot to watch it."

The strange box makes sense now, it houses his telescope. You give him a nod, stepping aside to give him space to walk past you. He begins to walk but stops himself, giving you a look.

"You never answered my question."

You blink and give a shrug. "I'm alright with heights."

"Excellent!" He pushes the box with the telescope into your arms. "I've packed some food for us as well in case all that stargazing makes us hungry."

You're a little confused but before you can question him he's walking off in the direction of the hill, leaving you holding his telescope with no other choice but to follow him.

"Are you coming?" he asks, turning to give you a look of impatience. "The stars aren't going to wait."

"Normally people ask if they want to go stargazing before you hand them a telescope," you say as you rush to fall into step with him, not wanting to get left too far behind.

"You said you wanted to see this earlier."

You recall a conversation you had with Gale this morning where he told you about various meteor showers and you mentioned that you would love to see one. It's funny, you didn't think it would be so soon.

"This particular set of meteors that are due to fly over only occur once in every three hundred years! You're in for a treat tonight," he says through a grin, obviously excited for this little excursion out. As much as you would have liked an early night, watching the stars with Gale isn't a bad way to spend your evening either. It could be worse, after all.

He summons four iridescent purple balls of light to follow you both, two around him and two around you as to help light the way. You can’t help but reach out to gently touch the glowing orb, feeling a small shock touch your fingertips. The magic feels different to your own, a spark of arcane energy crackles from the orb as you pull your hand back. You've never really thought about the difference between arcane and divine magic before - it's not something you ever needed to think about, but watching as the orbs float alongside you gets you wondering. There's been several times where you've seen Gale cast spells and for the most part they're exactly the same as how you use your magic. You've always wanted to sit down and ask him how he channels his arcane energy, to make notes on ways your magic was alike and ways they differ. There's never been a good time for it.

The journey doesn't take too long, ten minutes at most. You fill the silence by talking to Gale about what's happened so far on this journey and where he thinks you all should go next. His plans align up with what you wanted to do which is always reassuring to hear. Sometimes you overthink what should come next and get too in your own head with each move you make, so it was comforting to know that you are on the same wavelength as someone else.

The hill overlooks the entire valley and there’s definitely some height to it - you can see why Gale asked about having a fear of heights earlier. The dancing lights move ahead of you, illuminating a spot that seems to be the perfect place to stargaze at. Gale dismisses them with a wave of his hand and they move like lightning, dissipating into thin air.

“Your magic is so pretty,” you say as you reach the spot the lights were just at. “It’s so… you.”

He looks taken aback by that comment, unsure of how to respond to it. “No one’s ever said that before. Usually it’s all about the power it holds but never about the aesthetic…”

“Well, they should say it more.” You give him a warm smile, a gentle tap on his arm as you pass him to place the box holding the telescope down. Despite how beautiful it looks it is certainly heavy and you are glad to be rid of the weight.

A soft blanket is spread across the grass, the moonlight providing you both with enough light to be able to set up the space with ease. Gale begins to take out the telescope, reassembling it with a well practised ease that has you staring a little too long.

“Have you done much stargazing?” he asks, readjusting the positioning of the telescope.

“I mean, I look at the stars often. Not in depth or anything,” you say with a glance up to the night sky.

He nods in thought, looking up at the twinkling lights and pointing. "Up there. Look."

You take a step closer to him, eyeing the area of sky Gale is pointing towards. "What am I looking at?"

He moves to stand behind you and tilts your head more to the left, his touch ever so gentle. His hand lingers on your cheek as you spot what he has been pointing at - a small cluster of stars just below the moon, twinkling in sync with each other. It is beautiful.

"Woah," you say softly, watching the stars fade in and out. You count around seven of them, all huddled together in one close area, shining and sparkling in a way that you seem to understand.

“Scholars reckon that cluster is due to burn out soon,” he says as he steps back. “In the next twenty years or so they might not even be in the sky anymore. A shame, really.”

“That’s… pretty sad, actually. They’ll just cease to exist?” You turn your gaze away from the stars, seeing him set up the telescope to point over at where you were looking. “We’ll never see them again?”

“Such is the life of a star. To exist, to die. Only ever looked upon long after you’re gone.” He peers through the scope, leaving you to sit with the words he just said.

In a strange way you can’t help but project onto that. All the things your God throws at you, hoping one day to be seen as a champion for them, only to be looked at in awe by other acolytes long after you’re here. Stars and martyrs seem to share similarities. You hope you wouldn't burn out before all that though. Everything you do has to mean something. It has to.

A gentle tap on your arm brings you out of your thoughts as Gale waves you over, retreating from the telescope to allow you to take a look through it.

“Look here, this is something extraordinary,” he says as you approach, leaning down to peer through the scope.

“Holy shit… A planet?” You pull away to look at him with wide eyes as he nods with matched enthusiasm. “You’re kidding. That’s an actual planet?”

“One of them!” He smiles as you spend a few moments looking at the planet normally and then through the telescope. “If I can remember where the others are located, I am more than happy to point them out to you. It may be the wrong time of year to see some of them clearly, though.”

“It’s so pretty. You can see so many colours through this,” you say in awe, a hand holding the telescope to steady yourself. It gets nudged out of place and suddenly you’re looking at a small set of stars - stars that you are certain you didn't see normally. “There’s so much out there… How do you remember where everything is?”

“Practice. Lots of it. Name me a star and I can most likely point it out to you,” he says, a hand on your shoulder as you stand up from the telescope.

“I don’t really know many star names,” you admit sheepishly, but that doesn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Even better!” He begins searching the sky for a moment, before pointing towards something. “See that?” The star he’s pointing towards is bright, probably the brightest in the sky. He’s standing behind you, arm outstretched in front so you can follow where he was pointing at.

“It’s bright. Wait - I know this. It shows the direction of true north, right?” You look at him, noticing how close your faces were in this position. You mentally send a prayer to your God that the moonlight wasn’t bright enough to show the blush spreading on your cheeks.

“Right on the mark.” He drops his hand, letting it rest on your other shoulder. You aren’t sure if you imagine it but you swear you feel a familiar spark as his hand rests on you, similar to what you felt when you touched the dancing light orb.

“I think I can consider myself an expert at the night sky now. Best watch out, people are going to start asking me for knowledge on the stars instead of you,” you tease, leaning back to nudge into him with a playful smile.

“Alright then, my star expert. Where’s Jassa’s Dagger?” He takes a step back, a look on his face that you can’t work out. Your eyes turn to the stars and you search for something that looks anything like a dagger. The stars blend into one the longer you search and you give Gale a sigh, admitting defeat.

“Nothing up there looks like a dagger. If you point to some stars in a similar area and say it’s supposed to be a dagger, I will walk back to camp,” you say, though the threat is empty.

He holds back a smile. “I was cheating a little. Jassa’s Dagger is only seen in winter in the north.”

“I can’t believe you would do that to me.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, retreating to sit down on the blanket. “C’mon, self-appointed star expert, show me the stars.” You pat the space next to you, eager to listen to him tell you everything he knows about the night sky. The two of you lie back on the blanket, the evening only beginning.

The moonlight is soft and gentle across Gale's face as he looks up at the sky, an arm behind his head as he points out different constellations to you with an eagerness that warms your heart. Seeing him in this light, in this moment where it's just the two of you, makes you want to be selfish and keep it like this. Would everyone miss you back at camp? Would they even notice?

"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" he says softly, a smile on his face as his eyes scan across the stars. You haven't been looking at what he was showing you, too enamoured by him to look away. The star's beauty is nothing compared to him, you thought.

"Yeah, really beautiful," you reply, though you weren’t talking about the stars.

He catches your gaze on him, and in this light you can see his cheeks flush red. "I thought we were stargazing… not Gale-gazing."

You let out a laugh. "Can't it be both?"

There’s a moment where he considers something and he keeps his eyes on you for a little longer. “Only if it goes both ways.”

Now it’s your turn for your cheeks to warm up and you turn your gaze back to the stars, feeling his eyes on you as you pretend like everything is fine. It wasn’t, you can feel your heart racing and you hope that it wasn’t too noticeable.

A quiet settles over you both as you look at the night sky. Nothing but a slight breeze breaks the peace you have around you and you wish you could pause time to stay like this forever. It’s such a nice change of pace from running around all day, surviving by the skin of your teeth. You find yourself looking back at Gale once you are certain he’s no longer looking at you, and a smile crosses your face. He looks so at peace here. Another reason why you want to stay like this, you suppose. For so long you’ve both been dealt problems after problems and to finally carve out a moment’s peace? You want to be selfish. You feel like you deserve to be selfish right now.

He catches you staring again and moves his arm, an invitation for you to move closer to him if you want. It’s something you accept almost immediately, resting your head on his chest with a soft sigh of content. There’s only been a handful of times where you had an excuse to be this close to Gale and you were going to savour every moment of this. He’s warm, and in this proximity you can smell the faintest hint of old books, like you’ve just stepped foot in a library. It’s comforting and you ease yourself into his arms, gazing back up at the sky.

Now that you are both in the same space, he begins to point out specific stars and constellations to you, talking softly in detail about each and every one of them. His voice is calming; you could quite easily fall asleep to the sound of him. Maybe once all of this was over you could curl up in his arms with a good book with no worries except what to read afterwards. A quaint and quiet life away from tadpoles and illithids and sleeping in the middle of nature. You couldn’t help but feel a little silly for imagining a life with Gale once the tadpole is removed, having no idea if he even felt the same way towards you. You’re reminded that he’s quite literally holding you in his arms right now and took you stargazing because you brought it up earlier today. Perhaps it isn’t as one sided as you thought.

As you gaze up at the sky, looking at each star Gale points at that makes up a constellation, your eyes are suddenly drawn to some movement further west. Darting across the sky in a beam of light is what you only assume is a meteor.

“I just saw something go across the sky,” you say quickly, tapping him in excitement and pointing in the direction of where the meteor flew by. Another moves across the sky and you grin widely, sitting up to get a better look. Gale follows, arm behind you and shoulder touching yours. He lets out a small gasp when another meteor is seen.

“Incredible! I wasn’t expecting them to be seen until later on,” he admits and you thank the stars for their early arrival.

Seeing each meteor race across the sky, sometimes multiple at a time, is wondrous. It amazes you how these things are possible and how this is the first time you were properly paying attention to it. So much of your nights were staring blankly at the sky and waiting for sleep to come but this was so different. You are actually enjoying it.

After a rather particularly dazzling set of stars shoot across the sky you turn to Gale to see his reaction but you’re met with his soft gaze on you instead.

“Hey… I thought we were stargazing,” you say quietly with a grin, ignoring how you are certain you are blushing. It’s fine when you were the one looking at him but to be on the receiving end makes you feel very flustered.

He doesn’t reply for a beat, instead moving a hand to brush a lock of your hair behind your ear ever so delicately. “I’ve seen a million stars, but nothing as beautiful as how you look right now.”

It is unexpected to the point where you have to remind yourself to breathe. Gale's hand rests on your cheek and you find yourself leaning into the touch.

"Three hundred years is a long time to wait for the next meteor shower," you whisper, hand coming up to rest atop of his.

"The stars can wait," he replies.

You can't help but laugh softly. "That's not what you said earlier."

He smiles in response and goes to reply, but his eyes are drawn upwards and drops his hand from your cheek. You’re met with the cool night air again and cannot help but miss his touch already.

Above you the sky lights up with many trails of stars shooting across the space. When one disappears another takes its place and if your mind wasn’t so full of thoughts you would think of some poetic line about people and burning out and divinity. But right now all you could think about was Gale. As you look back across at him, you get the sense that he’s equally as distracted.

You reach for him, hand resting on his chest as the thought of how willing he was to sacrifice himself for everything crosses your mind. A frown forms on your face at that, the idea that things could be so very different if you had let him.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” you whisper. Part of you hopes it was quiet enough that he didn't hear it but when his eyes widen ever so slightly at your comment you wish you had said it louder, to tell the Gods that they were not going to take the people you care about from you that easily.

“I’m glad, too,” he replies, his hand brushing against yours for a second. “As much as my sacrifice would help, I would miss these little moments… with you.” He takes your hand, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. The gesture is unexpected yet he does it so gently you swear your heart misses a beat.

It’s like time freezes, as Gale looks up at you with a small smile. You brush your hand against his cheek, finding yourself leaning closer to him. There’s a mix of emotions you are feeling as the space between you both grows smaller - nerves and excitement course through your veins.

“Is this alright?” he whispers as you give him a nod in response, a smile spreading across your face.

The kiss is gentle, short but sweet yet his touch lingers on you in a similar way to how your magic lingers after casting. It’s addictive and you cannot help but want more.

After living your life for so long following the demands and pressure of your deity, to allow yourself to indulge in such mortal desires is something you have never considered before.

There’s still a hint of nervousness in the air, a hesitancy that echoes around the both of you. For so long the divine have played roles in both of your lives and now, in this space, it was just the two of you. No Gods, no outside opinions, just you and Gale and the millions of stars shining down upon you.

You didn't need the divine to tell you what to do or how to feel - you were allowing yourself this moment of peace in the middle of chaos.

It's like a thousand stars are inside of you, twinkling and burning brightly as he reaches for you, meeting you for another kiss. His arms wrap around you and you feel the nerves melt away. Your hands tangle in his hair as he pulls you closer, leaning back onto the blanket. A soft laugh escapes your lips as you adjust to the new position, his lips meeting yours before they could be apart for too long. The kiss turns from gentle and shy to something deeper, only growing with each touch and movement. It’s like nothing you could imagine and all you could think of was wanting more.

From the forest behind you a deep and sudden hoot spooks you both, an unexpected noise in the serene quiet you have carved out. A wave of divine energy leaves your hand on instinct, a guiding bolt scorching one of the nearby trees. The smell of burnt wood fills your nose as the flap of wings signals to you that the owl flies off, not wanting to be hit.

“You certainly showed that tree,” Gale says with a small laugh, hands resting on your waist as you turn back to him, embarrassed.

“I guess I’m slightly on edge still,” you reply, the warmth of your magic still coating your hands. Perhaps you overreacted to that. “Though, if anyone is sneaking up on us I think I scared them away.”

Gale sits up and draws a sigil in the air, bringing back the dancing lights. He sends them away, casting light around the forest to make sure no one is sneaking up on you. When the lights show nothing but trees you relax.

“Perhaps it’s time we call it a night?” he suggests. “The last thing we need is for one of our fellow companions to come searching for us and you scorch them into a crisp.”

“You’re right.” You move back to give him some space, turning your gaze back up to the sky. “Who knew the stars could be so much fun?”

He laughs, giving you a look that suggests that he knows it wasn’t just the stargazing you enjoyed. “I’m more than happy to lend you books on the stars if you’re enjoying yourself that much.”

“Only if you read it to me. I quite like the sound of your voice.” You note the blush on his cheeks when you say that, and he’s quick to turn his back to you to start packing everything away.

The dancing lights return to your little area, the purple orbs of light flickering around you as Gale begins to pack away the telescope. You sit, fingers grazing across one of the orbs with a curious intent. A tiny shock of energy responds to your touch and Gale turns to look at you with a frown.

“Everything alright?” he asks as you give a nod, moving your hand away from the light that floats by you. He looks from the orb to you and smiles. “You know I can feel when you interact with them.”

“You can?” You gently poke the light and he laughs, taking a seat opposite you.

“It’s more like I can sense when things are interacting with it. Good for things like a mage hand or bigger spells, useless for others,” he explains and you nod, moving the light away from your face so you don't blind yourself with it. “I assume you have a similar thing with your magic?”

You give him a shrug, never having thought of that. “I’m not really sure. Your magic feels a lot different to mine, which makes sense, I suppose… being that mine’s divine in nature.”

He looks at you curiously, head tilted to the side. “What does it feel like?”

“It feels like lightning, but smaller. Every time I touch the lights there’s a crackle of energy,” you explain, hand brushing over one of the orbs that is near you. “It’s like I’m standing outside just before a storm… everything’s on edge and there’s a sense of static in the air.”

Gale nods as you speak, purple light casting over the both of you as the dancing lights rotate around. He looks pretty in the light and you want to capture the sight of him in your mind forever.

“And what does my magic feel like? You’ve certainly experienced enough of it to know.” You grin. There’s been many times where you would be at Gale’s side to heal him after a rough round of combat. No matter how many times you told him to keep back he seemed to enjoy rushing in and obliterating anything that came towards him.

“Warm. It reminds me of home if I’m being completely honest. I feel safe,” he says softly and you weren’t expecting that. “Not to play favourites but I prefer the feel of your magic than Shadowheart’s. Hers is cold, slightly suffocating in a unusual way. Yours is like… a warm embrace from someone you love.”

You immediately feel that comment going to your head and even though you wouldn't dare tell Shadowheart that, it makes you feel… something. It is hard to pinpoint the exact feeling but you know that you were going to think about that for a long while now.

Safe. The word repeats around your head and you feel your chest well with warmth at the fact that Gale felt safe around you and your magic. The divine works in mysterious ways and they seem to have blessed you with this moment. It made all the times you’ve healed him worth it.

Once everything is packed away, you begin the walk back towards camp hand in hand. It’s nice, though the closer you get back to the others you can’t help but grow nervous. The quiet away from everyone has been nice and it’s a shame it was over. As much as you enjoy the company of everyone else, sometimes they could get a bit much. You give Gale a sad look as you let go of his hand, but he just nods in understanding. This was new. You didn't want to rush anything yet.

Scratch runs up to you both as you enter camp and you’re quick to give him as many scratches as possible to keep him from barking and waking everyone up. Not that it mattered much, but you preferred your late night excursion out with Gale to not become the camp’s latest gossip. You walk back to Gale’s tent, Scratch following at your heel.

“This was fun,” you say, setting down the telescope case. “We should do it again.”

Gale gives you a sly smile. “The stargazing? Or the…” he pauses, taking a quick glance around the other tents to make sure no one else was awake.

You’re quick to finish off his sentence. “Why not both?”

“I suppose you’re right. It was quite fun, even if it does feel a little juvenile to sneak away for a secret rendezvous of sorts.”

“Would you prefer it if everyone knew? We can always announce it loudly next time,” you say with a laugh as he’s quick to shake his head.

“Gods no. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps in the future? If this is a thing we are to keep doing… I do rather enjoy your company, you know.”

“So do I.” You look behind you, and when you are certain the coast is clear, press a soft kiss to his cheek.

As you start to take a step back, he catches your lips in a kiss. It’s over quicker than you would have wanted but you were both playing a dangerous game doing this so out in the open. But everyone was asleep, surely stealing kisses from him would be fine?

Against what your mind is telling you to do, you put space between you both. “Goodnight, Gale.”

“Goodnight,” he replies with a warm smile, watching you leave for a beat before heading into his own tent to hide how red his face was.

You retreat back to your own tent for the night, Scratch following behind you. Before you head inside to rest, you look back through the treeline up at the stars and smile. Maybe stargazing was more fun than you originally thought.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #; tealeaf's writing

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stylesispunk · 8 months

Text

"The not so invisible string" | part 3

not outbreak! Joel Miller x f! Reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

summary: you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

word count:8k>

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, fluff.

a/n: Hello! Well, it took me almost two weeks to write something, and it was hard because I had no inspiration, so this is probably my worst piece of writing. However, I hope you enjoy it, The next chapter will be better because I have inspo for that one. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌 You can always send asks or talk to me whenever you want. Again, sorry for the chapter, i promise the next one will be better 😭

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

When's the exact point in life when you stop feeling excitement for what's to come? Growing up becomes a deadly fear creeping within your bones because there's no more dreams left for you, but you face the cruel reality of life becoming a cycle, a boring idea of waking up to survive the day instead of living it, when you face that the ideas you grew up with died with the years passing by.

But now, as you approached Joel’s place of work, the familiar rush of butterflies and excitement began to creep back in. You felt like a teenager before a first date with the person you like. Just as you were breaking down, Joel came back, pulling you into perspective.

You had recalled the three happiest days of your life: the first time you held Tara in your arms, the first kiss with Joel, and the day you met Joel. Even though the last happened at such a young age, you should have forgotten about them by now.

The car pulled into the parking lot of Joel's workplace, and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves.

Finally, you arrived at Joel's office. The door stood ajar, and you hesitated for a moment before knocking. The sound reverberated in the room, and Joel looked up from his desk, a warm smile breaking across his face.

It has been days since the first time you saw him again, and your heart was getting used to the idea of him surrounding you again.

"Hey," he said, rising from his chair. "I'm glad you came."

You offered a polite smile in return. "Well, you promised me a job or something.”

Joel gestured for you to take a seat. "Absolutely, I'm excited to discuss it with you."

Once you took a seat, he was speechless for a moment once again, his gaze fixed on you, on your hair, on your eyes, on your lips, and all over your face when he used to kiss you all over every time he wanted to, but he dismissed those thoughts away before you could notice he was looking at you that way.

"I've been thinking," Joel began, breaking the momentary silence, "about how we can make this work, about the job, about us working together."

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“"I know it's not just a job," he admitted. "It's a sort of chance for the both of us to rekindle our friendship.”

Friendship—how bad he wanted to be the romance.

“So is this a trap?” you asked.

“A trap? No,” he answered. “You know, all this construction stuff is not your cup of tea, but I would really like for you to help me get things organized here.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows frowned.

Joel leaned back in his chair, a contemplative expression on his face. "Because it was you who used to organize my life before, and you’re the most organized person I know.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly at his unexpected compliment, and the nostalgia in his eyes was evident.

"Joel, we need to be clear about our boundaries here," you emphasized, steering the conversation back to the work matter before it led to other things. "I'm here for a job, not to rekindle old flames or revisit the past. We have responsibilities, and our daughters are involved. Let's keep it professional."

He nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I agree. Professional, it is. We're both adults, and I’m your boss now,” he smirked at the last sentence.

You chuckled at Joel's playful remark. "Fair enough, boss. Let's get down to the details, then. What exactly would my role be, and what are the expectations?"

Joel leaned forward, outlining the scope of the position and the responsibilities that needed your attention.

As you settled into the chair, Joel began outlining the job details, providing a comprehensive overview of the responsibilities involved. Your focus remained on the professional aspects of the conversation, but every now and then, a shared glance or a subtle reference to the past hinted at the layers of history between you.

Midway through the discussion, the door creaked open, and you turned to see Tommy entering the room.

"Am I interrupting something?" Tommy asked, glancing between Joel and you. His eyes widened, and a smile broke across his face as he recognized you.

"I can’t believe it!” he exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "Wow, I didn't expect to see you here. It's been so many years!"

Joel stood up, wearing a grin. "Tommy, I introduce you to our new assistant.”

You extended a hand, but Tommy went straight up for a hug. "I’m really happy to see you again.”

“I say the same,” you replied with a smile, feeling a warmth in reconnecting with Tommy.

Tommy's eyes sparkled with nostalgia. "Well, it's great to have you back in the picture. Joel rarely brings people here, so you know what that means?” He paused a moment to look at you again. "Wow, you look just as beautiful as I remember.”

You exchanged a curious glance with Joel, knowing the implication behind Tommy's words.

Joel rolled his eyes, a bashful grin on his face. "Tommy, stop making it sound like a big deal."

"Hey, I'm just stating the facts," Tommy replied, winking at you. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to your business. Nice to see you again."

As Tommy exited the room, you turned back to Joel, the air carrying a subtle shift in dynamics.

As the conversation progressed, you found yourself immersed in work-related discussions, temporarily setting aside your shared history. The task at hand became the priority, and you delved into the details of the job, determined to establish clear professional boundaries in this unexpected turn of events in your life.

As the weeks passed by, Joel and you got used to your new routine; seeing each other added some excitement back to your life again, and you couldn’t help but feel nostalgia for what you once had been together, bringing back the memories of the past, while the fresh cultivated growth between you added a new purpose to your days.

And as if the present would want to get the memories of your history together as two strings connecting your lives, you came back from a meeting with some suppliers with a scraped knee.

As you limped back into the office, Joel noticed your discomfort and immediately became concerned. "What happened?" he asked, his brows furrowed with worry.

"Just a little accident during the meeting," you replied, trying to play it off. But Joel could see through the facade, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

He still knew you so well.

“They didn’t hit me, by the way; I fell. Just to clarify” you smiled, as Joel reached for the first aid kit, no long after, he was kneeling beside you, carefully cleaning and applying a band-aid to your scraped knee. The touch of his hands brought back a flood of memories—the innocence of childhood and the way he used to caressed your skin as you grew up.

As he secured the band-aid in place, Joel couldn't help but smile. "Do you remember the first time I did this?" he said, his tone nostalgic.

You chuckled, nodding. "How could I forget? It seems like a lifetime ago."

Joel's gaze held a warmth that transcended time, and in that moment, the lines between past and present blurred. He placed his hand over your knee, and his touch made your skin burn at the contact, but not in an uncomfortable way, but as a warm sensation that only he was able to give.

"Joel,” you whispered.

Joel's touch lingered for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. There was a silent understanding between you, a connection that surpassed words.

"Sorry," he said, withdrawing his hand, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. "I just wanted to make sure it's secure."

You nodded, feeling a strange mix of vulnerability and familiarity. "Thanks, Joel. For taking care of me.”

A smile played on his lips, and he stood up, disposing of the used bandage. "Anytime, Doe.”

Your hearts kept beating at the same sound and at the same rhythm, desperately finding a way to belong to each other again.

Two days later, in the evening, as you were getting dinner ready for Dwight and Tara, Dwight suggested inviting Joel and Sarah over for dinner since it seemed like you and his daughter seemed to enjoy their presence so much.

“What? Why?” you asked, being caught off guard by the suggestion of having Joel share the same table with your husband.

“Well, it seems like Tara is a good friend with his daughter. Plus, it would be good to know this so famous Joel.”

You couldn't deny the truth in Dwight's words, but the idea of having Joel and Sarah over for dinner still stirred up complex emotions. Not for Sarah, of course. But Joel meeting the man you had settled with seemed so out of touch.

"Why not?" Tara chimed in, trying to reassure you. "It'll be nice having them over."

After a moment of contemplation, you sighed. "Alright, let's do it. But keep it simple, okay?” You turned to Dwight and said, “Please, behave.”

Dwight nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "Simple it is. It's just a friendly dinner, no strings attached."

You took a deep breath, considering the implications. "Alright, I'll call Joel. But let's keep it casual.”

You dialed Joel's number, and after a few rings, he answered. "Hey, Doe, what's up?"

You smiled at the nickname this time. Since having him back, you were getting so used to his presence that you almost loved that word slipping from his lips.

"Joel, we were thinking of having you and Sarah over for dinner. Just something simple," you explained, trying to keep the tone casual.

There was a brief pause before Joel responded, "Dinner sounds great. We'd love to. What time?"

Joel agreed to the time you offered. You felt painful anticipation and nervousness after hanging up the phone.

As soon as you heard a car pulling over in front of your house, your heart rate increased at the nervousness you felt for what could be happening as soon as Joel entered that door. You feared Dwight the most. He wasn’t a bad man, but he clearly was someone different from the person you had married; his recent behavior had been puzzling, almost as if he wanted to drive you away. The thought of potential humiliation loomed, and you couldn't shake off the unease in your mind.

“I’ll welcome our guests,” he said, standing on the couch. You nodded, trying to mask the worry on your face.

As Dwight greeted Joel and Sarah at the door, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself in the kitchen. The sounds of casual conversation and laughter echoed from the living room.

You walked there, approaching Joel, who was wearing a really tight smile, trying not to make you uncomfortable.

“Hi!” you exclaimed, trying to erase the shakiness from your bones.

"Hey," Joel replied, his smile mirroring yours, but there was an unease in his eyes that didn't go unnoticed.

Dwight led everyone to the living room, and as they settled in, you couldn't shake off the tension in the air. Tara and Sarah, however, seemed eager to catch up, leaving you and Joel with a shared glance, reflecting the tiny smile at seeing both of your daughters spending time together.

“So, uhm, babe, why don’t you serve dinner? Our guests must be starving already!”

Dwight's casual comment lingered in the air, and you nodded, forcing a smile as you made your way to the kitchen. Joel followed suit, excusing himself from the conversation in the living room.

Once in the kitchen, the atmosphere shifted. You began to cut some vegetables for the salad, the clatter of utensils masking the quiet tension in the room.

Joel, sensing the unease, spoke up, "Do you need help?"

You glanced at him, grateful for the lifeline. "Sure, if you can handle chopping some vegetables."

As you worked side by side, the silence between you spoke louder than words. The weight of unspoken history loomed, and each passing moment felt like a delicate dance on a tightrope.

Joel broke the silence, his voice hushed. "Are you okay?"

You offered a tight smile, avoiding eye contact. "I'm fine. I'm just trying to get through the evening."

He nodded, respecting the boundaries between the two of you. Ever since you two had rekindled your relationship and friendship, you had become more open to him, yet being in your house as the wife of another man was completely different. He felt tense, yet he wanted to be fine for you.

With the vegetables chopped and the dinner done, Joel and you walked around the kitchen as if nothing had ever changed between the two of you. The warmth of shared memories collided with the reality of the present once more.

It was Friday night, and you and Joel stood side by side at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables and exchanging stories from the day. Joel’s fingers brushed against yours as you reached for spice—a simple touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

As you prepared the ingredients, Joel leaned in, whispering the steps of the recipe in your ear. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a rush of heat through you. Cooking had never been more enjoyable now than when you were living together, sharing stolen kisses in the middle of a kitchen transformed into a space where time seemed to stand still.

How bad you wanted time to stand still yet.

As the final touches were put on the dinner plates, Joel hesitated, his voice once again breaking the silence. "I never imagined us in a situation like this."

You paused, glancing at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, me being in the kitchen with you in the house you live in with your daughter and husband.”

The weight of his words echoed the sentiments you both shared but didn't dare voice. "Well, things change,” you replied, your tone carrying the weight of time passing by.

With the dinner ready, you both carried the plates to the dining table. Everyone sat down, Tara and Sarah sat side by side, and Dwight, seemingly at ease, directed the conversation toward casual topics, creating an illusion of normalcy.

Joel sat across from you, his eyes occasionally meeting yours, looking for an answer.

“So, Joel,” Dwight began, "what do you do for a living?”

“Building contractor,” he replied, a little bit tense.

“Building contractor” Dwight recalled, “We’re calling you when something gets broken.”

Joel chuckled, a nervous smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, something like that. Fixing things is what I do." He mocked.

Dwight nodded approvingly, steering the conversation away from the unspoken tension. "Well, it's good to have someone handy around. You never know when a pipe might burst or a door might get jammed."

“He is a contractor, not your personal Plummer,” you intervened, a little bit tense with Dwight's careless attitude.

Joel looked at you appreciatively, and you could sense his relief at your intervention. Dwight chuckled, a casual dismissal in his tone. "Well, fixing things is fixing things, right? It's all in the same realm."

You sighed inwardly, realizing that Dwight's nonchalant approach was his way of diffusing the tension, but it didn't alleviate the unease in the air. Joel shifted uncomfortably, sensing the delicate nature of the conversation.

“Maybe he could fix that attitude of yours,” Dwight said, swiping his wine as he pointed out your attitude.

You raised an eyebrow at Dwight's comment, with surprise and hurt crossing your face. The tension in the room seemed to thicken, and Joel let out a forced chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Come on, Dwight," Joel said with a half-smile, "we're all just figuring things out here. There is no need for any fixing, just understanding."

Dwight leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eye. "Fair enough, fair enough. I can take a joke. But seriously, Joel, you're welcome here. Just promise you won't go stealing my wife without a warning.”

Joel's forced chuckle faded into an uncomfortable silence as Dwight's comment took an unexpected turn. The atmosphere in the room became more palpably strained, and you exchanged a quick glance with Joel, recognizing the need to address the comment delicately.

“Tara, can you and Sarah go upstairs, please?” you pleaded. She immediately understood and took her friend with her upstairs.

Once they were out of sight, you turned to Dwight. “Stop behaving like an idiot in front of others,” you warned.

Dwight's playful demeanor shifted as he met your stern gaze. The air in the room carried the weight of your warning, and for a moment, the unspoken tension became more palpable.

"I was just trying to lighten the mood," Dwight responded, attempting to downplay the situation.

"Well, then lighten the mood without making inappropriate jokes," you countered, your voice firm.

Joel, who had been quietly observing the exchange, nodded in agreement. "She's right. Let's try to keep things civil and avoid unnecessary complications."

Dwight sighed, realizing he had crossed a line. "Fine, fine. I'll tone it down. No more jokes.” He paused for a moment, not looking at you. “But I would like to know why my wife hides that you are actually her boyfriend.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence as Dwight's question hung in the air. You felt the weight of his words, and Joel's eyes met yours.

“Actually, I think I better be going. It’s getting late,” Joel spoke, meeting your watered gaze.

“No, you’re not,” Dwight warned. His expression remained firm, and he spoke with an authoritative tone. "Joel, you're a guest here, and we should resolve this now. We're all adults, and we can handle an honest conversation."

Joel hesitated, caught between the desire to avoid further conflict and the weight of the unspoken truths that lingered in the room. He glanced at you, silently seeking guidance. You took a deep breath, recognizing the need to address the situation.

"Dwight, we need to handle this with care," you urged, your tone calm yet firm. "Joel has the right to leave if he feels uncomfortable. We can discuss things more openly when tensions have cooled down."

“I want to know why you lied to me about it,” Dwight said to you.

In your nervousness, Joel noticed you were uncomfortable. He reached for you to touch your shoulder in order to make you feel better, but before he could come closer, Dwight intervened.

“Don’t touch her,” Dwight warned.

Joel withdrew, a frown forming on his face, but he respected Dwight's demand. The room fell into an uneasy silence as the unspoken complexities of the situation continued to unfold. The need for a careful and honest conversation was evident, but the challenge was maintaining a level of respect and understanding in the face of rising tensions.

"We need to talk about this," you said, your voice steady. "But let's do it when we can all approach the conversation calmly and with an intention to understand, not to accuse."

Dwight nodded, his expression still stern. "Fine, but we will address this. No more hiding."

Later, as you and Dwight prepared for bed, the weight of the unspoken conversation loomed over you. Dwight, however, was not ready to let the matter rest.

"Before we go to sleep, can we talk about this?" he asked, his tone earnest.

You hesitated, fully aware that addressing the issue in your current emotional state would only escalate matters further. Instead of responding directly, you began gathering a few belongings, making your intention to spend the night in the guest room clear.

"I just need some space tonight," you explained, avoiding eye contact. "We can talk about everything in the morning when we've had time to think."

Dwight's expression shifted between frustration and concern. "I just want to understand, to know the truth."

"I know," you replied, your voice softening. "And we will talk. But not tonight."

“You’re married to me,” he called out before you stepped out of the room.

You turned to face him, your expression displaying frustration. “And?”

“You own me respect,” he stated.

“Respect must be earned, and right now you are acting like an idiot,” you acknowledged, your voice steady.

With that, you left the room, leaving Dwight to contemplate his behavior. Right now, you felt your marriage was dying little by little, and you wanted nothing more than just freedom.

+++

The next morning, there was a palpable sense of tension in the atmosphere. As you prepared for the day, the weight of the unresolved talk with Dwight hung heavy in your mind. He was nowhere to be found during the morning, so you get ready for the day.

After a restless night, you decided to head into work, hoping that a change of scenery and a return to routine might provide a necessary distraction. As you made your way to Joel’s office, you noticed Joel sitting with quiet contemplation in his eyes.

"Morning," you greeted, offering a tentative smile.

"Morning," Joel replied, his expression mirroring the unease in the room.

"Oh, I just wanted to say sorry for last night," you began, choosing your words carefully. " Dwight's attitude was completely

Joel shook his head, a small smile breaking through. "It's not your fault. Beside, I can handle a bit of tension."

You appreciated his understanding with a tiny smile.

“Did you sleep well, though? You seem restless,” he pointed out.

You sighed, acknowledging the toll the previous night had taken on your peace of mind. "Not really. The atmosphere was a bit... tense."

Joel's gaze softened, understanding the weight of the situation. “Well, I’m sorry for being back in your life,” he joked.

“Don’t say that,” you tilted your head. “You’re the best thing that happened to me this last time.”

Joel's smile widened at your words; the tension in the room was momentarily replaced with a warm exchange. "Well, if that's the case, I'm glad to be back." He paused and said, “Take your time. Relationships are like construction projects. They need a solid foundation and careful planning."

With a chuckle, you responded, "You would know, being a building contractor and all."

As the day unfolded, you found yourself grateful for Joel's presence and the brief moments of levity he brought. It was a reminder that, amidst the uncertainties, a supportive connection could make the uncharted territory feel a bit less daunting.

+++++

“By the way, Sarah called me; she and Tara are going to my house to finish this school project,” Joel told you.

A sense of relief washed over you as Joel shared the news about Sarah and Tara. It provided a welcomed diversion from the complex situation you had at home.

"Oh, that's great," you replied, a genuine smile forming. "At least they have each other's company. I hope the project is going well."

“It’s great how they became friends so easily. It reminds me of us,” he said, smiling.

You couldn't help but smile at Joel's observation. "Yeah, it does, doesn't it?”

Joel nodded in agreement, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “Okay, so you’re free to go; I can drive Tara home once they’re done with the project.”

You nodded appreciatively at Joel's offer. "That would be great, thanks. And thanks for being here, Joel," you said, expressing gratitude for the fresh air he had offered you since he became part of your life again "It means a lot."

Joel nodded, a reassuring presence. "Take your time, and remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. We'll get through this."

“See you later, then?”

“See you later, Doe”

+++++

Once you arrived back home, Dwight was there. The tension already felt like a string around your neck, suffocating you all over.

As you stepped back into the house, the familiar surroundings felt charged with tension. You both exchanged a cautious glance, each aware of the elephant in the room. Dwight, however, seemed to be avoiding the topic, engaging in mundane conversations through his phone with someone else.

After some time, when you could no longer bear the unspoken tension, you decided to address the elephant in the room. "Dwight, we need to talk about last night. We can't just ignore it."

He sighed, a subtle avoidance in his eyes. "Can't it wait? I've got a work trip coming up, and I need to get everything sorted."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of frustration and disbelief in your expression. "A work trip? You're leaving for the whole weekend?"

Dwight nodded, his gaze drifting away. "Yeah, well, I’ll come back next Friday. It's a last-minute thing. I need to handle some important projects. It came up unexpectedly."

The timing felt convenient yet suspicious. The air thickened with unspoken questions, but Dwight continued to divert the conversation away from the pressing issues.

"Dwight, we can't keep avoiding this," you insisted, your voice firm. "We need to address what happened."

"I know, I know," he replied, a hint of impatience in his tone. "But I've got to leave now, and I need to get some rest. Can we talk when I get back?"

The evasion felt deliberate, leaving you frustrated and with a sense of urgency to address the unresolved matters. However, faced with the impending work trip, Dwight's departure seemed inevitable.

"Fine," you reluctantly agreed, though the unease lingered. "But when you get back, we're talking about this. No more avoiding."

Dwight nodded, though his expression remained distant, but still he pecked your lips.

“Take care, and take care of Tara,” he said before stepping out of the house.

You were left there in the middle of a living room that felt colder as the days passed by. You have never felt so small in your life as you were feeling now, living under the same moon as Dwight, and that thought alone made you sick.

Every time sadness overcomes you and salty tears stream out of your eyes, you take out your memory box and look at the pictures of your older self, the one who thought she knew everything, the one who thought she knew herself without her half. Every single time you came across those memories, it was Joel, the one beside you, looking at you as if you were hanging the moon in the sky, and you smiled.

When you looked at the pictures of him, you were relieved by the words and the kisses, and suddenly all the space surrounding you was full of him. You had come to terms with the fact that you weren’t complete without him; he lived inside you because he made you feel complete; he taught you how to love and be loved and how to know you were worth the world; and after him, you accepted that you were never going to be that foolish girl again.

But now, you were in front of his door, hesitating and gathering the courage to knock on the door and face the what if, and when Joel opened the door with surprise on his face, you were him, and he was you.

"Oh. You’re not a pizza guy,” he said, with evident surprise in his voice.

You managed a small smile at Joel's observation, appreciating the brief moment of levity. "No, not the pizza guy. But I was alone at my house, and I thought I could stop by and take Tara home.”

“Actually, I promised the girls a pizza; we were just about to.“

"Oh, okay, I can come later,” you interrupted, feeling ashamed of the sudden feeling you have to be closer to him again.

“What are you talking about? Of course, no, come here,” he said, moving from the door entrance to allow you to step into his house.

This was the first time you were here, and you couldn’t help but recall all the features of Joel that made him him. How those tiny objects and decorations around his house told the story of him, and how would it be if you didn’t leave that night?

“Such a cozy home.” You emphasize the word home since this one felt like one.

Joel smiled warmly at your compliment. "Thanks. I try to make it feel like home. Come on in; make yourself comfortable."

Suddenly, his hand traveled to your waist, guiding you through his house, and the air was cut from your lungs. Your eyes met for a second, and his hand left his spot; however, his handprint still burned.

However, Joel guided you toward the living room, where Tara and Sarah were eagerly setting up the table for their promised dinner. The girls looked up, their faces lighting up with surprise and excitement.

"Hey, look who's here!" Joel announced, his tone cheerful as he entered the living room with Sarah and Tara. The girls greeted you warmly, their excitement contagious.

“Mom? What are you doing here?” Tara asked, walking towards you to envelope you in a tight embrace.

You hug Tara and say, "I thought I'd drop by and join you guys for pizza." You lied.

I felt alone; you thought for yourself only.

Sarah chimed in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Are you staying for the movie night too?"

You looked at Joel curious; he still had Friday's movie night. “I supposed,” you answered, still looking at Joel. “Can I?

"Absolutely,” Joel said, not taking his gaze away from yours.

“What about my dad?” Tara asked, “Is he okay with this?”

“Well, he left for a business trip, so we are alone for the weekend,” you replied.

And before more questions could be asked, the doorbell rang.

“The pizza, I’ll go for it,” Joel announced, disappearing from your view.

“Mom, are you okay?” Tara asked, concerned.

You gave Tara a reassuring smile. "I'm okay, sweetheart. I just wanted to spend some time with you and have a fun movie night."

Tara nodded, still showing a hint of concern. "If you ever need to talk or anything..."

"Thank you, Tara. I appreciate that," you replied, grateful for her caring nature.

As Joel returned with the pizza, the evening continued with shared laughter, conversation, and the simple joy of spending time together. The movie Night became a bridge connecting the past and the present, offering a glimpse into the potential for renewed connections.

The living room, adorned with warmth and laughter, and everything between you and Joel felt so natural as if time didn’t pass by.

You didn’t notice, but Tara paid attention to the both of you with a smile on her face. This exact moment was the picture she had always imagined of a happy family. A happy mother, a father who didn’t need to utter words to show the love he felt for the woman beside him, because she saw in Joel’s eyes the way he looked at you as if you were the brightest star in the sky, that man loved you, and she felt at ease.

“You know, you can stay the night." Joel offered you, once Sarah and Tara fell asleep in Sarah’s room, “You can take my bed and I can take the couch.”

You hesitated for a moment, weighing the implications of Joel's suggestion. It was completely fine for a pair of friends, but you weren’t just that, and you both know that behind all the reconnection, there was addiction to something you couldn’t possess.

"I appreciate the offer, Joel," you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips. "But I should head to my house.”

“But you don’t deserve to go to a lonely house,” he said, trying to plead with you about the idea of spending a night with you under the same roof. He started to feel a joy inside his gut, all his feelings hidden there.

You could sense concern in Joel’s voice and see the pleading dancing in his eyes, but saying yes to him felt like steeping into fire. You still saw in Joel all the habits he picked up from you, being the pleading eyes one of the things you remembered the most, and now you could understand the implications of what your departure did to him.

His heart broke in two, just like yours.

"I appreciate the concern, Joel, but I don’t think it is fair to you," you said, your voice gentle.

“Please?” He pleaded again, his eyes sparkling so much that you could follow the light on them.

“Okay, I’ll stay.” You gave up; you couldn’t say “no” to him so many times.

You saw his dark brown eyes twinkling as he nodded, smiling at your answer.

"Thank you," Joel whispered, breaking into a small, relieved smile.

You followed him into the familiar surroundings of his home; every step felt like discovering a new way back home. A sense of warmth enveloped you, making you feel protected and comfortable in Joel´s presence.

Once you stepped into his bedroom, you took a seat on his bed, and a wave of nostalgia washed over you. The familiar scent of Joel was all over the space that you could navigate inside this wall blindfolded, and the comforting presence of him felt like a step back in time.

Joel, sensing something dancing in your eyes, opened his closet and pulled out a set of comfortable clothes. "Here, you can wear these for the night. They should be comfortable enough."

“Oh my god!” you said, looking at the shirt Joel had lent you. “You still have this?” you asked him, in awe.

Joel chuckled, the warmth of shared memories evident in his eyes. "Yeah, I kept it. It's been tucked away in the back, but I figured it might come in handy tonight."

Your fingers traced the fabric of the shirt. "I can't believe you still have it. It feels like a lifetime ago."

He smiled, a nostalgic twinkle in his eyes. "Some things are hard to let go."

For a moment, time between you stopped, and for a moment, you were still able to see the sunlight through his hair in the morning and how he sounded when he laughed. And you hoped you didn’t damage his heart that much.

"Thanks, Joel. It's been a while since I wore something from your closet." The soft fabric of the shirt still carried a subtle scent of Joel that brought back a flood of memories.

He chuckled a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Yeah, it has. Well, I'll let you get some rest. Goodnight, Doe."

Doe

You allowed him to call him Doe this time, pretending he was still yours and you were his.

"Goodnight, Joel," you replied, changing into the borrowed clothes. The fabric held a hint of his familiar scent, adding an extra layer of comfort as you settled beneath the covers. The bedroom door closed, leaving you in the soft embrace of memories as sleep gradually claimed you.

However, the soft glow of the moonlight spilled through the windows as you lay in bed and witnessed your sleeping trouble as you tried to find solace in the familiar surroundings of Joel’s room.

It was different. Sleeping in a bed with the scent of the man whose presence allowed you to sleep wasn’t the same when he wasn’t next to you, letting you rest your head on his chest.

So, as sleep proved elusive, and after tossing and turning for what felt like hours, you decided to go downstairs, hoping Joel was awake.

As you descended the stairs, the hushed sounds of the night filled the house. The soft creaking of the floor under your weight was the only disruption to the silence. When you reached the living room, you saw Joel sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on an old photo album.

He seemed lost in a sea of memories, unaware of your presence. You stood there for a moment, observing the emotions playing across his face as he traced the images with his fingers, as if he were savoring the past with his fingertips, trying to bring it back.

When he finally noticed you, a small smile curled his lips. "Couldn't you sleep either?

You shook your head, joining him on the couch. "Too many thoughts."

He nodded in understanding, closing the photo album. "I get it."

Back in time, Joel had the advantage of taking your heart when it was still a blank canvas expecting to be painted on. He took it so delicately and caressed it with such care in order to never hurt you. He made you love him so much that once he wasn’t in your life anymore, you didn’t know where to put his love anymore.

It never left.

Joel's gaze remained fixed on the closed photo album in his hands. "Sometimes, I wish we could go back," he admitted, his voice a soft whisper.

You sighed, the ache of longing settling in your chest. “Back when?”

"When we were young and foolish, everything felt so alive."

As you looked at Joel, his eyes held a warmth that transcended the years. "We can't change the past, Joel," you said, your voice gentle. “The past made us what we are now.”

“Yet it cost me to lose you,” he said.

You took a seat beside him on the couch; the distance between you measured not in physical space but in the vast expanse of years and the unspoken words that lingered in the air.

"I lost you too," you replied, your voice a whisper. The weight of the shared regret hung between you, a palpable reminder of the choices that had shaped your lives. "But maybe, in losing each other, we found different paths, different versions of ourselves."

Joel's gaze remained on the photo album, his fingers tracing patterns on the closed cover. "Do you ever wonder about what we could have been?”

"Always," you confessed. "But you don’t lose me at all; I’m here again.”

A small smile played on Joel's lips. His fingers gently cupped your face, his touch a tender exploration of the years that had etched themselves on your skin. His thumb traced the contours of your cheekbones, a soft caress that spoke longing and love.

Leaning in, Joel brought his forehead to rest against yours, the closeness of your proximity stirring memories of when you belonged together. The air between you crackled with unspoken emotions, and inside your chest, you felt your broken heart patching together, with such a burning desire to close the distance between the two of you.

His lips hovered close to yours, a breath away, the pull of history and the magnetic force of shared affection urging him forward. The world outside the quiet living room ceased to exist, and you found yourself caught in the gravitational pull of an unfinished story.

But even when the kiss could rewrite the story, you weren’t a cheater. You heart raced, but your mind stopped doing something stupid and naïve.

Before you could make up your mind completely, Joel pulled back, his eyes searching yours. The unspoken words lingered in the air.

"Does he treat you right?" Joel's words hung in the air, a mix of genuine concern and a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

You took a moment, your gaze meeting his, and there was a silent conversation between you two.

"In some ways, he's everything I need. In others, he's a puzzle I'm still figuring out." You answered.

Joel nodded, avoiding your gaze as he felt his heart break all over again for you.

“When I found out I was pregnant,” you began, “Dwight and I were dating. It had been only three months, and couples aren’t parents in such a short time.” You paused for a moment, hoping for Joel to look at you again, and when he did, you continued, “I was scared, but he was so nice to me at that moment, and by the end we were over the moon. At least I was happy I was going to have a baby girl. When Tara was born, we moved in together, and long story short, we got married because it seemed correct at the time.

“And?” Joel asked, trying to figure out when your life becomes different, but he still knew by the way your eyes looked that not everything was as fine as it seemed.

“He was an amazing husband and friend; it almost made me forget about the broken heart I had because of you. But these last four years with him had been complicated,” you continued, a touch of vulnerability in your voice.

“How?”

"Just because he is different from me. It’s like he is plotting for an ending and Tara is noticing, and it felt so humiliating to have your own daughter notice her father doesn’t love her mother.”

Joel's gaze softened for a moment, and before asking a question, he was scared to ask, “And do you love him?”

Your eyes widened at the sudden question, and a moment of hesitation hung in the air. You took a deep breath before answering.

"It's not that simple," you admitted, your voice carrying uncertainty and honesty. "I care about him, but..."

“But what?”

“You know what.” You said it in three simple words, and he understood.

It cost so much to keep love from going wrong, but between you and Joel, there wasn’t a particular ending. The lovers between you both never went wrong; neither expired because you were still hungry for each other's devotion. But now that it seemed like time had become your enemy, you weren’t young enough to break free and run as you could have done it before.

“I love you,” he said. “Never stop doing it.” His voice resonated as someone who spent years and years yearning for the touch of their lover.

“I’m sorry,” you confessed, not avoiding saying the three words back to him; he didn’t need to hear them. He already knew you loved him back as much as he loved you. “For the way I left you,”

Joel's gaze held relief and understanding. He knew somehow you had healed from those wounds. "I don't blame you, Doe. We were young, and life threw challenges at us. I've had my share of regrets too.” He reached out, his hand finding yours, and they still fit together as one. “Now, can we please be friends again?” he pleaded.

You nodded, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Now that you’re back, I couldn’t let you go.”

Joel's eyes sparkled with a newfound light, and he suggested, "How about we watch a movie until you fall asleep?"

You agreed, and together you settled on the couch. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the TV screen, casting a warm ambiance that seemed to cocoon the two of you in a world of shared moments.

As the movie played, the silence between you held a comfort that transcended words. Joel shifted, creating a makeshift pillow with his arm, and you found a natural spot on his chest. The rise and fall of his breath became a soothing rhythm, lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn't felt in a long time without pills.

Joel looks down at your sleeping figure on his chest, with your hand grasping the gem of his shirt. He was starved by your touch, wanting nothing but to trace patterns on your face as he used to. Your soft expression lines told the story of how the past and present went from here. That there’s no one he could call home, and you could never leave home completely, and how easy it would be to be young again.

And he looked at the ring on your finger, a reminder that you weren’t his anymore, and how easy it was for someone to feel hungry by something that was forbidden. Yet he thought about the ring he still had with him, still waiting to find its way to your finger.

You were the kind of love he couldn't find on someone else's body. Your touch, your lips, and every single inch of your skin were the starvation Joel was deprived of, and now you were his forbidden fruit.

Nevertheless, under the dim light of the TV screen, your face was glowing in a soft golden tone that sent Joel to sleep, but he was holding his dream in his arms for the first time after so long.

When the morning sun gradually painted Sarah’s room with the soft hues of the warm sun, Sarah and Tara descended the stairs, their steps cautious not to disturb the tranquil air that enveloped the living room.

As they reached the bottom of the staircase, their eyes fell upon you and Joel, still intertwined on the couch, lost in peaceful sleep. Tara's eyes sparkled with genuine happiness at the sight of her mother and Joel holding each other like that.

Sarah couldn't help but notice Tara's radiant smile. "Why are you smiling so big?" she whispered to her.

Tara motioned toward you and Joel, the affectionate way in which you two held each other not escaping her keen gaze. "Look at them,” she said, still smiling.

Sarah raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming on her lips.

Tara nodded, her smile unwavering. "This is the first time I have seen my mom at peace.”

Tara’s gaze was still fixed on the pair on the couch. "Maybe Joel can bring that peace back to my mom’s."

Sarah chuckled, giving her friend a playful nudge. "Are you saying we should ship your mom and my dad?"

Tara rolled her eyes, but her smile remained. "I'm just saying if they make each other happy, why not?"

Weekend passed by and Tara asked no questions about why did you fell asleep on Joel’s chest, she clearly knew the answer to that question yet she didn't judge you, since she was a little girl, she noticed each sacrifice you had made for her and how you had distributed all the love you had inside your heart to her.

How bad she wanted for you to be brave enough and get divorced from her father.

So, when Monday arrived, the weight of the tension between you and Joel seemed to shift. The echoes of the weekend lingered in the air. This time, you both look happier, acting as friends, laughing together and sharing time as you kept your role of assistant.

So, before lunch and after you finished with the work Joel had left for you while he was out, you decided to go and buy lunch for him and you to share, after all you would arrive to an empty house since Tara would be still at school and Dwight was in a business trip, you didn't want be left alone with your thoughts in an empty house that seemed to become colder as the day passed by.

You buy a bottle of lemonade, and two burgers with French fries, hoping for Joel to still being number one of them. You weren’t used to come to this part of the city, but this time you stopped in order to bring the burgers and fries you wanted to share with Joel.

However, once you paid, the corner of your eye caught a person you didn't expected to see. There was Dwight, who was supposedly in New York until next weekend, buying food here. You turned away for him not to notice you, then you decided to follow him to see find out what was happening.

So, when you followed him, you stopped a little away and saw him happily taking a little girl around four years old in his arms as he kissed her temple with so much love you never saw him share with Tara, and what was next was a woman around the same age as you joining them with a smile on her face and you heart stopped.

She kissed Dwight on his lips, as both of them looked at the little girl smiling happily in the arms of your husband.

A surge of emotions tightened in your chest as you witnessed the scene unfold before your eyes. The knot of anxiety and confusion grew with each passing moment. The woman with Dwight, the affectionate exchange, and the child—all pieces of a puzzle that didn't fit into the life you thought you knew.

As the trio walked away to the car, laughter and joy enveloping them, you were left standing there, alone with the weight of a shattered reality

You felt humiliated. There were your answers. The four years of odd behavior, the four years of plotting against you, his sudden trips, his careless attitude towards you.

all the way, Dwight had made you and Tara move to Austin just for him to be closer to his other family, the secret one.

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @missladym1981 @yomiyasxx @aliengirl99

@lola8888673 @nottodaysattan @picketniffler @violinchick

@sadgirlcheesecake @caitlynsixxx

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